#I’ve pushed the drugs before too but never with a client there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

loki-hargreeves · 2 years

Text

I See Blue

Pairing: Blue Jones x fem!Reader Warnings/Tags: 18+ only! DUB-CON, sex pollen, reader gets drugged, possessiveness, oral [f!receiving], daddy kink, derogatory name calling, a lot of teasing, light choking, dacryphilia, reader is in pain [side effect of the sex pollen], Blue refers to the reader as a ‘thing’ a few times [sweet thing etc], unprotected p in v, creampie, paranoia, a little bit of aftercare, implied murder [revenge] - if there’s something I’ve forgotten, please let me know! I just proofread this once so there could be typos Word Count: 6,9K Summary: Someone drugged you with sex pollen and only Blue Jones can make you feel better. He can’t just let you suffer, now can he? A/N: Please don’t read this is any of the mentioned warnings might disturb you. Otherwise, I hope you like it! This is the first time I’ve written for Blue so I’m a little nervous but it was fun :)

DISCLAIMER! Although I wrote Blue Jones to be kind of soft and caring, he’s a dark character canonically and this fic explores some dark themes (he literally runs a brothel). If you haven’t watched Sucker Punch, you may not know that so I just wanted to let you know before you proceed. Minors DO NOT INTERACT!

YOUR POV

Blue always had his eyes set on you.

That’s why he was the first to notice that you never left the dressing room when everyone else did. It was late, late enough for it to be pitch black outside and silence to linger in the large building. The music was been turned off and the chit chat of clients and the other girls had mellowed out. You could surely hear a pin drop now.

He would never tell a soul but he was worried about you, as worried as Blue Jones could be over another person. After all, you were his best girl. The little dagger deep in his mind. You were the center of his dreams, at day and at night. The protagonist of his dirtiest fantasies.

As he paced down the dim corridor, some of the guards glanced at Blue and stepped side instinctively. No one wanted to be in his way ever. They either feared him or respected him. Blue believed it was mixture of both.

Finally, he reached the dressing room. He didn’t understand why you’d stay here so long after closing. If you needed ‘alone time’, there were better places to be.

“Now what do we have here?” Blue pushed the door open to the dressing room, seeing you sitting by a vanity. He instantly noticed the way you were slouched over the cluttered surface, not even turning around when he entered the room like you usually would’ve. Blue had noticed the way you looked at him. He knew of your feelings because you made them so painfully obvious.

Were you sleeping?

He watched as your chest rose quickly, too quickly for someone who’d be resting. Almost as if you were panting, out of breath despite just sitting down. The corset you were wearing looked uncomfortable, paired with all the glittery and golden accessories you had word tonight while serving drinks to clients. Even the red heels were still securely on your feet. Nothing about your position seemed comfortable.

Blue furrowed his brows, walking all the way to your side and then placing his hand between your shoulder blades as he leaned closer. That’s when he noticed that you definitely weren’t asleep. No. You were holding back tears and for some reason you refused to look at him.

If someone hurt you then god have mercy on them because Blue certainly wouldn’t.

“What’s the matter, sugar?” Blue’s hand travelled up your spine, his warm fingers now tracing the necklace that was around your neck, gold complimenting your complexion. His touch made shivers run down your spine. He had no idea what he was doing to you.

“Talk to me.”

“Blue...” You whimpered as if you were in pain. The longer he was there, touching you, allowing his cologne to seep into your lungs, the worse you felt. There was a fire within you that kept growing. You wanted Blue more than ever. In fact, you were convinced if he didn’t relieve the pain you felt you would pass out soon. This strong desire scared you.

Since you weren’t speaking, Blue scanned the vanity, looking for clues. Anything really that could help him figure out what was going on. It didn’t take long for him to spot the tiny glass jar that had been opened, its contents already gone. The heart-shaped logo on the paper revealed the truth; you were drugged. It wasn’t any ordinary drug, no. That was a nasty form of an aphrodisiac, something clients had begun sneaking into the place.

Blue hated it.

His girls were good, they were fucking fantastic! He had worked his ass off to ensure this harmony. None of them needed to be drugged by shitty potions that Blue most certainly didn’t trust. Clients were getting too comfortable breaking Blue’s rules these days. Blue considered himself as your protector and he was furious over the fact that someone had slipped shit like that under his roof without him catching them in the act.

The worst part was that the effects wouldn’t wear off in days unless someone did something about it. He knew you must’ve been burning up inside, like a fever was raging within your veins. Your poor cunt must’ve been weeping for some relief.

Whoever had dared to give that to you, his most precious little thing, would have to face every ounce of Blue Jones’ wrath. The end results wouldn’t be pretty.

Rage enveloped Blue momentarily as he grabbed the empty bottle. Within a second, he had thrown it in the opposite direction and the glass smashed into bits and pieces against the wall, scattering all over the floor. The loud collision must’ve alerted others but most were used to Blue’s temper tantrums by now. Breaking things never made him feel any better but he had to do it anyway.

“Fuck!” Blue cursed, running his hand through his dark locks. “Who the fuck gave that to you?” The words echoed in the otherwise silent room, surely far into the corridors too.

By the sounds of it, Blue was mad; enraged. Deep in your head, you were convinced he was mad at you. Right now, the last thing you wanted was to upset him. God, you couldn't do that. The thought alone made your heart hurt. You wanted to be good for him, like you always were.

“I’m sorry,” You mewled, using all your strength to sit up straight and look at him, ignoring the wetness between your legs. Did he see how you were trembling? Not from fear but from the otherwise intense feelings you felt, the desire to be fucked until sunrise by Blue. If he could tell, you were far past the point of feeling embarrassed.

“Who gave this to you?” Blue needed to know, gently grabbing your jaw so he could look right in your teary eyes. Those deep brown eyes of his were full of rage, but also concern, the black makeup and dark lashes making his gaze a thousand times more intense. His fingertips felt like ice on your otherwise boiling hot skin. And god did it feel nice when the rest of your body felt like it had been hit by a bus.

“It hurts,” You struggled to focus on the simple question he asked you. By now, there was a knot in your stomach that felt much like cramps. The uncomfortable ache rendered you weak and desperate. You felt ill and Blue was the only medicine.

“I know,” Blue nodded slightly, “I know, baby. I’m not mad at you. Just tell me who did this and I’ll make you feel better. How does that sound?” That man was so convincing, his words like golden honey. There was something about him that made you blatantly ignore everything your brain was warning you about. It had always been this way.

The first thing you felt was relief. It crashed upon you like a tidal wave when you heard his promise. All you had to do was answer his question and then you’d be all his. Blue would be all yours, too.

Finally, you gave him what he wanted, a name, someone to blame;

“Hector Dunn.”

That was a familiar name, one Blue could put a face to immediately. That sleazy old bastard. Hector thought he was untouchable, often disrespecting everyone he met. Even Blue.

“He said it was perfume, t-that I should wear it tomorrow,” The confession made you feel stupid now but how could you have known? It wasn’t often you received gifts anyway so when this happened, you had let your guard down. It was easy to see where you had gone wrong looking back.

“I just wanted to smell it,” That part you revealed more like a whisper, upset that someone had fooled you and that now you felt so damn uncomfortable and sick.

By now, Blue’s blood had reached a boiling point. Tomorrow was supposed to be a show day. Whatever Dunn had planned was certainly not coming true. Blue would make sure of it.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, sweetheart,” Blue was happy you had told him the truth, despite how angry he felt too. He knew you’d be good and tell him. That’s what he loved about you, his good little girl, never letting him down or trying to betray him. So obedient and all for him.

“I’m sorry...” Guilt was eating you up alive nearly as quickly as the mystery substance in your body was turning you into a horny mess.

“Shh,” Blue cut you off, pressing his finger on your soft lips, “Don’t apologize. You’ve been good for me. It’s not your fault. I’m gonna make you feel better and everything will be just fine, yeah?”

His words made you whimper which seemed to be completely out of your control. By now,even the smallest touch felt like heaven. Knowing what was to come turned your brain to putty.

You watched in awe as he slid his silver jacket off, throwing it over the back of the chair you were sitting on. Immediately after, he loosened his midnight black tie, never taking his eyes off of you. The sight that was unfolding before you was unreal, almost too good to be true. Seeing Blue like that did things to you that had never happened before. Your heart was hammering against your rib cage now, taking up so much space that it nearly took your breath away.

Blue wasn’t sure if it was merely being in your presence that got him longing for you within seconds or if the remnants of the ‘perfume’ was still lingering in the air and affecting him. Either way, he wanted you and now he finally had you. This was a moment you both had dreamt of for months but perhaps under different circumstances.

At last, Blue gave you the attention you craved. He pulled you up to your feet with a force that made you throw your arms around him for support. Not only that, your legs were much like jelly at this point. You weren’t sure if you were able to stand on your own. He pushed you by your hip so that you were leaning against the vanity, pressed between it and Blue. His hips met yours and despite the layers of clothes, you felt his cock against your body, pulsing and revealing just how much he wanted you.

And his lips were so close to yours. Blue cupped your face and stared at those crimson lips hungrily, suddenly feeling starved.

“Please, Blue, I need you.”

That was the last push he needed. Blue was hooked, completely yours now. He smiled, his nose brushing against yours,

“You’ve got me, sweetheart.”

He kissed you, pressing his lips on yours fiercely. A moan ripped from your mouth as you tasted him, felt his warm lips on yours. There was a hint of whiskey on his lips, tobacco on his tongue that pushed into your mouth. It was intoxicating, you wanted everything he had to offer.

When Blue’s hands found the ribbon in your back that kept the corset together, he tugged at it shamelessly, letting it loosen and then he pulled it off. He couldn’t resist breaking the kiss to look at your chest, taking in the beautiful sight of your tits, the way your nipples perked up when the cool air met your skin. He wished he could remember the sight for the rest of his days.

“Beautiful,” Blue purred, cupping your boobs harshly, making you gasp at how good it felt. As his hands began massaging the sensitive breasts, his lips returned to yours into a messy kiss. As his fingers rubbed over your nipples, you swore you saw stars. His touch was pure magic.

“You’re so...fucking stunning...and all mine,” Blue never wanted anyone to even look at you the wrong way anymore. He wanted you all for himself, not giving a damn about how selfish it made him.

Greedily, you ran your fingers through his hair and then closed your hand into a fist, pulling his head back roughly and in doing so breaking the kiss. Blue hardly had time to show how surprised he was as you lunged at his neck, tasting his salty skin and licking over his pulse. You needed to find his sweet spot and hear the pretty sounds he most certainly could make.

Blue would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t love the way you were handling him, so fucking needily. You were going to take what you needed from him and Blue was more than willing to give it all to you. He adored the slight pain from the way you tugged at his hair when it mixed with the pleasure of your skilled tongue and lips torturing his neck so blissfully.

“So fucking eager,” Blue groaned as you licked over that one spot that made his knees weak. That’s when you finally got what you wanted, a moan from him, and gods did you love it. That was music to your ears.

Eventually you loosed the grip on his hair and began fumbling with the buttons of his white shirt, needing it off now. Blue decided to help you with that and within seconds, it was on the floor among your corset. There was a thin layer of sweat over his chest and stomach, showing off how toned his body was. Blue looked like a statue carved by the ancient Greeks.

“Is this what you wanted?” Blue was cocky, practically beaming with confidence.

“Yes,” You felt drunk and thirsty for whatever he had to offer. As if to test the waters, you put your fingers on his chest and then dug your nails into his skin, feeling him. Blue clenched his jaw when you dragged your nails down, exploring the muscles on his belly. The rake of your nails made goosebumps rise over his skin. You were unreal.

Many people were terrified of him. Perhaps you were scared too but you certainly didn’t let it show. Blue thought it was a nice change to be touched by someone so shamelessly. You weren’t hiding the fact that there was nothing you wanted more than Blue, not even air.

“Such a good girl,” Blue grabbed your wrist harshly, dragging your hand away from him so he could bring it to his lips. Before he released you, he kissed your palm, then your wrist. Next thing you knew, his hands wrapped around your waist and his tongue licked a stripe up your neck. As he found the spot between your neck and shoulders that made you whimper, he bit you. It stung only for a moment as he started sucking the skin, making sure to leave a mark.

“Oh my...Blue!” You couldn’t help but moan, pulling his body closer to yours. You were convinced your panties were soaked at this point because of how aroused you felt. It was like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. Despite the pain that threatened to make you crumble, everything Blue gave you felt ecstatic.

“That feels so good,” The words escaped your mouth, encouraging Blue to keep going.

“Yeah?” Blue smirked, lowering his head so he could kiss your collarbones, ever so surely nearing your soft breasts. Meanwhile his hands went even further down, tracing your sides and dipping between your legs.

“What about this?” Blue wondered which was instantly followed by his fingers pressing against your clothed cunt, feeling the obvious wet spot. Blue couldn’t believe how drenched you were and you had barely gotten started. It made his cock twitch in his pants, just the thought of what he was going to do to you.

Every word went flying out your brain when Blue rubbed circles over your clit, the fabric of the panties feeling rough against the sensitive bundle of nerves. All you could muster up as an answer was a deep moan as you tried to buck your hips against his hand, wanting more, more and more. Anyone could’ve walked in right now but neither of you cared.

Blue lowered himself onto his knees, looking up at you, his lips parting slightly as he hooked his fingers under your panties. When he tugged at them, you had to steady yourself against the vanity. He pulled them down slowly and you could only watch as his eyes fell, looking directly between your legs. That’s the first time you felt shy, heat spreading over your face.

“Look at you, glistening like a little slut,” Blue felt the water gathering on his tongue as his fantasies were coming closer to becoming true.

Fuck. His words were going right to your core. If he waited any longer, you’d surely faint.

“Blue please!”

“Please what, sugar?” Blue knew you were in pain. He almost felt cruel as he toyed with you but he couldn’t help it either. This was just too much fun.

As to make things harder for you, Blue caressed your lower back, tracing his fingers over the curve of your ass until he reached your thigh. He guided your leg over his shoulder, forcing you to spread your legs a little bit more in the process. He was so close, the scent of your desire crept into his lungs. Now it was nearly Blue’s turn to beg although he had no need to - he already had what he wanted right in his palm.

“Please touch me,” You pleaded in agony. He promised he’d make you feel better!

“Here?” Blue’s fingers traced your inner thigh, a curious look in his coffee coloured eyes as he glanced to see your reaction.

This man was going to be the death of you.

“No...”

“What about...” Blue thought out loud, now brushing his thumb over your hips and abdomen which almost tickled a little bit, “here?”

The teasing and the anticipation finally got to you. By now, your legs were trembling even when he was holding you and tears welled up in your eyes, wetting your mascara-coated eyelashes. You dug the heel of your shoe into his back just to get back at him but Blue didn’t seem budged at all.

“Do you want me to taste you?” Blue wondered, hardly able to hold himself back for much longer.

“Yes!” Finally he was giving you something to work with. “God yes...I need that.” The haze in your brain made it hard to think but you knew you wanted his pretty lips around your throbbing clit. That would be heaven on earth.

He didn’t waste another second. Blue was like an animal, seeing nothing but you and thinking of nothing but this deep urge, to satisfy the appetite he had for you. He pushed his tongue out and licked a stripe up your slit, tasting the wetness that collected on his tongue. Just like that, he was hooked for life. You tasted so fucking good and Blue Jones was parched.

The support the offered wasn’t enough, not when it felt like he injected ecstasy right into your veins as he lapped up your cunt. In a desperate attempt to stay on your feet, your grabbed a fistful of his hair, earning a low moan in return. His tongue pressed against your weeping hole, pushing in oh so deliciously. Instantly, the ache was dulled by the pleasure he brought you just by tasting you.

Blue pulled his head back momentarily, pleased to see the satisfaction on your face. You looked blissfully horny, absolutely lost in the moment. When he closed his lips around your clit and began sucking and nibbling on it, your body squirmed in response. Blue held onto you tighter, adjusting himself so that he was somehow even closer to your weeping cunt, your quivering leg locking him into position. There was no place he’d rather be.

As he teased your hole with a finger, collecting your juices, you let out a cry. Your walls were clenching around nothing and you wanted him to fill you up already. Somehow you knew that it was the only way to take your pain away, the only thing that could make you feel so euphoric. Only Blue.

“Please, Blue,” You were willing to beg for him to push his fingers into you.

Hearing you moaning his name was surreal. Blue cursed under his breath, sure that he’d cum in his pants if you kept moaning like that.

“You want to be filled, huh?” Blue raised an eyebrow at you, never stopping the delicious teasing as his fingers spread your wetness over your lips. “Do you want daddy’s fingers? Is that what you want?”

Before you could answer, Blue pushed two of his fingers into you with little resistance thanks to how wet you were. He felt how warm your soft walls were and imagining his cock deep inside you was almost too much. He couldn’t wait to fuck you like you deserved to be fucked.

Something about him calling himself daddy while fucking your tight hole with his fingers pushed you closer to the edge at an alarming rate. When he resumed eating you out, circling your clit with his tongue, you were doomed. The coil in your belly tightened at a dangerously, every thrust of his fingers pulling it closer to a snapping point.

“I’m close, daddy,” You tugged his hair, pulling him closer to you. Blue didn’t falter when he felt you bucking your hips to meet his mouth and fingers unabashedly, chasing that sweet, sweet high. Blue’s goal was that by the end of this, you’d be fucked senseless. He wanted you to cling to him and stay like that. He would make you cum as much as you needed and wanted. Blue was more than eager to please such a good girl as you.

Without ever tiring, Blue curled his fingers against that spot that made you see stars. His pushed his mouth onto your clit like a starved man, looking up at you and seeing your tits glistening under the artificial lighting. Right then and there you were more gorgeous than ever before, in his eyes at least. An angel. Yes, that’s exactly what you were.

“Please don’t stop! I’m gonna...gonna cum!” You wailed by now, not caring if anyone heard you. At that moment, the world outside the dressing room didn’t exist.

The coil snapped in your belly as you came, a shock wave of pleasure releasing all over your body. It hit you hard, intensely and it didn’t stop after one collision. Not at all. Blue kept torturing your clit as you grew impossibly sensitive, your walls throbbing around his fingers so hard he didn’t dare pull out just yet. Everything he did to you prolonged the pleasure and it felt like your orgasm never ended, waves crashing over you again and again.

“I can’t-” You gasped, struggling to catch your breath as you reluctantly pushed him away.

That’s when he slowed down, pulling his fingers out of you. They were glistening with your arousal. As Blue threw your leg off his shoulder and stood up, he slapped your sensitive clit, making you yelp in surprise. He had no right making you feel so good by being so cruel. But fuck, you loved it so much it was troubling.

“Feel any better?” Blue wondered, using his ‘clean’ hand to grab your jaw, guiding you closer to his lips.

“Mmhmm...” In fact, you did feel better but there was still a fire within you that needed to be put out. An itch so deep that had to be scratched. You needed him to fuck you until you couldn’t think straight. He didn’t need to be gentle with you at all. You were convinced you wouldn’t break.

“You want more don’t you?” Blue chuckled, pushing his slick fingers past your lips and pressing them down your tongue and coating each taste bud. Without being instructed, you sucked his fingers, loving how dirty he made you feel. You never broke eye contact as you circled your tongue around his fingers, tasting yourself on him. That must’ve been a clear enough yes.

Blue reached down to unbuckle his belt, his cock painfully hard. He managed to unbutton his pants and he let them fall down to his ankles. Within seconds, he was just in his boxers which hardly contained his throbbing member. You reached down to cup his length, still sucking on his fingers as you slowly began to stroke his cock.

When you felt just how big he was, you felt another wave of arousal gushing from your core. If you were dripping by now, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise.

“That’s it,” Blue growled as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a ‘pop’ and proceeded to wrap his hand around your throat. Not for a long time, no. Just to give you a squeeze, a thrill of excitement.

“You’re gonna get what you want,” Blue promised, ripping your hand away for now. He pulled his cock out of his boxers and noticed the pre-cum that was glistening on his red tip. The veins and ridges stood out to you as you glanced down, lips parting in surprise at the sight.

“You’re so big,” You breathed out, stating the obvious and stroking his already giant ego.

All you wanted was for him to split you apart on that cock already. Seeing his dick instantly strengthened the cramps deep within you, forcing you to lean against Blue’s shoulder for support. A twinge of pain ripped from your stomach, forcing the salty tears to escape your pretty eyes.

When he saw you like that, brows furrowed and mascara beginning to run down your cheeks, he felt a little bit sorry for you. He was supposed to protect you and yet here you were, crying because he hadn’t kept a close enough eye on you, crying because you wanted his cock just that badly.

“I’ve got you, sweet thing,” Blue reassured you, pushing you against the table and helping you wrap your leg around his body for support. Carefully, he guided his length between your legs, running his tip up and down your slit a few times, trying to contain himself when he felt your hot lips rubbing his dick. You were going to drive him mad.

Nothing on this world compared to the feeling of his tip rubbing your clit, the way you could feel the ridges and veins on his cock as they brushed over the sensitive bud. Then finally, Blue pushed himself into you, sinking deeper and stretching you oh so well. His thick cock made your walls flutter around him, trying so hard to take all of him at once.

It’s like his cock knocked all the air out of your lungs. Your lips opened but you didn’t make a sound nor breathe, just immersed in the feeling of him filling you inch by inch.

“Holy fuck, it feels so good,” You didn’t think about your choice of words at all, as your senses were distracted by pure bliss. The slight discomfort from him stretching you was nothing compared to the agony you had been in moments earlier as a side effect of the thing you had breathed in. Now at last, the pain was gone. All you could focus on was the euphoric pleasure Blue brought you.

Usually, Blue would’ve made a comment about cursing. He wanted to make sure his good girl didn’t say such filthy things but truthfully, right now he didn’t care. Being deep inside of you and feeling your walls squeezing his dick nearly wiped his mind blank. You must’ve had otherwordly abilities because Blue swore he had never felt this way before. There was no logical explanation for it.

This time it was his turn to grab a fistful of your hair - not too roughly - pulling your head back and immediately kissing you. He felt how it affected you, his kiss alone making your cunt swallow more of him eagerly until he had fully bottomed out. You moaned into the kiss, tilting your head to deepen it. This time, his lips tasted like you. It was nasty, it was absolutely filthy but god did you adore everything about it.

“Mine,” Blue claimed against your mouth, releasing the grip on your hair only to once again wrap his hand around your neck. It fit like a necklace, so snugly, so perfect.

“Say it,” He needed to hear it from you as he began moving his hips, pulling back slightly before rocking right back into you.

“I’m yours!”

“That’s right,” Blue nodded, finding a slow yet steady pace to start with. He could feel everything, the spongy feeling of your walls pressing his length so delightfully.

“All yours, Blue...I’m all yours,” You promised him, sniffling as the inky tears burned your eyes.

“All mine?” He challenged you, smiling as he toyed with you. At least this time around you weren’t in pain. Knowing that he was making you feel so good and relieved made him so proud. No one else could ever compare.

Blue squeezed your throat when you struggled to answer, still letting you breathe but the pressure added to the delirious bliss you were feeling. Sure, it was Blue Jones. He had done terrible things right before your eyes but you trusted him, as foolish as it may have been. Part of you wanted him to choke you even harder.

“Yes, daddy. Only yours,” you tried to nod, hardly able to do so when you felt him picking up the pace. The room was filled with the sounds of his cock sinking into your wet cunt. Somehow that turned you on even more, knowing that those nasty sounds were caused by his cock pounding into you. Hearing just how drenched you were was shocking.

“Fuck, baby!” Blue cursed, his own desire growing stronger by the second. He pushed your back flat against the vanity, knocking over bottles of hairspray, make-up and all sorts of accessories, making a huge mess. The change of positions forced him to pull out for only a moment as he adjusted. His hands grabbed your ankles roughly as he pulled them over his shoulders, loving that you were still wearing your heels.

Being manhandled like that was a fantasy come true. You had dreamt of Blue taking you like this, your legs over his shoulders as he lined up with your entrance once more. This time, you had to grab the edge of the table for support as Blue slipped right back into you and picked up the pace.

The new position allowed you to feel him even deeper somehow. Like this, he was surely rearranging your guts. There was no escaping his fierce gaze as you were fucked to another state of reality. Blue couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He was a man obsessed with the way your pretty lips parted and moans poured out of your mouth. The way you brows furrowed together and dark streaks of tears decorated your face was a sight he wanted painted and hung on his office wall.

“Look at you,” Blue grunted, making you tilt your head and look at the full length mirror on your side. “Look at you, angel. You’re taking me so well. So fucking well.” Blue glanced at the mirror as well, admitting to himself that you two looked really great like that. Made for each other.

As you were preoccupied with looking at your scandalous reflection, Blue kissed your ankle. He loosed the strap on the heel and pulled it off, throwing it away without looking where it landed. He grabbed your other ankle and repeated his actions, peppering kisses on your leg before guiding your weary legs around his body once more. Blue pulled you closer to the edge of the vanity which allowed him to lean over you.

“You’re so pretty,” Blue purred as he rolled his hips into yours, his lips tasting your neck. When he grabbed your breast and started tugging on your nipple, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. When that bastard pinched it painfully, you arched your back and cried out his name. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Absolutely stunning, my beautiful doll...”

“...Such a good little slut for me.”

At this point, trying to form a coherent sentence was impossible. You were hardly able to think, let alone speak as everything felt so wonderful. If he kept this up, you were sure you’d come again soon.

A particularly loud moan was a tell-tale sign that he was fucking right into the spot that would push you over the edge for sure. With a cocky smile on his face, Blue reached down to where your bodies met and he found your clit that was crying for some attention. He rubbed it furiously, vowing to not stop until you were shaking and cumming all over his cock.

“Oh my god!” You gasped as the pleasure began to overwhelm you - yet you needed him to go on as if your life depended on it. As his cock buried deep inside of you, hitting relentlessly against your spongy walls, you felt fuller than ever before. An orgasm was approaching at a rapid speed and all you needed was for him to keep doing exactly what it was he was doing now. As if mind and body separated, you longed for more although your tender body tried to escape this torturous bliss he was giving you.

“Cum for me!” Blue demanded, his face hovering above yours so you noticed how he was clenching his jaw, sweat covering his forehead as his vein stood out. You swore you had never seen a prettier man ever before in your life.

“You’ve been so good for daddy. Now come, baby. It’s okay.”

That’s the final push, the last bit of encouragement that you needed. You let go, your breath getting stuck in your lungs as your second orgasm enveloped your body and soul completely. For a moment, the world blurred. Dark specs scattered here and there, threatening to spread everywhere. If you were moaning, you certainly didn’t realize it, too fucked out to care.

All that you could feel was pleasure and relief. Your heart was racing in your chest and the corners of your lips curled into a satisfied smile.

“Thank you...” No words compared to the gratitude you felt then. Who knew what kind of agony you’d be in if Blue had turned his back on you.

Blue never slowed down. He chased his high and dug his fingers into your waist and hips. He wasn’t far behind. In fact, when he felt your walls milking his cock, hugging him tighter and tighter as you were cumming, he couldn’t hold it anymore.

“Fill me up, please,” You reached down to grab his hand, needing him to fill you to the brim as you were in this lustful state. Logic and sense were not present in the moment.

That was a dangerous request to make for a man like him because Blue couldn’t resist. Eventually, Blue reached his high. He stilled deep within you and let out an animalistic growl, hunching over your sweaty body as he came. The feeling of his cock twitching inside of your sensitive walls made you cry out his name. If you could, you’d stay like this forever.

“Oh baby,” Blue whined, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he emptied himself inside your cunt. Right then he felt content, soaking in nothing but pure bliss. For a moment, he forgot about the rest of the world and all his duties as he lost himself in you - quite literally.

At some point, Blue had to pull out of you no matter how comfortable it was to stay like that, as one. He caught his breath all the while looking at his cum dripping out of your hole and onto the vanity. Fuck. He couldn’t believe this had happened but he didn’t regret it for a second. Seeing you catching your breath, body flustered and his cum dripping out of you was worth more to him than gold and diamonds. Now you were all his and the bruises beginning to form on your skin were proof of that.

Blue grabbed his clothes from the floor and began dressing himself, much to your displeasure.

“Are you leaving?” You didn’t know what you had expected really. Either way, the thought of him leaving you so soon made your heart hurt. Fear threatened to sink under your skin. What would he do now? Nothing would ever be the same.

“Hey,” Blue couldn’t stand the sadness in your voice, “I’m not going anywhere yet.” He grabbed a towel from a drawer nearby before returning to your side. Wordlessly, he pushed your legs apart and cleaned the mess he had made, keeping in mind that you had cum twice and were definitely overly sensitive.

You felt your cheeks heating up when Blue wiped his cum and your wetness on the towel, unable to face him as he did so. This side of Blue was so new. Had anyone really ever seen him like this? So soft and caring. It almost had you suspecting something was up.

“I’m not gonna let you out of my sight tonight,” Blue started revealing what he was cooking up in his mind.

“What do you mean?”

Blue tossed the towel into the bin, not really caring if someone found it later. He stood up and walked to the dresser, turning his back on you as kept explaining,

“You’re gonna sleep with me. I don’t trust anyone right now. People are betraying me! Who knows what they’ll do...”

That needed no further explaining. Someone had brought drugs into the place and none of the guards had noticed it. There was something fishy going on and Blue was going to get to the bottom of it. He absolutely despised traitors.

When he returned to you, he was holding a beautiful, pink robe. Rather gently, Blue wrapped the robe over your shoulders, enjoying the way it looked on you. He could dress you in all sorts of clothes if you gave him the chance and time. Like his own little doll.

You knew he was thinking, getting lost in his own thoughts when he was so quiet. Blue had a tendency to be loud, not showing any signs of shame when he let just about anything out of his mouth. Right now, he kept his plans for himself as he grabbed make-up remover and cotton, soaking the thing completely.

“Some things are gonna change around here,” Blue revealed mysteriously as he started wiping your make-up - or what was left of it. Your tears had pretty much gotten rid of the mascara and a rough round of fucking had managed to wipe off most of the red lipstick.

Somehow, you found comfort in this moment. Blue was cleaning your face and it felt tender, it almost felt normal. He made you feel cared about. But after everything, you were exhausted. Not only had the drug stolen all your strength, Blue had put you through so much torturous pleasure that your brain felt scrambled.

“Thank you,” You whispered, tired and absolutely overwhelmed by emotions. If you had the strength, you might’ve cried some more.

Blue wiped your under eye, leaving no traces of mascara behind. A small smile appeared on his face but there was a darkness in his eyes. A shadow that revealed something sinister was happening in his mind.

“I am your protector,” Blue stated as he had done many times before but this time he sounded more serious, “I’m never letting anyone hurt my best girl ever again. You’re all mine. I mean it, sugar. Okay?”

“Okay,” You weren’t opposed to that. For the longest time, you had yearned for him, his touch, his affection. Now that you knew it existed, that he could truly take care of you, you wanted all of it. Whether it was possible or not, you weren’t sure yet one thing was certain, you trusted whatever Blue had to say.

Apparently, that night still had some tricks up its sleeve. Blue pressed a kiss on top of your head while his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin adoringly. The tender moment nearly made your heart leap out of your throat. Since when was Blue Jones such a softie?

“So Hector Dunn, hm?” He wanted you to confirm what you had told him now that your head was clearer than before. The tone of his voice with your newfound clarity made you realize something, Blue wanted revenge.

There was no point in lying or trying to change the topic.

“That’s the guy.”

Blue accepted this. He took a deep breath as he made up his mind. There was nothing else to be done than make sure that Mr Dunn never laid eyes on you or any of his girls ever again. Tomorrow, Blue thought. He’d take care of that tomorrow because right now, his number one priority was you.

“Let’s get out of this filthy room, shall we? Can’t have you surrounded by such a fucking mess,” Blue looked around at the mess you two had created. “You’ve been such a good girl, you need some rest.”

Sleep sounded perfect.

A/N: I may or may not have stayed up all night finishing this. I can’t tell if it sucks or not as my brain also feels scrambled (could be covid speaking or my sleep deprivation. Who knows). Anyway, I truly hope that you liked it! 🥺

#Blue Jones x reader #Blue Jones smut #Blue Jones x you #Blue Jones x fem!Reader #Blue Jones fanfiction #oscar isaac blue jones #sucker punch fanfiction #oscar isaac characters

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legend-the-dumb-jock · 1 year

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prison break::: time served

For @sdonovan91

“That thing is hideous Derrick. Why do you insist on having that on your desk.?” Brenda the secretary was always creeped out by stuff like this. Derrick thought the little totem dude was cool. That’s why he kept it on his desk. It always struck up a good convo with the clientele he served. Derrick was a criminal defense attorney. It was obvious to him at the start of law that he wanted to represent people who would be considered low life’s. He had a sense of jealousy for them. He was always pushed to be the best. Good grades. Always stay out of trouble. Never do anything out of line. And his clients mesmerized him. Most not even making it out high school before they dropped out. Working low wage jobs. Making bad decisions based on that. Everything was so enchanting about them. Which is why his totem always brought up good conversation. He’s been told so many times by several of them how “kewl” it looked and how they needed a little guy like that followed by the “huhu”. Each time causing Derrick to get hard instantly and having to hide his excitement from his clients. And the things they would tell him only made his job even better. Personal things even. Things that you wouldn’t tell someone normally.

Today he was meeting with Rex. Literally. Seeing the man’s name on the file Derrick could t help but think about what kind of man he was going to meet. And his name was hyphenated. T-Rex. Derick leaned back in his chair hands on his head. “Dear lord this one sounds like a character. Who names their kid this !” Reading over the info he seen the man was 24. High school drop out. Construction crew working but found guilty of possession. That was usual stuff for Derrick to see. Scanning over the chart he bust out laughing. “His name is Theodore Rex!!” It wasn’t long before Brenda came over the speaker in his office telling him that mr Rex was there to see. Derrick was so excited. He couldn’t wait to see what he was going to be dealing with. “Send him in !!”

Derrick was not prepared for what he was greeted with.

Rex walked through the door with a cigarette in his mouth. Wearing his work gear. Dirty. Smelly. Perfect. He took a seat in front of derricks desk. A seat that was in front of window that showed the trees outside. Rex adjust himself in the seat and you could hear his heavy booted feet moving around. And smell them too. “Well Rex. I’m gonna be your lawyer. and the first thing I’ll have to mention to you is you can’t smoke in”. Rex looked a little blank and then giggled. “Man I forgot where I’s at” and he put the cigarette out on the chair arm. Singeing the fibers. Melting them. The sme of burn fibers rose in the air. Jesus he’s amazing— derrick thought to himself. “Rex I’ve reviewed your case. This is a small drug charge this time. But the issue is your record. You’ve been In Jail several times and this time they are going to want the max penalty for you. It looks like they are wanting 5 years on ya. But I managed to talk them down to a year. But you’d have to go through probation . Again for the remaining 4. “. Rex slouched in his chair. “Man I caint be doing that ! If I got back In they make me take all my piercings out. And this one just healed up!” Rex said grabbing his crotch and giving it a firm shake. “Fuck dude why I gotta be the one that always gets caught !” He leaned over and held his head in his hands. “Damn bro. Caint ya get something better !?” When he shook himself like that Derrick practically came on himself right there hut he managed to contained his composure. “I’m sorry Rex that is the best agreement I could get from them. You have to report to the jail house for processing by tomorrow afternoon.” Rex let out a loud sigh. “This is so unfair. And right when I’s getting my life back on track ! I even gots a good job this time!” He leaned back in the chair rubbing his stomach. “I hate jail. The food sucks.” Derrick was edging right now. Rex was going to have to leave soon or else he was going to lose it on this simple hot soul. Derrick envied this man so much. All his choices placing him once again in jail. With no way to fight it ! “Well Rex if I could serve the time for you I would. But I’m sorry. This is the best I could do”. Rex exhaled. “Yeah bro I know. It just me making dumb choices all my life. I wish i didn’t make all these stupid choices landing me here.” Huhu he chuckled dumbly. “Hell I wish I could be lawyer for once making good money”. He got up from the seat. This time Derrick could hear a noticeable clinking from the man’s crotch as the piercings jingled slightly. “I have to go let mah boss know wuts happening. He ain’t gonna be thrilled. But I guess it ain’t matter now considering I got a year to deal with. Thanks tho man”. He said as he reached out his hand to shake it with Derrick. Derrick shook the man’s touch callused hand. It was a working man’s hand. He could almost feel every groove in Rex’s hand while is made contact with his own soft hand. Derrick walked rex out of the office. Not even noticing that his totems eyes were joe glowing red. And soon faded back to normal when Derrick was back at his desk.

Derrick finished up his work day and went home. In his apartment he finally let lose. He couldn’t contain it any more and started getting off to Rex. He brought the man file home so he could read it over again. Looking all the horrible choices this simple man made. He even had to keep himself from dripping the sweet sex all over the file when he was reading about how Rex had failed a dui screening and even told the cop “cum on bro it was only 7 beers !” Everything this man had to himself to end up where he was make Derrick so jealous. He fell asleep on his couch. The mornin and Derrick was woken by a rooster right outside his window. That’s weird. He didn’t have farm animals living In the city. He sat up right and the fold away bed collapsed with him. His knees were in his face and he noticed immediately something was off. He could smell something was off. His surroundings had changed from luxury to cheap and wood paneled. He smelled of Bo. Feet. And he could smell marijuana. What the hell was going on ?! He stumbled to what he could tell was a make shift bathroom across the hall and was shocked. Standing there. Looking right at himself in the mirror. Was Theodore Rex. Smelly. Pierced. Tattooed. He stumbled backwards falling into the shower hearing the clanking nose come from his groin. He panicked. What was going on? Everything was different. He was standing alone In a run down bathroom of an old trailer. The place looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in years. And his head was throbbing as he could he was coming down from what would be considered a high. Looking in the mirror again he began to scream. Pulling at his face. At his piercings. At his dick. Everything was wrong ! He was a lawyer. Not some low life names trex! When he tugged at his crotch he could feel the modification which sent shivers of pleasure up his body. And before he even realized it a thick heavy load came out landing on his foot. He tried to get water from the sink but none of the faucets worked !! He stumbled back to the smelly room. Whiping his foot with shah he found out was his only pair of socks. Dirty and crusty already from all the times being worn. He couldn’t live like this !

Derrick found a pair of ripped jeans but no shirts to wear. Even thought he didn’t want to he put on the socks as he couldn’t care the smell of his feet any longer. And out on the heavy work boots shah Rex was wearing just the day before. Still moist from the previous day of work. There was no deodorant in the trailer. And no running water for him to clean himself! He was literally a walking piece of trash. There was a loud bang at the door. He stumbled to it and when he opened it police where there. They drew they noses back from the smell of him. “We came to pick you up since you didn’t report as you were told !” He was pulled out of the small trailer. And handcuffed. The cops argued over who would transport him from the stench being so bad. Derrick tried to argue with them. He wasn’t the man they were looking for ! “That’s it. We are going to charge you with resisting arrest just for this !” Wut. Derrick had never committed a crime in his life !! He tried to argue with legal jargon but all that was like a foreign language to him now. As soon as he thought of it the information quickly left his dimming brain.

————

A month passed and Derrick was told he had a visitor. He had tried finding anyway possible to prove that he was not Rex but all was a failure. In the visitation room he stopped in his tracks. Right there at the table waiting to speak to him was his own body ! He sat down. Shackles clinking with his hand cuffs. “Hey Derrick. I see you’ve been doing… well?” Derrick was shocked. This must be “Rex is that you ?” Rex responded telling him yes. He told him how he work up in his body that night a month ago and was shocked. He told him how he was afraid to leave his apartment for a few days. But then he mustered up the courage to go to the office. And that’s when he was able to teach himself law. In one month! “You’re a really smart man Derrick ! I was able to learn so much stuff. I wanted to check on you. It seems like we got what we wanted. I’m now the lawyer with no criminal record. And you’re getting to serve my time. Ain’t that so kewel!! Wait …no…. That is so cool. You see I am a faster learner now haha”. Derrick was shocked. “Rex you have yo fix this ! I can’t be in here. I’m not supposed to be in here ! “. Rex just laughed at him in his own body. “Actually REX. You are supposed to be in here. You REX are a criminal. Just look at you. You look like. You have the finger prints of one. Hell…you even smell like one too. I just wanted to come by and see you. I won’t be coming back. When you get out in a year MAYBE we can meet up and figure this out. But I have no intention of going back to that body for at least 5 more years.” And with that he stood up and walked to the door to leave. He stopped by the guard on the way out. “Can you have him bathe. He smells like he got athletes foot or something. He so smelly !” The guard just chuckled and told him how they had him bathe every day. But still the smell remained. It remained on HIS criminal body !

Derrick was escorted back to his cell. Trapped in his new existence. Trapped as a criminal. He now has everything he ever envied of his clients. He had become the very thing he found erotic. He hates to admit it. When Rex told him he wasn’t going back for at least 5 years it make his own cock spring to life. He hid in his cell and released his excitement all over his dirty feet. Getting to the idea of being stuck in the body of T-Rex was so disgusting and humiliating to him. But he couldn’t help but love every minute of how he was being forced to be like this. He was getting dumber by the day. More violent outbursts. Using grammar incorrectly. And every day it turned him on more. In the end though At least now he had running water.

November 22nd, 2021 1:11pm male transformation prison break

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ryvbomin · 8 months

Text

{ rae, 21, cst, she/her } —— welcome to infinite entertainment! it's ryu bomin, who is a vocal coach. i’ve heard whispers that the twenty-eight year old is pretty strong -willed but lowkey judgmental. also, doesn’t he remind you of byun baekhyun?

hello hello !! a quick lil mun intro before getting into bomin's business. i'm rae, ur local veteran exo-l, she/her & in cst !! i am so unprepared for this rn ive been so busy but pls give this a ♡ if u would like to plot !!

tw: drug addiction, stalking

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

born to a 19 year old sex worker on october 28th of 1994, making him a scorpio sun, leo moon, with a capricorn rising.

after finding out she was pregnant, she decided to move in with her aunt and they would raise bomin together.

his mother didn't know the father, so she reached out to every rich client she had & got as much money as she could so she could try and give her child the life she'd never had.

from a young age, he showed an affinity for music.

when he entered school, he joined any musical extracurricular they had available. he was a natural at everything music related.

he eventually began busking at 13 to earn some extra money for his mom and aunt.

he was approached by a scout for a relatively unknown company, he at first thought it was a scam but after some encouragement from his aunt he decided to take the scout up on his offer.

he trained for five years at this company, even dropping out of school to focus on training while working.

in 2012 when he was 18 he debuted in a six member group named apollo (based on b.a.p, daehyun vc) where he was the main vocalist & face of the group.

known for his mischievous behavior amongst fans, he quickly became the most popular member.

his group quickly gained massive success and put their company on the map.

bomin had a massive issue with sasaengs during the height of his success, but his company refused to take action because "any press was good press"

the company became greedy and withheld pay from him and his members, paying them next to nothing for the work they had put in.

however, in 2014, the six members filed a lawsuit against their company saying their company had not paid them.

the group entered a hiatus until 2015 and eventually a settlement was reached, but bomin still decided to leave the group.

he floated around different entertainment companies for three years, attempting a solo debut that gained little to no attention.

bomin had become bitter and jaded about the industry. he was always angry and could never seem to calm down.

he eventually began to abuse cocaine, which didn't help his anger but certainly distracted him enough to prevent his anger from coming out.

he periodically released music on soundcloud, but never anything else.

he was living off the settlement from the lawsuit and the bit of money he had earned from his solo career until early 2023, when it began to run out due to his addiction and lavish lifestyle.

bomin decided to reenter the industry, but not as an idol, as a vocal coach. he figured he had enough experience to help guide the new generation of idols down the right path while providing them top tier vocal training.

he reached out to infinite during their tour and was hired during it, he stayed back for a good majority of it but was spotted with idols a lot during the final leg.

currently, bomin has been california sober for four months. (if u dont know california sober is only drinking and smoking weed)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

bomin can best be described as a butt head. like im so serious rn

he's stubborn as shit and sarcastic, if u make a typo in a text he will not let it go unnoticed.

fights for what he believes in always, part of the reason the lawsuit took over a year to settle.

a bit of a hopeless romantic, but always unlucky in relationships.

tough love is his thing. bullying too but in a caring way.

has no problem being annoying. he knows how to push people's buttons and will do so when he's bored.

while he can be obnoxious as shit, he is also very loyal.

defend his friends tooth and nail if anyone fucks with them

big white dad at a bbq energy when hes with his friends

feminist icon, he tends to be more comfortable around women as well. no specific reason he just thinks theyre really pretty and nice and he likes women so much (he just like me fr)

bisexual but w a strong female lean

hes chaotic in the same way taemin from shinee is

in another life hes a lawyer he loves arguing so much

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

pls give me an ex!!!! romantic or even an ex best friend, i need his mean side to come out tbh

his adopted child, an idol that's about 4+ years younger than him who he is so stressed about always

his apprentice, someone who thinks he's so cool and he wants to teach them everything he knows

maybe someone who used to stan apollo (bonus points if he was their bias)

someone who helps him stay as sober as he can be

a ride or die, his best friend in the whole wide world

literally anything

literally everything

#infinite:intro #류보민 ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ooc #the graphic is so messy #i did it in like 20 min #lmfao

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maybeimamuppet · 2 years

Text

picking teams- chapter 5: janis

HAPPY MEAN GIRLS DAAAAYY WOO

welcome to two bonus chapters that i’m definitely only posting for mean girls day and definitely not because the halloween chapter is the only thing i have lined up for halloween this year but i fucked up the scheduling and this is the only way to get it out on time wooo!!

tw for

drugs/alcohol

drugging/roofies

general sexism

general homophobia

mild violence

attempted r*pe

and as always please let me know if i’ve missed something so i can add it in :)

enjoy!

—————

“Morning, Papa,” Janis yawns when she comes downstairs for breakfast. She wishes she had a way to stop being so exhausted in the mornings. It’s some of the only real time she gets to spend with her father.

“Morning, rock star,” her dad greets. Janis gets herself a bowl of cereal and pours the last mug of coffee her dad made. She sits next to him at the table and yawns at her breakfast.

Janis pushes her Cheerios around her bowl for a moment, taking a single bite to stall for time. She takes a deep breath before she asks, “Do you think you can come to my game tonight?”

“Shit, is that tonight?” her dad asks. Janis feels her heart sink, and she nods.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it,” she says.

“No, stellina, no,” her father says. “What time does it start?”

“Six.”

“Let me make some calls,” her father says. “I might be late, but I’ll be there.”

“Really?”

“Really. I haven’t… I haven’t been there for you nearly enough, since…” her dad sighs, trailing off before he finishes his sentence. “I’ll be there if I have to bring my clients along and have my meetings in the bleachers.”

“Thanks, Papa,” Janis replies. She grins sheepishly at her cereal when he ruffles her bedhead and kisses the top of her head.

“No problem, Janny,” he murmurs. “Have a good day.”

“You too,” Janis says.

—————

Damian picks her up that morning, and almost chokes at her getup.

“Shut up,” Janis grumbles as she tosses her backpack in the backseat. “We have to wear this.”

“I know, I just never thought I’d see you looking like such a jock,” Damian teases. “You’re even wearing pants!”

“Jersey doesn’t work with the tights,” Janis sighs, tugging at the uncomfortable denim of her black jeans. “Or the jacket.”

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Damian replies. He glances briefly at the white long sleeved undershirt she has on beneath her blue jersey, but doesn’t mention it. They both know why it’s there. He doesn’t need to bring it up unnecessarily.

“Surprised you don’t have a bow,” Janis chuckles, looking at her friend in his cheer uniform.

“I ordered one,” Damian says. Janis isn’t terribly surprised. “My hair isn’t long enough for the clip.”

Janis looks in the backseat when he motions vaguely in that direction, seeing the bow clipped to the handle. She undoes it and folds down her mirror. Damian looks at her in confusion as she ties her hair back into a ponytail and clips the bow to her hair tie.

“I think that means we’re dating now,” he jokes. Janis laughs and flips the visor back up.

“Really? I thought you have to wear my jersey for that,” she says.

“I think it goes both ways,” Damian replies easily.

“Well, we are soulmates,” Janis sighs. “I might as well wear this.”

“It suits you,” Damian says. Janis rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, right.”

“It does! It goes really well with your hair,” Damian says. “And all the blue works really well with your eyes.”

“I thought I told you to stop complimenting me in earnest,” Janis grumbles.

“How else are you gonna learn how to take compliments?”

“My plan was just to avoid them at all costs.”

“Yeah, let me know how that works out for you.”

“I will, thank you.”

—————

Janis grows increasingly anxious all day. She’s had loads of practice. Too much, if you ask her muscles. But she still has an entire team to lead. An entire team of high school boys that don’t like her very much.

She wonders how Damian feels. He literally has to carry the weight of an entire life on his shoulders for a few moments. And how does Cady feel? Being head cheerleader must be difficult. Janis doesn’t know that she could handle being tossed around so much. Or having Regina as her team captain.

She blinks and the day is over. She’s in the locker room, hiding in the bathroom stalls to get changed so nobody can accuse her of anything unsavory. She likes to think these girls aren’t all under Regina’s thumb, but she can’t risk it.

She rushes past them when she has all her padding on, eyes firmly on the ground as she has her helmet in one hand and her water bottle in the other.

“Good luck,” someone whispers to her just before the door closes behind her. Janis turns briefly, and sees Cady shoot her a small smile before continuing to touch up her makeup. Janis smiles back and jogs out to the field to get warmed up.

—————

Janis bounces on the balls of her feet as they wait behind their school banner for the cheerleaders to finish their opening routine. She tries to focus on the game ahead and not how adorable Cady looked in her uniform.

Doesn’t quite work.

She startles when her teammates start to run, bursting through the banner and onto the field. She picks up the pace after them, and heaves a sigh as she sets foot on the turf for the first game of the season. Her ears are ringing so loud she can barely hear the cheerleaders and fans whooping for them in the stands.

Janis adjusts her helmet and looks around the bleachers, scanning for the face she wants to see most of all. She shakes her head when she doesn’t see her father there, and tries to snap herself out of it. He said he’d be here, so he will. He’s just late.

She slips her mouthguard in, and they’re off and running.

——

It goes well for the first half. Their opposing team is pretty mediocre, but Janis and her teammates keep making stupid mistakes and allowing the other team to score. They’re only up by three points at halftime, so it’s really anybody’s game.

Janis pants for breath as she chugs her water down, trying to formulate plans for the second half of the game in her mind. She’s distracted watching the cheer routine go down in the meantime.

She’s seen bits and pieces of their practices, but never the whole thing all the way through. I can watch and think at the same time.

Janis chokes on her water at the first move they make. Damian is in the middle with a small group of other bases, doing the dance-y parts of their routine while the other squad members get into formation on either side of them. Cady suddenly runs up to him, does some sort of handstand, and is in the air above Damian’s head.

“Holy shit,” Janis whispers as Cady continues cheering, her feet a solid eight feet off the ground. Her heart stutters in her chest as Damian tosses her even higher, but Cady just twirls to the ground and lands securely in her bases’ arms.

She’s confused when Cady suddenly runs to the far end of the field and Regina runs to the other, but continues watching. All their teammates get into a line, doing more dancing and yelling something Janis is too exhausted to understand.

Cady suddenly takes a running start and starts flipping down the entire length of the field, twirling and spinning and flying and flipping and god Janis is dizzy just watching her.

“I bet she’s real flexible,” Janis hears Shane tell the other football players behind her. “Probably great for doin’ it.”

“Totally,” another boy nods. “Wonder if she’s taken.”

“Does it matter? I’m totally gonna get some tonight,” Shane says. Janis feels the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

“Oman, shut the fuck up. We need to talk about the next quarter,” Janis calls. “Defense, we gotta step up our game, they’re getting through us too easily. They suck, but we keep doing dumb shit and letting them get the beat on us.”

She hears Shane grumbling under his breath about being so rudely interrupted and told what to do by a girl, of all things. Oh, the humanity.

Janis ignores it.

What she can’t ignore is the missing person in the bleachers. He said he’d be here. Why isn’t he here?

She shakes her head again and continues with the plan, then starts the huddle and runs back onto the field.

—————

Janis tries, but she’s so rattled by everything happening around her that her plan rapidly goes to shit.

The other team is gaining on them, and they’re tied all through the fourth quarter. Janis is in no man’s land now.

She takes a glance at the scoreboard. Tied game, and… thirty seconds left.

She hears someone call, “Sarkisian!” and turns, throwing her hands up to catch the ball her teammate has passed her.

Aaron yells for her to pass to him. Time slows down.

Aaron is close to the end zone, he wouldn’t have to run far if she passed to him. It’s what she’s supposed to do, after all.

But the other team is rushing to the both of them, and Janis doesn’t have a clear shot. Does she play it safe and run it to the end zone herself, or take the risk of passing?

Aaron nods when she holds up the ball and chucks it in his direction as hard as she can. Aaron catches it, has it in his grasp, starts to run… and trips.

The other team, and some of their own, is on him in a second, piling on top of him in a mad scramble for the ball. Janis runs over, taking advantage of her slightly smaller stature to dive in.

The roar of the crowd echoes in her ears as she emerges from the pile with the ball firmly in her grasp and is off like a shot towards the end zone. The coach may have put her on the team for her arm, but she’s certainly not a bad runner.

She watches the grass turn blue beneath her feet, and slows to a stop. Her team rushes up around her, doing a weird cross between a huddle and a group hug. They won. She won.

—————

“Janis, that was amazing!” Damian says when she runs up to him in the parking lot. “God, you should have seen the crowds!”

“I’m shaking,” Janis laughs, holding up her hands so he can see.

“Adrenaline,” Damian chuckles with a knowing nod. “I’m so proud of you.”

“So am I,” a voice says. Janis whirls around to see her dad and sister standing there, clad head to toe in blue and yellow.

“Dad!” Janis says, running to hug him. “I-I thought you didn’t make it.”

“I promised I would,” her dad says, gently pinching her cheek. “I sat on the wrong side, I was with the other team’s fans. And I think my life may be in danger now, they really didn’t appreciate me cheering you on.”

“Oh,” Janis chuckles. “You might wanna run, then, I think they’ll be following you out soon.”

“You coming with us?”

“There is a party to celebrate the season starting, if you wanna go, Jan. I was going to,” Damian says. He leans into her and whispers, “And so is Cady.”

“Can I?” Janis asks, looking at her dad.

“Of course. Just make good choices, and call if you need me.”

“Okay. I’ll probably sleep over at Damian’s, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Janis says, giving her dad and sister hugs. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” her dad says, leading Stevie through the parking lot.

Damian smirks as Janis climbs into his car. “What?”

“I have a new trick,” Damian hums. “Just have to tell you Cady’s gonna be somewhere, and there you go.”

“Hey!” Janis huffs. “I would’ve gone if she wasn’t. I go to parties sometimes.”

“Yeah, and you never stay longer than half an hour,” Damian retaliates.

“I never need to. I can find girls or get wasted in plenty of time,” Janis says. Damian rolls his eyes.

“Let’s just stick around for this one, please?”

“Fine,” Janis grumbles.

—————

The music is so loud Janis feels like her bones are shaking. She hates parties. She has since Regina switched from the ones they had in middle school; casual sleepovers with pizza and movies, to ones like this; drunk people and too-loud music the smell of weed lingering in the air.

She pours herself a cup of punch as soon as she walks in the door, before it can be spiked with something other than booze and become unsafe for human consumption. Damian manages to worm his way through the swarms of people, and finds them a spot on the couch.

So, they people watch, listening to the music shaking the entire house.

Janis tries not to, she really does, but Cady is still in her cheer uniform and varsity jacket and adorable ponytail complete with a ridiculous bow and how is Janis not supposed to sneak the occasional glance in her direction.

She tries extra hard to stop when she sees her making an awful lot of conversation with Aaron Samuels.

Cady’s giggling at almost everything he says, even twirling the end of her ponytail around her index finger. Janis gags a bit into her punch.

She talks with Damian for a while, losing track of time and getting just shy of tipsy. A bit of a buzz is plenty for her. She got really drunk for the first time when she was twelve. That was enough.

When she looks back to Cady, she’s alone, staring off into space. Janis looks around and sees Aaron talking to none other than Shane Oman, class douchebag.

“Hey, man, I think Regina was looking for you outside. Said something about getting the keg set up,” Shane says.

“Shit, can’t it wait?” Aaron sighs. “Fine. Will you tell Cady I’ll be right back? The new girl?”

“I got you, bro,” Shane nods. Aaron nods back in thanks and heads to the backyard.

Janis focuses on Shane. His words from earlier echo in her head. Does it matter? I’m totally gonna get some tonight.

She watches as he pours a large cup of punch first. He heads over to Cady only then, offering her the cup and saying something Janis can’t hear. Cady takes it trustingly and gulps down a couple mouthfuls.

Janis tries to shrug off her worry, turning and talking to Damian again.

“Welcome back,” Damian teases. “How’s the land of the lesbianism treating you?”

“Shut up,” Janis scoffs. “Like you’re any better any time you see a slightly cute boy.”

“And you tease me about it just as much,” Damian grins, taking a sip of his water. He glances where Janis was looking, and seems confused. “What were you even looking at?”

“Nothing,” Janis says, looking back to where Cady… was. “Uh… take this, I’m gonna… go pee.”

“Thanks for sharing,” Damian sighs, waving her off. Janis rushes in the direction Cady disappeared to, shoving her way through a sea of half-drunk high schoolers.

“Hey, have you guys seen Cady?” she asks a group of people apparently trying to figure out how to kiss each other all at once.

“Who?”

“New girl, Africa, red curly hair. She’s a cheerleader,” Janis says, growing increasingly desperate.

“She went upstairs,” one of them says. “I wouldn’t follow her. She’s about to get it gooood.”

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” Janis hisses, running up the stairs. She doesn’t think she’s ever been here, she has no idea how to get around. She throws open the first door she sees, and walks in on someone having what seems like a very severe series of problems in the restroom.

The next three doors are about as helpful, just various amounts and genders of people hooking up or throwing up. Or both.

Janis throws open the last door on the left. Her relief at finding Cady is short lived.

She’s on a bed, pinned down by Shane, his hand held over her mouth as he pulls her skirt down her legs. Her top is already hoisted up, bunched uncomfortably around her shoulders. Cady’s still awake, but something is… wrong. Why isn’t she moving?

“Hey!” Janis yells, deciding to forgo everything she’s learned about her personal safety. “The fuck are you doing to her?”

“For fuck’s sake!” Shane yells. “I’ve fucking had it with you, I was just about to get some!”

“Yeah, well, we don’t always get what we want, do we? Now answer me,” Janis demands. “What. Were. You. Doing. To. Her?”

“What does it look like?!” Shane insists.

“It looks like she’s drunk out of her mind and you forced her up here, you fucking dick weasel,” Janis says. “You got one more chance.”

Shane just smirks.

“You sick son of a bitch,” Janis says. She channels everything she’s learned about tackling so far, pouncing on the much larger boy and taking him down. She has the element of surprise on her side, and manages to knock him to the ground.

“Bitch!” Shane roars when she punches him between the eyes and in the teeth, spitting a mouthful of blood at her. Janis blinks in disgust, and pulls a hand away to wipe her eyes.

Shane takes advantage of her distraction to free his hand and punch her solidly in the eye. Janis gasps in pain and does the only thing she can think to do.

Lift up a knee. And return it to his nuts.

Once Shane is effectively incapacitated for the time being, Janis roots through his jacket pocket. She pulls out a small vial of a clear liquid, labeled GHB.

“You fucking roofied her?!” Janis yells.

“Man, don’t you get it? You’re a fucking lesbo, that means you like pussy too,” Shane says, around a few groans of pain.

“No, it means I like women,” Janis corrects. “And I can get what I want on my own, without dosing a girl’s fucking drink.”

Shane sighs in relief and tries to stand when Janis scrambles off of him, but Janis gives him another solid kick in the nuts, and one in the face for good measure.

“If you ever show your face around school again I will show you the meaning of hell and fucking love it,” Janis spits, grabbing his shirt and getting as close to his bleeding face as she can stand to. “Scumbag.”

She pulls her phone out of her pocket and dials Damian’s number as fast as she can.

“Jan? Where the hell did you go, it’s been, like, twenty minutes!”

“I don’t have time to explain, just find Aaron and come to the guest room. Upstairs, last door on the left,” Janis says hastily.

“What? Aaron?”

“Just fucking do it, Damian, this is serious!” Janis yells before hanging up. She heads over to the bed and to Cady. “Hey, Cady, can you hear me?”

“Please… no,” Cady says quietly, slurring and looking at Janis with unfocused, glassy eyes.

“I’m not gonna do anything to you, I promise, I’m just here to help,” Janis says soothingly. “I’m gonna put your clothes back on.”

“Help,” Cady mumbles, looking around frantically. She’s so dosed up that it looks like she’s moving underwater, her eyes red and glassy and her movements almost slushy.

Janis winces and gently pulls her skirt back up, trying not to make prolonged eye contact with anything. Damian comes bursting in with Aaron just as she’s tugging her shirt back down.

“Jesus, what happened?!” Aaron yells.

“Shane fucking dosed her drink,” Janis huffs. “GHB. She’s high out of her mind, she can barely speak. Aaron, you handle him. Dame, we have to get her to a hospital.”

“Hey, wait, I can-” Aaron stutters, rushing over to them.

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Janis roars. “Listen, Aaron, I know you like her, I wish you all the luck there. I know you want to help right now, but I can’t trust you. I can’t trust anyone but myself with her. The best thing you can do for her is get that scumbag out of here and find her phone.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” Aaron sighs. “Jesus Christ, Cady.”

Janis gently hoists Cady off the bed bridal style, carrying her down the stairs and out to the car. Aaron gets his own round of punches and kicks in on Shane before he grabs his wrists and shoves him after them.

Damian comes running out to the car with Cady’s phone as Janis gently puts her in the backseat.

“Stay with her, she might… things might happen,” Damian says, getting into the drivers seat. Janis looks at Cady with wide eyes and crawls in, gently resting her head on her lap.

“You’re gonna be fine, okay? We’re taking you to the hospital, they’ll make you better. Nobody’s gonna hurt you,” Janis says, trying to comfort her.

She made sure Cady was lying in the recovery position, so Cady can’t see her, but she mumbles a, “Help.”

“We’re gonna get help, you’ll be okay, I promise,” Janis says desperately. “Cady?” No response. When Janis checks her eyes, they’re shut, but Cady is luckily still breathing. “She passed out, Dame, what do I do?!”

“GHB causes drowsiness, it’s normal,” Damian says. Janis is suddenly very grateful he’d decided to pay attention in health class during that unit last year. “We’re almost there, try to wake her up. At least keep her breathing.”

Janis does, gently tapping Cady’s arm and cheek and trying to pry her eye open. Nothing. Damian pulls into the emergency room parking lot so fast they leave skid marks, but Janis is even faster pulling Cady out and rushing in the doors.

“We-we were at a party, someone drugged her drink,” Janis says desperately to the nurse who rushes up to see what the matter is. “I-it was GHB, I have the bottle, but I don’t know how much she had, and-and she passed out on the way here-”

“Sweetie, it’ll be okay,” the nurse says calmingly. “You did the right thing.”

A few more people come rushing up with a gurney that she’s instructed to put Cady on. Janis does, and watches as she’s wheeled away.

“Wait, can’t-can’t I stay with her?! Until her family comes?” Janis begs.

“We need to ask you a few questions first, but yes,” the nurse says. “This way.”

Janis follows, hunching in on herself and trying to blink back the tears burning in her eyes. The nurse directs her to sit on a bed and starts pulling out a few things. Janis watches hollowly.

She jumps as the nurse approaches her face with a damp, sterile cloth. “What are you doing?”

“That’s a pretty gnarly black eye you got there, honey,” the nurse chuckles. “Someone got you good. Just gonna clean you up a bit.”

“Oh,” Janis mumbles, letting the nurse tenderly clean the blood and dirt from her face and assess her eye and cuts.

“What’s that girl’s name?” the nurse asks.

“Cady. I don’t remember her last name. I don’t know her that well,” Janis replies.

“You don’t?”

“We go to school together, but we’re not… friends or anything,” Janis says. She’s not sure why she’s telling a complete stranger this, but something in her says she needs to right now.

“You got contact information for her family?” the nurse asks. “I’m assuming you wouldn’t know her date of birth or anything like that if you don’t even know her full name.”

“I don’t. But I have her phone,” Janis says, fishing it out of the pocket of her jacket and handing it to her. It already has a pink glittery case on it. Plastic in more ways than one. “And, um… this is what he put in her drink. But I don’t know how much.”

The nurse takes both the phone and the bottle, resting them on a little table next to her. She gently places a bandage on her eyebrow and gives her a cold compress for her eye.

“You need a hug, baby?” the nurse asks. Janis bursts into tears when she reaches out and desperately leans into the offered embrace. “Shh, it’s okay now. You did the right thing, tonight. Takes guts to stand up to someone like that. And to bring her in here. You might’ve saved her life.”

“Is she gonna be okay?” Janis sniffles, clinging to this lady like a child clings to their mother and sobbing into her shoulder.

“I have every reason to believe she’ll be just fine. We got some of the best doctors around, here. They’ll take great care of her. Incidents like this are more common than you’d think, unfortunately. They know just what to do.”

“Sorry,” Janis sniffs. “This is embarrassing.”

“Hon, this is nothing. I get big burly bikers crying into my shoulder because of a flu shot. You’ve been through a lot, tonight. Why don’t you and your friend call your parents while I wait for the go ahead to let you see her?”

“Okay. Thank you,” Janis sniffles again, wiping her eyes and heading to the waiting room. Damian waves her over, so she plops down next to him and calls her dad.

“Daddy?” she murmurs, her voice wavering.

“Jan? What’s the matter, baby girl, I thought you were sleeping over at Damian’s tonight?”

“I was going to, but…” Janis says, voice trailing away. “Can you… pick me up?”

“Of course. Where are you?”

“Hospital,” Janis mumbles.

“What?! What happened, are you safe?!”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Janis says. She can hear her father running around frantically over the line, and the slamming of a car door. “Can I explain when you get here?”

“Of course. I’ll be right there. Is Damian with you?”

“Yeah, he’s here,” Janis says. “I’m okay.”

“Okay. I’ll be there soon. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Janis sighs shakily as she hangs up the phone. “Fuck, D.”

“I know,” Damian sighs, sounding about as exhausted as Janis feels. They sit huddled together, listening to the various sounds of the hospital and feeling each and every agonizing second tick by.

Eventually, blessedly, the very kind nurse comes back and lets them know Cady is stable and they’re allowed to sit with her if they want to. They both stand and follow her back after signing in and getting ID stickers.

“Her parents should be here soon, but I think she could use your company,” the nurse says, giving them both complimentary cups of water, which they both immediately chug down. “She’s stable, once she wakes up we’ll give her charcoal to remove the last of the drug from her system. She’ll be pretty exhausted for a few days, but she should be just fine soon. Thanks to you.”

Janis sighs in relief, sagging down a bit in the itchy hospital chair and leaning back into Damian’s shoulder.

Looking at Cady lying there it’s easy to believe she’s just… asleep. Like nothing really happened.

She’s not exactly the best at conversation in her unconscious state, and neither Janis nor Damian have any idea what to say to one another in this scenario.

So they sit in silence, listening to the steady, strangely soothing beeping of the monitors keeping track of Cady’s vitals.

After what feels like an eternity, two people come barreling into the room, already in tears, and make a beeline for her bedside. Cady’s parents.

They look friendly. Kind. It makes sense that they raised the girl before them. Well, the real one. Not the Plastic one Cady is steadily morphing into.

Janis isn’t totally sure what to do, here. She’s in the middle of deciding whether to just stay put or go introduce herself when Cady’s father rushes up and wraps both her and Damian in the tightest hug she’s ever experienced.

“Thank you,” he chokes. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Janis says, a bit choked since she’s being squeezed so tightly. Cady’s mom gently rests a hand on his shoulder, prompting him to let them go.

“Um… my name is Damian,” Damian begins. “I’m on the cheer squad with Cady. This is Janis, she’s on the football team.”

“Thank you, Damian,” Cady’s mom says, eyes brimming with emotion.

“You’re welcome, but… Janis is the one who saved her. She noticed what happened before anyone else did and went after her,” Damian says shyly. Janis flushes scarlet and looks down at her boots.

“It was Shane Oman,” Janis spits out in lieu of a greeting. “Just, um… in case you decide to try to press charges. He’s the linebacker. I can give you his information.”

“That would be wonderful,” Cady’s mom says quietly. “Thank you, Janis.”

Janis nods and takes a sticky note from a desk nearby. The entire football team has each other’s numbers, to ‘encourage camaraderie’ or something. Janis scrolls through until she finds Shane’s contact and scrawls down his name and number. She puts her own beneath it just in case they need information from her.

Cady’s dad stares at the note when she hands it to him, like just staring at Shane’s name with such wrath will bring about consequences.

Janis doesn’t blame him. She wishes just deleting his contact would delete the scumbag from the face of the Earth.

“Could… when she wakes up, would you mind… not telling her I’m the one who found her?” Janis asks sheepishly after a long beat of silence. She feels everyone’s eyes on her, suddenly.

“If that’s what you want,” Cady’s dad nods. “But why?”

“It’s a long story,” Janis says. “I don’t want to be a hero. Just tell her there are still people who have her back. If you need me to testify or anything I will, but… she doesn’t need to know. Nobody else but us does.”

“We’ll only tell her if we need you for something,” Cady’s mother promises. “If this is what you really want, it’s the least we can do in return.”

“Thank you,” Janis says. Cady’s parents both nod.

It’s quiet for another long, awkward moment, until a nurse pokes her head in through the door. “Janis Sarkisian, your father is in the waiting room.”

“Thanks,” Janis says. The nurse nods and leaves. Janis looks to Damian. “You ready to go?”

He nods and stands. They aren’t really sure how to leave the situation. Cady’s parents both wrap them in another awkward hug. “Thank you both again. We won’t forget this.”

“It was no problem,” Damian says quietly. “Tell her we hope she feels better soon.”

“We will,” her father promises. “Goodbye.”

“Bye,” Janis and Damian say at the same time. They pull the heavy door to the room open and head into the hallway, following the signs back to the waiting room.

Janis has tried to keep it together tonight, but when she sees her father standing in the waiting room in his pajamas, worry creasing his eyes, she just can’t do it anymore. She bursts into tears and runs to him with a whimpered, “Daddy.”

“Janis,” her dad whispers desperately. “Thank god, you’re alright. What happened?”

Damian comes up behind them and explains, since Janis is crying too hard to explain beyond choked whimpers and sounds vaguely resembling words. “One of the cheerleaders was drugged at the party and almost raped. Janis fought off the guy who did it and got me to help bring her here.”

“Jesus,” Janis feels more than hears her dad whisper. He tips her chin up, looking over her face. “He did that?” Janis nods with a few small sobs. “That all?” She nods again. “Nicely done, rock star.”

Janis dissolves into tears again. She’s exhausted, and her eye hurts, and she’s afraid. All she wants is this, and her bed.

And her mother. But we can’t get everything we want.

“Damian, are you okay to get home? Do you need a ride?” her dad asks, cradling Janis close to his chest.

“No, I’m good to drive, thanks, sir,” Damian says. “I didn’t drink at all.”

“That’s not what I mean, son,” Janis hears her dad say.

“I’ll be fine,” Damian says again. “Janis did a lot more. I just drove.”

“Alright. Call when you get home safe, will you?”

“I will. Thanks, Mr. Sarkisian,” Damian says. Janis feels her dad nod and hears Damian’s footsteps as he walks away. “I’ll see you Monday, Jan.”

Janis can’t bring herself to respond, just clinging to her father and weeping into his chest.

“Let’s get you home, stellina,” her dad murmurs, hoisting her off her feet and into his arms. Janis is concerned for the state of his back; her dad isn’t exactly young anymore. But he seems fine, slowly carrying her out to the parking lot.

Janis manages to buckle her own seatbelt with shaking hands, leaning her head against the window as tears stream down her cheeks. Her dad climbs into the drivers seat and starts the car, wordlessly beginning the drive home.

“I’m proud of you,” her dad murmurs about halfway home, squeezing Janis’ leg reassuringly. Janis doesn’t respond. She just grabs and holds desperately to his hand.

They stay that way the rest of the drive. Janis startles when they pull into the driveway, pulled out of her catatonic stare.

“Go get some rest,” her dad says, shooing her into the house. Janis pads off, kicking her boots off and heading upstairs to her room.

She feels like she’s taking off chainmail as she shrugs out of her heavy jersey and jeans, changing into her comfiest pajamas and tying her hair up into a bun so it’s out of her way.

She stares at her bed for a long moment. She longs for its comfort, the warmth she knows the blankets will provide. But it looks so big, so empty. Cold, and alone.

Janis tiptoes out of her room and down the hall, gently pushing open another door. She turns the knob so it won’t click shut behind her and crawls into the bed.

“Janny?” Stevie grumbles sleepily, her voice rough with exhaustion. “What’re you doing?”

“Go back to sleep, shut up,” Janis whispers, pressing against her baby sister’s back. Stevie rolls over and glares at her, squinting at her in the darkness.

“What happened to your eye?” she whispers.

“Nothing,” Janis sighs. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Someone punched you?” Stevie asks worriedly.

“Yeah. But I saw a doctor, I’ll be fine in a couple days.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Yeah,” Janis whispers. “Yeah, it does.”

Stevie doesn’t respond to that, seeming to know she’s not going to get anything more out of her sister. She rolls back over and lets Janis cuddle back into her back.

“Promise me something?” Janis whispers against Stevie’s shoulder just before she drifts off again.

“What?”

“When you grow up and get invited to your first high school party, tell me. I don’t care what I’m up to then, or where I live, or whatever. Call me and let me take you,” Janis murmurs. “Please.”

“Okay?” Stevie grumbles in confusion.

“Promise?” Janis insists.

“I promise,” Stevie replies. “Weirdo.”

“Hey. This weirdo is your sister,” Janis chuckles. “Goodnight. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Stevie yawns, holding her sister’s hand and drifting off to sleep.

————

thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed!

also i made janis italian in this just. for the hell of it so stellina translates to little star :)

#cadnis #paint by numbers #space safari #cady heron x janis sarkisian #cady x janis #cady heron #janis sarkisian #damian hubbard #mean girls #mean girls musical #mean girls broadway #mean girls the musical #mean girls on broadway #picking teams

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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glittersandsourcherries · 2 years

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Pitbull boy | Fezco x Reader

Summary: Cal shows up to Fez’s house and Ash hits him with the shotgun

Pairing: Fezco x Reader

Word count: 1k

Warning: Violence

Keep sending requests!!

Fez was out on a drug run tonight, leaving you alone at his house with Ashtray and Faye. You weren't too pleased to babysit Faye, but you didn't really have a choice. He wasn't going to take her to his clients.

As always, Ash had retreated to his room, rarely coming out of it now that Faye was living here. It made you sad to see him isolating himself.

You were flicking through social media on Fez's bed, making sure to like Maddy's recent selfie when you heard noises coming from downstairs. You thought it was Faye, high as a kite and talking to herself, but when you came down the stairs you had an unpleasant surprise finding Cal Jacobs in the kitchen.

He was sitting at the table with a menacing stare.

''We meet again.''

''How did you get in?'' you asked, knowing Fez had great security and alarm systems. There's no way he would've gotten in without setting anything off.

''Blondie over here let me in,'' Cal explained, tipping his head in Faye's direction.

The latter was sprawled on the couch, high on heroin. ''He had a gun,'' she said, as if it was a good enough reason to let him in.

Fucking Faye... Fez had told her many times to never open the door to anyone. Did the little stunt Cal pull at the store not scare her enough?

''Where's your boyfriend?'' Cal asked, looking around the room.

''He's not here.''

The gray-haired man leaned back in his chair. ''I'll wait for him, then.'' He stared you down like you were some object, making you wish you had put on pants. Your sleep shorts weren't covering much. ''Come sit with me. Chat a little.'' He kicked the chair next to him, motioning for you to sit.

You went reluctantly, trying to come up with a plan in case things go south. Fez wouldn't return home until a few more hours and the guns were too far for your reach. With Faye’s arrival, Fez had moved the one from the couch to his bedroom.

You were fucked.

''So...you're Fezco's little bitch, uh?'' Cal brushed his finger up your thigh, shamelessly taking advantage of your lack of clothing.

After knowing what he did behind closed doors, having his hand on you made you feel sick.

You swatted his hand away with utter disgust. ''Don't touch me.''

Cal ignored you and put his large hand back on your thigh, this time higher. He began tracing shaped with his thumb, enjoying himself. Consent and boundaries were really not their forte in this family.

''I said: don't put your filthy hand on me.'' You pushed him away again, but his grip on you tightened in a predatory manner, making your skin crawl and stomach churn. Your heart was beating fast in your chest, apprehending with anxiety what he’d do next.

He clicked his tongue. ''I don't think you're in position to make such requests.'' Cal patted his jacket pocket as a reminder of what was inside.

''I've heard about your little...activities. You're just a pervert who likes to fuck little kids.''

Regret flashed before your eyes as anger filled his. You knew being mouthy would get you in trouble some day.

Before you could react, he gripped a fistful of your hair and pressed your face against the table top. The commotion caused something to fall from the table and shatter on the floor.

If you weren't scared before, now you were.

You closed your eyes, worried he was going to pull his gun on you now that he knew that you knew, but Ashtray came out of nowhere and knocked him out with the end of a shotgun.

Ignoring your own state of shock, you scrambled upstairs to get your phone and call Fez. Cal Jacobs may be unconscious for now, but he'll wake up at some point and you'd rather not be alone with him.

''Hey baby,'' Fez answered, his voice smooth and happy to hear yours. You could hear the rumble or the car, meaning he was driving. ''I shouldn't be too long. Got a few clients left. Two hours top.''

''You need to come home. Now. Something happened and I can't tell you on the phone.''

When you returned to the kitchen, Faye was hysterical and Ash still had a firm grip on the shotgun, eyes wide as he stared down at his victim on the ground, blood dripping from the cut above his eyebrow.

The scene before him was the last thing Fez expected when he bursted through the door.

''What the fuck happened here?'' His eyes darted between you, the body on the floor and then Faye, waiting for someone to speak.

You opened your mouth to, but Faye beat you.

''You need to control your pitbull boy,'' she said, putting all the blame on him.

''And you need to shut the fuck up,'' you fired back, taking Ashtray's defense. Perhaps his method was a little violent, but he had saved your life. ''If you hadn't opened the door in the first place, we wouldn't be in this situation.''

''I didn't do shit. I was on the couch all night,'' Faye explained.

''We need to get him out of the house. We can't have him wake up in here. Faye, you take his feet. We gonna carry him out.'' Fez turned to you, eyes soft as he brushed his thumb over your cheekbone. A bruise was forming above your eye from when Cal pushed you down. ''Then, I want you to tell me what the fuck happened while I was gone.''

Fez's blood was boiling as you gave him a rundown of the evening.

''This man had fucking balls comin' to my house, threatenin' my girl and touchin' my girl. He better not come near me - or you - again or he'll end up in the same state as his son and I might not stop myself.''

You wouldn't want to be in Cal's pants right now. He might be bigger than Fez, but so was Nate and look who won.

''Imma go speak to Ash.''

''Thank him for me, okay? I...I don’t know what I would’ve done if he hadn’t-’‘

Fez nodded. He rose from the bed and walked out of his bedroom, going to Ash's who was right across.

''He dead?'' you heard the little boy ask.

Fez shook his head. ''It's gonna be okay.'' He crouched down to Ash's level, leaning his forehead against his. ''You did nothing wrong, Ash.''

#fezco #fezco imagine #fezco x reader #fezco euphoria #the ending sucks but oh well #euphoria #euphoria fic #euphoria imagine

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karmadona · 2 years

Text

Vice - BTS Mafia Au

Mafia!BTS x reader

Summary: After finding yourself in a desperate situation, you’re foolish enough to do anything for money, and you somehow find yourself held captive by the members of Seoul’s most ruthless gang, Bangtan.

Warnings: Strong language, no smut(yet, ;))

Authors Note: Just finished watching The Gentlemen and I’m incredibly inspired to write something about the mafia/underground crime lol. This will be my first fic I’ve ever posted, so feedback is encouraged

Chapter One

It was a Friday afternoon, letting out a sigh of exhaustion, I throw my backpack on the ground haphazardly as I enter my trailer. Another long day of college over, and another week of tedious work coming to a close. I flicked the light switch next to the door frame but the small space stayed in darkness. “For fucks sake” I mutter, I hadn’t paid the electrical bill. The place is a shithole, but it’s all I’ve got. But, with another 6 bags of weed sold today, I just might be able to get that bill paid. I always used to frown upon those who turned to selling drugs to make a quick buck, but here I am left with no choice but to join those who I had always seen myself as better than.

It’s a cliche story, really. Me and my brother, Jinwoo, had run away from our mother, an avid drug abuser and a pathetic excuse of a parent. Between the two of us we somehow scraped together enough money to pay the rent living in a trailer park, soon I enrolled myself in the local community college and Jinwoo found odd jobs to support us.

No more than four months later did I return from classes to a note stuck to the peeling wallpaper in the kitchen. He had landed himself in massive trouble with his dealer, and had fled to god knows where. I figured eventually he’d return when he deemed things safe but it’s been a year and a half, and not even a text, letter or phone call.

I tried to pick up part time jobs to continue paying the bills by myself, but it was useless. It seemed like every other day I was returning home to eviction warnings on my door. Eventually I had no choice but to do the one thing I had swore to myself I never would.

Turns out, selling drugs to stoner college kids really is a fast way to make money, though I’ve swore to myself that I would never take them under any circumstances. My dealer, Hyunwoo, pays me 305,000 won ($250) a week to sell to his clients on campus, and bring him the money. Hyunwoo’s a handsome man living in the run down part of the city, much like myself. He blows all his money on weed, but makes a hell of a lot of cash selling it. He’s surprisingly charming, and quite flirty, really. I’ve grown to like him the more I’ve got to know him, and he must like me to some extent too because he always pays me a little bit extra than he pays the others who work for him.

I realise it’s getting quite late and I should really head over to his pace to give him his money before it gets to dark. A short ten minute walk and I’m knocking on the front door of his apartment, waiting expectantly. The door swings open to reveal Hyunwoo leaning on the doorframe. He’s got long-ish black hair that reaches just past his ears, full lips and high cheekbones, he’s very attractive, well put together and not at all what you would picture when thinking of the stereotypical stoner.

“Ah, I figured you’d show up soon” He sends me a wink and pushes himself off the door frame. “Yeah, I’ve got your stuff in here, hang on” I dig through my bag until I find the wad of cash I had accumulated through the course of the day. He takes it from my hand and counts it, but as I turn to leave he puts a firm hand on my shoulder. “Actually, could you come inside a minute, I need to talk to you”

“Sure” I rack my brain for anything he could possibly want from me, but in the end I’m really not sure of his intentions with me. He places his arm gently on my lower back and leads me through his apartment to his living room. Despite the shitty part of town he lives in, his apartment is actually quite nice. The walls are a dark, pine green, paired with mahogany furniture. The overwhelming smell of tobacco and marijuana fills my lungs, causing me to scrunch my nose in disgust for a moment.

“Sit” he instructs, motioning to his tan, leather couch in the centre of the room. I follow his command as he stays standing, and I look up at him expectantly, waiting for him to speak. “I need you to do me a favour” he sighs. “depends what it is.” Inside, I desperately hope it’s just selling to a few extra people next week, or something minor like that. Knowing Hyunwoo, it most likely won’t be.

“Some fucking gang in the north of the city have something that belongs to me, and I need you to help me get it back.” “no.” I respond bluntly. “I’m only doing this cause I need the money, I don’t want anything to do with your gang shit.” He thinks for a moment, but then continues. “I’ll pay you an extra 6,000,000 won ($5000) if you do this job for me.” Initially, I go to immediately decline his offer, but then I hesitate.

6,000,000 won? that could pay my rent for a full year. If I don’t take this job, I’ll never be able to pay that electrical bill, I could be evicted by the end of the month. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and I am desperate. “continue…” I say apprehensively, hoping the job will be quick and easy, but considering how much he’s had to offer me to do it, it probably won’t be.

Hyunwoo explains to me that there’s an upcoming gathering, disguised as a lavish party, for Seoul’s mafia bosses, drug lords and all sorts of other underground crime schemers, to discuss deals and other business offers. The group -or gang, I guess- organising it operate under the name Bangtan. It does ring a bell but to be honest I’m not all that familiar with them or their work, and I have no intention to be.

Hyunwoo claims Bangtan have stolen something that belongs to him, and that my job, is to get that thing back. “When you enter the building there’ll be a long hallway to your right, with a staircase at the end, go up the stairs and into the third door on your left. There should be a desk in the centre of the room, and in the bottom drawer, you’ll find a briefcase. Bring it back to me.”

Silence overcomes the room for a brief moment as he finishes explaining my task. I take a moment to think before I finally speak. “One question” His dark eyes bore into me as he awaits for me to continue. “why me?” “what do you mean?” “Well, you have so many other people who work for you, who are much more skilled at this stuff than I am, why not send one of them? I know anyone with common sense would gladly take the money.”

Hyunwoo, who had been rolling joints throughout the duration of our conversation, reaches into his drawer and pulls out a lighter, igniting the end of one of the blunts. I give him a look of disapproval, not that he cares, though. “You’re absolutely correct, this errand would have a much higher chance of success if I sent one of my good men, but Bangtan knows them all. We’ve done many deals with them in the past that they’d easily recognise any one of them. You, however, they don’t know, as long as I get you a fake invite and a fake ID, no-one will bat an eye at you.”

Hyunwoo takes my still quietness as a silent acceptance. “It’ll be next friday at 10pm, I’ll text you the address tomorrow.” “alright” I say, standing up from the very stylish, but rather uncomfortable, couch and make my way over to the door. “I’ll see you later then” Just as I’m passing through the frame of his front door the sound of his voice stops me in my tracks, “And, Y/N?” I hover in the doorway awaiting a response, only for him to snicker, and say “Wear something pretty” he flashes me a grin and begins to laugh as I roll my eyes at him, and make my way out the door.

Authors Note: Chapter Two will be up as soon as possible! :))

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wafflesetc · 2 years

Text

this love

Intelligence thought they were dealing with a small drug operation within the limits of their own city until their wires got crossed with the Feds. And with the Feds an old friend has come back into town, trying to repair old wounds.

A/N: This is my first Chicago PD multi-chapter fic, so hang with me as I test the waters with this fandom. I’ve watched the show for all ten seasons, just never really dabbled into writing fic for it. Except I just could not get this idea out of my head, so I figured why not go ahead and try and write it. It’s planned at six chapters with an epilogue, if all goes to plan.

AO3

Chapter 1

“Jay, a minute?” The husky voice comes from the office behind him. His wife looks across from his desk up at him as she closes the folder of paperwork in front of her and raises a brow up at him.

“Yeah, Sarge.” He stands and pushes his chair into desk, “I’ll be just a few minutes.” He whispers down to his wife.

“I’ll wait for you in the truck.” Hailey finishes for him.

“Close the door.” Voight says taking his seat at his desk. “You know that big drug ring we’ve been trying to bring down for the past few months?”

“Yeah, the one the G-Park lords have shown some ties with to the cartels in Mexico?” He takes his own seat across from his boss as Voight reaches for his personal stash of bourbon and pours them both a glass.

“One of our CI’s got some information about a meet. Adam and Atwater went down last night, and it ended up being much more product than we thought. As they were leaving, they got pulled over, it was the FBI.”

“Sounds like the feds have an op going on the cartels and now we have our wires crossed.” He reaches for his glass and takes a sip. “I’m not sure what this has to do with me just though, doesn’t this really affect everyone? We’ve been working on this case for months.”

That’s when there is a knock on the door and an all too familiar voice fills his sergeant’s office.

“Hey, partner. Been a long time.” The voice is a deep one, with a huskiness and raspiness to it that he used to know like the back of his hand.

“Erin.” He isn’t sure whether or not he says her name out loud to himself or to her but somehow, she hears her name and lets out a small laugh.

“Yeah, it’s me.” She sits down next to him, and he can feel her eyes on him, looking him over from head to toe. “It’s nice to see you.”

He stares at her blankly, not sure what to say because in reality- he isn’t sure what to say. Personally, there are things he wants to say and even professionally there are things he wants to say to her.

Instead, he chooses to ignore his own feelings and goes the extremely professional route and pushes all his feelings aside for the time being, “So the Feds did get crossed in this, what does our drug case have to do with you?”

“This specific product has been traced in three different cities. El Paso, Los Angeles, and New York. Just last week we heard about a big transport to a new market and some of our agents picked up some chatter about a meet up for a big client..”

“Ruz and Kevin.”

“Yes, one of agents was watching the meet go down and caught them surveilling it too. We didn’t know CPD had an open investigation because your investigation was on the G-Park lords not the Cartel aspect.”

“So here we are.”

“Now we’re going to be working together on this,” Voight finally chimes in, and for once in his life, Jay is thankful for the man to interrupt a conversation. “I just wanted you and Erin to see each other with me before everyone else is around. I’ll give you two a few.”

He stands up and gives them a small nod, exiting his office, leaving the two of them alone.

“It is really nice to see you, Jay.” Erin says, unbuttoning her suit jacket.

He can feel his phone buzzing in his pocket and looks down at the screen Hailey.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to take this. Hey, yeah I’m meeting with the feds- yeah, the drug case, I won’t be that much longer, probably fifteen minutes. You can either wait for me or take your car and I’ll meet you at home…. Sorry about that.”

“No, It’s late and you’re ready to go home. I just wanted to see you before everyone else was here. I feel like we needed a few minutes just the two of us.”

Jay nods because he’s not really sure what to say here, or what she wants.

“Listen, Jay. I’m not here to uproot your life, okay. I’m here because of the case- when I heard intelligence was working it, I did volunteer because I knew you all and I wanted to see you and give you some answers.”

“Erin, I respect you…You are good police, and you are probably a fantastic agent, but a lot has happened in the past few years. Stuff that honestly, I don’t think we would have survived. I’m married now… That phone call was my wife. Do you remember Hailey Upton?”

“I do.” There’s a small smile on Erin’s face and he watches as she looks down to the ring on his finger. “Let me guess, that’s who you married.”

“Yeah, that’s my wife. What happened between us, happened and I’m glad you were my partner and I’m thankful for the time we shared-but it’s just that, it’s in the past. It’s really good to see you and I’m glad you’re doing well, but let’s just run these cartel members into the ground?”

“Okay, Jay- I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, he stands, holsters his weapon, and makes his way out of 21, nodding to Trudy who gives him an all too knowing glare wondering how that conversation went upstairs.

The truck is on and Hailey is listening to a Podcast about some cooking show when he opens the door. He sits in the driver’s seat, closes the door, and lets out a huge sigh. His wife sits next to him, an eyebrow raised, waiting for him to speak.

“Lindsay’s back.”

#Chicago PD #Jay x Hailey #Upstead #chicago pd fanfiction #cpd fanfiction #jay halstead #hailey upton #hank voight #erin lindsay #one chicago

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peterpparkrr · 3 years

Text

(Bucky Barnes x reader): Sessions

Summary: The reader goes to therapy, sees a new face.

A/N: I’m gonna try and work through my writer’s block by posting little blurbs each week for FatWS - they’ll probably end up being Very short because y’know, it’s my final semester of college but I want to do something that’ll actually make me happy.

Dr. Gardiner said that it was normal. Well, not normal, exactly, but common. Apparently, it’s a common experience among those with complex PTSD to feel on edge, startled, even seemingly without reason.

Unfortunately, that didn’t mean shit when you were standing in the waiting room, staring at the guy sitting in the blue chair in front of you. Sitting in your spot, the chair you’d decided was the best spot in the waiting room a long time ago, you could see everything from that chair, everyone who came in and out of the area.

Talking to people has never been your strong suit, and initiating a conversation with a stranger? A man? A strange, scary-looking man? After everything you’d been through?

But Dr. Gardiner wanted you to practice imitating small talk with strangers. It was part of the exposure therapy that she wanted you to try working through.

“Hi,” You said quietly as you sat down on the other side of the waiting room, a few chairs over from the man. You didn’t look him in the eyes, but you let your eyes hover on the large painting behind him.

He smiled at you but didn’t reply verbally.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. That wasn’t so bad, now was it?

---

“I said hi to a man in the waiting room,” You tell your therapist as you try to get comfortable on the couch across from her.

“And?” Dr. Gardiner prompts you.

“A lot of Dr. Raynor’s patients are working through trauma too, right?”

You knew they were, Dr. Raynor and Dr. Gardiner are both VA therapists. Dr. Gardiner had been appointed by the state as your therapist after-

Well, that’s not important right now.

“I assume so, but you know we don’t talk to each other or anyone else about your clients, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah, doctor-patient confidentially or whatever.” You tell her dismissively as you wave your hand around.

But she just stares at you, silently encouraging you to continue with your story.

“He seemed different from the other vets that I usually see in the waiting room. He was less jittery. But it made me… I felt nervous. But I guess knowing he was probably just as fucked as I am made it so I didn’t feel so afraid.”

“I’m not sure what I would have done if he’d actually started a conversation with me.” You admit after a few moments. While you’d been doing Dr. Gardiner’s homework for a few weeks, you knew that in New York City of all places, the chances of anyone actually saying anything back to you were pretty low. Even if they looked friendly you couldn’t guarantee you’d even get a “hello” in return.

“That’s alright, we can work up to that,” Dr. Gardiner tells you, “Other than your interaction in the waiting room, how was your week? Have the breathing exercises been working?”

“Kinda,” You lie. Of course, they’re not. Most of the stuff Dr. Gardiner tells you to do doesn’t work. The drugs cause just as many problems as they solve, and the breathing exercises, the homework, it makes you feel worse most of the time. But you can’t tell her that - it’s supposed to be helping. She’s supposed to be helping.

“(Y/N), you need to be honest with me if this is supposed to work.”

“I just feel bad. I know it’s supposed to help, that it’s supposed to make me feel better, but it doesn’t.” You tell her, “I just can’t seem to calm myself down. No matter how hard I try.”

“Maybe we can come up with some new exercises to try instead.”

“Yeah,” You nod as you look down at your hands, which you notice you’ve been wringing in your lap, seemingly without your awareness.

“We need to work together to come up with solutions, (Y/N), but I need you to be honest with me when things aren’t working, okay?”

“I… I just don’t want you to feel like you’re not doing a good job,” You shrug, “I know you’re trying to help, and I really do appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

“Some things just don’t work, and we can try different ones, it’s no one fault. It’s not a failure when one of the solutions we come up with doesn’t work, it’s just part of the process to find a solution that does help.”

You don’t say anything, but nod.

“This seems like another stuck point for you, (Y/N), now why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know,” You mutter

“Do you think there’s a reason that this brings up some really negative emotions for you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think that maybe this perceived failure ties back to something that happened when you were-”

“Maybe I was fucked up before the kidnapping! I don’t know anymore! I just felt bad, why is that wrong?!” You shout.

“(Y/N), please calm down,” Dr. Gardiner says slowly as she looks up after your unexpected outburst with alarm.

“No! Maybe I’m tired of trying to make this situation feel okay because guess what? It’s not okay! Every day I have to live with what those guys did to me! I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t do anything, and you keep telling me that it’ll get better, but it’s not, if anything it’s getting worse. And I’m tired of pretending that I’m okay!”

As your screaming in Dr. Gardiner’s face, you don’t even realize you’re standing up now, but the room is too hot, and it’s starting to get way too small and you feel like you’re suffocating.

You can’t breathe all of a sudden and it’s all too much. You push your way out of her office.

As you stormed out of the office you nearly plowed directly into someone. The guy from earlier. Dr. Raynor’s patient.

“Whoa, hey, are you okay?” He asks as he reaches out to you.

“I’m fine!” You all but shout, “Don’t. Touch. Me.” You spit in his face as you rip your arm out of his grasp.

“Hey, hey,” Dr. Gardiner says as she comes rushing out behind you and leads you back towards her office, “Thank you, I’ve got her,” She says to the guy as she tries to herd you away from him.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)? Can you hear me? We’re gonna try one of those new exercises now, okay? I’m going to need you to sit down for me.”

You all but collapse to the floor of the hallway as Dr. Gardiner starts to walk you through the breathing exercise and ground you again.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes headcanon #falcon and the winter soldier #fatws #fatws imagine #bucky barnes imagine #fatws fanfic #fatws reader insert #fatws oneshot

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boldlyanxious · 3 years

Text

A year of Glitter

Part 7

Glitter series

Masterlist

Red Hood didn’t really have a lot of work to do tonight so he was mostly just wandering around the neighborhood. It was good for people to see him so they didn’t try to decide he wasn’t worth following anymore. Black Mask was pushing back hard in some areas but as far as he could tell most of the people around preferred him in charge. It made the struggle harder for his crew but overall the people were better off with him around. The kids were fed and off drugs and those who chose to be working jobs were able to do it without resorting to crime. Those who chose the higher risk, higher reward of crime worked harder because they wanted to get somewhere in that line of work.

A door opened in the alley ahead, spilling light out and shining on the woman who had stepped into the otherwise dark space. She closed the door quickly and appeared to be trying to sneak around. Typically he would check to make sure she was safe and not followed without interacting but this particular woman made him crave interaction. He did wonder about her sudden appearance though. She could be dressed up for any number of reasons but she definitely looked like she was trying to escape a bad date.

He moved swiftly to catch up with her before she reached the end of the alley. He should have thought to say something to her before he reached her but he was more concerned with not being spotted by anyone else than considering how she might react. He reached out for her arm to guide her back to the alley but she turned back to defend herself. He was pretty pleased with her form and ability to defend herself, even if he was easily able to stop her from hitting him. He had more skills than most and she also stopped herself when she realized that it was him.

She visibly relaxed against him and allowed him to guide her along to a more private section of the alley.

“You startled me. I thought you were someone else,” she said.

“Your boyfriend?” he asked.

Marinette couldn’t tell what his reaction was to the possibility. He didn’t sound upset by the idea. She didn’t know how she felt about that. She was single and had been every time she had seen him but if he didn’t care about her dating life, maybe that meant she wasn’t the only one he was meeting with.

“Definitely not. He certainly did make an attempt though.”

“That doesn’t sound very good for him. I can’t complain though. I don’t think I would like it if you had a boyfriend.”

“So you are thinking of me then?” she asked slyly.

“Darling, I don’t think of anyone else the way I think of you.” He reached out and brushed her cheek. “You certainly look like you were on a date. That dress looks great on you.”

“I was supposed to be meeting up with a client who wanted to commission me for some accessories. She brought a friend to the meeting and then had to rush out. He was not surprised by this, they had planned the whole thing. So I wasted my night and I won’t be getting a commission out of it.”

“Do you want me to kill him?”

His voice was low and serious but Marinette was fairly certain he had a teasing edge to it. He didn’t seem the type to kill someone for trying to get a date with her so she just brushed past his question.

“That wouldn’t improve my night.” She took a step towards him. “Do you have any ideas on ways to improve my night?”

“I have many--.”

His voice trailed off as she walked up to him and pushed on his chest with her hand. He allowed her to back him up to the wall. He reached and pulled her against him by her hip. She wasn’t focused on that. She reached up to his helmet to work on getting it off him. He pushed the release behind his head to allow her to remove his helmet. He waited for her to kiss him. Based on her behavior he had expected her to do it as soon as she got it off him but she had paused. Her hand came up and rubbed at the scruffy beard on his face. He had forgotten about it. He decided it would be okay to skip shaving for a couple days, not expecting anyone to see it.

“Do you like the look, Doll?” he asked.

“Mmm.” She kept running her fingers against his beard. “I’ve never been a huge fan of beards but you might be changing my mind. You really pull it off.”

“So should I just always keep it like this? My new look?”

“No. I like it the other way too. I like the way it feels clean shaven,” she paused. “But I really like it like this too.”

“I think that just means you like me.”

He smiled down at her and that is when she moved up to kiss him. She already had his back against the wall but she pushed against him into bricks to keep him there. Their lips searched for a rhythm against each other. Marinette could think of nothing better to wash away her waste of a night. He held back and followed her lead as she kissed him desperately. Her fingers moved up into his hair but she kept moving a hand back down to feel his beard again. He smiled into her. After a moment she started to sag against him so he lifted her up to him to help them with the height difference.

Red Hood was disappointed when she pulled back but she didn’t stay away. She moved down to his neck, leaving a trail of kisses. He could barely breathe at the feeling of her teeth sinking into him. He wished away all of his armor so he could get closer to her. Since that wasn’t actually possible he just took a moment to move his hands over her back and legs appreciating that she was not wearing armor. He could tell that he would end up with marks down his neck from her attention but he didn’t care. Very few people saw him without his full suit on and none of them would say a thing about it.

When their lips met again he turned so she was the one against the wall. He kissed her deeply without pulling away for several minutes. She was gasping by the time he pulled back. He made the same path she did, down her jawline and pressed his lips into her neck. He covered all the skin with licks and small bites, sucking gently so he wouldn’t mark her exposed skin. She had a much larger area of skin available to him and he took full advantage. Her hands were digging into his hair as he moved down to the top of her dress line. He made sure to kiss at the lowest part of her skin exposed by the neckline of her dress before he returned to her mouth.

Red Hood was fully ready to suggest they move things somewhere else. She seemed receptive to moving things further but they were still in public. Unfortunately just then he heard an alert come through his helmet. He groaned at the timing. He responded close to the microphone and then went back to kissing her. Luckily it wasn’t an urgent issue so he was still able to kiss her soundly before her ride arrived to take her safely home.

He moved back to kiss her neck again and then up her throat.

“So are you ready to tell me your name?”

“What’s in a name? You won’t tell me yours.”

“It’s safer for you if you don’t know anything else.”

“Is it safe for me to tell you my name?”

He wasn’t actually sure. He knew she would be better off without him in her life but he couldn’t get himself to make that decision. He would wait to see what she decided, whether he knew her name or not. He moved to put his helmet back on but she pulled him down for one more searing kiss before he did. Then she walked away without looking back. He moved to make sure he saw her get in the car to take her home and hoped he would have a chance to check to make sure she got home safely later.

Taglist

#maribat #jasonette #a year of Glitter #now kiss #boldlyanxious

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Sunny Side Up

Summary: Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right? And for Mike, there’s no better way to start it than by eating his favourite thing, ever.

Pairing: Mike Weiss x Reader

Warnings: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Brief mentions of drug addiction- nothing graphic. Language!

A/N: So this was what popped into my head after seeing @imanuglywombat post that damned latest Sex Position as part of her downright filthy and wonderful “Is That Even A Sex Position” weekly challenge. This position is called “The Special Breakfast”. See here for more information. And you can totally blame @sweater-daddiesdumbdork for this one. I wasn’t gonna write it but…yeah, I did. Sorry not sorry. I’ve tried to make the reader as non-descript and as inclusive as I can but I don’t usually do reader x fics so I apologise if it hasn’t quite hit the mark.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Tagged my permanent tag list.

Main Masterlist

********

“No, that’s not the same, at all.” Mike’s voice drifted up the hallway of you house as you closed the door behind you, shutting out the bitter January wind that has descended over Dover. “Yeah, well they signed up to the terms so....”

You glanced at your watch, it wasn’t even seven-AM yet and he was already on to someone about the current case he was working. But then, that was Mike all over. An addict, only now you were glad to say the only thing flooding his system was adrenaline and passion for his work.

You hung your jacket up on the pegs by the door, unwrapped your woollen scarf from round your neck and placed that over the hook above your jacket and then reached down to unzip you boots, before toeing them off. Your sock clad feet padded down the wooden floor of the hall towards the kitchen and you walked in to see Mike was bent over a file on the island in the middle, already dressed for the office.

“Clause ninety-one, paragraph twenty, sub-bullet two. Yup. We’ll present that to them today, give them chance to respond.” He paused for a moment, his head turning to you, a warm smile spreading across his face as you leaned over for a quick peck before you headed to the fridge for a soda. “Yeah. Okay, no problem, see you about half eight.”

With that he placed the cordless phone down and turned to face you.

“Morning, Baby.” He grinned, before he nodded to the Diet Coke in your hand. “Interesting choice of drink for breakfast.”

“Technically it’s not my breakfast time.” You shrugged back. “More like dinner, I suppose.”

Mike chuckled as he crossed to space towards you, his hands falling to your hips before he bent down and brushed his lips against yours in a hardly there kiss. “Good shift?”

“A heart attack, car accident, two broken legs, couple of flu cases and a shit tonne of idiotic drunks, the finest Delaware has to offer.” You shrugged. “Usual shit.”

“I don’t know how you do it, Dr Y/L/N”

“Lucky for you I do, or we’d have never met.”

“And I’d be dead.”

“Don’t.” You shook your head, swallowing a little. The memory of that night almost eighteen months ago was still raw. If you hadn’t stopped by at Mike’s that evening following an argument the pair of you had earlier in the day, you’d never have found him almost dead from an overdose. It had been a long road to recovery, and whilst nothing was ever proven, Mike and Paul were convinced that it was something to do with the safety needle case they had been working. Despite the fact that there was enough heroin in his system to stop his heart, Mike swore blind to you he hadn’t taken anything but a few lines that night, and there was something about the way he said it that made you believe him. And so did Paul.

The authorities never managed to prove anything, but there was one good thing to come out of it. When you had broken down and told Mike how scared you’d been that he was going to die and that you couldn’t cope anymore with the constant fear that one day he would kill himself for real, it gave Mike the final kick he needed because he didn’t want to lose you.

So he got clean. And this time he did it for good.

It wasn’t easy, for either of you. Once he was medically fit enough, Mike had been placed on a programme at a Rehab Centre, whereby he saw no one bar trained medical specialists and councillors for six weeks. It felt like the longest six weeks of your life but he did it. And when you went to pick him up, you instantly burst into tears at how different he looked, how better he looked, how healthy he looked.

The road to recovery is a long one, paved with temptations, you knew that being a Doctor. And whilst Mike knew and understood his triggers thanks to his programme, those temptations met him everywhere, especially because he knew exactly where and how to get his fix. So the pair of you agreed to take a fresh start. You traded Texas for Delaware, the State you were originally from, and you were beyond proud to be able to honestly state that Mike Weiss had been clean now for eighteen months. Well, apart from alcohol that is. But even that was enjoyed in moderation, and to be honest, you’d rather him sit at home with a glass or two of bourbon each night that sticking fuck knows what into his veins.

You cocked your head to one side as his hands flexed on your hip and he gave you a little side smile. “Sorry. Oh, hey guess who I got a call from?”

“Who?” You asked as he stepped back, grinning.

“The Alligator Farm. Snappy’s got himself a lady friend. They’re gonna send me some photos and stuff.”

You smiled, giving up that beloved alligator had been a hard sell to Mike. “That’s great.”

“Yeah. Oh and Paul was thinking of coming over with the family in the spring. I said they could stay here, I know it’ll be a squeeze but is that okay?”

“Course it is.” You reached up to cup his cheek. “It’ll be lovely to see them again.”

Mike smiled and dropped another kiss to your lips, this one slightly stronger before you pat his chest as he rest his forehead against yours.

“I need to go shower.”

“Want me to come join you?” He asked, eyebrow raised and you smiled.

“As good as that sounds there’s something else I want more.”

“Oh yeah?” He grinned, his eyes flickering down to the buttons on your blouse and you laughed.

“Calm down, Stud. I want pancakes and bacon, I don’t give a shit what time it’s supposed to be for me.”

Mike groaned as you moved away from where you’d been stood with your back to the large, stainless steel fridge and headed out of the room. He watched you go, the gently sway of your hips in your well fitted black pants made his groin twitch. He was half tempted to fuck your demands and go and jump you in the shower whether you wanted him to or not, but he’d seen the flicker your face had given when you’d described how your twelve-hour shift had gone down. Despite your blasé tone, he knew you too well and understood exactly how tired and stressed you were feeling. So, instead, he turned his attention to making breakfast.

Something he prided himself on was his cooking ability. He’d picked it up pretty fast since you’d moved here, he found it was a welcome distraction, so much so you very rarely made meals now, bar when you insisted on doing a roast which he never argued against. Within fifteen minutes he had a stack of pancakes, bacon, eggs- sunny side up, as you preferred- all laid out on the island and ready for you to help yourself to. He’d just poured you an orange juice when you walked back into the kitchen, hair piled on your head in a messy bun, wrapped in a dressing gown and he was pleased to see you looked relaxed.

“Oh, Mikey, this looks great!” You smiled as he wrapped an arm round you, kissing your head. He watched as you helped yourself to a huge plateful before making your way over to the table and sitting down with a sigh. Mike tucked his tie into his shirt to avoid it dropping into his food and plated himself a helping up before he sat down at the place next to you, cracking his neck slightly. The pair of you chatted about the day ahead, which for you consisted of sleeping until it was time to get up for your next shift, Mike’s contained a meeting with a company who he was currently in the process of negotiating a settlement with on behalf of a client. When you’d finished, Mike made to clear away the dishes but you gently placed your hand on his arm and stood up, insisting on doing it as he’d cooked.

When you returned to the table, Mike pushed his chair back slightly and patted his knee.

“Come ‘ere.” He smiled softly and you grinned, settling yourself on his lap sideways, your arm looping round his shoulder, fingers gently playing with his suspenders. He gave a contented sigh as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your head, happy to simply be close to you for a moment.

“You doing okay?” You asked and he smiled, your words carrying that hidden meaning- ‘Do you want a fix, today?’

“I’m good, Babes.” He pulled back to look at you. “I promise.”

Smiling you gently placed your lips on his in a soft kiss, which soon became heated as Mike’s hand slid up to the back of your neck, holding you in place as his tongue slid along your bottom lip. He was pleased when you reciprocated, opening your mouth slightly to allow him in. He could taste the sweetness of the syrup on you from your pancakes and, as your tongue gently swirled against his, he let out a little groan from the back of his throat and he felt you smile.

“How long till you have to be in the office?” Your voice was lower than you’d intended, betraying exactly what you had in mind and Mike grinned at you, pulling back a little, as he glanced up at the clock.

“Just over forty-five minutes, why?”

You bit your lip, fingers toying once more with his suspenders which were clipped to the waistband of his light, grey trousers and sat over a maroon shirt, set off with a black tie. “Do I gotta spell it out to you, Weiss?”

“No, I just like hearing you beg.” A cheeky glint flashed in his eyes and you gave a snort.

“I do not beg.”

“Really?” He arched an eyebrow and in a swift moment he stood up, causing you to give a shriek of a giggle as he sat you on the table in front of him. “I bet,” he pushed on your shoulders causing you to rest your weight on your elbows as he loomed over you, gently reaching for the tie on your robe, “that I can have you singing my name and begging for more,” his hands made quick work of the knot and pulled it open, before his fingers slid up the front, opening it to leave you bare in front of him, “in less than five minutes flat.”

“Less than five minutes?” You looked up at him, his eyes blown with lust and you smirked. “You’re so full of shit.”

He wasn’t though, you knew full well that you were the one full of shit. Mike had on many an occasion had you crying his name in less time than it took you to sing a verse of the National Anthem, and he knew it as the cocky expression on his face showed.

“Oh, Baby Girl.” He chuckled, bending over, his mouth brushing against that spot on your neck, the bristles of his short beard scratching your skin. “Have you learnt nothing, yet?”

“Only that you’re a cocky little bastard.” You tried to keep your voice level but it didn’t work. Your words came out a shaky whisper as one of his hands gently splayed on your stomach and brushed up your body to your sternum as he peppered hot, opened mouthed kisses across your collar bone, before his lips ghosted up your neck, over your chin and his mouth claimed yours in a searing kiss as his hand palmed at your breast. As he rolled your nipple between his finger and thumb you gave a moan and he smirked against your mouth.

Suddenly, he was gone from over you and you frowned, missing his sudden presence and you propped yourself up on your elbows to see him settling back in the chair by the table.

“Mike, what the-“

You were cut off as he reached over, grabbing your ass and hoisting your pelvis up, pulling you towards him. Before you could register what was going on, your legs were over his shoulders and you just caught a glimpse of his face, as he quirked an eyebrow at you, lips curled upwards in that maddeningly smug bastard grin, before his mouth was trailing up the inside of your thigh.

“Oh, Jesus.” You let out a little groan as he neared the place you now desperately wanted him and he chuckled.

“No, just me.”

“Fuck off you-“ But whatever it was you were going to call him flew from your mind as his tongue licked up your sex, and grazed against your clit, teasing it with quick, hardly there flicks which, you were ashamed to say, had you riled up something feral. His hands palmed at your ass, his fingers curling round the outside of your thighs as he quickened his movements, his mouth expertly devouring you, tongue flicking into your entrance as his lips circled that sensitive nub, giving a suck that made you cry out, your back arching off the table, pushing yourself further onto his face.

Mike let out a chuckle which vibrated exquisitely against you and you gasped again, your hands slapping onto the cool surface of the table, fingernails feeling the grain of the wood as he upped his efforts dramatically, lips and tongue teasing you in a way that was so delectable it was teetering along that fine line between pain and pleasure. His mouth expertly devoured every inch of you, from your inner and outer pussy lips to the depths of your walls, tongue fucking you like you he was starving, despite the breakfast the pair of you had eaten moments ago.

“Fuck, Mike, I need…” Your voice was croaky, the words sounded far off as they bounced around your lust addled brain and once again he chuckled.

“I told you.”

“Yeah, yeah you arrogant sh-oooh fuck!” You cried as he gently nipped your clit. “Shit!”

You were willing yourself to remain grounded, wanting to prove him wrong but you couldn’t. You couldn’t fight the urge you felt to ride over the edge which was building like a fire inside you. When his mouth was over you completely once more, tongue deep, you felt him move one of his hands and his thumb pressed against your clit, before the pressure eased off and his tongue slipped away.

"Okay, okay you win, Mike, please for the love of God!” You groaned and with a final, maddeningly smug chuckle he dove back in, only this time when you felt your orgasm brewing he didn’t stop. One of your hands flew to his hair, pulling lightly on his soft, spiky strands and he gave a growl as you tugged, his efforts doubling once more as his beard scratched against your sensitive pussy and inner thighs. The coil in your belly was tightening, your entire body quivered and with a final flick of his tongue you gave a cry as your orgasm crashed over you. Your toes curled into his back just below his shoulders, your own back arched as your walls clamped down over nothing, the room fading out as everything went silent and the lights erupted in front of your eyes, your entire body feeling like you were floating.

Mike grinned, guiding you through your release before he stood up, pulling you further to the end of the table as he undid the flies on his trousers, freeing his painfully hard erection. The swollen head of his dick gently swirled around your folds before he buried himself inside you, groaning as he felt you fluttering around him in the after throes of your orgasm. You let out a low groan and finally opened your eyes, looking up at him as he pounded into you, fully clothed, those fucking suspenders that drove you wild still looped over his shoulders.

He slid one, large hand under your back and pulled you up causing you to cry out as he drove deeper into you, his hand on the base of your back pulling you up and towards him as he dipped his head to give you a dirty, sloppy kiss whilst he rolled and thrust into you. Then His lips moved down, nipping at your neck, his breath hot on your ear as your head fell back, a low moan rumbling in his throat.

“God, I love seeing you like this, fucking wrecked all because of me.” His panted words made you groan even more as the heat in your groin was beginning to mount again. “Makes me higher than any fucking drug ever could.”

His thrusts continued, hard, deep, and you felt his dick throbbing inside you as he drove up against your spot, his lips back on yours as he kissed you hard, swallowing the pants and whimpers you were making as you began to teeter on that cliff edge again. With a deep roll of his hips you let out a low wail and came, once more, your core spasmed around him as your entire body tingled, and that was enough for him to follow you. With a powerful thrust he stiffened, a low grunt stuttering from his lips as he pulsed inside of you, his hips growing sloppy before they stopped completely. His chest heaving, he pressed his forehead to yours, the pair of you gasping for breath as you came down from your high.

“Shit, Mike.” You managed to stutter as he grinned, his lips meeting yours in a soft peck. “That was…”

“Yeah, I was pretty good.” He chuckled and you slapped his arm as he moved and pulled out of you. You straightened your robe and stood up, wincing as you felt his release trickled down your inner thigh.

“I need another shower.” You grumbled, before you glanced at his crotch, the damp patch where he’d pressed against you was clear as day. “And you should probably change your trousers.”

Mike glanced down before his eyes met you, and he shrugged. “Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll go into the office like this and then every time I see it I’ll be reminded exactly what a damned good breakfast I had this morning.”

You blinked before you shook your head, scoffing. “You’re gross.”

He laughed. “You love it, Sweetheart.”

“I love you.” You corrected, your hands sliding up over his shoulders and he smiled, a pure, innocent smile that made him look like a schoolboy before he took your face in his hands and kissed you deeply, pulling away, his nose bumping against yours.

“I love you too.” He whispered, his eyes locking onto yours. “Now go, before I decide to play hooky for the day.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Weiss.” You smirked, before with one final quick peck you left the room.

Mike watched you go, before he ran his hands through his hair and turned to glance around the kitchen, his eyes falling to the table he’d just fucked you senseless on.

He should probably clean that before he went to work…

#uglywombatsexpositionchallenge #mike weiss #mike weiss x reader #mike weiss x you #mike weiss reader insert #reader insert #mike weiss fanfic #mike weiss smut #chris evans #chris evans characters

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Text

Afterglow - Part 8

A/N: Is it time for some much need talking? Hmm....perhaps. As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx 💕

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: drug and alcohol mentions; slight language

AFTERGLOW MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

You drifted in and out of sleep that night, waiting up several times due to the jolt of a startling nightmare. At first you almost forgot where you were or what was going on - why were you asleep on the couch? But it hit you like a ton of bricks; Frankie Morales was currently asleep in your bed.

A few times throughout the night you’d gotten up and stretched your stiff bones and wandered to the bedroom door, opening it just a crack to peek inside. Each time, Frankie was fast asleep with Daisy next to him. It caused you to relax a little, knowing that he was okay, and you needn’t worry about an overdose or anything like that. But it didn’t ease the pain of seeing him again or knowing that he was struggling with an addiction...or something.

The universe had put an odd situation on your plate.

Once you couldn’t sleep any longer, and had gotten tired of lying on the couch, which it had turned out was not an ideal sleeping situation, you made your way into the kitchen to start breakfast. You weren’t even sure what to do really, but it was a bit of normalcy to offset your otherwise shaken up routine.

As soon as you started the coffee, something that was an absolute necessity, you’d left messages for your clients apologizing for the early call and canceling their appointments due to a last minute emergency. Hopefully they wouldn’t mind. As the coffee percolated filling the kitchen with warmth and the delicious smell, you reached into the fridge and started pulling eggs, bacon, and other items to make breakfast with. Grabbing a bowl and a pan, you quickly settled on pancakes, wondering if they were still his favorite. He’d always loved them when you were younger and on more than one occasion had your little date nights ended in a small 24-hour diner, where’d he chow down on them.

The memory made you smile, as you recalled one particular time when he eagerly topped off his pancakes with fresh fruit and whipped cream, which had gotten on the corners of his mouth. You’d reached over and wiped the whipped cream away, licking it clean from your own finger. It seemed like yesterday, even though it was so long ago.

Sighing, you pushed the memory away and carried on preparing the batter and throwing some bacon into the oven. As soon as your coffee pot signaled that it was done, you grabbed your favorite mug, followed by another and poured the black coffee in. You finished yours off as you liked, topping the other off with a sprinkle of cinnamon. It amazed for a mere fraction of a second just how well you still remembered the things he liked. But your amazement was quickly cut short when you heard a quiet throat clear from the opposite side of the counter.

“H-hi,” he said quietly, almost tentatively as he seemed to look anywhere but your eyes. You took the cup you had prepared for him and set it down in front of him, motioned for him to take a seat at the bar.

“You look like hell,” you commented as he sat and clutched the steaming cup between his hands. He made a small sound of agreement as you turned back to your pan and poured some batter in, “I made it how you used to like it....I presume it’s still the same?”

“Yeah,” he said as he put the mug to his mouth and took a long sip, “thank you.”

“Mhmm,” it was a small, noncommittal sound as you focused your attention on the pancakes and eggs. Daisy came over and you offered her a treat before getting her into the backyard and preparing her breakfast. The tension in the air was palpable and you could see that Frankie was eager to say something. But he didn’t dare to be the one that broke the silence. Gods knew you were just as eager to say something, a lot of things honestly, but all of that could wait for now.

Once everything was finished, you grabbed two plates and piled them high with a spread of items, topping them off with some fresh berries on the side. Daisy had been a good girl, clambering between the two of you, so you offered her a piece of bacon and a few berries, which she eagerly took and ran off with and into her bed to eat.

Handing a plate to Frankie, you set down your own, as far away from him as possible at the small bar. It didn't create a huge divide between you, but the point came across loud and clear.

The two of you ate in silence for some time, the only sound in the kitchen was the scraping of utensils and a few small huffs from Daisy. She gave you an almost pathetic look a few times, and you just rolled your eyes at her. You knew she wanted to be out and in the company of others; once she'd overcome her initial fear of people, she thrived in attention.

"Oh hush," you told her before passing her another strip of bacon, "we'll go for a walk later, good girl. Or maybe you can go play with Eddie."

Frankie remained silent as he watched you, doing his best to keep a smile from stretching across his features. But you were too quick and caught him staring.

"I've been bringing her into the office with me every day," you explained, "she likes being around the people and they often find just as much comfort in her. It's a win-win really."

"Hmm," he commented as he shoved another bite in his mouth, "office? W-what kind of office?”

"Yeah," you said softly, "I, ugh...I'm a therapist.”

He caught your eye and offered you a slightly confused look. Never once had you ever mentioned wanting to be a therapist. In fact, you had wanted to avoid anything you had once deemed similar to your parents as a big no. Coming from a surgeon and a doctor wasn’t a far stretch from a therapist. When the barista at the coffee shop had referred to you as ‘doctor’, he had envisioned...many other things. This was very similar to things you had proclaimed you'd never wanted to be, "oh. I thought you wanted to be a zoologist. That’s what you always wanted to...study animals. UCLA-"

"Yeah," you cut him off sharply, "I did once. In another lifetime. I had to make decisions back then.. Ones I didn't think I'd make or have to make. I thought things were going to play out in a very different way but the joke was on me, right? So, here we are. I'm good at my job and it just...worked out."

"But do you like it?" he asked tentatively as you narrowed your eyes at him. No one ever really asked you that...it was just sort of assumed that you did, or if you didn't, that didn't matter one way or another..

"What does it matter, Francisco? A job is a job," you almost snapped at him, "but yes. For the most part I enjoy my job. I'm glad to be helping people that need it.”

"It just didn't seem like something you wanted to do..." he trailed off softly.

"Well, I also didn't think I'd go to college alone and have to make an entirely different series of choices. I didn’t think you’d just leave me and go into the military - and you were going to leave me in the dark about as long as you could. Remember that?" you knew it was a dig, the lowest of blows, but in that moment you didn't care. Things had ended a long time ago and at the end of the day, it didn't matter anymore, "because I do. So yeah, my life plans changed. But you know about that just as well. How did that work out for you?!"

You hated yourself in that moment, and as soon as the words left your mouth you wished you could take them back. You hated how much venom was lacing your words, how angry you still were with him. It was twenty years worth of pain and hurt bubbling to the surface all at once. And yet - the look on Frankie’s face was enough to make your heart break. Sighing lightly, you tossed the fork onto your plate and slid out of the bar stool. Tears were prickling at the back of your eyes as you held up your hands in surrender, lips trembling slightly. You tried to slick past him, but he reached for your arm to try and hold you back, "honey-"

"I gotta go," you said, pulling out of his grasp as motioned for Daisy to follow you. Nervously looking between the two of you, she trotted over and perked up slightly when you grabbed her leash, "I-I'll be back. I’m sorry.”

You dashed out the door as swiftly as possible, letting it shut softly behind you as Frankie stared at it, a heavily, weary sigh escaped his own lips. Setting down his own fork, he pushed his plate away, no longer feeling hungry. He wasn’t mad at your words, or the spite you still held for him. If anything it made him hurt just as much. He’d always been confused on why and when you finally decided to cut your ties with him, but he never blamed you. If the roles were reversed he might have done the same. But he’d never hated you for it. He could understand why you did what you did. He was just Frankie after all, he wasn’t worth waiting around for you. Just because he’d never let you go, didn’t mean he expected the same of you.

Standing up, he picked up his own plate, followed by yours and brought them to the sink. Turning on the tap, he set everything under the warm water to soak before quickly deciding to just clean up the kitchen then and there. It was the least he could do. Frankie carefully put everything away, making sure everything was going into what he was sure were the proper spots before loading the dishes into the empty dishwasher. He stopped himself when he reached for your empty coffee mug, holding it delicately in his large hands as he examined. It was a soft yellow, covered in little flowers and beehives and bees. A forlorn little smile crossed his features as he decided to hand wash the mug, drying it with the utmost care before putting it away in the cabinet.

The whole process to getting everything clean again took him some time, but by the time he was satisfied with his handiwork you still weren’t back from your walk with Daisy. It gave him pause to wonder if he should just head home or if he should wait for your return. Eventually he decided to opt for the latter, figuring it would be rude to just run out on you. If nothing else, he’d thank you for the help from the previous evening and then leave, but a smaller part of him hoped that you’d ask him to stay. To talk. There was a lot to talk about after so many years.

And yet - there was nothing. The relationship was done. Ended. Nothing.

He went back down the hall to straighten your bedroom up and gather his shoes, but he trekked slowly, taking a moment to study all the pictures on your walls. Some of it was more or less generic artwork, some were photos of you with friends and family over the years. He had admired each of them, how you had changed from the beautiful girl he had fallen in love with to the still beautiful woman he was infatuated with. It was amazing to him that you still looked the same after all this time - the same soft eyes, the same sweet smile, the aura of kindness that seemed to follow you everywhere. He was nothing like he once was, not in his mind anyway, instead of ragged and worn out. A sight for sore eyes.

Shaking his head to himself, he finished the walk back to your room and began to tidy up, making it a point to keep away from anything that looked personal. But in his keen attempt to make your bed, he accidentally knocked over what liked a journal from your nightstand. Groaning at his carelessness, he picked it up and attempted to set it back, but instead, a couple of photographs fell out of it. He swooped them up and curiosity got the better of him as he studied the pictures intently.

They were of you - you and him.

One of them was from one of the winters you shared together, the two of you were bundled up in thick jackets and scarves, Frankie’s old beanie on your head, with the skating rink visible in the background. You both looked so young, so carefree, so happy. You were smiling for the camera but his eyes were slowly focused on you, the grin on his face speaking volumes.

The other one was from Halloween, and the two of you were dressed up as Morticia and Gomez from the Adams Family. Your feeble attempts at costumes had been laughable, but the joy in your faces was undeniable. This time he was smiling for the camera, an arm wrapped tightly around, but you were looking at him as though he was your whole world.

You had kept the photos after all these years. He let out a long breath before tucking them back into the journal and setting it back on your nightstand. As he finished making up the bed and slipping his shoes back on, he heard the front door open, followed by the sound of Daisy’s footsteps. She eagerly nudged open the door and wagged her tail at him, trying to get his attention for pets.

"Frankie?" your soft voice reached his ears as he gave Daisy a nervous look before slipping out of your bedroom. He stood in the hallway, nervously twist his hat in his hands as you stood at the other, an unreadable expression on your face.

"Hey," he softly as you just nodded. The two of you stood there for a moment, silently staring at each other. When you didn't say anything he started walking down the small way, "I should go..."

But before he could slip past you, you reached out and grabbed his wrist in a surprisingly firm, but gentle, manner. He turned and gave you a confused expression, "stay. W-w should talk...instead of just running every time we see each other."

"Okay," he agreed as you gave him a momentary smile before leading him outside, to the small little backyard sanctuary you had created. It was crisp and cool, the promise of fall and new hope with the changing season lingering in the air. Daisy was close at hand, bringing out a toy to play with as sat down at the patio table, Frankie taking a seat at the other end of the table. It was silent for some time before you finally mustered up the courage to talk to say anything.

"I'm sorry for earlier," your voice was quiet but Frankie heard you loud and clear, "I shouldn't have exploded like that at you. It wasn't fair."

"'S okay," he insisted. In his mind he deserved a lot more than just a few angry words. A new silence loomed over you as you watched your dog run around play, easily keeping herself amused.

"I was supposed to get married," you blurted out suddenly and Frankie's attention was hyperfocused on you, his deep brown eyes trying to decipher every expression, "in a few weeks actually."

"Oh," he said casually as he if hadn't noticed that you weren't sporting the huge engagement ring you had been wearing when he first ran into you again, "I-I figured...the ring and all."

"Yeah," you said with a scoff, looking over at him and rolling your eyes dramatically, "was going to. Completely dodged a bullet with that one."

"W-what happened?" he wouldn't deny that the fact that your engagement ended instilled a small sense of hope in him, "if you don't mind me asking..."

"A lot of things, honestly,” you shrugged lightly. It wasn’t a complete lie...there were a lot of factors that ultimately led to your decision. The fact that Frankie had appeared out of the blue, out of nowhere, was just another incidental happenstance that seemed to jog you into making the decision. But you weren’t about to admit that to him...not yet anyway, “I basically realized I was unhappy...that he was everything I never wanted and the life I was leading was the one I had wanted to avoid for so long.”

“Oh,” he completed quietly as you threw up your hands in exasperation, more at yourself than anything else. It was just…a hard situation. It wasn’t easy for anyone and with Frankie right there next to you it was hard not to picture a life with him. What would it all have been like if he had been the one?

“I was becoming...became everything I hated,” you laughed dryly at yourself, casting a quick glance over at him as he was watching you intently, “all those things I said I never would be. I ended up being them. I ended up as this quiet, pathetic excuse of a woman that just did what everyone told her to do, what everyone expected of her. I became the model daughter my parents always wanted - working in what they deemed a proper job, never speaking out of turn, marrying the successful lawyer, never straying from the line. And then...I just realized...this isn’t me. This was never me. It’s not who I’m meant to be. I knew that if I went through with that wedding and everything that came afterwards I would never be happy again. Despite the years of self loathing, I couldn’t do that to myself.”

Frankie was listening intently as you seemed to work this out within yourself as the words poured out of your mouth. He knew exactly what you meant, and at the end of the day, he was proud of you for being able to make the decisions you needed to for yourself, “so you just called it all off?”

“Yeah,” you dabbed at the tears that pearled up and slipped down your cheeks, before laughing lightly. In the moment, it had been a bold, dramatic move, one that you considered almost worthy of a cinematic masterpiece, but looking back on it, you had probably seemed like a mad woman, “basically. It was the day of my last dress fitting and it just...hit me. I was with the dress maker and her niece and they were asking me all about my fiance and asking me if I was excited and how in love we were and everything. And it hit me then and there - I couldn’t do this. So...I bailed and left. Called it off an hour later. You should have seen the poor things! Oh Frankie, they looked so surprised, but they understood. I paid for the dress and I told them to donate it to someone that deserved it.”

“Holy shit,” he breathed out as he pictured the scene. You caught his eye and the two of you started laughing together. Gods, in that moment, it was easy, so easy to just laugh and not think about anything else. It still felt so effortless with him, even despite everything that happened between the two of you, “you just did that!”

“You know what they say about mad women, Frankie,” you teased, taking a moment to collect yourself. Looking back on it now it was funny, but in reality...it had been a harsh end to your previous life and a bumpy start to your new one, “but...at the end of the day it was the right thing to do. I couldn’t marry Chad and just be Mrs. Wadsworth forever.”

“Chad? Wadsworth?” Frankie couldn’t help but snicker at the names as you nodded before hanging your head, giving him just a glimpse of that smile that always made him weak in the knees, “oh honey, you should have known from the name alone.”

“I was a fool,” you admitted with a dramatic sigh, “a self righteous fool. At the time it had seemed...right.”

“Did you love him?”

“I-I suppose I did,” you said softly, “at one point or another. I don’t know where along the line it just ended up as routine and just me going through the motions but obviously it did…”

“I’m sorry you had to do through all of that,” he said quietly as you shrugged. It wasn’t his fault...that was all of your own doing, “how did your family take it?”

“About as well as you'd think,” you bit the inside of your cheek to keep more tears from flowing worth, “you know them, Frankie, they’re the same as they’ve always been. At first it seemed like my mom understood, and she seemed to care, but by the next day it was like a flip had been switched. They had seemed to side with Chad and somehow none of feelings were relevant. And all of the friends we’d had basically decided that I was the bad guy. So it kind of...left me to figure things out on my own. Luckily, I do have a few really good friends left. They helped me out a lot...even to find this house actually. Things could have been a lot worse...they were rough but they’re getting better.”

“Still,” he almost whispered at you, “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that. You don’t deserve it.”

“Such is life,” you looked at him and offered an almost teary smile, “but about you? Did you ever get married or anything?”

“No,” he answered quickly as you tried to ignore the small skip of your heart. He tapped his fingers against the glass top of the table for a few moments, “there was never really...anyone else.”

“Really!?”

“Nope,” he was almost nervous as he swallowed the lump in his throat, “I was in the military for a long while...overseas, special ops...never really had much chance to worry about that kind of stuff back then.”

“What about when you got out?”

“There were a few here and there,” he admitted quietly, “nothing serious, nothing that lasted more than a few months.”

“Oh,” it was your turn to be surprised. For some reason he had struck you as the type that would have settled down...the type of man that would almost yearn for domestic bliss. Little did you know he did exactly that, just not with anyone that he encountered so far.

“Yeah,” he exhaled sharply through his nose, “it hasn’t been much of an exciting life.”

“Surely it must have been,” you insisted, “special ops? That sounds like it be one adventure after another...but it was the military…”

“I was glad to get out when I got out,” he insisted and you could tell there was a lot more he wanted to say. But he tensed up lightly and you weren’t going to push him to tell you anything. If he wanted to, he would, but as far as you were concerned he owed you nothing. And yet...a small part of you hoped he did still want to open up and confide in you.

“What...what do you do now?”

“I’m a mechanic,” he stated simply and pointedly looked away from your eyes. He didn’t know if he wanted to see the expression in them, to know if you suddenly thought him to be much lower, “it’s nothing much but I-”

“It’s brilliant, Frankie,” you insisted, quickly cutting him off and causing his head to whip in your direction, a small smile tugging on the corners of his mouth, “you had always had a knack for stuff like that - it never made any sense to me, but you? You always had a sharp mind.”

“I was a pilot too!” he eagerly told you, and you could have died at the excited expression on his face, “in the military and…”

“And what, Frankie?” you asked, noticing the rapid change in his mood, almost as if he hadn’t meant to tell you quite that much. He stilled for a moment before looking away, “Frankie?”

“And for a while after that for private individuals,” he almost murmured, “but umm...n-not at the moment.”

“Okay,” you replied, telling him in that one word that he never needed to go past what was comfortable for him, “Frankie, I’m glad that things worked out for you...really.”

He just nodded, and gave you a weary look before silence fell over the two of you again. You pulled your knees up to your chest and hugged them, watching as Daisy sniffed everything before bringing her ball over to Frankie. He gently took it from her and tossed it across the yard, repeating the action several times over before she grew bored of it and went to follow around a squirrel.

After some time, you cleared your throat, deciding that now was as good of a time as any to lay everything out on table. What was the worst that just happen? He would get mad, you would get mad and then he left? It wouldn't put you in a worse position than before. There was literally nothing left to loose, and you'd hate yourself if you didn't at least tell him. If nothing else, you would get it all off of your chest.

"T-there was another reason I called off my wedding..." you admitted and slowly shifted his gaze back to you, "umm, everything kind of...I realized how unhappy I was and that things weren't right after...after running into you. That day at the coffee shop when I spilled coffee all over myself."

Frankie tried his best to keep his expression neutral but it felt like a swarm of butterflies had just been released into his stomach. He was trying not to read too much into your words but he was loathe to deny his excitement. That meant you had felt it too; he wasn't wrong in thinking it was just him. He looked at you to go on, making a small sound in his throat, "I-I remember..."

"It set off...something," you said softly, "and that's what caused me to realize everything else."

"If nothing else, I'm glad the spilled coffee led you to realizing that you deserve better...that you deserve the world..."

"I...I never stopped loving you," the words shot out of your mouth before you could do anything to stop them and Frankie's jaw dropped and practically hit the floor, "seeing you made me realize that...there was never anyone else that I could ever love because they weren't you. Even after everything that happened, all this time, it always came back to you."

"Honey bee," the nickname flowed easily and you didn’t bother to correct him. You liked the way it sounded, you had missed it even. It was so much better than sugar plum, which still made you cringe to even think about, “you…”

“I know,” you said quietly, bringing your hands up to your face as you tried to hide and make yourself feel smaller. You hadn’t, not in a million years thought you would see him again, let alone admit this to him or yourself, “I just...the more I thought about it, especially with Chad, I kept comparing everything to you. Even if I didn’t admit it out loud to myself, that’s one of the main things that it was. It was always you.”

“I-I don’t understand…” he said quietly, “you never...I called you and you never called me back. I thought...I thought...why?”

“I know,” you admitted, “I just...I couldn’t, Frankie. You left me and I hung around waiting for you all the time. My life revolved around waiting for to call, or email, any little hint from you. It wasn’t healthy - I was missing out on so much, because I was always waiting around for you. I couldn’t do that anymore, to wait to hear from you from an hour once every two months whenever you got the chance? It wasn’t fair to me or you. So I just...decided not to anymore.”

“But I-I came back,” he said meekly as you shrugged lightly.

“When? How many hours was your life devoted to the military? How many years were you gone for the majority of the year? It wouldn’t have been fair to me to have to wait for you, and it wouldn’t have been fair to you either, to only get to see me once in a while. Wasn't it easier to just not have to worry about it?” you tried to rationalize it to yourself and him at the same time. But as the words left your mouth you wondered if it had been easier that way. Maybe it would have been easier, maybe you would have been happier if you’d tried to make it work...but now you would never know.

“I don’t know,” he sighed heavily as he leaned his elbows on the table and rubbed his tired eyes, “I don’t know...but I do know it was hard for you.”

“You left me Frankie,” you said softly, trying not to cry again as you thought back to the day you had discovered that he was leaving for the military. It had been the worst day of your life back then. It still was to this day, “we made all these plans, our future, and you left me.”

“I did what I had to do back then,” he said softly, and while you never believed, even back then, you knew he had his reasons. You knew that the choices he made for all calculated and thought out - he was never one for rash decisions, “the choices I made helped become the man I am now. And look where you needed up - a therapist. A successful therapist. That counts for something, right?”

“I know....I know you did. I understand that now. A small part of me still thinks I would have rather have been with you, Frankie,” you said softly, turning to face him and resting your head on your knees, “even looking back on everything now. I wish you would have let me come with you -”

“So what?” he almost snapped and you jumped slightly at the sudden change in his voice, “you could have been some military wife that’s never happy?”

“I would have been happy with you!” you retorted with just as much edge as he had given you, “I would have been happy if I got to be anywhere with you. You were my everything, Frankie, and that never changed.”

“You would have been alone half the time,” he sighed heavily, “and I never...I never wanted you to have to worry if I was dead or alive or if I was coming back at all.”

You remained silent as you mused over his words. He had a point...if you had been with him, when he was overseas, you would have been wondering every minute of every hour if he was alright or not. That was a fate almost as cruel if not more so than what you were put through.

“I wanted you to have a chance at happiness,” his tone softened as he looked at you with big brown eyes. They were full of emotion, holding so many things inside of them, “without me you had a shot.”

“I thought I did too,” you agreed, your lips trembling effort to keep from crying. Gods, you felt like you had been crying more recently than you had in many years, “turns out we were both wrong.”

“Yeah?”

“In some ways I wished I’d just gone with you anyway,” you shrugged and he made a small sound. You were both stubborn fools in your own ways, “in some other ways I wish I never met you.”

It felt like his whole world stood still as he cautiously met your eyes. Now those were words he never thought he’d hear you saying. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before stumbling over his words, “w-what? I thought…”

“If I had never met you, I never would have missed you,” you explained, “I never would have gone through the heartbreak of you leaving, of loving you and looking for you in everything and everyone else, never finding you. I would have been…”

“Maybe you’re right…”

“Yeah...but I’m not,” you concluded, “because if I had never met you, I would have never been loved by you, or gotten to love you. I never would have...discovered how to be myself. You showed me that it was okay to be different from my family, to be my own person. It worked...even if I got lost along the way and things changed. At the end of the day, it was you. And just when I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life, you came back. Out of all the times. That-that has to mean something right?”

Just like that every piece of his heart that had felt like it had hardened and decayed over the years seemed to come back to life. His heart started racing in his chest as he stared at you, long and hard, and you stared back with just as much ferocity and intensity. You were thinking the same thing he was - the timing, you both coming back together, it couldn’t be for naught. It just couldn’t. The universe was a strange and wondrous thing, but maybe...maybe this time it was getting it right…

“M..maybe…” Frankie stood up as you tried to collect your thoughts and slowly strode over to you. Extending his hand slowly, he held it out to you and you stared at it for just a moment, contemplating taking it. Taking his hand was a lot more than just the simple action of taking his hand, you were both well aware of that fact. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you let him help you to your feet, and you stood directly in front of him, “Francisco.”

His large hands found your face, his touch gentle and saccharine as you relished in the feel of his soft, yet calloused skin on yours. Your lips parted slightly as he traced over the highs and lows of your features, making it a point to commit this version of you deep into his mind, just like he had twenty years ago when you were younger. His thumb swiped along your lower lip and your body was practicing screaming for him to touch you, to kiss you, anything.

“You are still as beautiful as the day I first laid eyes on you,” he whispered, inching incrementally closer and yet not close enough, “honey bee, I loved you then and I never stopped. I will never stop.”

“Francisco,” it was a soft plea as your hands found his wrists, gripping onto them tightly and vowing to never let go, “please.”

Please kiss me. Please don’t ever leave me again. Please just love me.

It was so many things all in one simple word.

“May I kiss you?” he leaned in and his lips were practically ghosting over yours, his breath warm and sweet. You nodded quietly before closing the almost nonexistent gap between your bodies, weaving your arms around his neck as his hands found purchase on your hips.

It was slow, sweeter almost than honey as he kissed you, and you allowed yourself to get lost in him. If you thought kissing him back then had been amazing, this was that and then some. Every part of him melded perfectly against you, an ease to your movement like neither of you had to think or even try. It was like it had always been meant to be. In some ways, you supposed it was. It was always supposed to be you and your Frankie.

“I love you, Frankie,” you murmured against his lips when you parted for a breath of air, “it was always you.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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winterscaptain · 3 years

Text

a kindness.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: it is loving megan kane hours!! i’ve been working on this one for a while and i am so excited to share it with you!! we have ajf!pleasure is my business at last! as always, tell me what you think!! i adore your feedback. also, if you’re thinking ‘what the hell, tali! why am i missing from the tag list?????’ it’s because i redid it! the link to the form is below.

words: 4.8k warnings: language, canon-typical death, canon-typical discussion of sex work

summary: “i believe that sex is one of the most beautiful, natural, wholesome things that money can buy.” ― steve martin. au!february 2009

a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

You rap twice on the office door before pushing it open with your fingertips, peering inside while ready to retreat at a moment’s notice.

There’s no need. Aaron’s alone.

“You’re here early,” he says, his eyes still on his paperwork.

You snort. “So are you.”

He looks at you over his nose. “Can I help you with something?”

Sitting down opposite him at his desk, you prop your chin on your hands and grin at him. “You stole my line.”

“Get out of my office.”

Your smile stays plastered on your face as you stand and cross the room, closing the door behind you. On your way out, you catch the ghost of his smile.

+++

You watch Hotch leave the bullpen, his go-bag slung over his shoulder.

“Where you headed?” You ask, looking up. You’re still the only one in the bullpen, taking a few consults off your teammates’ hands by typing up quick briefs they can review without going through every single comma in the file.

He sighs. “Dallas.”

Yikes.

“By yourself?”

He sighs. “Standby - not sure what’s going on yet. Can you -” He gestures to the hallway behind you.

You nod and stand. “Yeah. Fly safe.”

After you watch him leave, you turn and make a beeline for JJ’s office. She’s here early, too - pushing away the separation anxiety by diving into work.

“Jayje?”

She looks away from her computer, looking exhausted. “Yeah?”

“Hotch just left for Dallas - we might have a case there, but it didn’t sound like something that would come across your desk.”

She squints. “Why d’you say that?”

“He had that look on his face like he was going into a room full of lawyers.”

+++

You lean forward, jamming yourself into the circle around the table with the rest of your team. Hotch, on the other end of the line, sounds oddly well-rested.

Spencer, as usual, gives you the history and textbook briefing before you get to the actual case. “Female serial killers are a fascinating field. We don't have much information on them, but what we do know involves throwing the rules completely out the window. Signature, for instance. They don't torture or take trophies.”

“Because there’s no sexual gratification when a woman kills,” Derek adds.

Looks like we’re all getting in on the pre-brief today.

“Exactly. Murder is the goal. They don't have to do anything extra.”

That makes you laugh a little. “So, basically, women are more efficient at killing?”

Spencer shrugs. “Historically, they’ve had body counts in the hundreds.”

Hotch, of course, is the one to get you all back on track. “So, assuming that the job is the stressor, what are some of the reasons prostitutes kill their customers?”

Derek, of course, is the first to follow. “Money, drugs, post-traumatic stress disorder…”

The team bounces for a moment, covering previous cases of serial killers with a history of sex work. Emily brings up Allison Wuornos, but Aaron shuts it down. He thinks this killer is organized, not so much driven by trauma or need but the mission itself.

Spencer looks at the medical examiner’s reports again, comparing notes between the victims. “She’s using tetra-methylene-disulfotetramine.”

You don’t look up from the same report. “Bless you.”

Emily snorts.

Spencer continues, unperturbed. “It’s a popular rat poison in China - easily soluble in alcohol.”

“Poison is the perfect M.O.,” Dave notes. “Quiet, quick, and the victims never see it coming because they think they’re getting lucky.” He turns back toward the phone. “Does that mean something to you?”

“Well, at $10,000 a night, these men are paying for discretion as well as sex.”

Fair point.

“She has a history with them. They see her repeatedly.”

You look over at Dave, trying to find the thread that connects Aaron’s thought to his.

Before you can really get to it yourself, Aaron spells it out for you. “She didn't decide to kill them in the moment. She walks in with the intent to kill them and she's doing it before she sleeps with them.”

There we go.

“So she's not just organized,” you add. “She's also methodical. Could she be parsing out which clients are worth killing and which aren’t?”

“Maybe the victims all share the same fetish?” Emily offers.

Derek shrugs, his eyebrows raised in thoughtful agreement. “Both victims were in their fifties, highly visible. Careful about their image. I mean, if they were kinky in the same way, they'd go to great lengths to hide it.”

“And we're facing a corporate culture that'll do everything it can to keep us out.”

There’s the exhaustion I’m used to from Hotch.

He sounds weird without it.

“Actually,” JJ says, “I had some luck there. Hoyt Ashford's wife isn't too happy with how he died. But because every silver lining has a dark cloud, the hedge fund released a statement.”

JJ pulls the statement from her file and reads aloud: “Ashford died peacefully in his home, according to lawyer David Madison.” She puts it down again. “They're already trying to close ranks.”

Spencer frowns. “Does that language sound familiar to anyone else?”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“The press release from the first victim.” He recalls, not needing the paper itself. “‘According to company lawyer, Stanton died peacefully in his home.’”

Hotch begins to make assignments, directing Emily and Derek to the wife of the second victim. JJ’s tasked with the lawyers and you’re tasked with setup at the precinct with Spencer and Dave. When he’s done, you pick your phone up from the table, taking him off speaker.

“What are you gonna do?” You ask.

Hotch snorts. “I’m gonna see which of the lawyers calls us back and in the meantime, see what I can get out of anyone else.”

“Good luck.”

+++

You’re up in your hotel room, getting a little bit settled and unpacked when you get a call to your cell.

“Hey, Hotch.”

There’s a sigh. “We got another body.”

“I’ll meet you downstairs in five.”

+++

You hop out of the car, following Aaron through the service entrance and up the back hallways to the lobby. Between your travel from your room and Aaron’s wrap-up in his, Derek and Dave beat you to the scene.

Hotch is wearing that coat - your favorite, the one he’s apparently had for years - with the red lining and the soft wool exterior. It so rarely sees the field anymore you were afraid he’d done away with it, but every time you remember it exists and worry about its whereabouts, he brings it out again.

Derek hands you a notebook when you reach him. You settle near Dave for the rest of the info. He, of course, delivers.

“Victim was Joseph Fielding. He was the CFO here.”

You frown. “Poisoned? Like the others?”

“And staged,” Derek says. “She killed him in his office and then rolled him out here to be found.”

“The lipstick's new,” you muse, circling the body in the elevator. “Done postmortem, it looks like.” You find Derek’s eyes with a little frown. “Reid said female serial killers don't leave a signature. I think she did that just for us. She's already exposed him at his most vulnerable.”

He hums. “Now she wants to be noticed.”

There’s some kind of scuffle at the police line - another man in a suit who thinks he’s more important than God.

Hopefully he’s looking for Hotch.

“Which one of you is Aaron Hotchner?”

Ugh. Good.

You step back and point at Aaron, getting out of his way as he shoves past the crime scene techs.

Aaron turns. “I'm Hotchner.”

“Larry Bartlett.” The man holds out his hand, but Aaron doesn’t take it. He retracts his hand with an unperturbed tilt of his head. “I represent Mr. Fielding in Webster Industries.

Hotch, as usual, has no time for his bullshit. “This is a closed crime scene, Mr. Bartlett.”

My lawyer could kick your lawyer’s ass.

That’s a good bumper sticker.

You shake off your thought and return to the victim, directing one of the younger crime scene techs. After a moment, you return to Derek’s side.

“Yes. I spoke to Ellen Daniels.” This clown still sounds far too confident for his own good. “She said you're a very... reasonable man.”

“Escort him out, please.”

You stifle a laugh.

“No, wait. Please.” The lawyer - Mr. Bartlett - shrugs off the security team and chases after Hotch on his way to your side.

Aaron stops, but looks inconvenienced in the extreme.

“The press is outside and they can smell blood. Any way we can handle this discreetly?”

“We're not about to lie for you.” Derek’s even less amused than Aaron, if that’s even possible.

Aaron squints at the other lawyer, and you find it nearly impossible to tear your gaze from the little pinch at the corners of his brown eyes.

You can only imagine him behind a prosecutor’s bench, laying into witnesses with the same deadpan amusement - like a bored cat with a half-dead mouse. Hoping to back him up a little bit, you get a little closer, looking skeptically at the lawyer from over Aaron’s shoulder.

“You don't have to lie,” Mr. Bartlett insists, his eyes flickering to you. “Just don't comment.”

“Excuse us.” He takes you by the shoulder and leads the three of you into a huddle.

“Is there any reason to go public yet?” Aaron asks.

Dave wavers. “Validating her is exactly what she wants.”

“If we hold back, she's more likely to make a mistake,” Derek says.

You raise your eyebrows, looking over your shoulder for a moment. “He doesn't need to know that.”

Hotch’s mouth twitches, and you know it’s almost a smile. He turns over his shoulder, back in game mode as he approaches Bartlett again. “We need everything you have on Fielding. Bank accounts, tax records, emails, everything.”

+++

“Eighteen cars, six houses, and three boats.” Spencer rattles off the numbers with only the barest hint of shock in his voice.

Your brow pinches and you look up. “Can you even boat in Dallas?”

“You know, when you're talking about that much money, ten grand for a call girl is like deciding where to go for dinner.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience, Em,” you laugh.

She rolls her eyes, still pinning photos to the board. “Yeah, right. My mom had a pretty cushy gig with her postings, but we were never that well-off. But...” She looks over her shoulder, “I’m sure Rossi would know a little something about that.”

Before you can all get too out of control, Hotch reaches over you to connect to Garcia on the speakerphone. “Are you there, Garcia?”

“Affirmative.”

JJ flags him down. “I have half a million over here for something called the Bat Cave...”

It really takes everything in you not to laugh.

“...and here's a picture of him as fetish Batman. That is… wrong.”

Emily pulls a face.

“Is there anything this guy didn't like to spend money on?” Spencer asks.

“Yeah,” Aaron replies. “His ex-wives. Fielding was married four times. He didn't have prenups for the first two, but he did everything he could to cut them off anyway.”

You lean forward, trying to see the paper in his hands. “Are there children involved?”

“Yes, with three of the wives.” He hands it over to you and looks at Emily. “Hoyt Ashford was married a few times, too, wasn't he?”

She nods in the affirmative.

“You know, considering that when Kevin takes me to dinner and a movie, he defaults on his student loans, this amount of money is sick.”

Tell me about it, Pen.

Emily sounds resigned. “What did you find?”

Garcia outlines a series of bitter court battles about child support, alimony, custody, etc. “And even when the court ruled in the wife’s favor - which was almost always - these three charmers just, you know, decided not to pay.”

Hotch asks for a cross-checked list of high-profile Dallas CEOs holding out on their ex-wives, and you figure it’s not a short one.

“One loaded losers list, Dallas edition, comin' at ya. Penelope out.”

The line goes dead and Aaron turns off the speaker.

“So,” Aaron leans heavily on the table. “Why would a prominent businessman who could easily pay child support refuse to?”

Spencer obliges. “For this type of overachieving personality, paying money after the marriage ends probably offends him.”

“They're spending tens of thousands on an escort, but they won't drop a dime on their wife and kids? That's cold.” JJ shakes her head and looks over at Hotch, seeking an answer.

“Narcissistic, self-absorbed, a pathological avoidance of paternal responsibilities.”

There’s an odd kind of look that passes over Aaron’s face as he speaks, and you pin it for later. You can already tell he’s falling into a headspace that’s fraught with comparison and self-loathing.

They bounce around for a moment while you keep your eyes on Aaron.

“Well,” JJ brings you back. “Should I assemble the police for a profile?”

Your mouth twists. “I just don't think it's gonna help.”

“She lives in a completely different world than they do,” Aaron adds.

“And,” Emily pipes up, “the CEOs who sleep with her won't admit to it.”

JJ snorts. “Like I couldn't even get past the team of lawyers protecting them.”

“What if we give the profile to the corporate lawyers?” Aaron stands straight, his hands resting on his hips. “They've cleaned up after her, even if they don't realize that they've seen this woman.”

“Why would they go for that?” You ask.

“Because she's putting them at risk, too.”

Your phone rings and you answer as you always do, chirping your last name into the receiver without really looking too closely at the caller ID.

“Hey, it’s me.”

You nod once to your team as you step out of earshot. “Hey, Haley.”

“I can’t get a hold of Aaron. Is everything alright?” She’s beyond surprise or concern at this point. You’re sure you could tell her Aaron’s been shot in the head and she’d probably just hum at you.

“Yeah,” you say with a sigh. “Things are crazy and there are lawyers all wrapped up in this. Are you alright?”

“Jack’s got a fever - I just wanted to let Aaron know I’m taking him in to get checked out. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll let him know. Give Jack a big kiss from me and I’ll do my best to get us all home quickly and in one piece.”

She laughs a little into the phone. “Thanks. Will do. Talk soon.”

You hang up and return to the table, shooting Hotch a significant look. He nods and pulls you aside.

“What’s up?”

“Jack has a fever - Haley just wanted me to let you know she’s taking him to the pediatrician to get him all checked out, just in case. I told her we’d all do our best to get home soon.”

Aaron sighs and flips his phone in his hand. “I’ll call her now…”

“No need. She knows this is a tough one and you’re getting your money’s worth out of your JD this week.”

When he starts to walk away, you call his name again. He turns.

“You know - um.” You wet your lips and swallow. “You’re not like these guys. You know that, right? You’re a great dad.”

His face lifts in surprise for a fraction of a second before he recovers.

“Thank you,” He says. “Really.”

You offer him a crooked smile. “Anytime.”

+++

Hotch stops you all before you enter the conference room, full to the brim with suits and pantsuits. “Let me lead on this one. I’ve handled corporate lawyers like this before and they can smell blood.” He snorts. “This time, it’s their own.”

You and Derek raise your hands in simultaneous and identical postures of surrender.

“Have at it,” you say, falling into line behind Aaron. “Corporate lawyers scare the fuck out of me.”

+++

“Hey, Prentiss. Got a whip?” Derek holds the leather outfit to Emily’s shoulders and she laughs.

“Yeah, right.”

You fondly roll your eyes at them and continue following off Aaron’s right shoulder. The two of you reach the bookshelf - an impressive glass case that runs from the floor to the ceiling.

Aaron’s gloved finger opens the case and runs over some of the spines. “Antique first editions on the bookshelves.”

Rossi quips something about porn in the DVD player while Spencer espouses about the merits of a disposable, adaptable lifestyle in this line of work.

“Well, these aren't just for show,” Aaron says. “The spines are cracked. Somebody's read these.”

You peer over his shoulder. “Who reads Voltaire in French?”

“Someone with good taste. Probably well-educated…”

You pick up where he trails off. “We profiled that she learned to fake privilege. What if she's not faking it?”

“You're saying maybe she came from money the whole time?”

You shrug. “It’s a possibility, at least.”

Just then, the apartment phone rings.

“Prentiss should answer,” Aaron says. “If it's a customer, she'll get more information out of them.”

You hum, hedging your bets a little. ‘Unless she's calling in for her messages.”

Too late. Derek’s already on the phone with Penelope. “Yeah, Baby Girl, we're getting a call to this line. Can you work some magic?”

“I don't have a trap-and-trace in place yet. Give me a few. I'm gonna stay on the line.”

Aaron gives her the go-ahead. “Prentiss, get ready to vamp.”

The voicemail picks it up before Emily can so much as reach for the phone.

“Hi, it's me. You know what to do.” Beep.

“...Aaron.”

You turn your head so fast you throw your neck out. You raise a hand to the crick and work it with your fingers. Aaron’s too busy frowning at the phone to notice.

“I know you're up there. Pick up… Aaron Hotchner... Hello?” She drags out her words, almost flirting with everyone listening.

With a sigh, Aaron pushes past the rest of you, silently counts to three, and picks up the phone while Emily clicks the speakerphone button.

“I'm at a disadvantage. You seem to know my name, But I don't know yours. Can we start there?”

Nice start.

The game has begun.

“I thought I could trust you, Aaron.”

What?

The pinch between his brows deepens. “Who says you can't?”

“I want to. I even looked you up online. Is that strange?”

Yes.

“No.” Aaron wets his lips and begins to pace, the gears whirring in his head. “It's flattering to be noticed by a woman like you.”

The woman continues as if he hasn’t said anything at all. “And I thought you were so... upstanding. I watched the presentation you gave on school shootings. I found it posted on YouTube...”

She has good taste. That’s an excellent presentation.

“...And for a moment, I actually thought there were still good people in the world.”

“But I've disappointed you, haven't I?” He asks. “Just like all the other men in your life Who've walked out on their families, Who deserve to be punished.”

“Did you walk out on your family?”

His eyes flicker to you and you nod, nearly imperceptibly, reminding him he’s not alone. “No. My wife left me.”

“Do you have kids?”

“I have a son.”

A sweet, thoughtful, perfect son.

You smile a little, thinking of Jack, but it disappears when you remember that he’s home sick with Haley, probably having a miserable time.

“How often do you see him?” She asks.

“I try to see him every week.”

“Do you see him every week?” The question is mocking, smothered in dark amusement that could almost be called sarcasm save for its bitterness.

“No,” Aaron’s eyes fall to the floor. “No, I don't get there as often as I want.”

“I believe you.” Her response is softer, and you think she might make a decent profiler if she wasn’t on the other side.

She is a profiler.

In some ways, you suppose it’s true. She has to read and respond to everything her clients do, say, how they behave. It makes her good at her job and you good at yours.

Same skillset, very different application.

“But don't compare yourself to the men I see,” she continues. “You are nothing like them. You're just another whore.”

Never in my life did I ever think I’d hear someone call Aaron Hotchner a whore. Unironically.

That catches everyone’s attention, even Derek’s, still on hold with Penelope.

“How am I a whore?” He asks.

“You come when called. You do their bidding. In hotels you take the side elevator to avoid crowds, while the men who pay your salary walk across the ivory marble foyer into their cars.”

Derek, behind you, presses. “Garcia.”

You can hear her, faintly. “I'm in on the landline. Triangulating the cell. Give me like sixty seconds.”

You gesture to Aaron when he looks. Keep going.

He nods. “But I'm just frustrating you, aren't I?”

She sighs, sounding a little impatient for the first time. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you want to show the world all these bad men and my investigation's just getting in your way.”

“No, Aaron.” You almost startle, her tone escalating to a deeply frustrated shout. “You're not doing your job! You don't want to arrest me, you don't want me in custody because you're in their pocket.”

She’s crying now, actively. “You just want me to disappear, just like they do.”

“Truthfully, I'm only interested in finding you.”

Now that’s a tone you recognize - you’ve heard it when he talks to Haley. Most recently, when he couldn’t make it to some appointment or another. It’s one that’s disarming in the extreme, soft, but not condescending.

“You've been betrayed so many times, You don't know who to trust, And that's why that first murder felt so good. But each one since has been less and less satisfying. You know that's going to continue.” He pauses, letting his words sink in. “Am I right?”

Just like Haley always does, the woman loses steam, sniffling once before answering. “Yeah.”

“Come to me and turn yourself in. I will make sure that you get the help you need. I won't let you disappear.”

“If we met under different circumstances... I could believe that. I won't let you cover this up.”

A gunshot rings through the line and you flinch, turning to Derek just as the line goes dead. You know Penelope will have something for you soon.

She never fails, directing you to an address only moments after the elevator doors close in front of the team.

+++

Once you found Megan Kane, it was easy enough to find her father.

You could empathize with her mission well enough after meeting him. He’s shrouded by his lawyers - detached and seemingly indifferent to anything Aaron had to say.

Aaron starts the car and you settle back into the seat. “So, the wall of lawyers strikes again.”

A shadow of a smile ghosts around the creases at the corners of his eyes. “So it seems.”

“What’s next?”

“We tail him - home and office. He’ll meet with her soon enough.”

Your brow furrows. “Not to protect her, right? It doesn’t seem like he cares that much.”

Aaron turns, placing his hand on the back of your seat as he pulls out of the parking spot. You’re momentarily distracted as he turns back, spinning the wheel with the heel of his hand and gunning it out of the garage.

Focus.

“No,” he says. “Think about it.”

It comes to you only seconds later. “To protect himself.”

“There you go.” He turns to you, another little smile threatening. “You’re getting pretty good at this.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ve been here over a year, Hotch. I’d fucking hope so.”

You’re rewarded with a real smile, and it’s enough.

+++

You take Derek’s six through the hotel, clearing the floors and reporting back to the rest of the team. SWAT is in full deployment, clearing the hard-to-reach areas like the stairways and rooftops, just in case.

Aaron catches up to you, taking the four o’clock position off your left shoulder as Derek breaches the door.

The gun and chilled champagne sit like ironic centerpieces on the entry table, but they hardly use any of your bandwidth as you clear the room, your vision narrowed by the sight of your service weapon.

You hold a hand up when you catch the figure on the balcony. “Hotch.”

He squints, and you move to raise your gun again and make the arrest, but he stops you with a hand over yours. “Easy.”

There’s a question in your eyes.

He, of course, answers it. “She knows it’s over.”

Just then, she places an empty champagne glass on the table where you can see it.

“I’ll call 911,” Derek says, stepping out and closing the door behind him.

You turn to leave with Derek, but catch Aaron’s open hand, subtly signaling you from just under his hip.

Stay here. It says. Stay close.

So, you stay. You lean on the far wall of the hotel room, watching Aaron hold the hand of this dying, hurting woman. They’re speaking softly, and she smiles at him when she drops something into his hand. His eyes are soft, gentle, not even searching. Just warm.

You feel for her.

It’s the best way to go, you think. If there was ever a time you were dying before your time, you’d want Aaron there, holding your hand, telling you he was going to continue the work that killed you, that it was gonna be okay.

“How could your wife have ever left someone like you?” You hear her ask.

As much as you love Haley, the same question often floats through your head, and your heart aches for this woman who’s been able to see Aaron so clearly, even if she’s only seeing him for the first time now.

“You’re the first man I’ve ever met who hasn’t let me down.”

You creep forward, further into Aaron’s eyeline, and sit on the edge of the couch. She’s close to her last breath and you can feel it - so can Aaron. His eyes flicker to you for a moment before returning to her.

Megan’s voice is full of tears when she asks, “Will you stay with me?”

You have a feeling it isn’t the first time she’s asked the question and you find yourself hoping Emily will be particularly rough with the handcuffs when she apprehends Mr. Kane. Hopefully he didn’t make it past the checkpoint and is still on-site.

“Yes.” Aaron is solemn, so sincere, so genuine it makes your heart ache.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You’re not even sure he realizes it, but he’s doing her a great kindness - one that many would not offer.

It’s because he is good.

A good man.

The tension drains out of her, and she grips tightly to Aaron’s hand as she fights through her final breaths. His hands are gentle, his attention only on her. He looks more like a father in this moment than any other time you’ve known him. She’s safe. She knows she can die in peace.

Once more, you hope you have the opportunity to leave this plane of reality in such safety, when your time comes.

When she’s gone, he places her hand in her lap and takes a moment to brush the hair off of her face, pressing the back of his fingers to her temple as if checking her for fever.

After a minute or so, he turns to you, and you hope the pride and respect coursing through you is evident in your gaze. You pull an evidence bag out of your pocket, but he shakes his head, pocketing the SIM card.

You rise as he gets closer, returning the evidence bag to your pocket. He’s clearly affected, tears threatening at the corners of his eyes.

Opening your arms to him, he wilts into you, allowing you to gather him into your shoulder. His arms are loose around your waist, his fingers wrapped around his opposite wrist as an anchor. It’s a rare moment of vulnerability and you’d hate to make him feel anything less than safe.

You still have a minute or so before they all come stomping through the door to collect Megan’s body.

“I’m sorry, Hotch.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know why this one hurts.”

Your arms tighten around him. “It’s okay. I feel it, too.”

A deep, shaky breath rolls through him.

“She’s right, you know.” You almost regret your words, afraid you’re giving yourself away.

“What?”

“You didn’t let her down. You’re a good man.”

His jaw tightens, and you can feel it against your neck where his head falls into your shoulder.

“Oh, stop. You’ve never let me down.” Your hand reaches up, stroking the back of his head, carding your fingers through the hair. “She died knowing you kept your promise.”

+++

You look up to Aaron’s office when news of the leak breaks, finding his silhouette haunting the window, staring at the television.

A ghost of a smile crosses his face, and he turns back to his desk, settling back down to work.

+++

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#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #tali talks cm #tali writes fanfiction #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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wroteasongabouther · 3 years

Text

can’t stand to see you lonely: part 3

a/n: we love a little throwback with this gif, my heart 😭 again, i can’t thank you all enough for the love you’ve shown my writing it’s truly the sweetest thing and i’m happy you guys are liking the story so far! this was is the longest part so far with a lot happening, so happy reading! remember to leave some feedback and reblog cause it’s always appreciated.

and as always, thanks to the lovely jess @arrogantstyles and jill @havethetimeofyourstyles for beta reading ❤️

word count: 19k

warnings: mentions of a partner cheating (f*** mark), minor mention of drugs (aka weed lol), alcohol consumption (tequila anyone?), and serious! sexual! tense!

fic page // let’s chat // cstsyl playlist

Y/N didn’t realize she had left Harry’s apartment the other day with his hoodie on until the next morning when she had woken up to the sweet smell of faint lavender and laundry soap. She didn’t return the hoodie, though. In fact, she shamelessly slept in the hoodie for three more nights; it was just really comfortable, she tries to convince herself that’s the only reason she’s wearing it to bed each night. It wasn’t because the smell that calmed her, reminding her of that dimpled smile and dazzling green eyes that would wander into her dreams every night now and then. And it was especially not because she found herself falling for those same pair of eyes, no, not a shred of feelings besides friendship there.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” Sammy deadpans.

“What are you talking about now?” Y/N questions, keeping her eyes on her phone as she texts back Harry.

“You and your little affair,” Sammy quips back. His choice of words causes Y/N’s head to quickly snap up and look at her friend. He’s giving her a bored look, a smug little smile on his face that makes Y/N narrow her eyes.

“I am not having an affair, Sammy, so let’s not start that rumour around the office, please,” Y/N says to him in a hushed voice. “Plus, Mark hasn’t bothered to call or text me in almost a week now. So, I’m pretty sure the next time we do talk it will be to end things officially,” Y/N explains, her voice falling flat as she feels her heart rate pick up just thinking of her and Mark breaking up. Regardless of the fact he’s hurt her feelings, annoyed her and so on - it’s still a break up, and they really freaking suck.

“I sure hope so,” Sammy says. “You know I’m team Harry all the way,” he gives Y/N a wicked smile which she only rolls her eyes at.

There were no teams to be on, she thinks. She was just becoming friends with Harry, and yeah, she found him ridiculously attractive and really sweet too, but she wasn’t dumping Mark for him or anything. If she was dumping Mark it was because of how their relationship turned out, without Harry’s help, and how neither of them are benefitting from being together anymore. Hell, they didn’t even have sex last time he was in the city. It also didn’t have to do with the fact that Y/N would be nervous that Harry could hear them. Nope that thought didn’t cross her mind not even once - Y/N finds herself biting on her bottom lip as she’s deep in thought and trying to convince herself certain things.

Her phone buzzes where she left it on her desk brings her back to reality. She picks it up and swipes up as the face ID recognizes her, opening up the messages, between her and Harry, that she was previously on. Y/N can’t help it as a chuckle leaves her lips. She notices how Sammy leans back in his chair and raises a brow at her, but she chooses to ignore him and instead keeps watching the gif Harry sent on loop over and over again.

It was a cartoon Santa, dabbing. Yes, Harry used a gif that had to do with a trend from the world's youth. Y/N never would have guessed Harry even knew what dabbing was. She holds back another chuckle and looks up a gif to respond to his. She goes for one that’s a cartoon of Rudolph, his nose lighting up like a strobe light as he dances on two legs. It’s silly, but she’s enjoying this back and forth texting of stupid Christmas themed gifs. It’s been going on for about five minutes and she doesn’t even know why or how it started, but she loves it.

How’s work so far today? Harry texts after sending a gif of the Olaf the snowman from Frozen, dancing in the field of flowers. Y/N tilts her head to the side and leans further back in her seat, stretching her legs under her desk. The work that was on her desk was long forgotten when her and Harry began texting earlier.

It’s good, I finally have a few moments of downtime at my desk. We had like four clients in this morning for some fittings for the many Christmas parties going on next week. Y/N sends that off before typing, How’s your day? Write anything good yet?

Glad it’s less busy now, don’t let me distract you with all these amazing Christmas gifs though. And I’ve got a few things written while at the cafe, finally found the right melody for another song I was working on last week. Harry types out to Y/N, biting on the nail of his thumb after hitting send. He’s been leaning on the guitar in his lap for the past twenty minutes. That melody was found, but pushed away after he got into texting Y/N.

Not too distracting, although I think Sammy is jealous no one’s sending him any silly gifs. A second text shows up only seconds later, Harry’s sometimes surprised at how fast Y/N can type. And that’s good though! Will I ever get to hear you play in person besides through the wall our apartments share?

Harry smiles over his thumb at the first text but then is biting at his nail again as he reads over the second bubble a few times. He isn’t too surprised that she can hear him play from her apartment, but he is surprised she’s asking to hear him play. He doesn’t think he’s all that great of a guitar player. It’s kind of hard to think when he’s best mates with one of the best guitar players in the industry; Mitch could outplay him any day. Harry stops biting on his nail and hovers his thumbs over his keyboard. Although he’s usually too nervous to just sit and play for someone, he finds himself imagining playing for Y/N.

Tell Sammy I’ll send him some gifs too if he wants. And as for playing for you, maybe... if you catch me on a good day. Y/N shakes her head at his response, somehow not too shocked that’s what he says. She recalls him not telling her what popular songs he had written, how his cheeks grew a shade of pink at the mere idea of Y/N knowing of his work. So, she’ll take her odds and pray that someday soon she gets Harry on a good day and hears him play something.

“Y/N,” Amanda’s voice calling her name causes Y/N to jump, sitting straight up in her seat and nearly dropping her phone. She shuts off the screen and feels the vibration from her Apple watch, a notification reading that it was time to head into the conference room to interview new interns with Amanda. Y/N looks over her shoulder to see Amanda standing behind her with her eyebrows raised and her lifeline of a notebook in hand. “You alright?” She asks, slight concern in her tone.

“Yeah,” Y/N clears her throat and stands from her desk, wobbling on her heeled boots as she gathers up her laptop and cell phone. “I’m all good, ready to find us some new interns,” she states with a smile.

Amanda gives her a look as if doubting her, but then nods as Y/N steps in front of her and they move into the conference room. It’s not until their third candidate that Y/N thought of her boyfriend. Her watch buzzes, flashing up at text from Mark, then one from Sammy right away. She ignores them and tries to focus on listening to yet another fashion student talk about their love for the industry and the company. She was once just like them, sitting on the other side of this conference table and grinning ear to ear from just being in the building. She still felt excited to come into work every day and she feels very grateful to still feel that way. So, therefore she doesn’t hate sitting there for a few hours and having a handful of first impressions with girls that she once was. But, in the back of her mind she’s wondering what Mark could have texted her. It’s been five days since the phone call she ended up hanging up on him. What could he possibly have to say?

“Thank you for coming in today,” Amanda says with a smile to their last interview of the day. The small blonde stands up as the two of them do, and reaches across the table to shake both of their hands before saying short goodbyes and letting one of the receptionists walk them out.

“I think I liked her the best,” Y/N comments, writing a quick note beside her resume.

“I agree. We’ll email back and forth a bit more about it. I’ve got another phone meeting with a few clients for the new year first,” Amanda explains as she’s reading over her planner before snapping it shut.

“Sounds like fun,” Y/N nods before walking separate ways from Amanda and heading back to her desk. As she gets closer, she can't help but notice the oversized bouquet of flowers on her desk. Her eyebrows pinch together as she slows her steps, taking in the beautiful pinks and oranges in the bouquet before reaching for the card that stuck out of it. Sammy pops up then, right by Y/N’s side almost breathing down her neck.

“Did you not get my text? These showed up like halfway through your interviews,” Sammy states, trying to read the card before Y/N can. She shields it’s away from his eyes and looks at him over her shoulder. “Sorry,” he apologizes and takes a step back.

Y/N reads the printed out note and finds herself sighing as she reads it over again. I’m sorry - Mark. Y/N shakes her head and rolls her lips into her mouth, staring at the bouquet again. That’s it, just sorry? She thinks, but then remembers that he had texted her too. Maybe there’s something more there but Y/N finds herself doubting it.

“Who’s it from?” Sammy questions. Y/N ignores him and pulls out her phone from her back pocket. She unlocks it and taps on her messages app, having to back out of her conversation with Harry in order to open up Mark’s text from earlier.

Did you get the flowers? The company sent me a notification saying someone signed for them. Y/N rolls her eyes at his careless text message; not an ounce of emotion behind any of his words, through text or on the note. She doesn’t find herself smiling at the flowers, thinking how it’s a nice gesture, but instead finding it ridiculous that her boyfriend missed the whole point of the fight and just thinks some random bouquet of flowers will fix everything that she’s feeling. Is he even bothered by the fact they fought and haven’t spoken in five days? She wonders as she shuts off her phone screen without responding.

“Mark sent them,” Y/N finally tells Sammy, turning around to hand him the card. After he grabs it, and Y/N turns back around and places a hand on either side of the vase. She turns on her heels and walks around her desk to the left, moving Sammy’s chair out of the way and placing them on his desk instead. “You can have them, they look better on your desk,” she stays in a flat tone of voice, feeling indifferent about if she should just throw them out or not.

“Are you going to break up with him?” Sammy asks, his voice is quiet and soft - sounding like a caring friend instead of a gossiping coworker.

Y/N bites down on her bottom lip and nods, “yeah, I think I am going to. I just don’t know how, breaking up with someone on the phone feels so shallow and I would hate to be broken up with over the phone.” She explains, turning back around to look at Sammy again. He’s frowning, a look of pity in his eyes.

“But it’s unfair to you both to keep this relationship going on like this, Y/N,” Sammy says, letting out a deep sigh and tosses the card in the garbage bin by Y/N’s desk. “You’ll know what to do, you always do,” Sammy adds on with a smile.

Y/N tries to mirror her friends smile but feels it fall flat on her lips. She’s doubting herself, doubting her choices with Mark these past four months, and she keeps doubting herself all day till she’s walking into her apartment. She closes her door and slips out of her coat. Y/N sighs and pulls out her phone while walking to her bedroom, taking a seat on the end of her bed before pulling up Mark’s contact.

Her fingers hover over the call icon, her heart beating a million miles an hour as she imagines how this phone call is going to go. Should she really break up with him over the phone? She thinks, yet again doubting herself. This was really the only way to do it, seeing as he won’t be in the city for who knows how long. Y/N didn’t want to be in this relationship anymore, especially since it started to feel less like a relationship as the days went on this past month. Y/N inhales deeply just as her phone begins to ring, Mark’s contact picture of him kissing her cheek fills the screen in her hand. Y/N exhales before tapping the green icon on the phone and bringing it to her ear.

“Hi,” Y/N says softly into the phone.

“Hey, you didn’t answer my text earlier,” Mark starts off the conversation with a hard tone of voice as if he’s annoyed. Y/N licks her lips and nods, even though Mark can’t see her.

“Yeah, um, sorry, work got busy,” she lies. She had the time to text him back, she just didn’t know what to say as her thoughts were clouded with how to break up with him.

“Did you get them?” Mark asks.

“The flowers? Yeah, I did,” Y/N sighs. She’s racking her brain on how to do this. How do you break up with someone over a phone call? She shakes her head and brings a hand to her forehead, pushing her fingers through the roots of her hair. “Mark, we need to talk,” she says, feeling that’s the best she can do - the good ol’ classic line.

“Yeah, we do,” Mark agrees with a sigh from him now. Y/N listens as it’s like something shuffles on the other end of the phone, as if Mark switches his phone from one ear to the other. “Look, Y/N, you’re a wonderful girl, truly, you are. But we’re not really benefiting from this, are we?” Mark says, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts as her brows pinch together.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Y/N questions.

“Uh, yeah-”

“No, no, I’m breaking up with you. I have thought long and hard about this for days now, and I don’t think we should be together anymore, Mark,” Y/N blurts out quickly, feeling as though her moment that she’s been talking herself up to all day was being taken away from her. She releases the grip she had on her hair and stares straight ahead at the painting on her wall, waiting for Mark to say something.

He lets out a long breath, “then I guess this is a lot easier for the both of us then, huh?” He says. Y/N shakes her head in disbelief.

“I guess so,” she mumbles.

“I’ll uh, I’ll send my assistant over soon for any of my things I’ve left at your apartment. She’ll bring the few things of yours that are at my place too. Are you available tomorrow?” Mark explains, asking the question so casually too. In fact, he sounds like he’s distracted with something on his end of the call too.

“Have you had this planned for a while now or something?” She asks, her eyebrows only pull together tighter in confusion. How can he act so unbothered only seconds after breaking up with her? She thinks. Sure, it’s a mutual break up, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t bothered by it still.

“Uh, no,” Mark mutters, not sounding convincing at all. Y/N rolls her eyes and shakes her head at herself - how did she even date this guy?

“You know what, whatever,” Y/N breathes out as her eyes close and she runs a hand through her hair, “I’ll be home from work around five in the evening tomorrow for your assistant to come by. Tell her to be on time, please,” she tells Mark.

“Alright,” he says. There’s a couple beats of silence between them, and she doesn’t feel upset over it at all. In fact she feels at peace with this breakup. She supposes that they didn’t date for long, and they never said I love you to each other and really didn’t spend too much time with one another the past two months. Maybe that’s why she’s not bothered by this break up at all.

“Well, it was fun, Mark,” Y/N says, “I wish you the best,” she adds.

“You too, Y/N,” he replies. And with that, Y/N brings the phone from her ear and ends the call. Staring at the screen that was on Mark’s contact info for a few minutes as she lets herself fall into her thoughts.

That was a lot easier than she imagined it to be earlier today. Y/N falls back on her bed, her hair fanning out around her as she holds her phone to her stomach and stares up at the ceiling. Did he have this planned though? She finds herself thinking. She imagines that he sent those flowers earlier to butter her up, maybe, before he called to break her heart only hours later. And having already made plans for his assistant to go through his apartment and bring her things to her. Maybe he already had gathered her things beforehand, meaning over a week ago he would have packed it up - only to come over to her house and fight with her for days on end before making her drive him to the airport. Y/N just shakes her head as her thoughts run wild.

Y/N knows exactly what she needs to do to get out of this overthinking stage that she’s got herself into. She gets up from her bed and opens her closet, her figure skates sitting on the bottom of the closet leaning nicely against each other. She finds an empty tote bag and tosses them inside, then quickly gets dressed into a pair of light blue skinny jeans, a plain white turtleneck long sleeve, and then layering by putting on a dark grey crew neck that has ‘LA’ in white writing across the front.

After making sure she has her wallet, phone and keys, she puts on a black puffer jacket and heads out her front door. Harry’s walking out of the elevator just as Y/N is locking up, he’s got a Starbucks hot drink in hand and a smile on his face.

“Hey,” Harry says, but then his eyebrows pinch together as he realizes the time, “where are you off to?” He wonders. Y/N brushes her hair from her face and lets out a small sigh.

“It’s, like, two weeks till Christmas and I haven’t gone skating yet, so I just got up and grabbed my skates to go out,” she explains, lifting her shoulder that her tote bag was hanging off. Her skates are poking out the top slightly, Harry notices the white figure skates with a pair of matching light pink guards on the bottom.

“Oh, fun,” Harry nods, meeting her eyes again.

Y/N doesn’t even think twice before she’s asking, “did you want to come with me?”

Harry smiles, causing Y/N to mirror him, before he takes a few moments to nod in response. “I would love to, yeah,” Harry clears his throat, noticing how overly excited he may have sounded. “I should dress a bit warmer, though, it’s supposed to snow tonight,” he tells her, motioning to his apartment door down the hall.

“Good call,” Y/N says, following him to his doorway. Harry holds open his door for her after unlocking it, then letting it close softly behind them as he takes off the lighter jacket he had on. Y/N smiles at the decorations around his apartment, loving how the glow from the lights of his tree filled up the space around them before he can turn on any lights.

“I don’t have my own skates, suppose I’m not a real New Yorker like that,” Harry states as he opens the closet beside his front door and starts ruffling around in order to find where his scarfs were hiding.

“That’s fine,” Y/N says with a soft chuckle, turning around to watch as he sticks his head into the closet and pushes things around. “They have rentals at Bryant Park,” she tells him.

“I’ve never been,” Harry admits. He finally gets a hold of the long burgundy scarf with a brown leaf pattern on it, his mum had gifted it to him a few years back. Harry pushes the doors of his closet closed and puts the scarf down for a moment, hanging it on the door handle before he grabs his long black coat to slip it on. Once he’s got that on, he wraps the scarf around his neck, fixing the collar of his coat and the scarf so it’s comfortable.

“You’ve really never been to Bryant Park?” Y/N asks surprisingly. It wasn’t Central Park by any means, but anyone who lived in the Manhattan area typically had walked through Bryant Park.

“Nope,” Harry says, grabbing for his forgotten Starbucks drink, bringing it to his lips for a quick sip. He looks up at Y/N to find her smiling at him. “What?” Harry questions.

“Nothing, I’m just excited for you to see Bryant Park. It’s beautiful during the Winter,” she states.

“Well then, let’s not waste any time, come on,” Harry nods his head to the door and gives her a smile while holding it open for her. She thanks him, waits for him to lock the doors before they fall into step with one another to the elevator. Harry beats her to hitting the button, literally leaning in front of her in order to push the down button before she can. Y/N shakes her head at him, smiling.

“So how was your time at the cafe earlier?” Y/N asks Harry, waiting for the elevator to arrive.

“It was good,” Harry says, tilting his head to the side so he can look at Y/N, “wrote another song about love,” he adds with a smile. Y/N chuckles and raises her eyebrows.

“Never would have guessed,” she teases him.

The whole walk to Bryant Park, all Harry can think about is when the hell was the last time he skated? That and how good Y/N looked, which is a thought that’s always going through his head, to be honest. But he’s stressing himself out, hoping and praying that some sort of muscle memory clicks in and he doesn’t embarrass himself in front of Y/N. God, maybe he should have just saved himself the embarrassing situation and declined her invitation. Harry knew the moment he looked into her eyes there was something a bit off with her; how her smile didn’t quite reach its full potential - so the moment she asked if he wanted to come along with her, he didn’t even think twice before saying yes. The girl has her own figure skates, Harry wouldn’t doubt it if she’s about to skate circles around him.

“All black outfit,” Y/N comments as she watches Harry pick out a pair of black skates in his size, “I don’t think I’ve seen you wear all black before,” she adds with a smile.

“I used to only wear all black,” he admits, “back in uni, I really didn’t venture out in fashion and only wore black jeans and black t-shirts basically all year,” he explains to Y/N, letting her lead the way to the area for skaters to sit on the many benches and do up their skates.

“I truthfully can’t even imagine that,” Y/N replies, taking a seat on the bench right by the open door to the ice rink. She looks out at the about forty people on the ice, lit up by the many Christmas lights hanging over it and a few light posts in each corner too, as the sun has fully set now. The city around them is still hustling and bustling as it always is, which makes her smile.

“It was a tragedy, but I got older and realized that fashion can be fun, especially after moving to New York, seeing what people wear out for some innocent ice skating,” he mentions, taking in Y/N’s fashion forward outfit. The style was very trendy these days, he had noticed - online and in the streets.

“I would be an abomination of a former FIT student if I just walked around New York City in leggings and a hoodie,” Y/N states, “if I’m going somewhere, with someone, I always feel the need to look good.”

“And you do, by the way, look good,�� Harry says, his words coming out quick and in a bit of a stumble. Y/N can feel the blush creeping onto her cheeks. She says a quiet ‘thank you’ before she begins to lace up her skates.

Y/N has her skates done up before Harry, so she has an extra minute to take out her phone and open her Instagram app. She checks out her newest comments, liking a few, before she finds herself aimlessly scrolling through her feed and liking some posts there. Checking up on Harry, she notices he’s almost done doing up his skates, so she stands up and grabs her tote bag that now holds her skate guards and chunky black boots.

“Did you want to lock anything up?” Y/N asks Harry, motioning to the small lockers to their left.

He shakes his head, “no thank you,” he says before his attention is back on tying his skates. Y/N smiles at how his tongue pokes out just slightly passed his lips before she turns around and walks over to lock up her tote bag, making sure everything but her phone is inside.

Once the small locker door is closed, she walks over to the wall of the ice rink and opens her Instagram again, putting on a quick filter that makes it look like it’s being filmed with an old film camera before she pans her camera around while holding down the button on the screen. As she turns to face where Harry is, she cuts off the video and double checks he’s not in it. With having so many followers, she always makes sure that her friends and family are comfortable with being posted before doing so. Y/N adds a quick caption of ‘first skate this season’ with a white heart emoji before she posts it to her story, then she slips the phone into her back pocket and walks over to where Harry sat waiting for her.

“Ready?” Harry asks, smiling up at her.

“Yup,” she nods, smiling back at him. Harry nods, muttering ‘alright’ under his breath, and then stands up on wobbling legs. Y/N chuckles and reaches for his elbow, helping him stand up straight. “You’ve skated before, right?” She asks, realizing now that she only assumed that he had.

“Uh, it’s been a few years,” Harry admits, flashing another nervous smile her way. All he can think about is her hand on his arm, and how she hasn’t let go of him yet. Harry hadn’t even thought about the potential arm holding, or hand holding maybe, they could get into here. She has a boyfriend, he reminds himself over and over again as he watches her lips tug up as she smiles back at him again.

“Alright, we’ll take it slow then,” she assures him, pulling at his arm gently to get them moving forward on their skates.

Y/N takes the first step onto the shining ice, letting her blades slide over the top slowly before she takes a sharp turn and is in front of Harry in an instant. His eyebrows fly up his forehead as his eyes fall down to her skates again, noticing how worn out they look now, her left foot lifting up as she sticks the toe of her skate blade into the ice - her whole stance made her look like some sort of professional. Harry’s head snaps up and he meets her gaze, lips now smirking at his stunned expression.

“You’ve been skating a lot before then, hm?” Harry gulps, looking back down at his feet as he inches slowly to the ice.

“Since I was a kid,” Y/N reveals. He’ll touch more on it later, but first he wants to get himself onto the ice and get this embarrassment over with. Harry sighs and starts to place his right foot into the ice, letting out a deep breath as he does but just as quickly as he makes the move he’s slipping. Harry sucks in a sharp breath, ready to fall before he even has both feet on the ice. But both of Y/N’s arms fly out and grab a hold of his forearms, causing him to wrap each of his hands around her much smaller forearms.

Harry shakes his head and just decides to get it over with, pushing both skates onto the ice in a quick motion. Y/N is fully prepared for his sudden movement and skates backwards, checking over her shoulder quickly to make sure she doesn’t get in anyone's way. She keeps a tight grip on Harry’s arms and smiles as she looks up at him and sees the stressed out look on his face.

“You’re doing great,” Y/N assures him, her voice causing Harry to look down and meet her soft eyes. “We can move a bit closer to the wall so you can hang onto it for the first bit?” She suggests, motioning to the wall beside them.

“Probably for the best,” Harry agrees, nodding his head and finally taking his eyes off Y/N’s in order to make his way to the wall. The few movements on his part aren’t as hard as he thought they’d be to get over to the wall. He thinks his muscle memory for skating will click in soon, hopefully.

Y/N takes it slow beside Harry, waiting for him to get comfortable enough to only need one hand on the wall before she lets go of his arm. She already misses the warmth from his touch. Not even one day into her and Mark’s break up and she’s already feeling touch deprived. To be fair, her and Mark hadn’t so much as given each other a few quick pecks and barely snuggling on the couch the last couple days they were together. Y/N shakes her head slightly at her thoughts of Mark.

“So how did you get into skating?” Harry asks after a few moments of them finding a slow pace.

“Um,” Y/N pauses as she thinks of how to explain how her parents didn’t want to spend much time with her, so they stuck her into many different hobbies to fill the void. “I was into a lot of the typical little girl hobbies, dancing, gymnastics, art, but figure skating was something that just really stuck with me as I grew up. Probably in connection with my obsession with the holidays, and the winter season,” Y/N explains, noticing already how Harry’s pace on his skates is picking up.

“Are you, like, really good?” Harry questions. Y/N chuckles and looks away from the ice below them to meet his gaze before he’s glancing down at his skates again in order to keep upright.

“Yup,” Y/N nods, rolling her lips into her mouth to hide her grin.

“So humble,” Harry jokes with a chuckle. “You could probably skate circles around me, huh? Do those little twirly things too?”

“I could do a few spins, yes,” Y/N says and nods her head. “I’ll let you get used to the ice first before I throw out any big moves,” she adds, looking down at how Harry’s feet were moving on the ice. Every minute he is getting better, soon enough he’ll let go of that wall and be able to skate in slow laps around the rink with her.

“How very considerate of you,” Harry notes, causing the both of them to chuckle again.

They do another two laps with Harry’s hand just inches away from the wall, hovering over it just in case he made the wrong move. But then soon enough, they’re mixed in with the other skaters and making strong, smooth strides across the ice. Y/N is laughing at something Harry says about how he must look like Bambi on ice, head thrown back and eyes crinkled up, when Harry just about falls. She catches him gasping and opens her eyes quickly before catching his hand in hers.

“You okay?” She asks, clear concern in her voice as she moves in order to meet his eyes. Harry knows this isn’t the first time they’ve sort of held hands, but it still feels like her skin is too warm for his cold touch and butterflies erupt in his stomach as she cards their fingers together so effortlessly. Damn Styles grow some balls and don’t let her make all the first moves, he thinks to himself.

“‘M alright,” Harry mumbles and nods, completely losing focus on the world around them as they float across the ice looking into each other's eyes and holding hands.

Y/N licks her lips, blinking up at Harry in what feels like an innocent way but realizes the moment his gaze drops to her lips that maybe it isn’t. Clearing her throat, she squeezes Harry’s hand and then slowly lets go. Harry can’t help but feel disappointed by how short they’d held hands for, he was hoping it would at least last a whole lap around the rink. Y/N shivers and sticks both of her hands into her coat pockets, playing off letting go of his hand with being cold, but in reality touching Harry’s skin made her feel like she was on fire.

“Tell me what your favourite colour is,” Harry blabs out loud suddenly.

Y/N furrows her brows and looks up at Harry. He’s no longer watching the ice with each stride of his skates, instead his posture is completely at ease almost as he seems much more confident on the ice now. Something tells Y/N that Harry is stupidly good at pretty much anything and if he doesn’t get it right the first time it would only take a few more before he masters it.

“It changes almost every other day,” Y/N admits, biting down on her bottom lip - which causes Harry’s eyes to flicker down to her lips yet again. “Lately it’s been green,” she exclaims, as she speaks Harry’s gaze falls back to her eyes.

“Like my eyes?” Harry teases, batting his eyelashes.

There’s suddenly a group of teenagers in their way, causing their conversation to pause as they have to maneuver around the few bodies. Harry finds that he doesn’t struggle at all with the quick movements he has to make with his skates in order to get around them. He smiles to himself, proud of how fast he’s picked up skating again. Maybe he’ll try the little twirly spin around Y/N to impress her. Too bad she’s much more talented on skates and is picking up speed before making a quick turn and is now skating backwards in front of Harry with her eyes narrowed and a tight smile on her lips.

“Firstly, that was a poor set up to try and get a compliment out of me, I’ll just tell you that your eyes are very pretty,” Y/N states. Harry smiles at her words, those pesky butterflies back in his stomach once again. “And second, my favourite green is more like a dark, rich, forest green,” she explains, quickly looking over her shoulder as they turn the corner of the rink. Harry notices how effortlessly she picks up her skates and crosses them over each other to smoothly take the turn.

“Like a Christmas tree?” Harry wonders.

Y/N smiles and nods, “exactly, like a Christmas tree,” she says, a beat of silence between them before she asks, “what’s your favourite colour?”

“Pink,” Harry answers without missing a beat. It’s been his favourite for years now, since he was just a young lad.

“Like my lips?” Y/N teases, her voice dropping down into a low and soft tone that causes a fire to spark in the pit of Harry’s stomach. His eyes drop to her lips at the mention of them, which Y/N notices and smirks at him before she’s turning on her skates and facing forward again. They both don’t say anything as they skate around the other turn of the rink, avoiding an older couple that has slowed down in front of them. Y/N still has a smug look on her face when Harry glances to his left where she skates beside him. Obviously, yes, exactly like the shade of your lips, Harry thinks and wishes he had the guts to say aloud.

“More like,” Harry pauses and then smiles, “like the Pink Panther,” Harry jokes.

“You know what, fair enough,” Y/N chuckles and shrugs her shoulder.

The two of them continue to ask each other more random favourites, getting the basics down with favourite foods, favourite alcoholic drinks, and favourite word too, of course. In fact, they are just skating at a leisurely pace for quite some time. Y/N notices that the number of people on the rink dwindles down to a mere twenty and she lifts her Apple watch up, so it lights up and shows her the time. Bryant Park should be closing within an hour or two, depending if they’re on holiday hours yet, meaning that Harry and her have spent nearly two hours out on the ice together.

“I think it’s time you bust out some of those fancy figure skating moves,” Harry suddenly says unprovoked. Y/N furrows her brows and shakes her head, watching a young couple, just a few people ahead of them, holding hands, like how she wishes her and Harry could have been this entire time. But it’s too soon, she thinks.

“I don’t know,” Y/N mutters under her breath, her eyes still on the couple as they’re laughing together - much like how her and Harry have been. Did these strangers around them think they were a couple?

“Fine,” Harry huffs and starts to skate a bit faster to be a few strides ahead of Y/N before he comes to a wobbly stop a bit more into the middle of the rink out of everyone's way. Y/N comes to a much smoother stop in front of him. “I’ll give it a shot then, how hard can it be to spin around a few times.”

Famous last words, Y/N thinks as Harry tries to whip his body around to try and attempt to do a spin. She can already see how he’s lifting the toe of his left skate, the small ridges getting caught on the ice while his body is still trying to spin around. Y/N’s eyes widen as she suddenly tries to stop him, her hands just barely getting a hold of his arms before he can fall. But his weight is too much and her skates slip out from under her. A small screech escapes her mouth as the two of them begin their fall to the ice - for surprisingly the first time tonight. Harry turns them both so he gets the worst of the fall, moving Y/N so she falls more on top of him rather than on the ice. Y/N notices and quickly moves her hand to the back of his head to ensure he doesn’t smack it against the hard surface. Her fingers card through his hair, while her other hand is clenching into a fist around the fabric of his coat.

“Shit,” Harry groans as the bodies fall to the ice. Thankfully, he tries to sit up a bit during the fall, so he doesn’t hit his head but instead he feels immediately pain shot up his elbow and backside.

“Oh my god,” Y/N gasps, blinking several times as she takes in what had happened. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” She asks Harry in a rush of words.

“I’m okay,” he nods, which causes Y/N to realize her hand is still brushing through his hair. She rubs his scalp a few times with her thumb before removing her hand and quickly lifting her body off of Harry’s. “I’ll probably have a bruised ass, but I guess that’s karma,” he tries to joke.

Y/N frowns and smacks his arm gently, “don’t pull that shit again, oh my god, I thought we were going to end our night in the ER.”

Harry chuckles and sits up, taking in how Y/N has sat up on her knees with both her hands resting on her thighs. Her hair is a bit of a mess and her eyes wide and wild with emotion - but otherwise she looks alright. Thankfully, Harry did good and kept her safe in their fall.

“Just need a few ice packs and maybe a joint before bed to ease the pain,” Harry says, only half joking.

“Wait,” Y/N’s eyebrows pinch together, “do you smoke weed?” She asks. To be honest, she couldn’t imagine Harry as some pothead. Not that there was a true look to a ‘pothead’ these days. Hell, she’s had her fair share of joints and edibles while in college. Even afterwards too, Sammy loved to roll a joint or two towards the end of their wine nights.

Harry shrugs and begins to get up from the ice slowly. “Not really. It makes me a bit sleepy, truthfully,” he tells her.

“I get that,” Y/N nods, “I don’t smoke often, but when I do, I typically fall asleep within the hour after smoking. It annoys the crap out of Sammy.” She tells Harry truthfully. Harry nods as well, only a little bit surprised to learn that Y/N didn’t say no to drugs in her youth. Not that he was judging, far from it really cause he had no room to judge, but he just simply didn’t imagine her consuming anything more than a bottle or two of wine.

The two of them get up off the ice now, finally getting back on their feet. A sigh leaves Y/N lips as she brushes her hands on her jeans. “I think you falling is our cue to get out of here,” she suggests, skating slowly backwards towards the doorway where the benches were.

“You’re probably right,” Harry agrees and begins to follow her, trying not to whine with his movements as a sharp pain stings his bottom with each stride of his skates.

Y/N leaves Harry to sit on the bench they had used before and goes over to unlock her locker and get her tote bag. Harry’s lucky no one stole his shoes he had just left under the bench with no care in the world, she thinks as she walks back over and sits beside him. She unties her skates and is slipping on her boots before Harry can even untie one of his skates. Y/N puts the guards on her skates and places them into her tote bag before turning to look at Harry, noticing the pained look in his face as he bends forward to work on the laces of his other skate.

“Did you need help?” She asks him.

“No,” Harry pauses to hiss in pain, “I’m fine,” he adds, but Y/N just rolls her eyes and scoots over on the bench till she’s nearly pressing right up against Harry’s side, leaning down in order to work on his laces.

Harry watches her nimble fingers untie and loosen the laces, noticing how her hair falls as she bends down further. A faint smell of roses hits him with the movement of her hair as she pushes it back away from her line of sight. Harry looks away, glancing around them to see if anyone’s watching them because from any other view it may look like Y/N is giving him-

“There you go,” Y/N says with a smile and sits up again. Harry looks at his skates to see them completely loosened and ready for him to slip off easily.

“Thanks,” Harry says quietly with a smile.

After Harry has his trusty not-so-white vans on, they walk over to return his rentals and make their way out of the ice rink area of Bryant Park. Harry notices the shops around the park, the painted white frames and clean windows were rather pleasing to look at while the inside glows with soft yellow lights. He wonders what they sell, but notices Y/N hiding a yawn behind her hand and decides it’s probably best they just head home. Also, his ass really did hurt with each step he took.

“Would you like to get a hot cocoa before we walk home?” Harry suggests, pointing to the small shack that was open and looks like it serves hot drinks and a few treats maybe.

“I would love that,” Y/N answers with a bright smile.

Her heart can’t help but burst at the thought that Harry knows her so well already. Not even a month of knowing one another and he already is so much better than Mark ever was. He would never go skating with her or buy her a nice warm drink afterwards either. It’s a good thing he’s not your boyfriend anymore, Y/N finds herself reminding herself, which causes her heart to pitter patter in her chest again. This time thinking about how maybe Harry could maybe be her boyfriend, one day.

“Hi,” Y/N gives the small brunette at her front door a tight smile.

She’s almost thirty minutes later than Mark said she would be. But to be fair, the subway was later than usual on her way home so Y/N had only just gotten home ten minutes ago. She had texted Mark to let him know and relay the message to his assistant, but he didn’t answer, no surprise there. So, in hindsight it wasn’t the biggest deal that his pretty little assistant was late.

What the big deal was the way she just strolled into Y/N’s apartment and set the box of her things on the couch. Y/N is standing by her door still in disbelief, mouth hanging open and eyes wide at the girls behaviour. When she turns around and gives Y/N a funny look while pointing around at her Christmas decor.

“It looks like Mrs Claus threw up in here,” she says.

“Thanks,” Y/N mutters and walks over to where she stood by the couch. Mark’s assistant steps back, pulling out her phone and tapping away at the screen as she seems bored to be here. “I’ll go get Mark’s things,” Y/N says, but then just as she’s about to walk away her eyes catch something red near the top of the box of her things that Mark had packed up.

She pushes her favourite Eagles shirt out of the way and hooks one finger around the lacy red fabric. The Victoria’s Secret label sticks out of the barely there red thong that’s hanging off her index finger. Y/N doesn’t recognize the underwear, she thinks as her head begins to spin. How the fuck did a pair of woman's underwear get into this box of things Mark packed up? Why would he have a red thong at his apartment that wasn’t Y/N’s? What the actual fuck? Another round of questions are about to spew in Y/N’s head as her heart beats out of her chest but then suddenly Mark’s assistant is reaching for the lacy fabric and taking it out of Y/N’s grasp.

“Oh, those are mine. Must’ve slipped in by accident,” she stammers out the words. Y/N’s head is spinning, her heart is beating out of her chest, as she puts the pieces together.

“Really? A thong just slipped into the box?” Y/N urges, narrowing her eyes at the young brunette standing in her living room. “How long have you been fucking my boyfriend?” Y/N asks and raises her voice, the anger filling her whole body now.

“Ex boyfriend,” the brunette has the guts to utter out.

“Answer the damn question,” Y/N snaps back at her.

Her face is turning red, to match the stupid thong in her hands, “uh, it’s none of your business-”

“Just tell me!” Y/N shouts, feeling like she deserves some truth in this moment. Mark’s assistant visibly gulps, avoiding Y/N’s eyes and looks all around the room.

“Like, a few months,” she mutters under her breath, still not meeting Y/N’s burning gaze.

Her whole body is shaking with the anger coursing through her. She should have known. How could she be such an idiot? She thinks while shaking her head. Of course, Mark was cheating on her during the entirety of their relationship. They were only dating for four months, meaning that for at least half of it, he was busy screwing his fucking assistant - how unbelievably cliche of him, but also how unbelievably naive of her to not guess. Y/N brings a hand to her forehand and rubs at her temple as a headache begins.

“Can I just get Mark’s stuff and go-”

“Get. Out.” Y/N spits out the words, glaring at the brunette who has the audacity to be so nonchalant about being the other woman.

“What about his things?” Mark’s assistant all but winces out the words, her dark eyebrows pulling together.

“Tell Mark to eat a dick,” Y/N sneers, taking a step towards the girl which causes her to step back. She can’t deny the bit of joy she feels at the sight of fear in the girls eyes. “And get out of my apartment, now!” Y/N shouts at the woman.

“Whatever,” she mumbles, turning around and walking to the front door.

Y/N is hot on her heels, making sure to slam to door shut behind her. The moment she’s left to herself, her apartment falling silent around her, she feels the pain settle in. Mark cheated on her with his assistant that he then had the nerve to let come over to her apartment. The realization of how embarrassing this whole situation is hits her, along with the hurt too. Regardless if it was a mutual break up, being cheated on does not feel good. Y/N sniffles, bringing a hand to her mouth as she suddenly is holding back sobs. Tears fall down her cheeks while her brain runs wild thinking of how many times Mark could have fucked his assistant and then just waltzed into her apartment and then they-

Her thoughts are cut short as she’s bolting to her bathroom, throwing the door open and bending down in front of the toilet. She lifts the seat and empties her stomach into the bowl. After a moment she’s coughing, lifting her head out of the toilet and reaching for the lever to flush away any contents that were in her stomach. Y/N grabs the hand towel to her right and brings it to her mouth, wiping away the bit of drool at her lips.

Y/N can feel the vibration from her cell phone after a moment of sitting on the bathroom floor, zoned out on the shower and thinking about how stupid she could have been to trust Mark. She lets out a short sigh and reaches into her back pocket to find her buzzing phone. Her eyes roll on instinct of seeing Mark’s contact photo taking up her screen. A part of her wants to answer, to yell and to scream at him. But a bigger part of her feels sick to her stomach again and just tired, honestly. So, she ignores the call and opens her phone to her contacts and deletes Mark all together. She goes into her photos and does a quick sweep of any photos of them together. It was something she was going to do eventually anyways, but after the news of him being a cheating piece of shit she couldn’t waste another second before getting rid of anything involving Mark.

Mark is a fucking asshole. His precious little assistant came by to drop off my few things and one of her thongs was in the box, so she spilled the beans that she had been sleeping with Mark for months. Meaning that piece of absolute trash was cheating on me like the entire time we were together. Y/N types out the message to Sammy, making sure that he knows the drama first - but also just simply because he’s her best friend.

Sammy is typing back a response as Y/N stands up from her spot by the toilet, flushing it again due to her spitting a few times into the bowl, and then she quickly washes her hands and looks up at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes are red, her hairs a bit frizzy and out of place from the perfect curls she had earlier today, and her makeup is ruined. She decides to wash her face, drying it with a clean towel as her phone vibrates on the counter.

Are you fucking kidding me?! I’m going to kill him. Please tell me we have a murder plan, I know where we can hide the body. Did you want to talk about it? I can come over and bring a big bottle of tequila? Sammy sends each sentence as a separate text, adding a few choice emojis too. The knife is used many times. His enthusiasm makes Y/N chuckle but then she’s frowning again while walking out of the bathroom and to her bedroom.

Honestly, I just want to curl up in bed and cry it out some more while listening to some sad music. But I’ll keep you updated on any murder plans I think up. Y/N sends back her texts before throwing her phone down on her bed.

Letting out another sigh, Y/N strips out of her tight fitting pants and puts on a pair of grey sweatpants. Next, she takes off the collared button up shirt she had worn tucked into her pants today, hanging it back up in her closet to prevent it from getting wrinkled. Her eyes wander around her bedroom, a certain article of clothing was on her mind to put on and snuggle into bed with. Y/N smiles as she sees Harry’s black hoodie on the top of her laundry hamper. To be honest, it needed to be washed, but she needed the comfort of his oversized clothing more. So, she tugs it on, puts her hair into a messy topknot bun, and tugs down the hood before lifting the blanket and getting into bed.

Not even three songs into her ‘depressed? yeah, me too’ playlist of sad songs, there was a knock on Y/N’s front door. At first she thinks of ignoring whoever it is, but then her music is cut off as a phone call comes through. It’s Mark’s number, regardless that she just deleted his contact, she still knew his phone number. Y/N groans and gets out of bed. Her heart is pounding in her chest as she imagines Mark or that little assistant of his having the balls to come to her apartment again and demand for his few things he had left around here. Y/N narrows her eyes and unlocks her door, ready to glare at her sad excuse for an ex boyfriend - but her face instantly softens at the sight of Harry standing there.

“Nice jumper,” Harry comments. A smile on his lips as he takes in how Y/N looks in his clothing, days after he had lent it to her. But that smile vanishes when he notices the redness in her eyes and her pouting lips. “What’s wrong?” Harry asks, his voice full of worry as he fights back reaching for her and bringing her in for a hug.

Y/N sniffles, “um, I thought you were Mark, sorry,” she says in a quiet voice.

“Oh, sorry, is he coming over?” Harry questions. Suppose it made more sense for her boyfriend to comfort her during a bad day, he thinks although it tears him up inside that it can’t be him.

“No, no, he’s in Arizona, or somewhere. I don’t even know,” Y/N sighs, her voice sounding brittle, like it’s about to crack at any second, as she tries to keep herself composed in front of Harry. “I don’t really care actually, we broke up,” she reveals, her gaze down at the floor. Harry’s wearing those dirty white vans again, she wonders if he wears anything else.

They broke up, holy shit don’t freak out Styles, keep it together, Harry’s thoughts are all jumbled up at the news of Y/N and her boyfriends break up, which she is clearly very upset over, judging by her appearance and how she’s sniffling every second - bringing the sleeve of his Columbia jumper to her face to wipe her nose. Harry frowns and adjusts his weight from one foot to the other.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Y/N,” Harry says softly, “break ups can really suck,” he adds - knowing from experience just how terrible break ups can leave a person feeling.

“Yeah,” Y/N breathes out and looks up at Harry now, “but he’s kind of a trash human so it’s for the best, honestly,” she tells him, letting out a breathy chuckle while shaking her head. She shouldn’t be crying so damn much over the guy, she thinks.

“Oh, well then, fuck that guy,” Harry agrees with a nod of his head.

Y/N lets out a genuine chuckle at his words. She brings a hand, that is covered by the cuff of Harry’s hoodie, to her forehead to swipe back any crazy wispy hairs that are in her face. “So, what brought you to knock on my door?” She asks, smiling as Harry realizes he had gotten distracted by her state and forgot why he knocked at all.

“Right,” Harry chuckles, “um, a few friends of mine are in this band, it’s nothing crazy they just play at the pub a few blocks away. And I was wondering if you weren’t busy if you wanted to come with, thought it could be fun. But if you’re not in the mood to leave your home I understand,” Harry explains to her.

“No, I would love to come with,” Y/N insists. She lets out another chuckle and motions to her current appearance. “Just not looking like this, and as long as you promise there will be liquor involved in this Saturday night out.”

“I’ll buy you as many drinks as you need,” Harry promises with a smile.

“Then count me in,” Y/N says, mirroring his big dimpled smile. “Just give me some time to get ready?”

“You’ve got plenty of time, we don’t have to leave for another hour and a half,” he tells her. “I’ll let you get to it,” he adds, throwing a thumb over his shoulder as he takes a step away from her doorway.

“Oh, I’ll wash the sweater and give it to you soon, by the way,” Y/N says, lifting both her arms before letting them fall to her sides. Harry just shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head.

“Keep it as long as you need, it’s no problem, honestly,” Harry tells her while flashing a grin her way, hoping that it makes her feel even a little bit better. And it does, his casual response to her wearing his hoodie and then those dimples - it had her stomach fluttering. She gives Harry a small timid smile, tucking her chin down slightly into the collar of the hoodie as she watches his walk backwards down the hall to his door. “I’ll come knocking again in a bit,” Harry adds before he’s out of her sight and she’s closing her front door shut once again.

Y/N absentmindedly brings her hand to her mouth, biting on her nails as she stares off at her Christmas tree - though the lights are blurry due to her zoning out. You can do this, Y/N thinks and begins to give herself a pep talk of getting out of the sad break up phase and going out with Harry and his friends. Oh my god, Y/N’s eyes widen at her thoughts, what am I going to wear?

Y/N felt overdressed.

After twenty minutes of ripping apart her closet and tearing items out of her dresser drawers, she was truly tempted to just keep on Harry’s hoodie, pair it with some good jeans and some red heeled boots and call it a day. But that would be weird, showing up to hang out and meet Harry’s friends while dressed in his clothing. She was sure they were already going to assume things with him just bringing her along. Y/N didn’t need them thinking they had sex before too.

The thought had made Y/N blush like crazy as she tore off the stupidly comfortable hoodie and grabbed a silky white top that plunged low in the neckline, tying off just at her belly button, and then had long flowy sleeves. Pairing this with her trusted pair of light blue jeans, and for accessories: some chunky gold hoop earrings and layered gold necklaces to fill up the amount of skin she was showing at her chest. To top it all off, she slipped into her go-to black Balenciaga boots and long brown jacket to keep warm. After heading into the bathroom quickly, she brushed her hair through again and restyled the curls, put on a touch of light makeup, and then made sure to stick her lip gloss in her small black purse just as Harry was knocking on her door again.

Harry was dressed in a grey t-shirt with a large yellow smiley face, brown trousers and a blue and cream plaid jacket that quite literally made chills wash over Y/N’s body when she saw the whole fit - but that jacket, it made her head spin with some rather inappropriate thoughts. She’s a fashion major, can’t blame her for thinking clothing can make someone even more attractive. But even then she should have gotten the vibe of this evening and changed into something more casual.

But she didn’t, so now as she’s walking into a dive bar a few blocks away from the apartment building, she feels very out of place. Everyone’s wearing t-shirts and jeans, it smelt like cheap beer and cigarettes, and was definitely not the place to wear a silky white top that cost about five-hundred-dollars.

“You alright?” Harry's voice is soft and closer, as he steps directly behind Y/N after walking into the bar.

He notices how she crossed her arms at her chest and seemed to tense up almost immediately after walking in. Y/N shivers at the feeling of Harry’s breath falling over her exposed neck, having pushed her hair to lay on her left shoulder while he stood over her right. Y/N is still looking around the bar, trying to put together who may be Harry’s group of friends in this crowded bar.

“Y/N?” Harry tries again, this time placing a delicate hand on the small of her back - barely touching her, that he’s not even sure she’s noticed through her thick jacket. But she does, and she feels dizzy at the sweet gesture.

“Yeah,” she sighs, blinking a few times before looking to her right shoulder at Harry. He’s lips are so close, she thinks while trying her best to keep her eyes on his eyes. “Just feeling a little overdressed,” Y/N admits with a tight smile.

Harry shakes his head, “you look fine, better than fine actually. You look amazing,” Harry watches as Y/N’s eyes flicker to his lips for just a split second. He smiles but clears his throat, finding that they’re both blushing at his comment now. “As any FIT student in New York City should, of course,” he adds on to try and make his compliment a little less obvious.

“Thanks, Harry,” Y/N smiles.

When Harry saw Y/N for the second time that evening, it was like day and night from the hour before when she answered her door in his hoodie. She looked incredible, and was so out of his league. Dressed like she was going to a photoshoot, hair flowing down her back perfectly, and accessories that made him visibly gulp - he was a sucker for some gold jewelry on a girl, it was a weird weakness of his. And now, standing in the dim lighting of this dingy dive bar, she did look a little out of place, but in the best way possible, like she shined too bright to be in just a dark and depressing place.

“This way,” Harry says, leading the way to where he notices his friends are sitting at a table. They thankfully got his texts about him bringing Y/N with him and had two seats open for the both of them.

“Should we stop at the bar and get a drink?” Y/N asks. She’s honestly unsure how the service works at a place like this. To be honest, she hadn’t been in too many dive bars in her years.

Harry stops, looks behind him at her, and shakes his head. “We have a waitress that works basically every night my friends play, so she’ll come by and get our drinks for us,” he explains to Y/N. She nods, giving him a tight smile, and Harry can’t help but notice how she’s still got her arms crossed at her chest. Is she uncomfortable here? Maybe he can make some shit excuse after the first few songs and get her home.

Harry notices as he’s turned towards Y/N just how much attention is on her. He’s not surprised, seeing how he already realized how much she sticks out in a place like this, but he doesn’t quite enjoy seeing every male’s - and a few girls too - eyes in this place on the girl he’s brought with him. So, he makes the quick decision of holding out his hand for Y/N to take. She looks at Harry’s outstretched hand and feels her breath get caught in her throat. Playing it off, she smiles and reaches forward, watching as his much larger hand envelopes hers and tugs gently to get them moving again. Y/N’s stomach is already full of butterflies and her head is spinning at them holding hands for all of ninety seconds it takes to get to his table full of friends - she needs a drink, stat.

Harry lets go of Y/N’s hand as he approaches his friend's usual table and has to bring his arms up in order to hug Adam, who’s throwing himself into Harry at the sight of him. Harry huffs out a laugh, making a comment about how drunk Adam must be already, to which he responds by smacking Harry’s back a few times and laughing with him. Y/N can’t help it as the corners of her lips turn up into a small smile at the sight of Harry engulfed in a hug by a man bigger than him. As she’s watching their interaction, she notices how everyone else is watching her. Y/N’s smile falls right away and she finds herself crossing her arms at her chest again.

“Everyone,” Harry speaks a bit louder in order to get everyone's attention as he turns around and holds his arm out to Y/N, which she takes as her singal to step forward for an introduction and smiles timidly at the group of four others at the table. “This is Y/N, Y/N, this is everyone,” Harry announces, smiling at his friends - catching Mitch’s smug look in return.

“Hi,” Y/N says, her voice that soft and gentle tone that he had grown to like, quite a lot, actually.

“I’m Tom,” he’s the first to speak up, offering a hand to Y/N to shake, which she turns just a bit to her left in order to properly greet Harry’s friend. Tom’s got bleached hair that’s not styled and laying flat on his forehead, his roots are a dark brown that match the mustache and bit of bread he’s got. Y/N notices the few different necklaces around his neck while he’s wearing a simple outfit of a black long sleeve and black jeans.

“Jenny,” the woman sitting to Tom's left reaches over the table in order to shake Y/N’s hand. She’s also got bleached hair, and a dazzling smile too. Y/N notices the equally dazzling ring on her finger and she glances down at Tom’s hands to see a wedding band, assuming they are married due to them sitting so closely.

“Mitch,” a long haired young man speaks up just as Y/N and Jenny drop their hands. Y/N meets his gaze and blinks a few times, feeling slightly intimidated by him. Regardless of how he seems like the scrawniest at the table, his eyes just sort of bring Y/N to a stop, but she recovers swiftly and gives him a smile, returning the wave he gives her as it’s too far of a reach to shake hands. Mitch raises a brow at Harry, to which Harry is quick to return. Catching the interaction, Y/N imagines they are the closest of the group. Suppose he’s just a bit protective of his friend bringing a random girl around, Y/N thinks to herself before her attention is grasped by the last person sitting at the table.

“And I’m Adam, the only name you need to remember, obviously,” says the man who had hugged Harry upon their arrival. He’s smiling so widely there’s crinkles near his eyes, which make Y/N feel all warm inside as she stares into his big brown eyes. He’s got a full bread, like Mitch, and matching brown hair that looks like it may need a bit of a trim but he styles it well. Y/N likes his button up shirt that’s a dark navy with little white stars all around it, paired with some plain black jeans.

“It’s really lovely to meet you all,” Y/N says after shaking Adam’s hand, “thank you for letting me come crash your night,” she adds with another timid smile.

“Nonsense, it’s nothing special,” Jenny assures her, waving her hand too before wrapping it around her half full glass of what Y/N assumed was alcohol - or hoped, because she really didn’t want to be the only one drinking tonight.

“Ouch,” Adam scoffs jokingly, “guess your husbands best mates playing is nothing special then, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m hurt, Jenny,” Mitch nods, bringing his glass up to his lips to take a sip of the dark yellow foaming liquid in his tall glass - beer, okay, sweet, so we’re all drinking, good, Y/N thinks. She also notices that Mitch is the only one with an American accent. She wonders how this group all became friends, being from different parts of the world, where did they all connect?

Harry chuckles and shakes his head at his friends, looking to Y/N to find her smiling at his mates too. He places a hand on her elbow, causing her to look at him. He nods his head to the open seats on the other side of the table for them. Y/N rolls her lips into her mouth and begins to walk around the table, stepping behind Tom and Jenny’s chairs before stopping at the first one on Jenny’s right. Y/N catches Mitch’s stare, now ignoring the conversation at the table to instead watch Harry and her, but she’s quick to look away from his intense gaze and focus on taking her jacket off. Just as she tosses her jacket over the back of her chair, fixing her top in a discreet manner too, a red headed woman steps up in between her and Harry who is also slipping out of his jacket.

“Hey, Harry,” the woman greets him in a sultry tone. If Harry notices the obvious show she puts into her voice, he doesn’t act like it.

“Hey, Amy,” he says quickly, looking at his chair as he pulls it out and takes a seat.

“Running a bit behind your friends tonight, huh? What took you so long?” She asks. Seems she's rather observant of Harry’s presence, Y/N thinks, while she takes her seat and looks anywhere but to her right where the red head - fake red dye too, it was so obvious - back was mere inches away from her.

“I love your top, it’s so stylish,” Jenny comments, causing Y/N to look to her left at Jenny’s dazzling smile again.

“Thank you,” Y/N says, “this may not be the place to wear it, seems more like a casual band tee kind of place,” she notes, narrowing her eyes while looking around at the bar around them. Noticing now just how many neon signs there were in the dark space. The biggest was on the wall behind the small stage, which every table was facing. The bar was at the back of the bar and there were booths lining the wall closest to the door, then a couple of pool tables and gambling machines in the far right of the bar. Y/N had spent too much time in high maintenance bougie bars to find any of this remotely normal - but she didn’t hate it.

“Rubbish, you look hot, definitely got people in here questioning their wardrobe,” Jenny states, gaining Y/N’s attention again, “hell, next time I’m stepping it up to match this energy,” she adds, waving her hands at Y/N’s outfit.

Y/N chuckles and shakes her head, “well thanks, but you look incredible already! There’s no need.”

“Y/N,” Harry interrupts the girls suddenly.

Y/N lets out a small breath before turning to face what she’s been ignoring. The flirtatious red head and Mitch’s strong stare. Y/N raises her eyebrows at Harry. She completely ignores how the waitress now stood facing both their chairs, but she did notice how her hand was resting on the back of Harry’s.

“What are you drinking tonight?” Harry asks her, lips turning up into a smile. He can’t help himself, he finds himself smiling so much around her he’s sure he has wrinkles already.

“Oh,” Y/N says, finally looking at the waitress now. Her dark makeup made her blue eyes pop, it was a bit smudged but Y/N assumes she’s too busy working to notice. The waitress, Amy - Y/N reads her name tag, pinned on her tight black v neck shirt that has the bar's name on it - is staring at her, clearly forcing a smile while waiting for Y/N’s answer. “I’ll have tequila and soda water, bring a few lime slices on the side too,” Y/N orders, knowing exactly how Upper East Side she sounds, “please,” she adds with a forced smile that she mirrors from Amy.

“Coming right up,” Amy nods before turning away, not without a lingering gaze on Harry though.

Her obvious fake customer voice was rather annoying, Y/N thinks as her eyes follow her walking back to the bar. She takes note of the crowd around the bar, many waving at the one bartender stationed behind the bar. He looks older and is struggling to keep up with the rush of people. When Y/N turns back around, to face the table again, she catches Harry eyes on her. She scrunches up her nose at him and he chuckles before their attention is taken away by Adam’s deep voice.

“So, Y/N, you're this bloke’s neighbour, huh?” He questions, nodding his head to Harry. Y/N smiles and nods, sitting back in her chair while folding her hands between her thighs.

“Yeah, we just met in passing and ended up becoming friends,” she states, catching Harry nodding in the corner of her eye while he rests an arm on the table and faces towards her as he leans slightly into Mitch. To which Mitch responds by pushing his shoulder gently, making Harry’s smile widen at how he manages to bother his friend so easily.

“Give us the tea. How shit of a neighbour is he?” Adam asks, causing everyone at the table to chuckle.

“Hey,” Harry playfully whines at his friends.

“He’s fine, great even,” Y/N tells them, earning another smile from Harry as he watches her.

“Surprising considering he’s a shit roommate,” Mitch comments after taking another long sip of his beer. Harry turns in his chair and glares at Mitch, earning a smirk from him in return.

“I am not,” Harry grumbles.

“When were you two roommates?” Y/N asks, finding herself bringing a hand up to adjust her necklaces. Anything to keep her nervous hands busy. Suppose making new friends wasn’t her biggest strength, it was a rather nerve wracking experience to be honest.

“We just room together when we travel for any work stuff,” Harry answers, meeting her eyes for only a brief second before he’s looking back at Mitch. “Mitch here just likes his beauty sleep, while I have a pretty set morning routine I like to stick to,” Harry explains, looking back at Y/N as he finishes talking.

“Yeah, that starts at like six in the morning like a crazy person,” Mitch huffs jokingly.

“Six is way too early,” Y/N agrees, nodding along with Mitch. “At least give the man till nine,” she adds.

“He’s just being dramatic,” Harry states. Mitch mumbles something under his breath before taking another sip of his beer. Sounded a bit like “say’s the drama queen himself” but Y/N isn’t sure. Regardless, the interaction makes her smile. Just as she’s about to make another comment, Amy returns with hers and Harry’s drinks. Setting his down first with a smile before turning to Y/N and placing the glass of tequila and a small dish of limes too.

“Thank you,” Y/N says. Doesn’t matter if she thought Amy had an attitude problem, Y/N had manners.

“Anything else for the table? Another refill for you boys before you head up on stage?” Amy asks, ignoring Y/N completely and instead turning her back on her and looking at Mitch and Adam. Y/N notices how she leans her body into Harry a bit, her arm resting on the back of his chair again. If Harry notices, he’s oblivious to her motives. It almost makes Y/N laugh at how Harry’s ignoring her.

“Please,” Mitch nods, lifting his glass to finish off the rest of his beer. Y/N tries to hide her facial expression as she is impressed with how Mitch manages to gulp down the beer so fast, instead bringing her focus to her own drink - which she was looking forward to downing herself honestly.

She picks up a lime wedge and squeezes it over her glass, watching the juices squirt out and into her glass. After she stirs it with her straw, she brings it to her lips and gulps back nearly half of it. Y/N suddenly feels her phone buzzing in her jean pocket. She sits up slightly in order to slide it out of her pocket and looks at the screen. It’s Mark’s number again. Rolling her lips into her mouth, she declines the call and sets her phone screen down on the table before grabbing ahold of her drink again and having another sip. He sure has some nerve to continue to call numerous times, Y/N thinks as she zones out from whatever Harry and his friends were talking about.

“Y/N grew up in the city, actually,” Harry states. Y/N raises her eyebrows and looks around the table to see everyone’s looking at her now. She’s missed what they were talking about prior so she just spit balls it here and smiles.

“Um, yeah, born and raised,” she nods, “I noticed you all have quite a jumble of accents, where are you all from?” Y/N asks, looking towards Tom and Jenny as they begin to explain where they were separately from before meeting in London.

Harry watches Y/N while his friends speak, mostly because he already knows everything there is about their lives, but also because he likes watching Y/N. Taking in her small mannerisms like how she talks with her hands quite a lot, and how she rubs her ankles together under the table as she listens to Adam talk about his wife and kids back home. They all chat amongst themselves, making jokes and laughing too, for nearly thirty minute before Mitch and Adam are whisked away to the stage. Harry feels his chest bursting as he sits back and watches Y/N interact with his friends as if they are her own. He smiles when she looks his way, her cheeks howling as she sucks on the straw of her second drink - nearly finishing it while staring at him. Harry has to break the gaze as his thoughts run a different less innocent route, causing him to readjust how he’s sitting and clearing his throat just as the lead singer of the band introduces them.

“So, why aren’t you in the band?” Y/N asks as the beginning chords of their opening song play out. She’s leaning her elbow on the table, resting her head in the palm of her hand while turning her head to Harry - shutting out Jenny and Tom completely but they’re too busy watching the band to care.

“Bold of you to assume I have enough talent to be in a band,” Harry says with a smirk. Y/N rolls her eyes and reaches for her glass, bringing the straw between her lips and finishing off the tequila and soda water with three squeezed lime slices in it - Harry watched her prepare her drink both times, finding himself intrigued by her drink of choice.

“You are definitely talented enough,” Y/N says, “from the bit I’ve heard through the walls, you’re great with a guitar and I’m assuming I’m right considering that your job revolves around music.”

“Well, they already have a guitar player,” Harry notes, nodding his head towards Mitch who’s strumming away on his guitar. “And he’s one of the best in the business so if I did have any talent, he wipes me out without a question,” Harry insists.

Y/N is about to respond but then the band is starting to really get into the song. She turns her head, sitting up straight again, and watches the band perform. They’re really good, she thinks and starts to bob her head along to the song. Harry tries to not be obvious, but he stares at her for a few moments before facing the stage to watch his mates as well. He smiles as he watches her get into the music, nodding along with the bass line and tapping her foot to the drums. They’re performing one of Harry’s songs. He had written it a couple years back when he had finally settled into New York, hence the title ‘Ever Since New York’. He didn’t sell the song to any big artist, instead he kept it within his personal folder and when Mitch asked if his and Adam’s band could borrow it Harry said yes. It was one of the few personal songs he would let his friends borrow, others were too much of him to let someone else sing.

Y/N is seriously enjoying herself. The tequila has hit her, settling into her body with a constant buzz, and this band was so good. She’s shamelessly swaying her body in her chair and nodding her head back and forth with the beat. To be fair, so was everyone else at the table. Jenny matched her energy perfectly, even throwing an arm around her shoulders as the course of their third song picked up - Jenny knew the lyrics and sang along, causing the two of them to erupt into laughter afterwards. After Jenny turns her attention back to her husband, Y/N looks at Harry and notices him lightly singing along while bobbing his head too. She smiles and ends up watching him instead of the band for maybe a little too long. He turns his head and catches her stare, raising a brow but she just shakes her head and leans closer to him to ensure he can hear her before speaking.

“They’re really good,” she compliments, “like a lot better than some of the mainstream artists I’ve seen recently,” she adds on just as the band finishes up another song.

“Yeah, they are,” Harry nods in agreement, “but the bands really just a hobby for all of them since they are all involved within the industry already.”

“Oh, that’s sick though,” Y/N says, “not everyone’s hobby includes filling up a dive bar in New York City every weekend with people singing along to your songs,” she exclaims. She had looked around the room earlier during the last song to see it wasn’t just the bandmates' friends that knew the words to their songs. Majority of the people in the bar were singing too, clearly being regulars to their sets.

Amy arrives at their table again, setting down everyone's refills in a rush, thankfully being too busy to stop and flirt with Harry. Is that jealousy, Y/N? She questions herself in her head. She ignores her thoughts and brings her new drink to her lips, not even bothering with the lime slices this time as she’s feeling a bit drunk now and honestly could care less. As the band opens their next song with some strong drums and an incredible electric guitar melody, the crowd goes a bit crazy. Y/N furrows her brows and looks at the people at her table, Tom and Jenny are also hollering at the band while Harry is chuckling. He meets her eyes before echoing the crowd and cheering on his friends. Y/N’s eyes widen and she huffs out a laugh before she grabs her phone quickly and opens her Instagram.

Just in time, she opens her Instagram stories as the song picks up and the small crowd that had formed overtime at the front of the stage starts to dance around. Everyone is cheering and singing along, causing Y/N’s jaw to drop in pure amazement. She holds down the button to record and gets a quick ten second video of the band rocking out while the bar sings and goes nuts as the bass line played by Adam kicks in and their drummer flings his body around to play one of the most addicting beats they’ve played so far. Y/N shakes her head and swipes a filter on before tapping on the screen, turning to face Harry - who’s already watching her, of course.

“Does the band have an Instagram?” She asks. To which Harry just shrugs in response, because he really isn’t too sure - he’s not hugely into social media himself.

“They do!” Jenny says with excitement, Y/N turns in her seat and grins at Jenny as she spells out the bands Instagram handle. “I keep trying to get them to stay active on it but they barely do,” she states.

Y/N slips her drink that she holds in one hand and taps ‘post to story’ on her phone that in her other hand. “Well, they might get, like, a few notifications flood in since I tagged them in my story,” Y/N tells her.

“Oh yeah?” Jenny questions. “Are you big on Insta?”

“It’s kind of grown over the years, I just hit half a million last week actually,” Y/N states. Her words cause both Jenny and Tom’s jaws to drop. Suppose it’s quite a big number, Y/N thinks.

“That’s insane, oh my god,” Jenny says, “is social media like your job then?” She asks. Y/N notices how both Tom and Harry are more interested in hearing about her Instagram than the band’s next song, to be fair it is a slower tune, but still it shocks her a bit.

“Um, not really,” Y/N licks her lips, “I have a career at a fashion studio in the city, we style the city’s elite and some celebrities, do their personal shopping and all that. But the social media thing is really just a little add on, I guess,” Y/N explains, pausing a few times as she feels a bit nervous telling them about her following. Some people saw it as a clout thing, asking for shoutouts and tags so her followers would get their follower count up. While others thought it was childish and weird that she was kind of like an influencer in a way.

“Wow,” Harry says, his voice gets Y/N’s attention as she looks towards him now, “how didn’t I know this?” He questions with a chuckle.

“I don’t know,” Y/N shrugs, “it’s really just like a hobby, barely even that.”

“Like how the band is for Mitch and Adam,” Harry nods.

Y/N smiles and nods with him, “exactly.”

“You’re definitely the coolest girl Harry knows, by the way,” Jenny states, bringing Y/N’s attention back to her left where she sat. Y/N laughs and brushes her hair back over her shoulders.

“I don’t know about that,” Y/N disagrees and shakes her head, reaching for her drink again to take a few sips.

“No, you definitely are,” Harry corrects her, having a sip of his own drink as well. Y/N puts down her glass and smiles, shrugging her shoulders and leaning back into her seat.

“I mean, if you say so,” she says in a joking tone. Jenny, Tom and Harry all chuckle, which makes Y/N laugh along with them. The band is talking to the crowd now, mentioning that their weekly gig will not be happening next week due to the holidays. Then they’re explaining something about their next and final song, thanking the crowd before the song starts up.

“This was their first song as a band,” Tom tells Y/N. She smiles and nods, appreciating the insight from him.

The song is catchy, still fitting the bands vibe but definitely isn’t as good as some of the other songs they had played already. Y/N decides to take a final snap of the band on stage on her Instagram story. Mitch’s head is down, his hair falling forward that she can barely tell that it’s him, while Adam is grinning at the crowd which makes Y/N smile as she swipes on a filter to lighten the picture some and types out ‘new fave band alert’ as her caption, finding a red siren gif quickly before posting it to her story. As the song comes to an end the bar erupts into a roar of cheers. Y/N brings her hands to her mouth and hollers along with the bar, grinning as she watches the four boys of the band come together and bow. As they bend down Harry whistles, having both his hands at his mouth, to show his support to his friends.

Y/N widens her eyes and turns quickly to look at Harry, surprised by the loud whistle that came from him. He matches her look, widening his eyes and playing dumb as he slowly lowers his hands from his face. Y/N laughs, slapping a hand on his arm and leaning back, immensely entertained by his actions. Harry laughs along with Y/N till they both calm down and shake their heads. Just as Y/N is about to say something her phone starts to buzz on the table from an incoming call. She looks down at the screen and sees it’s Mark - again.

“Ugh,” Y/N groans and hits decline, unlocking her phone to go to her phone app. “How the hell do you block a phone number?” She asks aloud to no one in particular.

“Is it Mark?” Harry questions in a low voice, leaning towards Y/N to keep his words between them. Y/N frowns but nods her head once. The tequila in her system starts to mess with her, her screen becoming fuzzy as she thinks about all the crap she learnt about Mark earlier today. And now he was ruining her fun out with Harry and his friends.

“Where’s the bathroom?” Y/N asks, turning to Jenny since she would know the location of the women's bathroom over Harry.

“Down the hall in the back corner over there,” she points in that direction and before anyone else can say something Y/N is on her feet with her phone in hand and heading to the bathroom.

Harry looks over his shoulder as he monitors Y/N’s move across the bar. He’s worried about her, obviously, but he’s also watching to make sure no douche bag makes a grab for her. Although he is sure that she could handle it herself. As he turns back to the table he sees both Tom and Jenny staring at him. Harry furrows his brows and brings his drink to his lips, having the final sip of his third drink tonight. Jenny just shakes her head and looks down at her phone, he’s pretty sure she’s looking up Y/N’s Instagram. Tom’s still staring at Harry though.

“What?” Harry finally asks, setting his glass down with the few other empty ones at the centre of the table.

“So,” Tom pauses, “what’s going on here?” He questions, being annoyingly vague.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks, trying his hardest to not roll his eyes.

“Well you just show up with this bombshell of a woman, who is beyond anything you could’ve described her as by the way, and we’re all just supposed to forget she’s in a relationship?” Tom questions, tilting his head just slightly to the side as he stares down Harry.

“Firstly, I’m insulted you don’t think we could just be friends,” Harry says, he’s about to continue but Mitch and Adam join the table again. They get a round of ‘good job’ from everyone before Mitch is turning to Harry and furrowing his brows.

“What were you saying before?” He asks.

“That it is just possible for Y/N and I to be friends, but also not that it’s any of your guys business cause it’s not even mine, but her and her boyfriend broke up, like, recently,” Harry informs his friends, dragging his fingertip along the condensation of his empty glass in front of him. He feels silly, having to explain himself for simply bringing along a friend to hangout tonight. But he can’t deny it feels good to know that she is single now. Only to feel bad a second later as he knows that Y/N must be hurting, judging by her drowning herself in tequila drinks and getting upset over Mark calling her.

“Well, shit,” Mitch breathes out. Harry lifts his gaze to find his best mate with his usual smug look on his face. “What are you waiting for then, loverboy, make a move,” Mitch coaxes him.

“Did you not hear me when I said they broke up recently? As in maybe I should just let that settle for a while before I try and make any sort of move,” Harry says.

“Well if you don’t eventually and you let this one go, then you’re a bloody idiot,” Adam resorts, “Y/N is a prize, one evening knowing her and I understand your little crush, H,” he adds with a smile.

“Trust me,” Harry huffs out a breath and shakes his head a bit, “I’m well aware. But seriously guys, I’m just going to let it play out and not force anything. I’m happy to just be her friend, honestly,” he explains. Everyone nods, seeming to understand where Harry is at now with Y/N. Perfect timing, Amy shows up with refills for everyone to get the attention of the group off Harry.

“So, Harry,” Amy says after setting down everyone glasses, turning her body away from Jenny and the empty chair for Y/N to completely face him - her boobs practically in his face. He gives her a polite smile, leaning back in his chair in order to get some distance from her. “Who’s this new girl you brought with you? A cousin or something?” She asks, her body seeming to lean even further towards him as she speaks.

Harry opens his mouth, ready to let Amy know her ridiculous assumptions were wrong. When he hears Y/N’s voice from behind where Amy stood. “Classy,” she mutters under her breath.

Amy rolls her eyes rather dramatically before she turns away from Harry and looks at Y/N as she’s pulling out her chair and returning to her seat. “What did you say?” Amy asks, her voice rather snarky in Y/N’s opinion.

“I said, wow you’re hair colour, it’s like, so classy, I love it,” Y/N resorts, putting on a smile just as fake as her words.

Amy’s lips part, her eyes narrowing at Y/N’s bored stare. Whatever bitchy response she has lined up for Y/N is cut short as Amy’s name is being yelled by the bartender. Her gaze falls behind Y/N, looking at who had called for her, before she meets Y/N’s eyes again. She glares again, huffs out a short breath, and then is nearly stomping away from the table like a child who didn’t get the Barbie doll she wanted to play with - or rather the Ken doll. Y/N’s lips turn up slightly into a smug smile as a feeling of pride flushes over her.

“Yup, it’s official,” Jenny says, bringing Y/N back to reality as she looks away to her left. Jenny is grinning as she brings an arm around Y/N’s shoulder, pulling her into her side. “You’re one hundred percent the coolest girl Harry knows,” she states, earning a round of laughter from the group.

“You handled Amy like a pro,” Adam notes, then jutting his chin towards Harry, “H is always too nice to let her know how annoying she’s being.”

Y/N smiles and looks at Harry in the corner of her eye, noticing the slight tint of pink upon his cheeks. She flips her hair over her shoulder and shrugs, “I grew up dealing with the snobby Upper East Side kids, Amy is harmless, believe me,” Y/N ensures the group before grabbing for her drink and sucking back a few good gulps.

The group around the table begins to talk about the performance, compliments and praises to Mitch and Adam all around of course. Even a few strangers come up to give them a pat on the back and ask for a picture. They’re like royalty in this dingy little bar.

Y/N is enjoying sitting back and simply being around people, letting herself push away any thoughts of Mark. She had blocked his number while she waited in line for the washroom, then responded to Sammy’s million texts asking where she was and with who - when she told him she was with Harry he just replied with ‘#TeamHarry for the win’, which she rolled her eyes at but ended up smiling down at her phone and texting him a thumbs up back.

When Y/N finished with her business in the rather dirty washroom - the sink barely even worked, it was not ideal - and she saw Amy at the table beside Harry again, Y/N let her jealousy fly. Then when Amy started leaning so far into Harry that her boobs nearly touched his chest, Y/N just couldn’t help it. It was like her vision turned red suddenly, her chest swelling up as she tried to bite down on her tongue. But she couldn’t, she was too annoyed by Amy’s less than classy actions towards her customer.

“Hey,” Harry’s low voice snaps Y/N out of her own world. She blinks and focuses on him, feeling herself melt at the sight of his smile. “Are you okay?” He asks, more than likely referring to her quick departure to the bathroom after Mark called.

“Yeah,” she assures him with a smile and a nod. “I blocked his number, I don’t want to hear his excuses. I could really care less,” she explains to Harry. He nods in response and is about to say something else, about how Mark is a real idiot for whatever he did to hurt her. But Y/N sits up, places a hand on his arm that was resting on the table between then, and gives him another smile. “But enough about him, seriously, I’m feeling a little drunk and having way too much fun here with you to be bothered anymore,” Y/N tells him.

“Alright,” Harry smiles, peering at Y/N as his heart beats wildly in his chest. He’s pretty sure his skin’s tingling from where her hand rests. But it doesn’t last long before she moves, reaching for her glass - that she then raises into the air.

“I would like to make a toast,” Y/N announces to the table, gaining everyone’s attention and smiles, “to Mitch and Adam’s absolutely amazing performance, new friends, and to having a lovely holiday season,” Y/N beams as Harry and his friends cheer in agreement and everyone lifts their glasses into the air.

The group ends up buying shots after, then another round of drinks, and then more shots. Y/N is laughing so much her stomach hurts. She hasn’t been this happy while enjoying others' company in far too long, outside of work of course. Harry makes another joke, teasing Adam, but Adam dishes it back right away. Y/N finds herself letting her hand slip to Harry’s thigh as she throws her head back with laughter at Adam’s absurd comment. Everyone else is too focused on the banter to notice, but Harry does of course. He’s breath hitches in his throat as he feels her delicate fingers spread over his thigh. He gulps, unsure if he wants to break whatever drunken trance that Y/N may be in. Does she realize that she’s put her hand on his thigh? He wonders. But his thoughts are quickly answered as she caresses her thumb along his pants before lifting her hand slowly off of him altogether.

Y/N’s leaning on her elbow again, her chin propped up in the palm of her hand as she looks at Harry. He’s so hot, her drunk self thinks as she watches his Adam's apple bob up and down for a second time since she had placed her hand on his thigh. It happened by accident to be honest, but she wasn’t sorry about it. God, she was just itching to touch Harry. His thigh, his arm, maybe rub gentle circles on the back of his neck as he talked amongst his friends, but she wanted to touch his lips more than anything. She couldn’t stop looking at his pretty pink lips as he replies to whatever whoever said to him.

Harry catches Y/N’s glossy eyes staring at him in the corner of his eye. He rolls his lips into his mouth to stop himself from smiling. He likes how she can’t seem to keep her eyes off of him, because he does the same thing maybe a little too often. Harry turns his head and meets her gaze, giving her a smirk as she playfully narrows her eyes at him. Her cheeks are rosy from the amount of liquor she’s consumed, while her eyes truly are a bit glossed over from her being more than tipsy. She’s so hot, he thinks, as his eyes shamelessly roam over her appearance. Even hours later at this shitty bar and she still looks breathtaking. Harry’s gaze lingers a little too long on her chest, admiring the way the top fit her breasts; was she wearing a bra? Oh how he wishes he could find out.

Y/N adjusts her position in her chair, letting her left arm fall into her lap while she lays her right arm beside Harry’s. She is liking this game they seem to be playing with their eyes. She sits up straight, knowingly sticking out her chest just a bit as she watches Harry’s eyes fall to her breasts. But she keeps it classy, of course, unlike some people. Y/N lets out a breathy sigh as she looks at Harry’s hand mere inches away from her right hand. Those rings, she thinks, they could do some real damage. Her thighs clench involuntarily, her mind falling into a fog as she imagines them leaving red marks on her bare bottom or how cool they would feel against her throat.

“I really like your rings, have I told you that before?” Y/N’s voice is hoarse, but she doesn’t care as her pinky reaches over to touch the large gold ‘S’ that rests on his pinky. The metal is cool to her touch, just as she imagines. Feeling brave - thanks to her good friend, tequila - she lifts her hand slightly in order to comfortably drag her fingertip over the ‘S’ shape a couple times.

“No, you-” Harry clears his throat, feeling it become dry at the sight of her doe eyes staring at his fingers. His mind goes somewhere dirty, thinking of somewhere else his fingers could go. Tangled in her hair, wrapped around her throat, inside of her. Harry licks his lips before he speaks again, “you haven’t, but thank you.”

“Which is your favourite?” Y/N questions, her finger still lazily tracing the ring on his pinky finger.

“Quite like the inicals,” Harry answers, smirking as she glances up to peer at him through her lashes. She mirrors his smug look easily.

“A very narcissistic answer,” Y/N hums, teasing him. Harry playfully narrows his eyes at her, which she returns but ends up giggling after a moment as he sticks out his tongue at her. These inappropriate thoughts have got to just slide away for a moment, Y/N thinks with a deep breath.

“We’re going to head out,” Tom announces to the table suddenly, helping Jenny out of her chair. Jenny’s beautiful dazzling smile is on her husband as he helps her into her coat. They’ve both had quite a bit to drink too and Harry notes how Jenny latches onto Tom’s side after they’re in their coats.

“I’m still shocked you two both came out tonight,” Harry says.

“We paid big bucks for this babysitter, so they better keep it together for at least another four hours,” Tom exclaims with a wink. Jenny gasps and smacks her husband on the chest as she realizes what Tom is insinuating.

“Don’t go acting like you last longer than ten minutes, bud,” Mitch taunts jokingly to his friend. Everyone laughs as Tom glares at Mitch across the table. Y/N covers her mouth with her hands, finally bringing her finger away from where it laid on Harry’s ‘S’ ring, in order to cover her chuckles.

“It was so lovely to meet you, Y/N,” Jenny gushes, letting go of Tom in order to put her arms around Y/N and hugging her tightly.

Y/N smiles into her bleached hair, squeezing her back just as tightly, “you too, Jenny,” she says.

“Don’t let H keep hiding you away now,” she says, pointing a stern finger at the two of them. Harry laughs and shakes his head at his friend.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Jenny,” he tells her.

Then they’re all saying goodbye to the couple as they walk out of the half empty bar. Y/N glances around the place, noticing how it feels less scary now. Maybe it was the tequila that helped, or how comfortable she felt around Harry and his friends. A yawn suddenly makes it’s way past Y/N’s lips, she brings the back of her hand to cover it but ends up squinting her eyes closed as her whole body feels drained. She meets Harry eyes after the yawning stops, he shows her a small soft smile that makes her return it right back.

“Ready to go home?” He asks. She contemplates it for a moment, because she truthfully doesn’t want the night to end. But she decides to not fight it and nods to Harry.

Harry does practically the same thing as Tom just had. He announces his and Y/N’s departure, helps her into her coat, and lets her say her goodbyes as Adam opens his arms up for a big warm hug. Mitch only nods, waving to them both before Harry leads the way out of the bar. The cold night air blasts Y/N’s hair back, the sharp wind taking her by surprise as she blinks back tears from the cold. She puts both her hands into her coat pockets and zips it up all the way, snuggling into the warmth it will provide her on their walk home.

“I feel like Mitch doesn’t like me much,” Y/N admits after a few minutes of comfortable silence between her and Harry.

“What?” Harry shakes his head, eyebrows pinched together. “No, that’s just how he is. He’s quiet and looks all moody. Give him some time, he’ll warm up, promise.”

“I think he’s just protective of you,” Y/N says, looking up at Harry after they cross the road, “thinks I’m a threat or something.”

Harry chuckles and shakes his head again,“well, it’s definitely not like that with Mitch and I, plus he’s seeing someone. Her name’s Sarah, she plays drums on a lot of tracks we write.”

“If you say so,” Y/N sighs. She looks around at the sights before them. A few other mildly drunk people wander the streets, and she notices a few homeless people too, that tore Y/N’s heart apart, as they were bunkering down in the alleyways. Harry keeps pace with Y/N the whole walk home, letting her control the speed they walked and what they talked about. She would jump from subject to subject the entire time, but Harry thought it was kinda cute that she was so drunk she didn’t even realize how quickly she changed the topic.

And all too soon, they’re in the elevator in their apartment building. Harry presses the number six button and joins Y/N on the back wall. They both lean into the railing, comfortable silence falling between them once again. But it was obviously their thoughts were anything but silent. The elevator doors open on their floor, and Harry lets her walk out first as always.

“Well this is me,” Y/N says dramatically as she approaches her apartment door. Harry chuckles under his breath, shaking his head slightly and letting his eyes fall to the floor for a second before meeting Y/N’s stare again. “I really did have a great time tonight, Harry,” she tells him.

“I’m glad, I did too,” he agrees.

Y/N wants to kiss him. She really really really does. But they’re both a little drunk, and she literally just broke up with Mark yesterday - or maybe technically two days ago now since it’s past midnight. But it didn’t matter, she didn’t want to be that girl. Plus she wanted to really get to know Harry and take this slow and see where it went. That didn’t stop her gaze from falling to his pretty pink lips though. Harry’s thoughts are running laps too. He wants to kiss her. But he knows she’s more than likely still hasn’t recovered fully emotionally from her break up Mark, hell not even ten hours ago she was crying because of her shitty ex boyfriend. Didn’t mean he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her though, especially when her gaze falls to his lips.

Just as quickly as they seemed to fall into some dream like state as thoughts of kissing each other float around them, they snap back to reality. Y/N blinks a few times and takes a step back, bumping into her front door. Harry clears his throat and steps back as well, towards his own front door.

“Polar Express,” Y/N says suddenly, earning a look of confusion from Harry. “We’re watching the Polar Express tomorrow, and you’re going to play me something on that guitar of yours.”

Harry lets out a chuckle and gives Y/N a smirk, “yeah, we’ll see about that.”

“You will,” she singsongs as she focuses on unlocking her door. It takes a few extra tries to get the key in but once she does she unlocks it and opens the door.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Harry smiles.

“Goodnight, H,” Y/N says softly, smiling as well, as she leans against her door to look back at him. Harry’s smile deepens at her using his nickname. She must’ve picked it up from his friends using it earlier during their time at the bar.

She gives him one last look over, knowing very well that she’s going to dream about him in that cream and blue plaid jacket - and maybe only wearing that jacket - before she shuts her door and presses her back against it as it closes. Today was a lot. But she’s beyond grateful that Harry invited her out, introducing her to his wildly unique group of wonderful friends, and letting her get a little bit drunk too. Her chest flares up as she remembers their close moment at the bar, her touching his rings, placing her hand on his thigh-

“Oh god,” Y/N all but moans out as her thoughts go right back to the place they were at before.

She shakes her head and heads to her bedroom. Harry wouldn’t be able to hear a vibration from the other side of the wall, would he? Y/N shrugs and opens her bedside table drawer to grab her vibrator, knowing just how much she needed it tonight as she imagined Harry’s hand between her thighs. Fuck, she’s so screwed, she thinks, biting her lip as she realizes, she really really really likes Harry.

>> part four <<

thanks for reading, please reblog/leave some feedback if you enjoyed it! until next week 😘

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