#women don’t really wear a tie to the office so I tried to give them a realistic alternative | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ssahotchhner · 3 years

Note

Hiii! Can there be a Hotch x BAUFem!reader where they are already dating and she gets kidnapped in a case and like Reid’s epsidoe the team see her getting tortured and Hotch goes insnaely mad and the team get her but she been stabbed or shot up to you. And she passes out in hotchs arms to Hotch screaming for her to stay awake. Wakes up in hospital and all fluffy between them agter. I love your content and I get if you don’t want to do this x

hello!!! i feel like this is kinda similar to something i’ve done already so i tried to make them as different as possible. i hope you guys still enjoy!!!

warnings: just your usual torture, kidnapping, and murders

questions, comments, concerns

I’M NOT AFRAID

“Sorry to ruin date night.” Penelope teases as you and Hotch walk into the conference room. You’re wearing a dress that is far too short to be work appropriate, attempting to hide it under your long coat and scowling at Penelope.

Morgan whistles and you roll your eyes, but Aaron only smirks as he settles into the seat next to you, resting a hand on your thigh under the table. It was nice to finally be able to be like this at work. You and Aaron had and would always continue to be professional at work, but since the team had found out, you didn’t have to hide the subtle touches or loaded glances.

“Good evening crime fighters, I’m so sorry to ruin your night, but we have some criminals afoot.” Images of women’s bodies illuminate the screen behind her. Immediately you notice small burns that decorate each of their bodies, consistent with the use of a taser. “You will be heading to North Bend, Washington where the bodies were found abandoned in alleyways behind dumpsters. In all cases, the bodies were discovered by homeless men.”

“What was the cause of death?” You ask.

Penelope sighs, “It looks like the person who did this tortured them for hours, submerged in salt water for long periods of time and tased at close range over and over, until,” She clicks the remote and pictures of the victims’ heads come across the screen.

“He tased them in the head?” Morgan asks.

“That would be correct, chocolate thunder. The ME reports that the girls all suffered incredible brain damage until their brains just… shut down.”

“The discarding of the bodies suggests he doesn’t have any remorse and he’s clearly sadistic since he tortures them for so long.” Prentiss says.

“Garcia, was there evidence of sexual assault?” Aaron asks.

“ME says since they were submerged in water for so long it’s impossible to tell.”

“Forensic countermeasure?” Reid muses.

“It’s possible.” Aaron says.

“Oh, and there’s one last thing.” A picture of another girl fills the screen, “Another girl was taken a few hours ago, her name is Tiffany Cole. Judging by how long he’s held the other girls--”

“We have less than 48 hours to find her.” Aaron finishes, “Let’s get going then, wheels up in thirty.”

You follow Aaron to his office, closing the door behind you, sighing as you lean against it, “We’re never gonna have a night to ourselves, are we?”

He brushes his thumb along your cheek, “I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you when we get back.”

You smile and lean into his touch, “Shame this dress has to go to waste.”

“Can I at least take it off you?” He murmurs.

You raise your eyebrows, “Sure, my love, but don’t forget to close the shades.” You nod your head to the windows of his office.

You pull out your go bag while he closes the shades, pulling out some comfier, more professional clothing. He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist and you lean back into him. Gently kissing your shoulders, he pulls down the zipper in the back revealing your bare back.

He groans into your skin, “I can’t believe we have a case.”

You hum and turn in his arms, placing your hands on his chest as the dress falls off you, “Well we better work quickly then so you can make it up to me.” You smirk and lightly push off from his chest, turning away from him to put on your work clothes.

Faster than you thought possible, Aaron immediately shifts back into unit chief, barely looking at you as he swipes through the case file on his tablet. Once dressed, you peer over his shoulder, “What’s bothering you?”

He shakes his head and stands, grabbing his go bag and handing you yours, “I don’t know yet.” He says and walks past you, leaving you to follow.

***

“There doesn’t seem to be any evidence of gagging or even tape over the mouth to keep the girls quiet,” Reid observes from the jet, “No trace glue on the mouth or fabric found inside. ME even reports that some of their vocal chords seemed strained, most likely from hours of screaming.”

“Which means he must have some remote place to keep them where nobody can hear them.” Rossi adds.

Aaron is quiet the entire time besides assigning the team tasks for when you land, “Aaron, what’s the matter?” You say softly, gently squeezing his leg.

He slowly shakes his head, “Something about this case… I feel like I’ve seen it before, but I can’t… I can’t remember.”

You frown, “We could ask Garcia--?”

“No.” He interjects immediately and then looks at you apologetically for cutting you off, “No, not yet. I don’t want anyone wasting their time when I’m not even sure myself.”

You nod, “Okay.”

The rest of the day went by as usual, Aaron asked you and JJ to go talk to the families. By the time you got back to the police station, the sun was beginning to set and the team had hit dead end after dead end. Frustrated, Hotch ended up dismissing the team for the night to come back with fresh eyes tomorrow.

In the hotel room the two of you shared, you kneeled on the bed behind Aaron who was still looking over case files and placed your hands on his shoulders, gently kneading them with your fingers, “Come to bed.” You said softly and kissed him just below his ear.

He shakes his head, “There’s a girl out there who might already be dead because of my incompetence.”

You frown and sit back on your legs, “That’s weird, I didn’t know you were working this case by yourself.”

He sighs, “I know I’ve seen this before.”

“Even if you had, it’s probably a copycat, it’s not the same guy.”

“But we don’t know that.” He says, exasperated, “I can’t even remember if we caught him, I can’t remember anything.”

“Okay, that’s it, we’re calling Garcia first thing in the morning.”

“Y/N--”

“We don’t have any other leads, it’s not a waste of time. Now come to bed, please. You’re no use to anyone when you’re tired, you just get more grumpy than usual.”

He finally offers you a small smile, “Are you saying that I’m normally grumpy?”

You smile in victory as you lay back into the pillows and Aaron crawls over you, “Your baseline grumpiness at work is pretty high, yes.” You mimic his frown and deepen your voice, “You always look like this, no matter who you’re speaking to or the scenario.”

He laughs and flattens his body against yours, head resting on your chest and you run your fingers through his hair, “We’ll find him, Aaron. I promise.”

He doesn’t respond, but you both quickly fall asleep like that, unaware of what horrors the next day would bring.

***

“Good morning sunshine, what can I do for you this early?” Penelope answers your phone call with a yawn.

“Hey, Garcia, sorry to call so early. Would it be possible to pull up a list of all the cases Hotch worked before he was unit chief and see if any of them are similar to this case? Maybe the victimology or the MO?”

“Might take a while, our favorite unit chief has been fighting crime for a very long time, but I’ll get back to you if I find anything.”

“Thanks Penelope.”

“Ciao bella!”

“Garcia’s looking.” You said as you hung up the phone, Aaron just finishing tying his tie. You stood and reached out to straighten it. “Try not to think about it, you work best when you’re calm and detached.”

He frowns, “Detached?”

You smile and go up on your tip toes to give him a kiss, “Yes, when you check your ego at the door.”

He cradles your face in his hands and gives you another kiss, “Okay, no more kisses until the end of the day, you’re too distracting.” And he turns away from you, walking out the door before he can even see the way you’re pouting. “Come on, let’s go. We’re running out of time.”

You nod and head after him.

***

“Garcia, you’re on speaker.” You say, pushing your phone into the middle of the conference table. The rest of the team had been brainstorming the last couple hours, but had gotten nothing. No evidence of anyone buying a taser recently, at least not locally. There was little that connected the victims, just that they were all young white women.

“You guys, I… I really hate when this happens, but it seems that the unsub is trying to contact me.”

“What do you mean?” Hotch asks.

“I mean,” You can hear her typing quickly on her keyboard and suddenly there’s another video feed on the screen, “He obviously wants to show us something.”

“Can you trace this?” Reid asks.

“No,” She sighs, “His IP address keeps changing automatically every thirty seconds.”

“Agent Hotchner,” A distorted voice comes from behind the camera. In front of it there’s a tank of water and a girl frantically trying to swim with her hands and legs tied. “Have you figured it out yet?” The voice continues as he walks in front of the camera, never allowing the camera to see his face. You look closer at the girl, Tiffany, and see she has the consistent taser burns all over her body. “I’m tired of waiting.” He walks over to the girl, pulling her up out of the water as she screams before putting the taser next to her temple and pulling the trigger. She spasms for close to a minute before he drops her back in the water, her now lifeless body floating to the top. “I thought you were smarter than this.” The voice says before the feed cuts out.

Everyone is silent for a moment, “The hell was that about?” Prentiss finally interjects, looking to Hotch.

“Garcia, do you have that list for me I asked for this morning?” You say, swallowing away the bile that rises in your throat from witnessing Tiffany’s murder.

“Yes.” Garcia’s normally bubbly voice is quiet and subdued, “Yes, I do. The closest thing I could find was a series of murders back in the 90s. A bunch of women were tortured for hours in a salt water tank before their throats were finally slit and they were dumped behind various dumpsters in town. ME reports showed significant brain damage from repeated lack of oxygen. A Mister Garret Hughes was arrested for the murder, tried, and put to death… Oh boy, three weeks ago, right before our first victim popped up.”

You look at Aaron, “Does that sound familiar now?”

He nods slowly, “It was one of my first cases as lead profiler.”

“Well it sounds like Hughes’ death was the trigger.” Morgan says, “Hotch, maybe he blames you for Hughes’ death.”

“Judging from the body type on camera, it has to be a male, maybe a friend? Brother?” JJ muses.

“Or a son…” Aaron says, “Garcia, did Hughes have any children?”

“Uhhh, yes sir, he has a son named Cameron Hughes who was about seven at the time of the murders and is now twenty five.”

“What do we know about him?” You ask.

“Well, after his father was arrested, Cameron was put into foster care, his mom had left his dad years ago and seemed to drop off the map which sounds a lot to me like she was afraid of Garret.”

“Rightfully so.” JJ murmurs.

“Yeah. After that, Cameron bounced from home to home, reports of abuse from nearly every one until he turned 18. He got a job as a prison guard not long after and he’s been there ever since. And that explains how he was able to get a taser.”

“Any run-ins with the law?” You ask.

“Yeah, several when he was a kid, but after he turned eighteen and got his prison job he was squeaky clean.”

“What were the arrests for, Garcia?”

“Well, we have some petty theft, some fires set and… Oh, no.”

“What is it?”

“His last arrest when he was sixteen was for torturing and killing a neighbor’s dog… via drowning.”

“Do we have an address, Garcia?”

“Already sent to your phones.”

Everyone starts grabbing things and running to the SUVs. “This can’t be where they’re holding them,” Spencer says as you all pile in and Aaron starts the car, “It’s too residential and it doesn’t match the geographical profile.”

“Well, let’s hope that we can bring him in or we find something in his house that tells us where he is holding them.” You say.

***

When you arrived, Aaron directed you, Morgan and JJ to the back. Aaron and Reid took the front while Emily and Rossi went around the side.

You were behind both Morgan and JJ, your guns raised when you spotted a shed behind the house. “You guys go in, I’ll check the shed out back.” You say. They both nod their heads and then head inside. You hear the distant sound of your team calling “Clear!” As you head to the shed, and you admit it, you let your guard down.

When you open the shed door, it’s dark and with your flashlight on, you turn to the right first, leaving your back exposed for Cameron to hit you over the head with a hammer. There’s no time to scream or fight back. A big guy, he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and heads out a back door, into the woods where his truck is waiting for him to load you into.

***

At first, no one notices that you’re missing. To be truthful, JJ and Morgan had forgotten about the shed out back. But then Aaron looks up and around the house. There’s JJ and Morgan, carefully sorting through mail on the kitchen table. “Morgan, where’s Y/L/N?”

There’s a moment of silence when it dawns on all of them what may have happened and suddenly everyone’s guns are drawn and Morgan is sprinting to the shed, JJ and Aaron on his heels. When they walk into the shed, they see your badge and gun on the ground along with little dots of blood. And then the start of an engine. Aaron wastes no time running out the back door and starts shooting at the truck, but he’s already too far down the wooded path.

He has you. He has you and Aaron is stuck here, useless, because there are no other leads. “Why was she out here by herself?” Hotch’s voice is deadly calm.

“I… she was behind us and then she said she was going to clear the shed and we just thought…” JJ trails off, “We thought she could handle it.”

It’s not their fault, he tries to remind himself. But the rage is boiling just beneath his skin. “Hotch, we’ll find her.” Reid says when he storms past, back into the house, “Something here will give him away.”

“There wasn’t a license plate on that truck.” Morgan says as they all follow Hotch back inside.

“What’s going on?” Rossi frowns as the rest of the team comes back in the house, “Was he out there?”

“He has Y/N.” Is all Hotch says before he starts ripping the house apart, trying to find some clue of where he would take you. He slams doors and curses to himself throughout and the rest of the team helps him look without a word.

“JJ?” Reid murmurs when he notices she’s crying as she looks through the house.

“I shouldn’t have let her go out there alone.” She says, her voice thick with tears, “It’s like when I left you alone all over again.”

“You know as well as I do she made that choice to go by herself. She wouldn’t want you blaming yourself.” JJ just shakes her head, “If we want to find her we need you to focus now. This unsub is arrogant, he won’t be expecting us to find him.”

They continue searching, seeing if Garcia can find any evidence of abandoned buildings nearby, but nothing. Until Cameron reached out to Garcia himself, again.

Garcia’s panicked voice fills Cameron’s home, “Guys, he’s here again and I can see Y/N.”

Emily quickly opens a laptop and the stream fills the screen. Aaron fills with temporary relief at seeing you sitting on the floor in front of the camera. “No blindfold or gag, just like the other victims, only her wrists and ankles are tied.” Emily observes.

“If he didn’t blindfold her at all, she might be able to tell us where she is.” Reid says, and everyone knows he’s thinking of the coded message he gave this same team years ago when he was taken.

You sit there and stare at the camera silently. You don’t appear to be injured or hurt in any way, besides the blood that drips from your temple. You most likely have a concussion from the blunt trauma. “You know, Agent Hotchner,” Cameron no longer bothers to disguise his voice, “I debated for a while who to take from this team to hurt you the most. I researched you for years while my father rotted in jail. It’s a shame Foyet got to pretty miss Haley before I had the chance. I thought about taking Jack, but I draw the line at children. Feels wrong somehow, even to a psychopath like me.”

He starts touching you and the chair beneath Hotch’s fingers creaks as he clenches his fists. You don’t show him any fear, no tears, you don’t even flinch away from his touch. “So I focused on the team, tried to see who you had the strongest relationship with. Who would hurt the most? Dr. Spencer Reid, boy genius who you treat like a son? Agent Morgan, the little brother you wished Sean had turned out to be? What about Agent Prentiss? She was so damn pretty and smart I thought you had to have been sleeping with her. But then,” He pulls your hair so hard, your head snaps back and you grunt. The closest thing to a reaction you’d given him so far, “I saw that you shared a hotel room with this one more than once when working cases together. I’ll give you props Hotchner,” He chuckles and lets out a whistle, “I didn’t even consider her because I thought she was so far out of your league. Nice work.” He produces a taser and pulls the trigger while pressing it to your ribcage and you convulse until he pulls his hand away.

“Oh, boy. This one’s going to be fun, aren’t you?”

“I have a name.” You grind out.

Cameron responds by ripping off your shirt and producing scissors to cut off your pants, “Yes, Y/N. I know your name. Time for a swim, I think.”

What Cameron doesn’t see as he undresses you is the way you close your eyes and take several deep breaths to calm yourself. Panicking leads to faster drownings. He picks you up and tosses you in his makeshift tank. Your body becomes perfectly still, everyone on the team looking at their screens in horror until you break the surface, taking in another breath.

“Garcia, do you have anything?” Aaron does his best to keep the impatience out of his voice, but you scream for the first time when Cameron holds the taser to your side for more than a few seconds and it shatters him.

“Sir, I’m trying everything, I can’t hack him. I’m so sorry.” She sniffles.

“Reid, give me something.” Hotch practically begs, but Reid looks back at him hopelessly and you’re screaming again.

“Oh, God.” JJ says, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Hotch kicks over his chair as you finally break and begin crying and then you’re under water again.

“We’re missing something, we have to be.” Rossi says.

Cameron pulls you up out of the water by your hair, “Are you listening, Agent Hotchner?” He screams as you cough the water out of your lungs, “Beg him to help you, baby, go on.”

You take some shuddering breaths and then you look at the camera, “Aaron,” You say breathlessly and Hotch feels like all the air has gotten sucked out of his lungs, “It’s beautiful here and I’m not afraid.” Cameron shoves you back under and tases you while you struggle.

“What the hell does that mean?” Morgan demands, looking at Hotch who’s staring at the laptop in awe.

“Garcia, how far is Mount Si from here?”

“Not far at all sir, maybe a couple of miles if that.”

“Are there any remote cabins or caves there that wouldn’t have come up on your initial search of Cameron?”

“Um, it’s possible that there is land there that is owned by a relative that wouldn’t have come up in his background, let me check and…” She sighs, “Yeah, there’s a small cabin right off of a hiking trail that looks like it used to belong to Cameron’s mother. She never sold it so it’s sat there empty since she left town.”

“Let’s go.” Hotch says, practically running out the door before anyone can follow, “Garcia, keep the audio of the stream on while we drive.”

“You got it, go get her, please.”

“How did you know?” Prentiss asks when they’re in the car.

“Y/N is afraid of heights. We went hiking once, early on, and I convinced her to climb a mountain with me. When she got to the top I asked her how she was feeling and she looked at me with this big smile on her face and said ‘It’s beautiful up here.’ And then she looked over the edge and I held her from behind and I asked her if she was scared and she said ‘No, I’m not afraid.’” Your screams ring out in the car and Hotch presses his foot down harder on the gas. They were almost there, you just needed to hold on a little longer.

“We’re gonna get her, Hotch.” Rossi says reassuringly from the back as your sobs ring through the car.

“Garcia, how does she look?” Hotch asks. He was just down the road now.

“As you would expect, sir.” She says quietly, “If you’re asking if I think he’s going to kill her anytime soon, no I don’t. He is having far too much fun with her. Please get that creepy man in cuffs.”

Aaron throws the car in park and everyone jumps out, pulling out their guns as they run in. “FBI, Cameron, drop the weapon.”

You’re dripping wet and shaking and out of the tank, barely able to stand. But you smile at Aaron as Cameron holds a knife to your abdomen. You thought when you had given him that hint that you’d be leading him to your body, you never expected to see him alive again. But here he was, your Aaron, prepared to rip the world apart to get you back alive.

“Thanks for the suggestion, Agent Hotchner, but it’d be so much more fun to see the look on your face when I do this--” Aaron fires the shot and it lands in Cameron’s forehead, killing him instantly, but not before he thrust the knife into your stomach.

“We need a medic, federal agent down.” He says quickly into his watch before running to your side.

Your eyes dart back and forth as he kneels next to you and warm blood starts pooling on your stomach. “Aaron?” You manage.

“It’s okay, I’m here, I’m here, it’s gonna be okay.”

“You remembered.” You say softly, your eyes losing focus, “You found me.”

“Of course I remembered,” Hotch says, tears filling his eyes, “You gotta stay with me, Y/N. Stay awake, okay?”

“I’m so… tired.”

“I know, I know, but you have to keep your eyes open. Please.” He shouts over his shoulder, “Where’s my medic?!”

“I’m glad I… got to see you again, Aaron.”

“Don’t talk like that.” He’s crying now as you’re bleeding out in his arms. He can vaguely hear Morgan yell again for a medic.

Hotch’s memories get all scrambled up after that. He remembers you passing out in his arms, thinking you were gone as the medics forcefully remove you from him. The way the team tried to take him with them as you rode to the hospital, but he insisted on going with you.

He remembers that it was touch and go for a while in the ambulance. That they had to have Derek pull him away from you when they wheeled you into trauma. His arms were covered in blood and he shoved Morgan off him.

“Hotch, relax.”

He eventually sat down in a waiting room seat, legs bouncing, “She was talking to me like she was about to die.”

“She’s not gonna be out of there anytime soon, why don’t you go wash the blood off your arms.” JJ says.

“Yeah.” He says and stands, “Yeah, right.”

When he’s gone down the hall the rest of the team look at each other, “I haven’t seen him like this since Haley.” Emily says.

“She’s gonna be okay, right?” Spencer’s voice is soft.

JJ puts an arm around him as Morgan’s phone rings, “Please tell me she’s okay.” Comes Penelope’s panicked voice on speaker.

“She’s in emergency surgery right now, we don’t know much.”

“And how’s Hotch?”

Morgan sighs, “She practically bled out in his arms, Garcia. He’s not good.”

She sighs, “I hate being across the country, call me when you hear something.”

Hotch walks back over, still looking dazed, but at least not covered in blood. They waited like that in silence for hours until the doctor came back over and Hotch stands immediately.

“We were able to stop the internal bleeding and stabilize her,” The doctor starts, “She’s in the recovery room now and should be waking up soon. She’ll have to stay in the hospital for at least a week to be monitored.”

The relief hits everyone in the room tenfold. Hotch feels like his legs might give out and there’s a collective sigh of relief from the rest of the team.

“Could we airlift her to DC?” Aaron asks. He doesn’t want you here by yourself.

“I’d like to at least monitor her overnight, but yes, that can be arranged.”

“Can we see her?” Spencer said from behind Aaron.

“Of course, follow me.”

Your eyes are still closed when they all file in, the doctor quietly exiting as they all crowd around your bed. Aaron is crying when your eyes begin to flutter open, a lazy smile forming on your face, “What happened?” You say slowly, your voice raspy.

“You just got out of surgery, you’re gonna be okay.” Aaron says.

“We were so worried about you.” Spencer’s voice cracks as he steps forward and gives you a hug.

“Oof.” You grimace a bit at the sudden weight, but manage to hug him back. “I’m fine, promise.”

The team all give you hugs and put Garcia on speaker so she can hear you alive and well before leaving Aaron alone with you. “Why are you crying, my love?” You ask, reaching out a hand to him.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, “I thought you died in my arms.”

You shake your head, “But I didn’t.”

“I can still hear your screams from when he was torturing you. I didn’t do enough to protect you.”

You flinch a bit at the mention of the torture, but recover quickly, “Aaron, our jobs come with a certain amount of risk. You know that. You can’t always protect me.”

“I know, I know, I just…” He wipes his tears with the heel of his hand, “He took you because of me.”

You shake your head, “He just got lucky that I went off by myself. He would’ve taken anyone who walked in by themselves. He wasn’t as diligent or organized as Foyet. I’m sure he did stalk us, but he had no solid plan to target me specifically.” He looks down at his hands sniffling, “Aaron, even if he did take me because of our relationship, I don’t care.”

“How can you say that?”

“Our relationship is also what saved me, don’t you realize that?”

“You would’ve found another way to tip us off--”

“The whole time I was there, I just kept thinking about you. I’m not like Reid or Prentiss, I can’t think like that under pressure. I was only able to think of that because I was thinking of you, of us the whole time.” He still can’t look at you and you can see tears still falling to the floor.

“Aaron, look at me.” You say gently and he complies. You beckon him over to the bed until he sits on the edge and you can touch his face, “I love you.” It’s the first time either of you have said it. You were so nervous to before, but nearly dying without telling him had scared you badly.

He manages a smile, “I love you too.”

You smile back at him and reach up to cup the back of his neck, pulling his face down to meet yours. His kiss is gentle, as if he’s afraid of breaking you and then he rests his head just beneath your chin.

“They said you have to stay in the hospital for at least a few days.” You immediately groan and begin to protest, but he shushes you, “I’m going to arrange for you to be airlifted to DC tomorrow morning and I’ll stay with you until then. The rest of the team is flying home tonight.” You’re pouting at having to stay in the hospital and he cant help but laugh at you a bit, “Hey, it won’t be so bad. I’ll bring you all your favorite books and takeout and I’ll bring Jack, too when I can.”

“Will you bring me coffee in the morning before you go to work? Hospital coffee is terrible.”

He smiles, “Yes and I’ll even bring you a chocolate croissant from that bakery you love.”

You finally crack a smile, “You spoil me, Hotchner.”

He kisses your forehead, “I’ll probably spend the rest of my life making this up to you.”

You smirk, “Hey, at least now we can both say a serial killer almost stabbed us to death. We even have matching scars.”

Despite himself, Aaron laughs, “You’re ridiculous.”

You giggle, “Yes, ridiculously in love with you, Aaron Hotchner.”

#mine #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #hotch x reader #hotch imagine #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #anonymous

464 notes · View notes

thewistlingbadger · 3 years

Text

It's Over.

Summary: Spencer is approached by a handsome stranger while crying at Morgan's wedding. Inspired by the song it's over, isn't it?

CW: emotionally Hurt Spencer Reid, ralvez with post Moreid, angst, betrayal, Spencer has a panic attack, Luke is a good guy, they're both nuerodivergent, hurt/comfort, curse words.

To be honest, he never thought he'd be in this situation. He's at Derek Morgan's wedding, currently pushing his way through the crowd. Derek Morgan: The player of all players, getting married to some random girl. At least it felt random to Spencer. They don't even know each other, He thought. She doesn't love him. She can't love him like I do. The way I have been doing for the past 11 years.

The whole night he'd been trying to hold it all in. This whole entire time he's been trying to hold it all in, to not react. But how do you not react to the love of your life throwing everything you two had away? As though it were nothing? Was it nothing to him? Tears pushed out his eyes, He walked even faster. I gotta get out of here.

Yeah, it's safe to say that this is not at all how he expected the night would go.

He quickly scanned the venue for an area that wasn't heavily populated. After a few minutes, he found a quiet, secluded spot.

He descended to the ground. His fingers fumbled when trying to take off his tie. He threw it away from himself in fury, letting every pent up emotion out.

For once in his life he let the sobs rack through his body. For once he let out every fucking tear imaginable and he did not wipe them away. He let the snot drip down to his chin and his lungs feel like there was no air left on earth.

Spencer Reid was full on ugly crying. It would be a first for everyone, including Luke Alvez.

Luke didn't really know what he was doing there. I guess he was just stunned when Peneople Garcia, the person who hates him the most, asked him to be her plus one to this wedding. He couldn't even remember if he's ever actually been to a wedding before. But he was trying to get on her good side so he had said yes.

The whole night was weird for him. The venue was packed with faces he didn't recognize; And at first chance, Penelope ditched him to go talk to the groom.

At least the food was free and the champagne was expensive right? He started to wander when his ears picked up the sound of sobs. He cautiously followed the sound and and a person with shaggy light brown hair with a long torso was revealed to him.

"Are you okay?" The voice of a man breaking Spencer out of thought. God give me a break. How the fuck was he supposed to lie his way out of this? There's no way in hell he can explain why he's having a meltdown at a wedding.

Luke sat next to the crying person, now getting a better look at them. They were wearing a tuxedo, had white skin, and a sharp jawline. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to...interrupt what you were doing? I was just looking for a way out of the commotion. I don't really know anyone here." Luke stumbled through his sentences awkwardly.

How do you get invited to a wedding of a person you don't know? This encounter increasing in its weirdness, Spencer asked who the man was. "I'm Luke Alvez, Penelope's plus one. I work at the bureau like her."

"Oh of course you are." Spencer murmured without thinking. "What's that supposed to mean?" Great. Now Spencer's got this stranger on defense mode. "Nothing. She always knows how to pick the strong, attractive guys that work at the bureau." Luke thought about the compliment. "Like the groom?" He asked.

This made Spencer think too. How well did he actually know Derek? Did he even know Derek at all? "As of my knowledge, they never dated. But nothing would surprise me when it comes to that man." The bitter tone of the person brought Luke back to the problem at hand and away from his questions about the groom.

Luke desperately tried to ease his way out of the awkwardness. But he was Luke Alvez, so he failed miserably. "It's a nice spot you picked. Outside but not near the valet. It's nice to get the breeze through your hair. It's also not super-" A laugh interrupted his description of the site.

Luke joined in with the soft chuckles. "This has been a strange night to say the least." "Yeah no kidding." Luke said with a smile. "I never thought it would be like this." Spencer admitted, looking up to the night sky. "... what'd ya mean by that?" Luke was looking at the other person.

"I was fine, with the women. Who'd just stroll into his life now and again. I was fine, because I knew, that was just a silly game to him. It was just someone to grind with at the club. Someone to go home with, who he had no intention of seeing again. A 'How many women could I take home in one night?' kinda thing."

The person let out a sigh. "I was even fine with her! Because I knew, she'd be like all the others. Either he'd get bored of her in 3 weeks tops or she would be disappointed that he always had to go and then she'd leave. And after, being with him for over a decade, I just." Spencer hugged his knees. "I just never thought I would loose." Spencer brushed the tears out of eyes. The fuck was he doing? Crying in front of a stranger?

"I'm sorry." Spencer laughed. "I'm not one that tends to loose... I'm not accustomed to it." The man gave a look to Spencer that just made him melt. His composure was gone for the second time that night. Spencer started sobbing and this stranger, this person that wasn't even supposed to be at the wedding, was holding him. He was comforting him.

"I'm so sorry." Luke said softly. "Did....did anyone else know?" "No." Spencer barley managed to croak out. "We were on and off the whole time, off when he was seeing someone else. Most of the time a random girl from the club or some ditzy girl he bumped into on the street. Gay marriage wasn't legal yet we didn't want to be terminated. We didn't want our friends to see us differently." Spencer sobbed. "And now they won't see us at all."

Luke rubbed small circles slowly into their back. "I think the worst part is is that I didn't see it coming. The whole time I thought he was genuine. Then one day he walked into the office with a ring on his finger. That's when I knew it was over." The Luke leaned against him, resting his head against Spencer's and holding him close.

"He didn't even tell me! He didn't even address it. He just asked me if I would be a groomsmen as if we never even happened." His mind was telling him to shut the fuck up. You can't admit that you're gay to a stranger! But his heart was utterly smashed. He needed to vent, even if it was just for this one night.

Eventually, Spencer stopped hyperventilating and all he was left with was puffy red eyes.

"Well," Luke started, "From what you just told me, it sounds like this night has been horrible for you." Spencer gave a pathetic nod. Luke smiled at him in return, telling him it was ok. "No one should feel bad at a wedding, even if it's not there's. It's supposed to a celebration right? Or at least fun. Free food, free booze, cake even! Surrounded by people you love and- and music!"

"I don't drink." Spencer said. "Respectable. Tell you what- how about you and me, we get up and we go back ok? At least to get you a water you must be really dehydrated from all the tears. Did you get to try the cake?" Spencer shook his head.

"Oh man it was really something else. Do you like cake? If you like cake you'll think that the cake they got is fantastic. Let's go grab a slice and if you wanna go home then I can drive you home. You've had quite the eventful night you deserve to go home, only if you want to though I won't force you to obviously. I mean, it would be weird if I forced you to do anything I'm a stranger after all. How's that sound?"

Spencer smiled at the man. He's clearly nuerodivergent, Spencer thought. ADHD, was Spencer's guess. This night was already one he never wanted to remember, so it can't get any worse. So he took the hand of the stranger, introduced himself, and they went back to the wedding, arms linked together. Spencer grabbed a water bottle, Luke grabbed them a slice of cake and without saying goodbye, they went home.

By: Mic

#criminal minds #cm #spencer reid #derek morgan #luke alvez #Peneople Garcia #ralvez with past moreid #ralvez #angst #hurt/comfort #mic writes fanfiction #unrequited love

31 notes · View notes

tomtenadia · 3 years

Text

A Little Braver - ch. 5

So, here is ch. 5 for you all.

We finally get to meet the mysterious man that Aelin was kissing.

Also, the firehouse gets a great news

Enjoy it!

Ten days had passed. Aelin had been discharged from the hospital and allowed to move around in crutches providing she took it easy, a concept totally alien to her. She had gone back to the station as soon as she could do it.

The deadline for the performance review was fast approaching and she had spent the last few days at the station. They only got a week extension so she had offered to help but all she could do was sit and direct the show. Also, working kept her mind off… things… and as in things she meant a certain arsehole who had gone completely awol. She had texted him and never got a reply. Lately every time she tried to phone him she was told that the phone was not available. So she had stopped. He clearly was offended by what she had said. She just wished he had spoken to her, explained why her confession had terrified him so much. Just as she had finally found the resolve to try again after losing Sam, he had gone and ruined everything.

A glove hit her face “planet Earth calls Aelin.”

She refocused for a second and noticed Ansel’s red mane of hair in front of her.

“Dorian is looking for you. He is in your office and Aedion is there already.”

Aelin groaned “can they come to the couch? I am so comfy here.”

“Apparently not.”

“Fine.” She dropped the documents she was revising and grabbed her crutches and pulled herself up.

At snail pace she made her way to her office and once she got there she saw Aedion standing in front of her desk while Dorian had his feet up on it and was sitting relaxed on her comfortable chair.

“I don’t care if you are the chief. First, feet off my desk, second, arse off my chair.”

Dorian moved away and let her sit down and grabbed her crutches.

“So, what is so important that I had to leave my spot on the couch?”

Dorian passed her the documents he was holding, with a grin. He was positive this was going to cheer her up.

“No fucking way. You did it.”

He smiled at her smugly “Not entirely my merit.” He confessed “As you remember, the community protested in front of the government in the aftermath of the embankment accident. They did it just before the budget review was due. The government could not ignore them and what you all did that night. And I guess that the statement from your cheerleader had helped a lot as well.”

“Who?”

“Someone I am not allowed to mention in your presence.”

Aelin stare darkened all of a sudden.

“We are getting a second engine, but that engine needs staff.” She pointed out, her excitement taking a hit “I was just getting to that” added Dorian quite quickly, “Thomas has offered to give you a few men to help staff the second engine. It will have a mixed crew of newbies and experienced staff for a while. Aedion and I thought it was the best way to go.”

Aelin nodded “I want to help interview the candidates. Aedion is busy with drills. I, on the other hand, I have plenty of time.”

“As if I can sideline you. You are the captain after all.” Added Dorian knowing full well that if Aelin had her mind set on a task it was almost impossible to dissuade her.

“I want a bigger female presence. I can’t believe that from all the candidates that graduate from the academy there are no good female firefighters.”

“I can spread the news at the academy and see who applies and go from there.”

“Good.” Aelin relaxed on the chair.

“We have also have been invited to a party thrown by the mayor.”

“You are joking.” Aelin hated that kind of party. She had been to a few and it had been a nightmare.

“There is no escaping it. We have all the be present and dress mess is required.”

“My leg is in a protective support, if I wear dress mess I need to wear the skirt which means heels and can you see where I am going with this?” Aelin protested.

“I guess we can do an exception for you. Wear your regular blue trousers, make sure your boots are shining and wear your uniform shirt with the tie, not the t-shirt. And don’t forget the hat.”

“I can live with that.”

“When is the dreadful event?” Asked Aedion who hated those ceremonies just as much as Aelin.

“This Saturday.”

“We are on night shift, you genius.”

Dorian smiled dangerously “Not anymore. Second team is taking the night shift. Let me remind you that attendance is compulsory and pass the info to the team.”

“Yes, Chief.” And Aelin was very tempted to flip him off, but he was still her boss.

“Lys and Elide are to come as well. They are part of the team.”

“Oh so, no one is immune to this horrible shenanigans. Lovely.” Aelin sat back, still annoyed at the invitation.

“No darling, if I have to suffer, you will all go down with me.” And with that Dorian disappeared behind the door.

“Come on Aedion, let’s go and ruin the team’s day.”

Slowly the two made their way back in the common area where the squad was relaxing. Aedion had put them through a gruelling session of drills in the morning and now they needed time to unwind. No one had taken nicely the fact that the review has been postponed only by a week, but at least they hadn’t asked Aelin to attend as well with a destroyed knee. She would be there of course but on the sidelines.

“Ok, people,” Aelin shouted as she slowly made her way to her team “Brullo, switch off the tv for a minute.”

“That doesn’t sound promising,” complained Ren.

“Where are Lys and Elide?”

“In the ambulance doing inventory.” Replied Nox.

“Ok, can you please go and get them?” She asked him.

He nodded and ran away and got back a few moments later with the two ladies in tow.

“Ladies, sit.”

“Uh oh.” Said Lysandra, sitting on Aedion’s lap.

“Now that everyone is here, I have an announcement.” She smiled wickedly and the team shivered. That was her scary smile “Our esteemed mayor has decided to throw a party this Saturday. Bad news is… we are all invited so that he can show us how he appreciates what we do for the community.”

“Fuck no,” shouted Ansel, while finishing the bowl of cereals she was eating.

“We are on night shift.” Added Brullo.

“No we are not. Dorian gave the shift to second team. We are all free.”

A chorus of very rude words erupted from the team. Yeah, everyone hated those parties.

“Oh and by the way… it has to be dress mess.”

The protests grew louder. Aelin let them vent for a moment before putting an end to it.

“Guys!” She shouted, and the room went quiet “I know none of us like those parties, but my hands are tied. Dorian made it pretty clear that this is mandatory. So, protest how you want but there is no getting out of it.”

The team went back to their protest when Aelin raised her voice again “Did I say I was done?”

The group went silent again.

“The second piece of information is hopefully a bit more welcome.” And she really hoped so “we are getting our second engine.”

The cheers that erupted from the team were of pure joy.

“How did you do it?”

“You have to thank Dorian. He is the one who pulled the trick.” And Rowan apparently. No, she was not going there.

“He really is better than his old man. We have been pleading the old bastard for ages and nothing. A few months in charge and Dorian gives us the second engine. If it wasn’t that I am I straight I’d kiss the guy.” Said Ren happily and everyone laughed.

Good, Aelin thought, they needed the good spirits.

“How will we do for crew?” Asked Ansel.

“Thomas is willing to give us some of his experienced men from one of his engines and take a few newbies. We’ll man the engine with a hybrid crew. Half experienced and half newbies. I need everyone to help with training. Aedion and I will do the main stuff but you guys are involved in this as well. I am out of commission for a while so I can only do classroom training.”

“We’ll help you, cap.” Chimed Nox happily.

Aelin turned to Ansel “I have asked to have a few more ladies in the team.”

“Thanks for that. Far too much testosterone in here.”

Aelin sat back down on the sofa, her knee started to get sore again “We are going to have other women hopefully, just don’t break their hearts.” She told Ansel.

Two of the guys sprayed what they were drinking, Aelin laughed “Oh come on, don’t tell me you had no idea Ansel was swinging on both sides.” Joked Aelin smiling at the woman.

“Both…” asked Brullo still quite shocked.

Ansel drank her coffee very calmly “Men, women, on a few occasion both at the same time.”

Aelin laughed at the expression of the guys.

“Ansel, I think you broke our boys.”

Aelin mobile went off and for a moment she hoped. But that hope had been short lived.

“Give me two minutes,” she said at the person at the phone. She stood and very slowly she made her way back to her office.

Once she got off the phone she stayed in her office to work. Then the dispatch siren went off and she heard the team depart and staying behind broke her heart.

She worked a bit longer but her mind could never fully concentrate. So she decided to do something stupid while the team was out on a call. She booked a taxi and not long after she was in front of the station waiting for her ride.

The driver got her at the airbase pretty quickly. She took out her pass and she hoped it worked even without him about. The man at the main gate let her through after checking her badge. So apparently he had told people she was allowed on the premises. That was a start. Painfully she reached the second check point and a guard approached her. Ok, her luck had already ran out.

“Can I help you, miss?”

“Yes, I am here to see captain Whitethorn.”

The man looked at her with curiosity for a second.

Did she got to the right airbase? As far as she knew there was only one and the first guy let her in.

“I am sorry miss but the captain and his team left a week ago.”

“Left?” Her voice trembled.

“Yes ma’am. They have been recalled and deployed a week ago.”

“Oh.” Was all Aelin managed “Th— thank you.” She turned and made her way back to the exit. Her heart slowly breaking. She sat down on a cement wall and let the sobs come. She took the phone and dialled his number and it went to voicemail “You could have told me. Instead you left. You just left me. Do you really hate me that much?” She sobbed and brushed her hand against her eyes “I hate you and I wish I never met you. Don’t ever bother look for me when you come back… I don’t want to see your face anywhere near my station. I am done with you, captain.” She hung up the phone and lowered her head and kept crying. She was done with men. She was done with pain and a broken heart. It was not worth it.

Eventually she pulled herself upright again and started walking. She had no idea to where, which she then realised that with crutches was a really bad idea. She had to stop a few times, exhaustion taking root. But the pain in her leg was keeping away the pain in her soul. It was much later when she realised she ended up in the west of Orynth and decided to go to west station, perhaps she could bribe the guys to give her a lift back to her firehouse.

Once outside the station, Thomas was the first one who noticed her. He ran to her and Aelin collapsed in his arm.

“Aelin, what are you doing here?’

“I need to sit” was all she managed. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the section with all the bunk beds. He placed the crutches on the floor and sat on the bed at her side.

“What happened?” He asked when he noticed her puffy eyes “Why are you over here? On your own?”

“I was at the airbase.”

Thomas looked at her in shock “are you telling me that you walked in your condition from the airbase to here?”

Aelin nodded. “Can you give me a lift back?”

“Of course,” he patted her leg “let me go and tell the guys.”

He came back not long after, and lifted her in his arms “Let’s go.”

Once in the car Aelin relaxed and leaned her head against the window.

“Excited about the big night with the Mayor?”

Aelin groaned and Thomas laughed.

“Exactly the reaction my whole team had as well.”

She sighed “Dorian said it’s mandatory and I think for the very first time I have been this close to hit him. But he still is my superior.”

Thomas chuckled “If there is someone who can hit the chief without repercussions is you.”

Aelin turned and looked at him with a questioning stare.

“I mean because you are close. It’s not news that the man is madly in love with you. He might let you off if you beat him. Actually he might even like it.”

This time it was Aelin’s turn to laugh “Dorian and I… nothing ever happened. We are just really good friends. Not even a kiss.”

“So now the news is that you have your eyes set on a certain airforce captain.”

Aelin tensed at those words “You all are a bunch of crazy gossiper, you know that?”

Thomas shrugged “What did he do?”

“I don’t want to talk about him.” Her tone hard and the man at her side realised it was time to shut up. They were at her station anyway.

Aelin noticed the engine was back and she knew she was in trouble. They clearly had noticed her absence. When she decided to look at her phone again she saw a lot of message and missed phone calls from Aedion. Damn, she was screwed.

“Here you are, my lady.”

Aelin leaned over and kissed him on the cheek “thank you so much for the ride.”

“Anytime.” He opened his mouth as if to speak, then stopped and tried again “if you need to talk, I am here. I know you have your friends, but if you prefer to talk with someone who is not around you all day, I am here.”

“You are wonderful.”

He helped her get out of the car, they said goodbye and he drove away again.

Aedion came marching on as soon as he noticed she was back “where the hell have you been? Why don’t you answer your bloody phone? We came back and you were not here, where you were supposed to be.” She felt bad for making them all worry but she did not feel like explaining herself so she just moved past him and in silence she dragged herself to her office and slammed the door shut.

She sat down at her desk and plopped her leg on the spare chair the guys had placed at her side so she could stretch her injured leg, hoping for the pain to subside. She took a few minutes for herself, then texted Lysandra telling her she needed her and Elide.

The two women arrived a few minutes later. They sat on the chair in front of her desk and Aelin knew that Lys was just as mad as Aedion had been.

“Where were you? We came back and you were gone.”

“I went to the airbase.” She confessed, looking outside the window, the sky looked heavy grey and she was positive snow was coming.

“As in the airbase. His airbase.”

Aelin nodded “I needed answers. I needed to know why he left that way. I had to ask him why all this hate.”

“And?”

Aelin felt tears sting her eyes again “he was gone.” She paused “the whole team has been recalled and left for a mission a week ago. No goodbyes. Nothing. He just took off.”

Lysandra stood and ran to hug her friend “what an arsehole.”

Aelin started sobbing again “all I could do was leave him an angry voicemail telling to get away from me forever.”

“I am seriously going to kick his arse.”

Aelin pulled back from the hug “Not worth it remember?”

“We all go to that stupid party and we’ll find you a man there. Perhaps a hot wealthy man.”

Aelin chuckled “You know what, screw it. I’ll remain single all my life and if I want a good time I might ask Ansel.”

The two women laughed “she might take you up on that, you know, right?” Added Lysandra.

“Can we just stop talking about it? Fine he is hot but is he not a nice man. I want to forget that I even contemplated the fact that I had feelings for the bastard.”

“Copy that. I will pass the message along.”

“Have you considered that he might not be able to reply to you because of where he is? Perhaps he is on an aircraft carrier in the middle of the sea.”

Lysandra and Aelin stared at Elide.

“What?” She said shrugging “Lorcan gave me his number, he told me to text him. But he added as well that in the case he was going to leave for a mission not to worry if he did not reply because sometimes their phones don’t work.”

“So you knew they were away?”

“No,” replied the woman lifting her hands “I haven’t heard from him in a while. He is not the greatest of texter and I haven’t spoken to him in a while. I had no idea he was away until now when you told us.”

“Basically airforce boys do not know how to communicate. Got it.” Sarcasm dripping from Aelin’s voice.

Aelin shifted uncomfortably in her chair and Lysandra noticed that.

“Are you okay.”

“Just my leg, bothering me like hell today.”

“Sure, if you only just didn’t walk from the airbase to west station…”

Dispatch alarm went off and the two ladies ran out as the ambulance was needed.

Aelin tried going back to work but her brain was not there.

Out of boredom and curiosity and probably a deep desire for punishment she looked up the captain online. The search engine brought up a page about him. He was only two years older than her. Native of Wendlyn but moved to Terrasen when he was quite young for his father’s job. According to the article he climbed the ranks quite quickly and was thought to be one of the most promising captain in the TAF in a very long time.

“Nerd.” She joked.

Then she scrolled down to personal life and she got even more curious but froze when she read the paragraph.

Fuck.

The man had been married. His pregnant wife had died in a car accident over a year and a half before. She opened the link to the newspaper article about the accident and noticed the picture of the accident site. Her eyes fell on one detail of the image and swore.

She stood and wobbling she went to the file cabinet where she kept the reports for the old cases. She found the one she needed and sat back down. Lyria Whitethorn, that was the name of the woman. She had a look through the case file. She did remember it. It had snowed heavily and the road and had been icy and pretty bad in some areas of town. That accident had been horrendous and it had involved quite a few cars. Lyria’s car had been stuck under a lorry. According to the police it seemed like it had lost control and smashed under the lorry that had crashed against the barriers at the side of the road. She died on impact. It had been an horrendous night. They spent hours working under the snow and only one person had come out alive from that disaster.

She leaned back and felt tears running down her face. They had one big thing in common. They both had lost someone they loved. And all of a sudden it hit her. His reaction. His fear. And for a moment contemplated that he was just as scared as her to get involved again. She closed the file and grabbed her head in her hands. How badly had she fucked up?

She took her phone and dialled his number. The number was not available and she left him a voicemail message again “Hey it’s me again. I know you are away and probably can’t get this message. If you listen to the old one as well, just ignore it. I was mad. I did not mean it. I… just… let’s just talk when you get back. Please. Be safe, okay?”

She leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes and cried for both of them, for what they had lost and for the fear of committing again.

Saturday eventually arrived and Aelin was at home getting ready for the party. Lysandra and Elide had joined her since Lys was going to drive them all.

Aelin had been in a bad mood since her discovery about Rowan but had not told anyone about it. To do so would mean reveal his secret and she could not to do that. It was far too personal.

“You’d think that being barely able to walk would excuse me from such horrible events.” She growled while tying her tie.

“You have been in a funk for a few days. Are you okay?” Lysandra had noticed her bad mood.

“Fine.” She snapped. “I am sorry…”

“Just don’t piss off any politicians, okay? We need them.”

Aelin sighed “I will behave.”

They arrived at the venue not long after and they noticed the already high number of cars present.

“Are we too late to bail?” Asked Elide who had been uncomfortable as well at the idea.

“Unless you want Dorian to rip you a new one, I would leave aside that plan for now.”

The three women made their way to the main entrance where someone checked their names against a list. Aelin for a moment hoped that someone had messed up and forgot to add them.

But that hope died quickly when the man greeted them a bit too happily.

“Ok, are we ready?” Said Aelin gathering the courage she needed to face such a horrible night.

They entered the venue and the notes of classical music hit them.

“At least they have great taste in music.” Commented Aelin staring at the great hall.

Dorian spotted them from the distance and walked to them with a brisk pace “Ladies, you made it. wonderful. Go, mingle, have fun. There’s plenty of food.” He grabbed Aelin’s hand “You come with me. The mayor wants to meet you.”

“What?” Blurted Aelin, sweating cold all of a sudden.

“The mayor would like to speak with you. He met Thomas already. Now it’s your turn.”

“I am not speaking to the mayor.”

“Aelin… this is an order from your superior.”

The woman growled back “Oh, so pulling rank, now?”

“Come,” he repeated.

Aelin turned to Lysandra and Elide “if I don’t come back soon, please come and get me. I love you both.”

Dorian rolled his eyes and he started walking and Aelin followed behind.

Eventually they arrived where the mayor was entertaining some guest and Aelin wanted to turn away, but Dorian sensed her intentions and placed a hand on her lower back in warning.

“Ah, Dorian, I see you have captain Galathynius with you. Wonderful.”

Aelin leaned on one crutch and extended her hand to the man “please to meet you sir.”

“The honour is mine captain. And thank you for coming even in your conditions.”

As if I had a choice and she looked at Dorian glaring at him.

“I just wanted to offer my thank you in person for what you do in the community and what you did the night of the embankment accident.”

“The community comes first.” She commented and Dorian gently nudged her sides at her comment.

“You are absolutely correct, captain. I am aware that you will be getting a second engine at east station, I hope this is a welcomed news.”

Aelin smiled “Very much sir. It has been a long time coming and we are very excited.”

“This is my email,” he gave her a business card “email me. Any idea, concerns or anything else related to your job. I will do my best to make it happen.”

Aelin took the card and was speechless.

“Now unfortunately being the host forces me to go around and be pleasant with all these strangers. I don’t think there is alcohol enough to survive such an evening.”

He gave her a huge grin, waved at Dorian and walked away.

“Are we sure that was the mayor?”

Dorian nodded dumbfounded.

“Do you think he was drunk?”

Dorian shrugged, just as confused as her “Just don’t loose that card.” The man then left her and she had a moment alone to look around and enjoy the music. She hadn’t been at a classical concert in a lifetime and missed it. Or at the opera. She wanted to go to the opera again.

She had her eyes closed when she perceived a figure at her side. She opened her eyes again and noticed it was Thomas, looking at her in a curious way “Hey you.”

She looked at him and froze. The man in front of her was gorgeous. She was used to see him in his everyday uniform or the fire gear, and his hair tied and under an helmet. She almost did not recognise him. He had his dress mess uniform on, and his hair was free and she discovered it reached his shoulders.

“I almost did not recognise you there.”

He grinned “I know, without soot and dirt on me it must be a challenge.”

She smiled back at him.

“How is your night going?” He asked, moving closer to her.

“Counting the minutes until Dorian tells me it’s okay to go home.”

She shuffled in her position and he placed a hand on her back “you should sit down.”

“Does this place have a balcony?”

Thomas grinned “Follow me, m’lady.”

“Did you meet the mayor?” She asked as they started walking.

“I did.”

“And?”

“He gave me his business card and told me to tell me if there was anything we needed.” He made his way through the crowd.

“Me too. I am going to email him and ask a bucket load of expensive equipment.”

“I have my wish-list ready.” Thomas commented smiling wickedly.

They arrived at the balcony and once there Aelin leaned heavily against the wall.

“Are you okay?” Suddenly Aelin noticed their proximity. Thomas was right in front of her.

“I am fine.”

“Want something to drink?”

“Please. Wine if they have it.”

He smiled and she noticed his dimples appear “I’ll be right back.” And she felt her face flush hot.

What was happening to her? Why all of a sudden she was attracted to him?

She saw Lys walking by and waved at her.

“What are doing here?”

“Hiding.” She said hurriedly “I have a problem.”

“What did you do?”

“I want to do something stupid.”

“As in?”

“Thomas.” She explained.

Lysandra looked at her friend with a puzzled face.

“As in he is the one one I want to … do”

“Holy fuck,” she exclaimed almost spilling all her wine on her uniform.

“How?”

Aelin looked up “I don’t know. He was here, he was nice, he smiled and I just… have you seen him tonight?”

“No I was with Aedion and the guys.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t do… anything.” Then she moved away “he is coming back.”

Thomas came back with the drinks and placed them on the ledge beside them.

She had known and worked with the other captain for a very long time. They had gone through the academy together. And never, not once she had ever felt a smidge of attraction for him.

He leaned against the wall just beside her, shoulders brushing gently “is your team ready for the performance review?”

Aelin nodded “Yes, Aedion and I are going through as many different scenarios as possible. They are ready. But I hate that I will have to stare from the sidelines.” She told him “How did yours go?”

Thomas drank some wine “We had a few bad moments. My newbie fucked up a couple of things and threw the whole team off track for a moment but they did recover splendidly. Manon was the best in our individual challenge.”

“Ohh I like her. Can I please get her and Asterin for my new engine?”

“We’ll see.” The man gave her a wide smile that made his dimples come back.

She pinched his side and he grabbed her hands to block her. She stopped and stared at him for a moment and then they both moved at the same time. Their lips met and he pushed her against the wall and she left her crutches fall on the ground. His hand behind her back to hold her up. The kiss deepened and Aelin opened for him and a small moan escaped her.

“Oh shit.” Said a voice at her side and Aelin recognised Lysandra and Aedion at her side.

She and Thomas broke apart quickly. Thomas coughed embarrassed, looked at Aelin and excused himself.

“What the fuck was that?”

Aelin’s hand went to her mouth, her lips still swollen by the kiss.

Aedion kneeled to pick up her crutches and passed them to her.

In that instant the rest of the team arrived.

“Why is everyone out here? It’s cold.”

“Aedion and I just discovered Aelin making out with Thomas.”

“Do you mean captain Hamilton?” Asked Brullo.

“I thought you liked the silver haired fox.” Added Ansel.

“Are you and Thomas a thing now?” This time it was Ren.

“I don’t know okay?” Aelin shouted, frustration rising “It happened.”

“You… happened to trip on his lips?” Nox gave her a smug smile and Aelin would have stormed out if she hadn’t been on crutches.

Aelin placed the glass back on the ledge and started to walk away. Lysandra caught up with her “I am sorry. It just came out.”

“Lys, I don’t care.”

The woman grabbed her arm “Aelin, please…”

“What? I don’t know what I was doing okay? We kissed. And I don’t understand my feelings anymore.” She leaned against the wall, her knee throbbing with pain “I haven’t known my feelings since Sam died.” She sniffled “I work. I throw myself into work because that it’s when I do not think that he is gone from my life.” She closed her eyes and tried to put all her pain back “it just felt nice for a moment to have that again. And I know I am sounding like a pathetic mess… I don’t know why I did it.” Aelin sobbed “I am so tired of hurting.” A tear appeared at the corner of her eyes “you have Aedion. I don’t have anyone.”

Lysandra hugged her friend “I am so sorry.”

Aelin leaned into her friend “we are fine.” She pulled back “but I am going home. I am in a ton of pain and I really want to lie down.”

“I’ll tell Dorian if he starts looking for you.”

“We are off tomorrow. Fancy a girls day? We can invite Elide and Ansel.”

“Yeah. Yeah, please.”

“Good,” Lys patted her shoulder “now go home and relax.”

She was outside ready to call a taxi when she heard a voice calling her. She turned and saw Thomas running to her.

“Aelin,” he stopped in front of her “I am sorry. I have no idea what got into me. I was there and all of a sudden I wanted to kiss you.”

She turned to him and moved closer enough to kiss him. His hand slipped to her waist and pulled her closer. She melted in his arms and felt his hand caressing her back.

“I was going home.” She said against his lips.

“I can’t let you piss off Havilliard on your own.”

She kissed him again and then detached so he could call a taxi.

Their ride home arrived not long after and the journey to Aelin’s flat was not too long.

They made it to her flat and he lifted her in his arms and walked to the bedroom. He dropped her on the bed and leaned on top of her and kissed her deeply, his hands trailing on the sides of her body and Aelin leaned into the touch. Her hand trailed up to his face and then fisted into his golden hair and pulled him down for another kiss. Maybe it was a mistake but she could not care.

Slowly he started to unbutton her shirt and Aelin did the same for him and not long after they were both naked and Aelin stared at his body and realised the man was so incredibly well built.

“You will have to lead the dances, captain.” He lowered himself again over her and kissed her in a way that made her forget all the pain and hurt.

It was later, after their adventure in bed.

Aelin smiled at him satisfied. The man had skills and for a while he made her forget the real reason why that night she had searched for comfort in him.

They were now sitting in bed, their back against the headboard and the blanket covering them up.

“Did we just mess up our friendship?” He asked turning to her “I am not complaining I just…”

She sighed at his side “I think we did it for the wrong reasons.”

He agreed “Epically awesome rebound sex?”

Aelin nodded and Thomas turned to her “you are stunning though, and if the captain can’t see it, well, it’s his loss.”

“You are a sweet man” and she caressed his face “and your ex is a bitch.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him down, “fancy watching stupid movies? We can also order in. There’s a place round the corner that stays open till late. I had no food at that stupid party.”

“I’ll get the beers.” He said getting off the bed and putting his briefs back on.

Aelin grabbed a discarded t-shirt “I’ll order the food.”

He came back with the beers and offered one to her “to our own party.”

They clinked the bottles and went to camp on the sofa.

TAGs:

@rowaelinismyotp

@swankii-art-teacher

@courtofjurdan

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #rowan x aelin #aedion x lysandra #fanfic #Throne of Glass series

74 notes · View notes

lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Better Man .

~~~~~~~~~~I wish I could forget, when it was magic~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung x Oc

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4

How do you know you’re ready for kids?

Is it after you’re financially stable enough? After you’ve partied enough? Got all the wildness inside you tamed? After you’ve grown sick of the freedom that comes with youth and what it implies ? after you’ve grown tired of empty conversations that lead nowhere? sharing ubers with people you barely like because you’re too drunk to drive? When you just crave the comfort of people you truly love instead of strangers who grind up on you ? Or perhaps when you start preferring silence in the evenings to the thrumming bass in some dingy nightclub?

None of these really.

The truth is you’re never ready.

Hoshi had been planned. Taehyung and I had done our homework, studied everything from my ovulation cycle to the entire catalogue of some expensive breast pump , new in the market . Everything had been researched and planned and perfected : the wood the crib would be made of, the color he wallpaper in the nursery would be and the kind of diapers and wipes we would use.

But it still threw us for a loop....how unpredictable he was.

How unpredictable the pregnancy was.

What I wanted : Home birth. Mid wife . Taehyung by my side holding my hand.

What i got : Preeclampsia, a baby born six weeks early, Taehyung frantic on the phone in the middle of the night as he took his private jet from Japan where he was shooting a commercial. The pain of being induced into a labor that lasted for 16 hours only for my body to give up half way through.

A c section that left a scar and numbness that hadn’t faded even now , after four whole years. three weeks in the NICU....tears and terror after learning that the baby in the incubator right next to Hoshi’s didn’t make it. Aching to hold my son but being forced to stare at him through the glass, wires and tubes wrapped around his tiny torso.

And through it all, Taehyung.

Stronger than I had ever seen him. Calm and collected as he watched me pump milk for our baby, barely managing a few measly drops of it after thirty minutes of trying . His arms around me, holding me up as I tried to fight the sheer agony that came from my stitches, tried to stay conscious for the baby. Watching him carefully pour the milk into a sterile bottle to take down to the NICU .

Falling in love with him, over and over and over again throughout the day as he did everything for me.

Hoshi was loved and cherished , not just because he was an expression of our love for each other.

But a reminder of Taehyung’s love for me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ He’s growing out of all his clothes. I’m going to take him shopping tomorrow.” Taehyung commented, watching Hoshi get on his tippy toes to point out the pastry he wanted from the display case, while a star struck cashier stared at Taehyung .

Taehyung’s body guards were right near the table and while a crowd of people stood outside, none of them came too close. I was used to the attention that came with Taehyung and his celebrity status.

“That’s a good idea. I have a couple of meetings tomorrow regarding the Christmas campaign and I may not be able to make it on the weekedn either. Is it okay if I pick him on monday evening?” I asked, cutting into the blueberry scon on my plate.

“How about I drop him off at your office. Save you the trip.”

I hesitated, before nodding.

“I spoke to the lawyer....she told me the papers should be processed by the end of next month. My company will make a formal announcement from both of us and we’ll say we don’t intend to answer any other media questions.”

I stared at him, watching his face carefully for something different. A sign that would explain what had changed between us because something had. I was sure of it.

“ Why now, Taehyung?” I asked softly.

He held my gaze for a second, eyes warm and honest. Taehyung could hide his emotions well, but his eyes always told the truth.

“Because I’ve strung you along long enough. You deserve to be free.” He said finally.

I swallowed, looking down.

“I ....you didn’t string me along.” I shook my head.

“I think you deserve to be loved right, without the shadow of my failures hanging over you. I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life in a limbo because of one wrong choice.”

Wrong choice.

Whose ?

His? When he chose to drink That night?

Or mine? When I chose to walk out?

Or the both of us? For handling the fallout so badly?

I had so many questions but I didn’t say anything.

They were question that had no answers.

“So we move on.” I stared at him intently.

“I will always love you. I will always be there for you.” He smiled, eyes glinting a little.

i watched him, the familiar body. He had been my first. My best. Taehyung’s body was as familiar to me as my own and I wanted to hug him, hold him close and press kisses to his lips again. It wasn’t emotional or even sexual it was just...this urge to let him know that he was loved too. that he was adored. That he would always be loved.

“But, “ he went on, “ yes. Its been two years.... so.... we should move on. Meet other people. ”

“Fall in love again ?” I didn’t mean to sound bitter but my tone certainly was. He gave me a very tired smile and I felt guilt bubble up inside me.

“I’m not going to be that greedy, Mia. I will settle for just feeling a little less alone.” He looked away and my throat closed up.

He stood up, moving to the counter to pay for the treats that Hoshi had chosen.

And that was it.

I watched the small tendrils of warmth, rising up from my coffee, gossamer strips of smoke mingling in the cold air and melting into nothingness.

Here one second gone the next.

Just like my marriage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a little past seven when I reached my apartment, my phone ringing just as I dropped my coat and unwrapped the scarf from around my neck. I moved quickly to the bedroom, pulling my phone out of my handbag.

I picked the call, switching it to speaker before tossing my phone on the bed.

“Hello?”

“Jang Mi...its Jungkook. You ready?”

I swore, stripping out of my clothes quickly, fumbling with my bra and yanking my panties down.

“I’m just about to shower. Five me ten minutes!”

He didn’t reply and I frowned.

“Jungkook??” i called opening the closet to grab a hairband and shower cap.

“When you say you’re just about to shower...are you actually in the shower?” His voice sounded a little deeper than usual. Weird.

“What?” I was completely confused.

“Like are you naked in-”

Oh Christ.

I rolled my eyes, hanging up quickly. Sleeping with Jungkook, while extremely pleasurable had definitely been a little too much too soon. It made him take too many liberties, ones I wasn’t particularly comfortable giving him yet.

But I liked him.

He was, at the end of the day a nice guy.

A nice guy who had an actual interest in me. Those were rare to come by.

It was another fifteen minutes before I was ready, choosing a plain black jumpsuit in a flowy georgette material. It had nice flowy sleeves and i added gold jewelry at my wrists and earrings, just for a little bling. I stared at the dress at all angles. It definitely hugged my curves right but was also impossibly hard to take off.

So even if I got swayed by his good looks and made bad choices , by the time Jungkook undressed me , i would be able to come to my senses and stop myself from having sex with him again.

Groaning at myself, I grabbed the small black jeweled clutch from inside my dresser, slipping my phone in.

I steered clear of make up, choosing just a deep red lipstick.

The knock on the door came just as i finished slipping into black pumps .

I opened the door , only to have a dozen red roses thrust into my hands.

“Wow.” I whispered, glancing at him. He looked extra handsome, a blood red shirt clinging to his torso, a think black tie knotted at his neck. He gave me a devilish wink, eyes flitting all over me , licking his lips.

i tamped down the urge to back away, reminding myself that I was supposed to be moving on. Even if it wasn’t with Jungkook, he had asked me out on a date and I had agreed. I would enjoy myself tonight.

“Gorgeous. Ready?”

“Let me just put these in water...” I smiled at him, placing the stems into the cut glass decanter on the nearest table. I emptied the small bottle of water nearby into it , bending over to fix the petals when I felt him press right up against me.

Startling, i nearly spilled the water all over the floor, breath catching when his chest met my back . I felt myself trembling a bit because of how warm he felt, even with the inches between us and I could smell him, the subtle cologne that handsome men wear , just to drive women crazy.

The urge to lean into his body was so strong I had to clench my fists. Apparently, my body was very much on board with moving on even if my heart wasn’t. Jungkook made things worse by moaning into my ear, chin resting on my shoulder as he lightly gripped my waist, before reaching over with other hand, plucking one scarlet bloom from the bunch

I swallowed as he wrapped both arms around me in a backhug , holding the bloom up in front of my face.

“Do you like the scent of it?” His lips brushed my ear and I grinned. I hadn’t been flirted with , like this in years. I bent my head to lightly breath in the air near the bloom, enjoying the subtle scent. “It’s lovely.” I said honestly.

He casually broke the stem off, a couple of inches from the where the petals began.

“Turn around for me “ Jungkook whispered in my ear again. I turned around quickly, my lips inches from his, refusing to back away, staring right at him. He smirked, bringing the flower up to the small upknot on the side of my head.

I stayed still as he carefully pulled a single bobby pin out, sticking the stem into my hair before casually using his teeth to pry open the pin again and slotting it into my hair, pinning the flower in place.

Apparently, watching Jungkook pin a rose into my hair was winning brownie points for him in my brain, because my entire body went warm , my heart beating faster.

“I’m scared to ask why you’re so good at this...” I smiled and he raised an eyebrow.

“I have a daughter remember? Its a lot of ribbons and bows and pins.” He grinned.

The idea that Jungkook did his daughter’s hair for her, with ribbons and flowers was so ridiculously endearing I wanted to coo.

“There. Now we match.... A little.” he smiled.

I stared at him, the black tie on his red shirt and the red rose against my black dress.

“Smart. “ I nodded.

“Shall we leave?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I had fun tonight.” Jungkook hesitated .

The night had been so much more fun than I’d anticipated. Jungkook somehow convincing me to party crash someone’s engagement party near the pool with an open bar and ridiculous ninety’s party music. But I’d danced to my heart’s content, my hair coming undone half way through and I was only a little upset that I’d lost the red rose in the middle of people.

“I had a lot of fun too Jungkook’ah..” I smiled, honest .

“We should do this again. Since we never got to actually talk. It was just you getting progressively drunk and dancing like you wanted to pee.” He teased and I pouted.

I reached out and pressed a palm to his face...his skin smooth under my skin and I felt myself swaying just a little, lethargic and a little aroused from the scent of him.

“Wanna get another drink?” And then because I was completely gone and had no filter, “ If you come inside....maybe I’ll let you cum inside. if you know what I mean.....” I drawled, waggling my eyebrows.

Jungkook’s face morphed into one of absolute shock, lips parted and then he laughed so hard he choked, coughing.

“Wow. You are drunk.” He shook his head, looking amused. “ How about this.... I’ll come in and tuck you into bed and if you drink a couple of glasses of water for me, I will not tease you about this tomorrow.” He offered.

I pouted.

“You don’t wanna come inside...?”

“Oh baby , you have no idea how bad I wanna come inside.....but not like this” He brushed the hair off my brow, kissing my forehead...” Ask me again when you’re sober and we’ll work something out. Now let’s get you into bed.”

I groaned as he dragged me into the bedroom.

The moment my head hit the pillow, I fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~!~

Author’s note : Not me falling in love with the second lead in my own story ugh. He’s gonna get a separate story. I’m gonna write a whole entire fic for CFO! Jungkook , adorable single dad of cute little girl.

I don’t have a tag list for this fic so please do let me know if you want to be tagged !!!

#taehyung smut #taehyung fics #taehyung fanfic #bts au #bts fanfics #bts smut

124 notes · View notes

hallowed-be-thy-username · 3 years

Text

Clothing Is Custom, No Labels

“No matches on prints, DNA, dental. Clothing is custom, no labels. Nothing in his pockets but knives and lint. No name, no other alias.”

Summary: You’re one of the last bespoke tailors in town, making suits and custom clothing for Gotham’s elite. Business men and women, well known lawyers, the Wayne family, and… the Joker?

Genre: Self-insert, porn with plot, longfic

Pairing: Ledger!Joker x fem reader

Warnings: angst!, threats, intimidation

Word count: 4,334

Author’s note: Oh my god, ok, I was stricken with a particularly persistent case of writer's block but I'm finally back! Here we are with part thirteen!! It took me SO long, as you can see 🙈, but I'm super excited for this chapter (even though I say that about every chapter, it's true!) and I'm sorry it isn't a bit longer! But we've got loads of plot development and dialogue, I hope you enjoy it! This one's smut free for now, but don't worry, it'll be back very soon 🔥

Please read the warning above and do not interact with this story if you are a minor! Comments and reblogs always appreciated ❤️

Musical Inspiration: Something In The Way by Nirvana

- Part Thirteen -

Sleep should have been the last thing on your mind as you followed Joker out into the warehouse, but your fatigue was starting to grow stronger than your anxiety by now. You actually had no idea what time it was, but it was late enough that exhaustion was beginning to set in behind your eyes. Or was that just from the wild range of emotions you’d experienced in only one day?

You worked on taking steady breaths while you carefully stepped behind him and watched the bottom of his coat sway around his calves to keep yourself from looking at the handful of men standing nearby. Because they were looking at you, you didn’t need to lift your gaze to know that.

Embarrassment heated your cheeks when you arrived at a table with a few folding chairs around it and looked across the table to lock eyes with the man who’d guarded the office door earlier. He stared back for only a second before averting his eyes and rounding the table to pull a chair out for you, making your face burn even hotter. It almost felt as though you were being treated like one of those posh wives that often accompanied many of your wealthy clients, so superior and self-important. The contrast was ironic, funny really. Instead of a ritzy downtown Gotham restaurant, you were in an abandoned warehouse covered in graffiti. And in place of an affluent husband dressed in a pristine suit, you sat next to the Joker, his distinctive purple coat falling open across his lap as he leaned back in his chair, showing where he’d missed a button on his green vest.

The comparison made your throat go dry and you almost choked when you swallowed against it. You had to get out of your own head if you wanted to get through whatever was about to happen without humiliating yourself further.

“Let’s get started then, shall we?”

Joker’s voice snapped you to attention and not a moment after his statement, a man with black hair slicked back against his head and a pointed nose was lead into the room. Your stomach dropped when you noticed what he was wearing. Black tie, white shirt, navy jacket with silver buttons and a shiny police badge over the left pocket.

The heat drained from your face and all of a sudden you felt compelled to run but you couldn’t move. Instead, you stayed firmly planted in your seat, failing to hide the terror in your face while they sat the man down in a chair across from Joker.

He sighed and licked his lips, lacing his fingers together to rest across his stomach before finally speaking. “What kept you so long, Thomas?”

You noticed the man was trembling slightly and starting to sweat, raising the feeling of dread into your throat before he answered, “I-I got news, boss.”

The cold sinking feeling that had fallen over you suddenly dissolved. You were preparing yourself for what he was about to do to this unfortunate police officer, but it seemed that things were more than they appeared, as you’d learned they often are with him.

“Do you? Well then, do tell,” Joker replied in a mocking tone, looking down at the knife from his pocket he’d begun to toy with.

The man, whose name was apparently Thomas, fought hard to swallow before speaking again. “Dent saw the name a-and started askin’ questions. He was gonna shoot me but the Batman-”

Joker’s eyes flashed up from the knife and Thomas froze in place. His mention of Batman instantly raised the tension level in the room, and you found yourself gripping the seat of your chair.

Keeping the knife in his hand, he leaned over the table and growled, “But the Batman wha-t?”

Thomas forced shaky breaths in and out through his nose, keeping his eyes on Joker’s with his jaw clenched tightly. “He… he stopped ‘im,” he managed to utter without his teeth chattering.

“My hero,” Joker answered derisively before leaning back into his seat.

You let the breath you’d been holding out from between your lips while the man in uniform, his forehead now beaded with sweat, blinked and tried to catch his own breath. Joker must enjoy the power he held over people. Inducing so much fear and anxiety by just looking at them. Your heart fluttered when you thought about the thrill it gave you. It was like you’d had been trained to feel more than fear. He stirred up such a complex arousal within you that was hard to explain, even to yourself. Was it because he made you tremble with pleasure and not with pain?

Then your thoughts were interrupted when Joker spoke again, “Now is there more to this little story of yours, Schiff, or have you wasted my very precious time?”

He kept his dull gaze on Thomas, blinking at him, seemingly bored by the whole situation while the man struggled to speak again, his pursed lips quivering. After his tongue slipped out of this mouth to lick the forked scar on his lip, Joker shifted to stand up and Thomas flinched before blurting out, “He’s turnin’ himself in!”

Joker whipped his head back around to stare at the now visibly shaking man with a new fire in his eyes and you stiffened in your chair. There was that thrill again. Your stomach churned a little as a new thought entered your mind. Yes, he enjoyed the power he held over people, and so did you. The way people would freeze, and their eyes widened. The menace that surrounded him came from so much more than a purple suit and smeared greasepaint. He was becoming some obscure figure or representation of fear. His name had been uttered by almost every citizen in Gotham, spoken with an undertone like it left a bitter taste on their tongues, and it wasn’t even his real name. But to the city of Gotham, it was his real name.

“T-…Tomorrow,” Thomas managed to stammer as Joker’s shadow cast over his face.

He approached him and leaned in close, his towering frame hunched forward at his waist. “Wanted to save the, uh, head-line for last, did ya?”

Thomas’s face grew paler, and he vigorously shook his head as Joker licked his lips with a loud smack before continuing, “My time is precious, Schiff, and it’s a terrible thing to waste.”

You took quick breaths in and out through your nose, the air almost burning the back of your throat, like gasoline. It was him. His scent reached your mind and turned your thoughts to how it felt to have him close, as if the smell of him was enough to absorb you. The shirt. Your eyes glanced down at the blue diamond patterned button-up that covered your body and goosebumps suddenly tickled your skin.

“Now. Before any more of it slips away, why don’t you go with these nice gentlemen so they can collect some de-tails from ya, hm?” he said with faux repose before patting Schiff on the cheek.

Two men that you hadn’t noticed approach made you flinch when they appeared behind the man before each took hold of one of his arms to stand him up from the chair. His gaze finally broke away from Joker’s face to scan over the men, making a soft sound, like a whimper, as they silently escorted him out through the side door.

It slammed and you felt like you’d just been dropped into your chair from where you’d been floating somewhere above it, blinking your eyes as if to clear fog from your vision. The warmth of arousal swiftly faded and the uneasy feeling of eyes on you began to crawl up your back. The room was eerily quiet now and you couldn’t seem to dare yourself to move, you just stared ahead into the darkness on the other end of the warehouse.

Then you nearly jumped out of your chair and gasped when you felt hands rest on your shoulders. “What’s the matter, doll face? Afraid of cops, hm?”

So much for getting out of your own head. Your face heated up once again and you fought against the cascade of nervous impulses trying to take you over before turning your head to see Joker’s gloved hand on your shoulder. Your heart fluttered relentlessly, as if trying to flee from your chest every time you saw him.

“Mm well, no need to worry. Thomasover there works for me.”

It was strange, the contrast between the way he spoke to that man and how he spoke to you. It was hard not to read into it. Part of you knew it was because he wanted something from you, but you couldn’t stop the little rising feeling that maybe you meant something to him. Why would you want that from a man like him? Had you been corrupted that much? The whole thing was enough to make your head spin all over again. But you took a deep breath before your thoughts could consume you and finally lifted your gaze to look at him.

He gazed back at you with heavy eyelids and your heart rose up into your throat, your lips parting as you blinked at him. This was all on purpose. Giving them a show, bringing you out here wearing one of his shirts, making sure they could see you. It should have made you upset, the way he paraded you around, but it made you feel something else. Tingles traveled up your neck and through your burning cheeks as a sense of gratification bloomed in your chest. You were his and he wanted them to know that. Maybe you wanted them to know it too. You wanted them to know that you were his… that you’d slept with Gotham’s most dangerous man.

A small smile appeared on your face, the air carrying the smell of greasepaint and burnt matches as the corner of his mouth stretched into a smirk. Still no sign of the bottom of this rabbit hole.

_______________

The deep darkness of a dreamless sleep lifted as your eyes slowly opened, blinking at the unfamiliar surroundings where you found yourself waking. This wasn’t your bedroom. Your mind, still somewhat shrouded by sleep, tried to make sense of where you might be instead before jolting you awake, and it all came back to you. It’d only been one night, but it felt like so many more.

You weren’t sure exactly when you’d fallen asleep. But you remembered following him back to his office, there were some passing remarks to the men in the room, you thought maybe then you sat down on the bed, but your exhaustion obscured any more details. What time was it?

Raising your arms over your head, you stretched beneath the blanket that had been placed over top of you and took a deep breath of the cool air. After rubbing your eyes, you heard a small sound coming from the little bathroom in the back of the office. Your breath caught in your throat and a flutter of anxiety came over you when you realized you weren’t alone. Holding still, you listened carefully and heard the sound of water running. It must be him, who else would it be? That maddening flutter grew stronger along with the familiar rise of heat in your face. Was that ever going to stop?

Swallowing against the tightness in your throat, you quietly pulled the blanket away and swung your legs over the side of the mattress, your bare feet making contact with the concrete floor. Once your weight settled onto your tip-toes, you carefully took silent steps toward the bathroom. As you approached the doorway, the sound of running water was accompanied by a metallic clink and a low hum.

You cursed your nerves for being so on edge, it was becoming embarrassing at this point. So, in an attempt to boldly ignore your meek apprehension, you took a breath and stepped into the doorway.

The warmth in your cheeks increased ten-fold as your eyes scanned the sight in front of you. Leaning over the sink while a steamy flow of water ran from the tap, Joker’s reflection in the mirror glanced at you without turning around. He was bringing a straight razor to his face, carefully gliding it along his jawline before rinsing it under the tap and bringing it back to take another row of shaving cream. He was wearing the same thin thank top with only traces of greasepaint left around his ears.

“Mmm well, there she is. A regular sleeping beauty, aren’tcha, doll?” he said, his eyes returning to his own face in the mirror.

Make that twenty-fold. You huffed a breath as you tried to come up with a response, too stunned by something so seemingly ordinary. Sure, you’d seen men shave before, but this was different. It was strange to see him move with such precision, so careful with his hands, running the sharp blade around the rough edges of his scars with ease. His penchant for chaos came with a certain finesse, an accuracy that he made appear so effortless. Perhaps you’d been staring too long.

“Now that you’ve rejoined the, uh, land of the living, we have some work to do.”

You blinked and tore your gaze away from the mirror, trying to look anywhere else before it finally landed on the tile floor. “Um… what kind of work?”

He chuckled and you could feel him looking at you in the mirror again when he answered, “The kind that requires some subtlety, a little nuance that no one else here can measure up to.”

Your eyes lifted from the floor after you thought for a moment about what he said and you asked, “No one else but me?”

“You catch on quick, baby doll,” he replied, clicking his tongue as he swiped away the last bit of shaving cream from his face. Then he set the razor on the edge of the sink and turned around, looking you up and down as he closed the gap between you. “It’s your time to shineonce again.”

That feeling had begun to fill your chest. That strange sense of pride tangled up with your willingness to do more, your desire to please. You didn’t seem to be in control of it, that was something you gave up days ago, but you could see it blurring the line between what was right and what was wrong even further. Soon you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

He stopped in front of you, keeping your gaze locked with his as you felt the ghost of his breath on your skin. The more he looked at you like that, the stronger that feeling was becoming. He knew it too, didn’t he? He knew that you belonged to him by now and you had no wish to put a stop to it, even after everything you’d seen.

“What do you want me to do?”

A small smirk appeared on his face and he answered in a low voice, “That’s what I like to hear, doll.”

The heat that had been rising in your body came to a sudden halt when he then turned to pass you through the doorway, leaving you taking slow breaths to regain what little composure you could manage.

“This one’s simple,” he called over his shoulder from his desk. “All you gotta do is blend in. Be a fly on the wall, so to speak.”

Were you ever going to be able to keep your mind out of the gutter whenever he got close? Probably not. But you could try to hide it. After letting out one more breath, you turned to follow him into the office where he’d sat at his desk with the small hand held mirror you’d seen before, dipping his fingers into a jar of white paint before starting to smear it across his face.

“Blend in where?”

He chuckled, scooping more paint out cover his jaw line. Then without looking up from the mirror he answered, “Check the suitcase by the bed.”

A tattered leather suitcase beside the bed quickly caught your eye. You weren’t sure if he’d ever answered any of your questions directly before and it seemed that was unlikely to change soon, so you tentatively followed his instruction. It wasn’t heavy when you picked it up to place it on the bed. Then after clicking the latches open, you shifted your gaze toward the desk. He’d moved on to smudging black around his eyes, still not turning to look at you. Those insidious butterflies in your stomach made themselves known and in an attempt to shoo them away, you hurriedly lifted the lid on the leather case.

Not sure what you were expecting to see in the first place, you blinked for a moment at the articles of clothing folded neatly inside before reaching in to pick them up. On top was a black pencil skirt, just the right length for the hem to lay above your knees, and beneath it was a deep purple cardigan with opalescent buttons down the front. The purple knit fabric matched that of his coat almost exactly. Heat returned to your cheeks then your eye caught sight of a pair of black heels in the bottom of the case.

“Can’t have you going out in that, hm?”

Your heart leapt into its familiar place in your throat as you looked down at his shirt you were still wearing, goosebumps crawling up your back before you turned around and nearly ran into him. He’d finished with the bright smear of red on his mouth and was now standing over you, the look in his eyes drawing even more warmth to the surface of your skin.

His fingers slid down your wrist before he took your hand in his, turning your palm upwards as his eyes remained locked with yours, your breath now a shallow huff. After reaching into his pocket, you felt him place something in your hand.

Holding back the excitement climbing up behind your tongue, you forced your eyes down. It was some kind of ID card. In bold letters along the bottom, it read “PRESS” and in the corner, you saw an image of yourself. Your eyes widened when you recognized it as the photo from your driver’s license.

Your eyes darting back up to his face, you asked, “What’s this?”

He raised an eyebrow and replied, “What does it look like?”

“How did you get my license photo?”

A chuckle vibrated in his throat and he turned away from you to go back to his desk where he took something from one of the drawers.

“Always so many questions, doll. But never the right ones.”

_______________

It was hard to keep yourself from fidgeting with the hem of the skirt. It was actually very well made and fit you like a glove, but your nerves were getting the best of you once again. You sat in the backseat of an SUV with tinted windows where Joker had just slid in next to you moments ago.

The brightness of the morning sun was only partially lessened by the darkened glass, it’s beams still nearly blinding where it peeked out from between buildings. Lifting your hand to shield your eyes, the other clutching the ID card, you squinted out the window to try to discern where you here headed. He’d left you to get cleaned up and dressed then took you straight to this car outside where a driver was waiting, not a word exchanged between anyone. He said this would be simple, but you couldn’t keep your stomach from tying into a tense knot while you worried over what you were expected to do.

“Ok, doll. Like I said, this one’s simple.”

His timing couldn’t have been better. You turned away from the window to see him reach into his coat pocket, retrieving something small that he held between his fingertips.

“With this, you can be my eyes and ears,” he said, holding it out.

It was a little black earpiece, small enough to fit comfortably in your ear. When you lifted your eyes, about to ask what it was for, you stopped before the words could exit your lips. He’d shifted closer to you and reached out to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. The leather of his glove brushed against your cheek, rendering it scorching as he placed the small device in your ear.

“You are now an esteemed member of the press and today you’ve scored the opportunity to report on the biggest story sweeping the city…” he grinned, taking the ID from your hand and clipping it to your sweater. “The Batman is turning himself in.”

Next thing you knew, the car pulled up to the curb then the man sitting in the front seat reached behind him and pushed your door open. The cool air rushed over your face and you whipped back around, mouth open but no questions left to ask.

“Your time to shine, baby girl.”

Your feet carried you toward the tall building in front of you, its ground floor lined with windows while your chest shuddered against the quick breaths you forced in and out of it. You hadn’t been given much instruction, but you knew standing around on the sidewalk looking confused wasn’t what you should be doing. Scanning the entrance in search of where you should be going, you noticed a small crowd entering the door on the far end of the building and turned toward it.

“Bingo. You’re gettin’ good at this, doll.”

His voice suddenly rumbling in your ear sent a rush down your back and you almost stopped in your tracks, but you pressed forward as warmth filled your face, trying to keep your expression calm and unassuming. You had to resist looking behind you to look for the car you knew he must be watching you from.

After taking a quick glance around you to make sure you were still alone, you swallowed and asked quietly, “Can you hear me?”

He answered with a low chuckle and said, “Mm loud and clear, sweetheart.”

Great, how were you supposed to stay composed when it felt like he was following right behind you? But the door was getting closer, and you didn’t have much time to ask questions. Now you could see inside where news cameras were all pointed in the same direction.

“Are you gonna tell me what to do?”

“Eyes and ears, doll. Your big story awaits.”

He probably heard the frustrated sigh you couldn’t hold back as you pulled the glass door open to follow the crowd, his giggle tickling in your ear.

The large conference room was packed with people sitting in rows in front of a small stage where a podium was set up, more standing along the walls and backed all the way up to the door. You quietly squeezed behind the group just inside the entrance and made your way toward the last spot against the wall, eyeing the handful of police officers to your right. As if your nerves weren’t weighing heavy enough on you, now there were cops here?

You looked down at the press badge clipped to your sweater and tried to relax. Just blend in, they weren’t there for you. Staring at the podium rigged with a handful of microphones across the room, his words echoed in your head, the Batman is tuning himself in.

Then the crowd gradually fell silent when flashes and the clicking of cameras followed a man with a head of sandy blonde hair as he stepped up to the podium. You recognized his face from his campaign ads right away.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. I’ve called this press conference for two reasons. Firstly, to ensure the citizens of Gotham that everything that can be done over the Joker killings is being done.” Harvey Dent continued to speak over contentions from the crowd and said, “Secondly, because the Batman has offered to turn himself in. But first, let’s consider the situation. Should we give in to this terrorist’s demands?”

You couldn’t understand the rest over Joker’s burst of laughter in your ear. You quickly covered it with your hand to smother the sound before he held his giggles back and said, “Me? A Terrorist? Oh Harvey, you’re gonna make me blush.”

The crowd continued the argue against him until Harvey made a promise. “The Batman will have to answer to the laws he’s broken but to us, not to this mad man.”

A mad man. You supposed that wasn’t untrue. You’d seen enough to know that. But it still somehow didn’t feel true to you. Like it was what people said because they felt threatened by him. They were frightened and faced with a particular unease, unable to explain what it was. It gripped them and wouldn’t let them look away. You felt it too. But it didn’t scare you away, it only drew you closer, didn’t it?

Before you fell further into your thoughts, agitated demands for the Batman to turn himself in echoed through the room as Dent’s speech failed to bring any sense of righteousness to the crowd of cops and reporters.

“So be it. Take the Batman into custody.”

Everyone fell silent, waiting for the vigilante to step forward. Was that really about to happen? But Harvey waited only a moment before he stated to the crowd, “I am the Batman.”

Disbelief settled over the room, everyone watching as a few officers approached him to put him in handcuffs and swiftly lead him off of the stage. Then the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as a deep chuckle resounded in your ear.

“Ahhh, well there you have it. Now Harvey wants to play.”

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

Taglist: @amethystmoonprincess @call-me-harley-quinn @liz-rdwitch @germansarechill @thesadvampire @tsukiakarinobara @heavymetalnarwhal @neverputsaltinyoureyes @apocalypticwafflekitten @astheworlddturns @komatheterrible @jokersqueenofchaos @killingjokee @into-crazy @youmaycallmebrian @jslittlebirdie @vipervixxen

#heath ledger joker #the dark knight #tdk joker #ledger!joker #ledger joker fic #joker fanfiction #ledger joker x reader #joker x you #self insert #angst

74 notes · View notes

eloquent--asshole · 3 years

Text

My Date With the President’s Son

a/n: I’ve been getting a lot of anons recently letting me know they couldn’t find this piece. Well... I found out it was deleted. So, here is a repost of My Date With the President’s Son! I was so sad when I found out it was gone :( BUT IT’S BACK!!! :) And much love to all of you that let me know it was missing! Come talk to me about this, future ideas, or anything! --PJ

hey, hi, hello! this is my submission for the Pick Your Poison fic challenge! I went with a good ole fake dating piece. Also, sidenote: this is the first pic i’ve actually decided to post! Please feel free to message me with any comments, questions, or concern. Also, an absolutely MASSIVE shoutout to @for-fucks-sake-h, @oh-honey-styles, and @andwhenshesays for creating this and letting me be a part of it! I’m so happy I decided to do this even though I was an absolute mess about it! Buckle up kids, it’s about to get messy!

read the other challenge pieces here!!!!! and support them!

"Miss. Y/L/N, I don't think you understand the immense pressure we're under with this mission." My boss, Mr. Thompson, was staring at me from across the conference table. The room was bright. Almost too bright from the fluorescent lights beaming on us.

I looked at my hands resting on my thighs under the table before returning to his gaze. "Well, Mr. Thompson, I don’t think you understand that this goes against not only our ethical codes but my moral beliefs as well.”

Mr. Thompson spoke as he got up and came around the table, taking a seat on the glass two feet to my left. "Miss. Y/L/N, you are obligated to serve your country. However the circumstances may seem. If you do not take this mission, I will be suggesting your employment for termination."

I ran a hand down my cheek. "What –“ I ran the options through my head. Get fired or help the President’s son. Easy decision, really. “How could this even work? Does he know?"

"No, he doesn’t know. Don't worry about the details of that. We will take care of it. Nevertheless, on your part, it must seem as authentic as possible." I looked at him in disbelief.

How could this be happening? What did I do to deserve the position to role play as the President’s slutty son’s romantic interest? I let out a heavy sigh before nodding at Mr. Thompson. He let a small smile break through his tough demeanor.

“Very well, we’ve set up for you two to ‘meet’ tomorrow.” Mr. Thompson got up to open the door at the end of the room. “Oh,” he paused turning to look at me one last time, “And don’t worry, if anything goes off course, you’ll be wearing an earpiece and a mic. So we’ll know and figure it out as we go along. Remember Y/N. We’re all in this together.”

But were we?

I sat in position, waiting for the signal. I was outside a quaint coffee shop where my target was currently buying a coffee.

As I got my cue from the team, I got up and started walking in the direction of the van that was watching our every move. The door to the coffee shop flew open and I felt a heavy weight rush into me "Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even see you there," came rushing out of the stranger’s mouth. I looked down at the spilled coffee on the ground between us.

"No, no. It's okay, I should have been paying more attention." I said, letting an embarrassed blush creep onto my cheeks. Why did he have to actually run into me?

"Can I buy you another coffee?” He offered.

"Oh, you don't have to do that"

"No, I insist. Really." He said, reopening the door to the café.

"Okay," I hesitated. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

"Nice to meet you, Y/N, I’m Harry. What do you like to drink?”

I heard Thompson in my ear immediately, "Vanilla soy latte,” he basically shouted.

"Vanilla soy latte, please" I offered a smile to the barista, hiding my wince. “A grande.”

"You're joking." Harry smiled down at me. He was taller than I expected. Standing about 6”1. His curls cut into the frame of his sunglasses. Cute. I thought to myself.

"Why?" I asked, letting a giggle escape my lips.

"That's what I drink" He chuckled. Okay. I see what you’re doing, Thompson.

We smiled at each other and finished ordering. The drinks were up almost instantly. We sat at a table I chose outside. Purposely, so the team could continue watching.

"So, tell me about yourself," He started, taking a sip of his latte.

"I-" I paused briefly, waiting for instruction from Thompson.

"You work as the marketing director for Accent" Accent is a huge professional services firm. There’s no way I’m getting away with this.

"I work as a marketing director.” I took a breath, “For Accent."

"That's cool, I have some friends who work over there." Is he onto me? "Do you know Rich?”

"Rich Charleston. Operations Manager. 5"5. Auburn hair. Brown eyes.” Thompson barked in my ear.

"Oh yeah. The operations manager? He's not that tall. Auburn hair?" I questioned, a coy smile playing at my lips.

"Yeah! That's him! Funny, I've been to a few work parties with them. I've never seen you around." He looked at his coffee and came back to me. I felt my cheeks tinge pink yet again. No way I’m making it through this.

"Y/N, you're doing great. Just go with it. You started at Accent three months ago. They haven't had a company party in five months.” Thompson stated. It’s weird. Almost as if playing detective. Wait. I am a detective. A very…high end detective.

"Oh, yeah. I only started a few months ago, so that would make sense." I giggled, taking a sip of my latte.

Harry’s phone started ringing in his pocket. He slipped it out to check the notification. "Shit, sorry. I actually have to get going. I'm late for a meeting. Could I get your number?" He asked, handing over his phone.

"Yeah, that'd be nice." I took his phone where the ‘add new contact’ was already on his screen. I entered my information and handed it back. "Great, I'll see you around then."

"Gladly." He was off, hopping into the back seat of an awaiting SUV across the street. As it pulled away, I noticed it was in a no-parking zone. Of course, it would be. He's the president's son.

It has been three weeks since my ‘run in’ with Harry. He texted me an hour later asking if he could see me again. We had seen each other twice over the course of three weeks. Each time in a public setting to ensure the FBI could have an eye on us at all times.

We talked mostly about my work. He had finally let it slide through text that he was the President’s son. It was easy to act surprised through text. It would be harder to act as if I didn’t know my coworkers if it ever got to the point that I would be seeing him in a more intimate setting.

I was starting to realize why so many women were swooning for him. Not only was he handsome – he was charming, sweet, and extremely articulate.

I sat in Mr. Thompson’s office discussing plans for the upcoming benefit. The benefit that Harry had yet to ask me to.

"Mr. Thompson, he has no idea this plan is underway. Like what happens if he tries to make advances on me. I did not sign up to be this boy's actual girlfriend.” I borderline complained.

"Miss. Y/L/N. This is your duty for the time being. We're trying to keep him safe and clean up his image. This is the best way we can do that.”

"Mr. Thompson, with all due respect, what if he actually starts to have feelings for me. What if he asks me to be his girlfriend? What if – "

Mr. Thompson raised a hand to interrupt me. "Miss Y/L/N, if that happens, we will handle it. Mr. Styles will never know. Now for the upcoming benefit. You will attend with Mr. Styles. As always, you will wear an earpiece. Members of the secret service will be aware of your presence. If something comes up, I will be in your ear warning you to get Mr. Styles out of there. Understood?"

"Yes sir,” I agreed, sulking into the chair. “But sir, he hasn’t even asked me.” Thompson’s hands brushed through the air - almost as to dismiss my thoughts.

“Oh, don’t worry, kid.” He snickered. “Mr. Horan, the head of his security, has intel that he will be asking you.”

As predicted, Harry did ask me to join him at the benefit. Giving me a two-day notice. Scratch that. Harry said he wanted me to come to a “party” and ‘wear something suited for a ball’ I recounted the statement as he was dropping me off from our brunch “date” on Thursday.

I stared at myself in the champagne-colored gown in my full-length mirror. I let out a frustrated sigh. This was so wrong. I shouldn’t be doing this to him. He’s actually really sweet. How can I untangle myself from this mess? I could commit treason, leave the country, and lay under the radar. One part of my brain told me. Or be put to death. The other part reminded me. I gave myself one last look-over and decided it was time to head to the lobby.

My roommate, Ashley, whistled at me as I walked out of my bedroom into the kitchen. “Going somewhere nice?” she asked.

“Work event,” I brushed off. I hadn’t told her anything. Specifically, because of the confidentiality behind the mission.

“With Harry Styles?” I froze in my tracks, taking a deep breath.

“How did you know that?”

“Sweetheart. You are all over the magazine covers. Do you think no one has cameras in public? I was speechless. How could I be so naïve that journalists who have such a strong eye on Harry’s personal, party lifestyle wouldn’t spot us out?

“Honey,” I heard our third roommate, Summer, call from the couch. “Did you really think you could be so slick?”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ashlie chimed in.

Before I could answer, a call from Harry popped up on my phone. “I’m sorry, I have to go. He’s here.” I said turning on my heel to exit our apartment.

“Wait – “ Summer stopped me – “Can you please give us some juicy details on the man-who – I mean your new fling when you get home?”

I laughed at her response with a nod and started my trek to the lobby.

He was waiting outside the SUV, dressed in a black suit and a matching champagne tie. “Well don’t you look lovely.”

I blushed at his compliment. The security guard driving us gave me a curt nod as he opened the door for us. “Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself.”

When I dodged his kiss, he pulled me in for a hug before gesturing for me to get in first. “Thanks.” Despite the disappointment in his eyes, Harry’s smile was beaming. He looked absolutely adora – Y/N stop. This is strictly for work.

The door shut behind us and in half a second we were whizzing down the street to the banquet hall where the Benefit was being held.

“I’m really happy you agreed to be my date tonight,” Harry commented, not breaking his gaze from the window. “You can meet my parents.”

Parents? As in, the President and first lady of the United States? My body shivered at the thought. I have been in the same room as them before, yes. But meeting them as not an employee – but their son’s date, friend or whatever you want to call it – is terrifying.

“Wow, that would be – “ I tried to find the right words – “nice.”

“Really?” His eyes wandered to mine. “Most people would about shit themselves right about now.”

Well I’m damn near close, Styles.

When we pulled up to the entrance of the venue, our driver – Niall, I learned – hopped out and got the door for us. My eyes were blinded by the flashing lights. Harry grabbed my hand and helped me onto the ground. As we made our ascent, paparazzi were flooding him with questions. “Harry, Harry! Who’s this?” “New flame of the week kid?” “I heard you were bringing Kendall Jenner” could be heard from every angle.

Harry apologized as soon as the doors shut behind us. I shook my head to let him know it was okay.

“I am way too sober for this,” Harry mentioned before we walked into the noisy room. “And it hasn’t even started.” I let out a quiet giggle as he smiled at me.

The benefit passed with ease. As Harry walked us around making small talk and thanking people for coming, Thompson was in my ear telling me who people were and how they got invited. Harry and I kept making trips back to the bar. While I nursed two glasses of wine, Harry had drank 4 rum and cokes. It was becoming clear that Harry was feeling good. Almost too good for him to continue being at this event.

As a last stop around the room, we walked towards his parents.

“Harry, my boy. Thanks for being here tonight,” President Styles pulled Harry in for a hug.

“Like I had a choice?” He rolled his eyes. President Styles gave a laugh, one Harry didn’t reciprocate.

“Who’s this?” His mother asked as her gaze moved to me. Her eyes were kind. They matched Harry’s, I noticed.

“Mom, dad.” Harry said as he wrapped an arm around my waist, “This is my date, Y/N.”

“Hi,” I offered my hand to shake, “It’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for having me tonight.”

“The pleasures all ours, sweetie.” His mother affirmed. I felt a smile creep onto my lips. His parents were sweet - partly informal.

As we were making our way to a table, we were stopped by a friend of Harry’s – Louis. Apparently, they had been long time friends. As they grew up, Louis had started a media company, one which Harry happily invested in to help him out.

“Harry, this your date?” He asked curiously.

“Yes, this is my future girlfriend, Y/N.” His words slurred, I felt the wind knock out of me. Girlfriend? FUTURE girlfriend?

“How about a kiss for the camera?” Louis interrupted my thoughts. “For a piece I’m working on?”

“Why not?” This boy was definitely drunk. Without having time to react, Harry grabbed my waist and quickly, yet gently, pressed his lips to mine. It lasted only about half a second and I found myself wanting more.

Harry chatted with Louis for a few more minutes before bidding goodbye and continuing our walk to a table in the back. I brought my fingers to brush against my lips, still feeling his burning into my memory.

The next hour passed quickly. Harry had downed another two drinks because “I’ve already talked to everyone I need to and now I can relax.” I could see why the media calls him a party boy. He’s 0 – 100 real quick.

Our conversation flowed easily and I found myself enjoying his presence.

“I’m having a really good time,” Harry slurred into my ear. He snuck an arm around my shoulders at some point, and I didn’t really care.

“So am I.”

“Good, I was really nervous to ask you.” His admission took me by surprise. The entire three weeks I’ve known him, he never seemed shy. He was always respectful. I’ve learned so much about the party boy that always seemed to be judged. If it were me, no one would care if I went out with my friends every weekend and brought a different guy home. But because he’s, well, Harry Styles. It matters. The presidential family is supposed to be clean, polished, not having any dirty laundry. But the media loves to air his.

I learned Harry had a – what most would call – normal upbringing. Small home in the outskirts of NYC. He went to public school up until high school, when his father had decided to run for congress and got in. His favorite color is yellow – because it’s happy. He loves music from the 70’s and 80’s because it reminds him of his childhood. He knows about his party-boy persona and absolutely loathes it – but continues to live it because it’s the only way he can let go of the stress from being the President’s son.

“Why were you nervous?”

“Well, it’s always intimidating to meet a beautiful woman who knows what she wants in life and won’t settle for less. I was especially nervous because I thought not only my reputation, but my status would scare you off.” My chest felt tight. If only he knew that everything, well half of everything, I told him were lines being fed to me from the Director of the FBI. “And I’m sorry it took so long for me to tell you. I didn’t want to lie. But I felt like it would be easier for us to get to know each other before I told you.”

There’s that word. Lie. I hate that word but yet, it’s what I was doing almost every time we were together.

“I don’t want you to ever feel nervous or feel like you have something to hide from me.” I took the hand he had draped around me in my own. “I just want you to be yourself. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you. I don’t care about your status or the fact that your parents are the President and First Lady. That’s not something you should feel ashamed of.”

For the first time, Harry’s smile met his eyes. He’s smiled plenty when we’re together, but this was different. He tugged me closer and placed his lips on my cheek. They burned from his touch. My body temperature must have risen 10 degrees.

Did Thompson see that? Of course, he did. Wait, where is he? My smile dropped as I looked across the room, hoping for a sign of Thompson. He hadn’t been in my ear for a while. I wonder if everything’s okay.

“Everything’s fine,” I moved my eyes around the room once more, confused. “I can see that look on your face. I know that look. You were getting worried.”

Where the heck is Thompson and how can he see my face.

“Niall is about to grab you to take you both home. So, I’m off for the night. You’re on your own kid.” I heard the familiar static as they shut my earpiece off. So, they had heard that entire conversation, wonderful.

I smiled, reaching for my ear to take the piece out, but halting my movements when I remembered Harry was still sat next to me.

“Mr. Styles, the car is here.” Niall leaned down to whisper to Harry.

“Alright, love. Off we go.” Harry let his arm fall from my shoulder. I stood to grab my clutch off the table. I paused when I noticed Harry guzzling the rest of his drink before setting the glass on the table. “What?” he asked innocently. “I wasn’t going to just leave it there. Someone could try to sell that since my lips have touched it!” I smirked at him before linking my arm with his.

The drive home was filled with Harry trying to be touchy feely and a bit too flirtatious. Between him keeping trying to rest his hand on my knee, and the many compliments he spewed out in a drunken slur, I felt myself loosening up and enjoying his drunken, flirty presence. Niall made eye contact with me in the mirror one too many times for me to be comfortable with.

He knows.

When we pulled up to my building, I opened the door only to feel a tug on my wrist. I craned my neck to look at Harry, who didn’t let go of my arm.

“Will you kiss me?” His glazed eyes bore into mine as he leaned over to my half of the seat, “For real this time?” I contemplated for a second. Yes, I would like to kiss you again. Will I? I can’t.

I giggled at his lazy smile and glanced to the mirror at Niall who seemed to be minding his own business, “You’re drunk Harry.”

“Would you reconsider if I was sober?”

“Goodnight, Harry” I said, hopping out of the SUV.

“I’ll take that as a maybe!” He called as I shut the door.

What is this boy doing to me?

It’s been three days since the benefit. I hadn’t heard from Harry much, maybe a text or two over the last two days. I wish I could say I didn’t care. But I did. Yes, what I was doing was wrong. But after seeing him in a vulnerable state being drunk at the benefit, he grew on me. A lot more than I’d like to admit. Even though I hadn’t heard from him, I still had the inside scoop from Thompson. Apparently, Mr. Horan was keeping a tight leash on him. No parties or clubs recently.

One thing that should’ve been noticed a lot sooner on my part was that every time I was with Harry or Harry was out, he had Niall maybe 5 feet away. So why the hell would they need me?

Oh right – clean up the image.

“Y/N!” Ashlie screamed from the kitchen. I came to a screeching halt in front of her at the counter. “Have you seen these?” I furrowed my brows as she angled her laptop screen towards me. Right on the landing page of the most popular magazine’s website was Harry’s picture. Stumbling out of a club with none-other than Kendall Jenner, hand in hand.

My brows furrowed even closer when I grabbed the laptop from the counter. I quietly walked to the couch and sat down. ‘Eligible bachelor, Harry Styles couldn’t seem to get enough of the model as they were seen being cozy all night at popular night club, Avalon Nightclub downtown Washington, D.C.’

Would this jeopardize my mission? How would Thompson handle this? What now? Was he really done with me just like that?

With too many thoughts to process, I sat the computer next to me and stared at the blank TV. The weight of the couch shifted next to me. Ashlie slid her arms around my torso and rested her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” She was trying to be empathetic; I know. But I also didn’t want her pity.

“It’s okay,” I tilted my head to rest on top of hers. “Who needs him anyways?”

Wait, I do.

I stared out the window behind Mr. Thompson. He tapped his fingers in pattern on his desk, other hand resting on his cheek.

“Miss. Y/L/N.” He started, stopping his fingers from tapping. I flicked my eyes to his. “I knew this would be hard, having the type of personality he does. He doesn’t – doesn’t have a long attention span when it comes to women.”

I looked back to the window, admiring the cars streaming by on the 695. I already knew that. We all knew it. You thought one of your agents could change him? People don’t change because you want them to. They change because they want to.

When I didn’t offer a response, Thompson continued. “Did something happen after the benefit? After we unplugged you?”

I thought back to that night. Our drive home was filled mainly with his giggles and slurred pick-up lines.

“I don’t think – “ I didn’t kiss him. He wanted to kiss me, and I didn’t. “He wanted to kiss me, Mr. Thompson.”

“You didn’t kiss him, right?”

“Yes.” He quirked an eyebrow. “No, I mean – yes, I didn’t kiss him.” I clarified. I wanted to though.

“Miss. Y/L/N, we’ve brought in Mr. Horan. Head of his security. ”Thompson waved to Mr. Horan through the window. The screech from the chair next to me as it slid across the tile floor. My eyes flashed to the man next to me. Niall. Now it makes sense.

“Miss. Y/L/N,” Niall cleared his throat, “Nice to see you again.”

“You as well, Mr. Horan.”

“As you know, Mr. Horan here is the head of Mr. Styles’ security and has been keeping an eye on him since the beginning of President Styles’ term. He’s here to shed some insight and help us through this obstacle. He knows Harry the best, so we will have his assistance for matters like this.” Mr. Thompson gestured to Niall to start speaking about what he knows.

“Yeah, so” Niall shifted in his seat and crossed his ankle at the knee. “Harry’s a bit frustrated. He feels like, I don’t know. That you – “ I caught his eyes drift to mine – “aren’t ‘interested’ in him anymore”

I scoffed at the remark, earning a glare from Mr. Thompson. “Miss. Y/L/N, a problem?”

“Sorry it’s just – “ I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, resting my palms on my thighs – “He feels like I’m not interested? When three days after the benefit he’s out gallivanting around D.C? That’s ridiculous.”

“See,” Niall turned towards me, “That’s just it. That’s how Harry copes. He doesn’t have healthy coping mechanisms. He thinks the best way to get around his issues is to drink them away. It’s why he drank so much at the benefit. It’s why he drinks so much in general.”

It explains a lot. He had told me that he’s been under stress, and I can only imagine how much stress he feels from having to live up to a perfect image that he can’t attain with his reputation.

“So, what do I do?”

“I’ve tried to knock some sense into him. I may protect Harry for a living, but he is my friend, and I care about him and his feelings.”

The Saturday sun was warm on my skin. I stared at the clouds in the sky, listened to the kids playing about 50 feet away, and the ducks in the pond. I should be at the gym, I reminded myself. Or at least running.

It’d been a week since I last saw Harry, part of me missed him. Thompson said he was going to work with Niall and how to get the boy back on track. Why me out of all people? There were so many young women in the FBI at this point, so why me? ‘Because we see the most potential in you. Half these women won’t make it another 6 months.’ Thompson’s voice rang in my ears from our conversation yesterday afternoon.

The bright darkness dimmed behind my eyelids. I opened one to see a figure standing above me. I jolted out of my comfort.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” I said sitting up and criss crossing my legs.

“Uh – “ raising a hand to the back of their neck – “Can we talk?”

“Yeah Summer, what’s up?” She sat opposite of me in the grass and looked around the park.

“It’s a nice day today, isn’t it?” Her eyes never settled on mine. She’s being cautious.

“Yeah, great day to be outside.” I looked over to the swimming ducks, still quacking at each other.

What I would give to be a duck right now. Not having any worries about whether or not my job was still intact. If my friends hated me for lying to them. If the boy I liked was done with me before even having a chance to know me, and really me.

“So,” Summer started after a few minutes of silence. I looked at her expectantly. “Someone dropped by today to see you.” My heart jumped; my palms started to sweat. Was Harry at my apartment?

“Harry?”

“Uh – “ she faltered – “No, Louis?” I scrunched my brows, confused. I wracked my brain trying to figure out who Louis was. “He said he’s a friend. You apparently met him at the Benefit? I told him you were out and didn’t know when you’d be back. He said to call him and left his number.” I looked at my crossed ankles. Oh, Louis. Wait, Louis took that picture of me and Harry. What does he want? “Do you know him?”

I looked back at Summer. “Yeah, he’s… he’s one of Harry’s friends.”

“You should probably call him, he looked in a rush.” I lifted my head in a nod, letting my eyes fall to the grass between us. A comfortable silence took over. “Y/N, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about whatever happened between you and… him. But I’m here for you if you do.”

“I know that, Summer. Thank you.”

I took a few steps into my room and tossed my purse onto my bed. I decided I should give Louis a call to see what’s going on.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Louis. It’s Y/N. I heard you stopped by today.”

“Oh!” He sounds surprised. His tone quickly hushed. “Y/N, thanks for calling. Yeah, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay,” I sat in my desk chair with one leg tucked under me. “What’s going on?”

“Can you meet me?” There was a long pause.

“Wh – “

“In an hour, at the park by the white house.” Before I could respond, I heard the click of him hanging up.

What?

I didn’t take much time to get ready to meet Louis. I threw a gray zip up sweatshirt over my tank top and slipped on my flare jeans with converse and was on my way. Louis texted me to say he wanted to ask me a few questions about the benefit – for a promotion he was working on for his company.

The sun had set on my way over, the purple, black sky taking over the D.C air. I glanced at the sky as I stood by the lamp post in the park. The stars look beautiful tonight. My eyes kept traveling around the park. Something I was trained to do. Have your eyes everywhere at all times.

I heard him before I saw him. The heavy footsteps, deep breathing. He sounds troubled. I whipped my head in the opposite direction.

“Y/N?” He asked, pulling the hood off his head. I could only nod. “What are you doing here?”

“I – “ I was off the script. No earpiece with Thompson telling me what to do, who to be, anything. “Just out for a stroll.” Harry stared at me as if he wasn’t really seeing me. He shook his head, his long locks falling in front of his face. He ran his hand through his hair, pulling the pieces that had fallen from his face.

“By… the white house?” He asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I love this park. Very peaceful with some great views.” I concluded. Louis sent me here, he knows what he’s doing. He and Harry are longtime friends. They must’ve talked.

“Right…” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking around.

“I wanted to talk.” “We should talk.” We spoke at the same time. Our eyes locked before breaking into giggles and looking at our feet.

“You go ahead,” Harry encouraged.

“Why didn’t you call me?” I asked.

“I –“ He rubbed the back of his neck. “How drunk was I that night?”

I blinked harshly, not expecting him to ask that. “What?”

“I don’t remember much after slamming my drink right before we left and…” He took a step away from me. “I was a little embarrassed and I wasn’t sure if I said or did anything wrong and… I thought if I held off for a bit then it wouldn’t be a big deal…”

“So why still didn’t you call?” Harry shook his head, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“You didn’t get my voicemail?” He quirked his head.

“What voicemail?”

“Y/N, I called you like three times.”

“What?” Then it hit me. Thompson. Thompson tapped my phone when starting the mission to have all the details. But why?

“I just kinda thought you were done with us and I had done something after the benefit.”

“Harry, I had no idea. Honest… Is that why you went out with Kendall?”

He laughed at my question. “I haven’t gone out with Kendall. I haven’t seen her in months. Those pictures are from like… November.” I was bewildered.

I composed myself before speaking, “I’m sorry to have assumed the worst…”

“It’s okay,” he stepped closer. “Can I come to your place?”

“Right now?”

He glanced at his feet and back to me, “Yeah.” He murmured. Only meaning to be heard between us two.

“Are you okay?” I tucked some stray hair behind my ear, shifting my weight from my left foot to my right.

“I just – I just don’t want to go back yet. I had to sneak out and I just need some time away.” Running one hand through his hair, he grabbed my hand with the other.

“Okay.”

The ride to my apartment was quiet. Harry didn’t say much about what was going on within the White House walls, although I’m sure I would find out come Monday, if not sooner. I was trying to read his moving eyes, but there wasn’t much to tell. His eyes told a completely different story than his lips.

His lips spoke of stress and hardship. His eyes shine like the moon over a Georgia river in the dead of night.

When I finally parked my car in the lot, Harry slid out of my car with grace, taking my hand as each of us rounded the back of my car.

“This is it,” I sighed when opening the door to my apartment.

“Wow,” He looked from the kitchen to the living room before turning to face me, “Cute.”

“Oh my gosh,” I whipped my head to see Ashlie coming into the entrance in a towel from the hallway – clearly not expecting company.

“Uh – Hi.” Harry awkwardly waved.

“Hi, wow. Wasn’t expecting you.” She gave a small smile and gestured to her attire.

“It’s not a problem. Nice to meet you,” Harry extended his hand for her, which she gladly took, “I’m Harry.”

“Oh, I know who you are. I’m Ashlie.” Ashlie let out a flirty giggle. You know, the kind you hear at a bar when a girl is trying too hard to let a man know his jokes are ‘funny’.

“We’ll uh – be in my room.” I remarked, breaking up the awkwardness I could feel radiating through the room.

Harry trailed behind me, telling me he thought Ashlie seemed nice.

“How many roommates do you have?” He questioned, taking a seat on the foot of my bed.

“Two. My other roommate, Summer, is probably at her boyfriend’s.” I hung my hoodie over the back of my desk chair and took a seat on it backwards so I could face him. Harry nodded his head before letting his body fall back onto my bed. “So, what’s going on? At home?”

“It’s nothing,” He groaned, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

“It’s obviously something if you’re sneaking out and wandering parks at night without guards. How’d you even get away with that anyways?”

“The White House has many escape routes that can’t be seen by the control room. I’ve found them all.” He stated, putting his hands behind his head.

“Interesting.” The silence that filled the room was deafening. “Harry,” I paused waiting for him to look at me. His eyes gradually found mine. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired of my family and the security telling me my behavior is ‘unacceptable’ because I’m the President’s son. I can’t go out with my friends. I can’t be seen with girls who are friends. I can’t have a drink in a bar.” He stood from my bed and started pacing around my room like his life depended on it. “When I’m in the White House, all I have is people barking orders in my ear, telling me what I can and can’t do. What I can and can’t wear. Who I can and can’t see? So, I guess,” Harry brought his hands to his head and started pulling his hair at the roots, “When I do get to go out with friends, I get carried away. Unfortunately, every time.”

I didn’t know what to say. What I want to say? I can relate. What can I say? Nothing.

When he moved to sit back on my bed, I joined him. He brought his chest between his knees and bowed his head, taking the stance of looking like he was about to vomit. I rested my hand on his back and tried my best to rub soothing circles between his shoulder blades, still looking for the right words. “Harry, I’m sorry. I had no idea that was something you had to deal with.”

“I know, because I don’t share that part of my life. Not with anyone. The only one who really knows is Niall. But that’s only because he’s with me when I’m out and that’s when it all comes out.” He lifted his head and turned to look at me. “He’s the only person I really trust. He’s my best friend and I trust him with my life. I know it’s his job to be there. But, he’s the only one I really have.”

“That’s not true. You have loads of friends. I’ve seen them in the pictures with you.”

“No, those people – while they’re nice to hang out with – they only care about my status. They care about Harry Styles, President’s son. Not Harry.”

“I – I don’t know what to say.” And I truly didn’t. Here he is, spilling his heart to me again, and I can’t even reciprocate without blowing my cover.

“You don’t have to say anything. I thought Niall was the only person that actually cared about me. As in Harry, the person. And then I met you.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry sat up and turned his body towards mine, grabbing both my hands in his.

“Y/N, I know you would never do anything to hurt me. You care about me. You ask me about me, not what my family is doing, or what bills are going through congress. Or even try to advance your career through me.”

My mouth got dry, but I felt like I was drowning. How can he not see through this act? When will I give it up? When will Thompson have it cut? His eyes bore into mine.

“I really like you, Y/N.”

“I – I like you too Harry.” I have to tell him; I have to tell him the girl he thinks he knows is not who she says she is. I have to tell him; this was all part of my job. But this isn’t. It’s not your job to be here with him right now.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” The proposition tore me from my thoughts. I got up and headed for the door, gesturing for him to follow me down the hall.

I plopped on the couch flipping the TV on. Harry sat next to me and flung his arm to the back of the couch behind me.

“Should we just search romantic comedies on Netflix and see what we find?” He looked over to me, nodding excitedly.

We flipped through Netflix for 10 minutes before finally deciding on 27 Dresses. The movie was the only thing that could be heard in the living room. At whatever point, Harry let his arm fall onto my shoulders and pulled me into him. I let my head rest on his shoulder as we continued watching.

“Hey Y/N?” I looked up at him, humming in response. “I’m sober now.” I scrunched my eyebrows and opened my mouth to speak, “Can I kiss you now?” My heart sped up, and my cheeks warmed with the blood rushing to them.

“I - I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” I let my head dip so I wasn’t looking at him.

“Why’s that?” He asked, confusion taking over his tone. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, but... I would really like to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, I do. It’s just - “ I thought of all the things that could possibly go wrong - the FBI busting into my apartment to have me arrested, me starting what feels like a real relationship based on lies, breaking his heart after he let me in.

“Then let me,” Harry cupped my cheek and brought our gazes together. I stared at him for a moment before lightly nodding.

His lips ghosted over mine before gently pressing together. I swear I could hear his heartbeat. Or maybe it was mine. I rested my hand on his cheek and his hand moved to my waist, pulling me as close as possible. It wasn’t heavy, and it wasn’t quick. It was soft and sweet, like him.

He pulled away and leaned back into the couch. A smile graced his face. I nuzzled back into him and pulled my feet up on the couch.

I woke up to the room completely dark, the only light coming from the dim light above the oven. I was still laying on Harry. I sat up, removing his arms from my waist. I grabbed my phone from the table to check the time. 2:36am. Oh shit, I turned back to wake Harry.

“Harry, Harry wake up. You have to go.” I shook him out of his sleep.

“What why?” He stirred, rubbing his eyes, barely coming out of his sleep.

“It’s 2:36AM.”

“Mmmmm comfy.” He closed his eyes again and rested further into the couch.

“Harry, no. You’re gonna get into trouble.” I stood up and grabbed his hands trying to pull him off the couch.

“No, I won’t”

“Harry,” I insisted. When he wouldn’t budge, I gave up. Flopping back into the couch.

“Can I just stay – you won’t even know I was here.”

I woke up in my bed. I looked at my clock next to me. 9:22am. Was it a dream? I sat up, same tank top. Same jeans. I searched for my phone to find it under my pillow with a sticky note.

Left around 5. Carried you to bed and didn’t want to wake you. Call me. – Harry

Sticking my phone in my back pocket, I pulled myself out of bed and let my feet guide me to the bathroom. What did I do? Why did I have to do that?

After staring at myself for almost two minutes, I decided to call Harry.

“Hello?” his voice was chipper.

“How’d you get home?” I asked, putting the call on speaker so I could wash my face.

“I took an Uber. I woke up to one missed call and one text from Niall asking if I was in my room from around 2. I figured it’d be best if I was back in the house before sunrise and not let anyone get suspicious.” At least he was thoughtful of other peoples’ sleep schedules.

“Ah, alright.”

“Yeah.”

“So, you wanted me to call you?” I stated, remembering his note.

“Oh, yeah! I’m picking you up for breakfast.” He said, I could feel his smile through the phone. Man does this boy get right back on the love train; I swear.

“You? Or Niall?” I teased, breaking into a smile. I grabbed my washcloth and wet it to begin washing my face.

“Ha ha. Funny. No, me. Just you, me, and some delicious breakfast.” He clarified. Should I tell Thompson? Probably.

“Okay.”

“I’ll pick you up in 30 minutes.” We said goodbye and felt my heart beating faster. I quickly texted Thompson to let him know what was happening. I started the shower and dropped my clothes. Washing everything quickly, I felt my nerves beginning to settle in. Should I even have said yes? What if Thompson doesn’t want me to? Too late.

When I got out, I checked my phone for a response.

Thompson – 9:37am: Earpiece.

He really was a man of few words. Powerful words, but few. I quickly blew dry my hair and changed into some leggings and a ¾ sleeve blouse. Finishing putting on some light makeup, I heard a knock on the front door.

“Harry!” Ashlie exclaimed, “Good to see you again.”

I walked out to see Harry looking awkwardly at her. She was asking how everything was going for him, to which he politely smiled and said “Fine, Thanks.” His eyes lit up when they connected with mine.

“Hey, you.” He smiled, pulling me in for a hug

“Hi,” I greeted, returning his smile and accepting his arms around me.

“Ready?”

‘Let me just grab my purse,” I said, backing away down the hallway towards my room. I quickly grabbed the earpiece from my drawer and inserted it into my ear. I grabbed my purse from my desk and started heading back to our entryway. I paused in the doorway, glancing at my open drawer with my pistol sticking out. I slipped it into my purse before returning to Harry. “Okay, let’s go.”

Ashlie moved to the kitchen to make herself some breakfast, taking peeks over her shoulder at Harry. She shot me a wink as Harry opened the front door to lead us out.

When we were settled in the car, Harry turned to me. “First things first, I wanted to say thank you to you. For last night. And I’m sorry if I was intruding.”

“You weren’t,” I reassured him, “You never are.” As I finished my sentence, I heard the static in my earpiece. Thompson’s on.

“Morning superstar. I don’t know what happened last night, but good job getting him back.” If only he knew.

Harry turned on the radio for our drive. As we drove further out of the city, he told me how he loved some of the neighborhoods we were driving by. Mostly because he had friends living there that he made when we were in high school because Mr. Styles would often bring him to D.C., and he would meet other congressmen’s children.

I laughed at his jokes, and when he sang. Frankly, he can’t sing. But he does a very nice job trying.

When we pulled up to the café, I noticed it was quite small. Niall hadn’t brought us here on our previous brunch meetings.

“Where are we?” I questioned.

“Oh, my dad used to take me here in high school. I don’t get to come too often anymore. Ya know, security and everything.”

Right.

Breakfast went exactly how I thought it would. Harry talked about his life, asked me about mine, and Thompson fed me lines that apparently “Niall had done ‘research’, and this is what Harry wants to hear.”

But this time, when I laughed with Harry, I felt more genuine. My feelings were too. I really liked him. He was kind, generous, thoughtful. Everything a good man acted like.

When he dropped me off, Harry walked me to my door. I didn’t hesitate to kiss his cheek. Harry grabbed my hands and squeezed them.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” He glanced at his feet, letting a grin bless his features with his dimples showing perfectly. I nodded, squeezing his hands back. He pulled me into him for a hug. I wrapped my arms around his waist, not wanting to let go.

“Bye, Harry.” I opened the door when he let go of me.

“Bye, Y/N.”

The next week felt like it flew by. I would see Harry after work, either for dinner, a drink, a movie, a walk, really anything he could think of to see me.

Thompson would be in my ear, encouraging me. Sometimes he wasn’t, those were my favorite nights with Harry. I could be myself without having to worry about if Thompson thought ‘Well that wasn’t the right thing to say.”

My phone ringing brought me out of my sleep. I looked at the caller ID and immediately answered.

“Hello?” I greeted, rubbing the sleep from my left eye.

“Can you come over?” Harry asked, his voice cracking near the end. I pulled the phone away from my ear. 1:11am. After a pause he added, “Please?” The desperation in his voice was almost tangible. A shiver ran down my spine just hearing his broken voice.

“Yeah, of course.” I threw my covers off of me and grabbed my nearest pair of jeans. I pulled them on and picked up one of Harry’s long sleeve t-shirts and ripped it over my head. “I’ll be there in 15.”

“Thank you,” he sobbed. “I can let you in by the east garden.” I hung up my phone and hesitated to grab my keys. I should take an Uber. Guards would see my car parked near the White House. I opened the Uber app and ordered a car.

“Morning ma’am.” Said Andrew, the driver.

“Morning,” I grumbled, climbing in the backseat.

“How was your night?” he asked, smiling at me through the rearview mirror.

“Could be better,” I sighed, rubbing my fingers into my temples.

“Oh, I totally get it,” he started. Andrew talked almost the entire way about his night. When he dropped me on the corner a block away from the White House, he concluded his rant with “And that’s when I kicked him out. Well, I hope your night gets better! Life’s too short to have bad sex.” I gave him the best smile I could muster and got out of his car.

I walked up the street and crossed through an alley to get to the East garden. I saw a sliver of light coming from a shrub. The sliver of light grew bigger, giving away that it was actually a door. A disheveled Harry appeared in the light. As I got closer, I noticed his eyes were red and puffy. He’s been crying. When I was close enough, he instantly crashed his body into mine, holding me so tight I might combust.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” I asked, cuddling him closer. He let out a choked weep. “Come on, let’s go.” I said, pulling away. He grabbed my hand and led us through the tunnels.

When we got to the halls, Harry looked around every corner, checking for guards before sneaking us to his room. The door clicked shut and the only thing I could hear were his soft sniffles. I took in the room before me. It was large and decorated for a king. There were items scattered, a chair tipped over, and a lamp lay broken on the floor next to his bed.

He took a seat on the edge of his bed, lowering his head with his hands covering his face. I walked over and took a seat next to him. I placed my hand on his shoulder and took another look around.

“Harry,” I whispered. “What happened?”

“He’s so disappointed in me.” He mumbled, barely audible. His body shook with sobs, soft enough to go unnoticed by anyone passing by.

“Who? Your dad?”

“He said his approval rate has barely gone up, and when he asked the cabinet about it, they – they told him it was my fault.” My heart broke at his words.

“Harry, I’m so – “

“He doesn’t get it. No one does,” he ripped himself from my grasp and stood in front of me, facing the door. “I have him, his cabinet, members of the staff, media, friends, everyone constantly yelling at me. Just because I want to go out and be normal. Live a normal life.” He was facing me now, arms flailing around to get his point across. “And as soon as I get something right, it’s not good enough!”

“What do you mean?” I inquired. I stood up and placed my hands on his shoulders, leading him back to sit down. “Talk to me.”

“You,” he stated as if it was obvious. When I didn’t respond, he continued. “Ever since I met you, I’ve been trying to better myself. Not go out as much, get away from the crowd that only talked to me because they want something. I haven’t had any interest in doing that because – well. I want to be the best man I can. For you.”

I stood straight at his confession. I was left speechless. I took a deep breath before kneeling on the ground in front of him. I opened my mouth and closed it again, not knowing what to say.

“Harry, I – I’m proud of you for doing all of that.”

“Well I’m glad someone is,” he exclaimed. He threw himself back onto his bed and covered his face with his hands.

I got up and sat next to him, criss crossing my legs. I grabbed his hands from his face and held them.

“I’m sure your dad is proud of you too. He just doesn’t know how to say it.” I tried to assure him.

“Yeah because ‘if you would’ve kept the clean image like I told you to’ screams ‘I’m proud of you.” He groaned. He grasped my hands and brought them to his chest.

“Well, let’s think about this. Your dad is the President. He has a lot of people to answer to, and I’m sure he’s under a lot of stress.” I explained to him, rubbing circles on the backs of his hands

“I know, I know. But like, there’s a way to talk to your kids.”

“Yeah, and I’m not saying how he handled it was correct. I’m just saying, from his perspective, he’s probably not mad. Just frustrated. And I’m sure he’s proud of you for trying to better yourself.” I paused, glancing at the door. “Maybe you should just talk to him about how this experience has been for you. I know you haven’t and that might help him to better understand where you’re coming from.” I concluded.

“You’re right. I should probably try to talk to him in private.”

“Wanna hear a joke?” He nodded, cracking a small smile. “What did the drummer name his daughters? Anna one, anna two!” His giggle filled the quiet room, a chuckle left my own lips. He pulled me down, so my head was resting on his chest.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He tucked my hair behind my ear and caressed his hand down my cheek.

“I’ve been told,” I joked, returning the smile he gave me.

“No, I’m serious,” He looked at the ceiling before continuing, “You give really good advice that makes me think from another perspective, and you can make me laugh even when it feels like my world is crashing - not even two minutes ago.” He glanced back down at me. My eyes never leaving his face.

We stayed like this for a while. Talking about life, things we believed in, conspiracy theories, the best type of pasta (Tortellini was unanimously voted), everything.

Harry walked me back to the East Garden entrance around 3:00am.

“Are you sure you can’t stay the night? Niall can just drop you off in the morning.” He tried one last time.

“I’m sure, Harry.” I let out a quiet laugh. “But hey – maybe we should just keep this between us two? I don’t want to get any weird looks from m –“ I stopped myself before the words ‘my coworkers’ escaped my lips, “your guards.”

“Of course, don’t worry.” He kissed my forehead and watched as I waited for my Uber. Occasionally throwing out pick-up lines. My favorite being ‘Are you a time traveler? Because I can see you in my future’ I casually waved as the Uber pulled up.

“Y/N?” She asked. I nodded and opened the door. I took one last look towards the entrance, seeing just the crack of light, knowing Harry was watching through it.

The next few weeks continued like this. Harry sneaking out to my house, and me to his. Each time learning new secret passages that brings me to his wing, or his room. It got to be exciting, really. Seeing Harry without Thompson in my ear. I had somehow convinced him to keep Niall out of the loop of our late-night meetings. But, of course, going on public outings was a different story. Niall would be waiting in a blacked-out SUV, I had my earpiece in, and I had to give Harry lines fed from Thompson every other sentence.

Sitting in Thompson’s office was something I should be used to by now. However, ever since Harry and I began having our midnight rendezvous, I had been anxious every time Thompson was even so much as in the same building. Although Harry and I haven’t so much as kissed since that night in my apartment, every time I saw him, I could feel the sexual tension radiating off him like I was standing next to a bonfire. He was waiting for me to make the first move, which I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. It would put so much more confusion into this already sticky situation.

Harry has grown into my friend. Of course, there was romantic interest. But I couldn’t jeopardize my cover. To him, I was Y/N Y/L/N. Marketing director for Accent. Small town girl from Carolina. I went to college for Business. I have my mom and two younger brothers back home who encouraged me to follow my dreams and move to D.C. If he knew who I really was. We could never have a relationship. If he knew I was being paid to play his romantic interest, things would never be real for us.

“Miss. Y/L/N,” Thompson’s serious tone tore me from my thoughts, “We’re aware that things have gone swimmingly since Mr. Styles had picked you up for breakfast a couple weeks ago. But how are you?”

“Yes, sir,” I agreed. “I’m well. He seems to be just fine. Hasn’t been as much in the spotlight. And the press - ”

“Miss. Y/L/N,” His tone lightened a bit. Thompson clasped his hands on his desk and softened his eyes toward me. I locked eyes with him as he continued. “Y/N, how are you doing?” His question took me by surprise. Thompson is always business. Hard-core authoritarian and never cares about sick days, let alone mental health days. He didn’t care if you were vomiting on the curb, you better show up for duty.

“I – What?” I asked, bewildered. My jaw fell slack, and I prayed he couldn’t hear my thoughts.

“Y/N, I know this must be extremely hard on you. I know I asked a lot of you when I assigned you to this. I want to be sure you’re doing okay. You two spend a lot of time together and I know how charming he is. I’ve met him on several occasions.” He chuckled, pushing his chair back and coming to sit next to me.

I turned toward him and put on a poker face. “Mr. Thompson, I know the longevity of this mission, and I know what a great deal of stress this is putting on everyone involved as well.” I couldn’t help it, I let my face fall into one of agitation. “But when I’m with him, I can’t help but think of how real it is for him. How would he feel if he knew that my interest is just a hoax? That it’s part of my job description to play this part?”

Thompson moved out of his chair and moved to the windows that looked out into the office. He took his time shutting the blinds before he came to sit in front of me on his desk.

“Y/N,” He started, the unease in his voice was something new. “I know your concern for his emotions is genuine. It’s part of why I hired you. You fully invest in what you’re doing. And that’s a trait that’s hard to come by nowadays. But I also hired you because I know how tough you are. You don’t let people push you around. You’ve truly shown your character with this.”

He took a long glance out the window at the cars driving down the 695. Did he have children? I never asked. We weren’t supposed to ask our superiors about their personal lives. The office and field were strictly professional.

“The unfortunate part of our jobs, is the mere fact that everyone we interact with, is part of our job. Whether it’s a civilian on the street, or the Queen of England. We’re on guard the whole time. Take Niall for instance.” He finally brought his gaze back to mine. “Niall is the closest we have to getting inside Mr. Styles head. To understand his motives and how he may be putting a risk to himself. That’s where we come in.”

“I don’t under – “

“Like Niall, we have Joe. Joe is the head of security for President Styles. President Styles may not understand what we’re doing at the time. But always comes to thank us later.”

“Mr. Thompson,” I let the confusion slide onto my face. “With all due respect, I don’t understand how this relates.”

“What I’m saying Y/N, is that, even though it may not seem like it, we do have Mr. Styles’ best interest at heart. But to do that, we need to be on the inside as well.”

I left Thompson’s office feeling even more anxious than before I entered. The phone ringing in my pocket halted my movements. Harry was trying to FaceTime me. I took a sharp right and entered the nearest bathroom, locking the door behind me.

“Hey,” I greeted him through the screen. He was in a car, driving. His sunglasses were pulled onto his head, pushing his chocolate locks out of his face.

“Hi! Oh – I’m sorry. You’re at work, aren’t you?” He apologized.

“Oh – yeah,” I fibbed. I hated this. I wanted to scream how I didn’t work at Accent and haven’t the slightest clue what marketing strategies were. You’re in too deep at this point, slick.

“How about I come pick you up for lunch? I can say hi to Rich.” He excitedly proposed.

“I can’t today, I’m sorry. I – uh” Think Y/N, think. “I’m actually in a business meeting with a prospect. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. What’re you doing tonight?” He didn’t even seem fazed. He had grown used to my typical 9-5 day. That was actually midnight to midnight and being on call over the weekends. I, technically, was always working.

“I think Ashlie was cooking some homemade eggplant Parmesan. What’s up?”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to come over tonight. Maybe watch a movie with some popcorn?” He gave a light smirk, before turning it into a full grin.

“I could be up for that. After dinner?”

“Do you want me to send a car to get you? Or would you like to sneak in as usual?” There was a hint of annoyance laced in his voice. He seemed to be getting tired of sneaking around.

“I can get myself there,” I stifled a laugh, trying to lighten his mood. “East Garden?”

“Yeah, okay.” I felt bad, that I couldn’t just stroll up to the main doors of the white house. But what security didn’t know didn’t hurt us. Well, me.

I arrived at the East Garden at 8:58, Harry was waiting with the door slightly cracked, as he had continuously done throughout our little meetings.

“Hey, ninja,” He smirked.

“Ninja?” I giggled as he pulled me into a hug. He rested his head atop mine, arms around my waist.

“Yeah, I think it suits you.” He snickered.

“If only you knew,” I whispered. I pulled away, “Shall we?” He reached for my hand, interlocking our fingers. Something I had grown accustomed to.

We settled in his room, laying back on the pillows. He pulled me into his chest as The Notebook started.

“Hey Y/N?” He gingerly murmured into my hair. Feeling the day weigh on my eyelids, I offered a hum in response. “How much do you. Ya know, like me?”

My eyes flew open at the question. My heart shook my toes with how hard it was beating. “What do you mean?” Trying to keep my voice even, I tilted my head to look up at him.

“Like, we’ve been seeing each other for a bit now, so I was just wondering like.” He grabbed my left hand and gave it a squeeze, “What are we doing?”

“Harry I – “ I took a deep breath. You knew it was coming. Play stupid. “I don’t follow.”

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

I sat up and turned to him, criss crossing my legs. “Harry, as much as I care about you,” The words were harder to get out than anticipated. “I really enjoy what we have going on. And, I mean, with your status. I’m nervous about it … blowing up. Does that make sense?” I shook my head at his disapproving eyes. My voice started to waver as I continued, “I’m sorry, I just. I know how nasty the media can be and…”

Harry bolted up, grabbing my face ready to wipe any tears that could fall. “Hey, I don’t want you to apologize. I just, I don’t know. I feel like you don’t want to be seen with me or something. Even around my own house…” his voice trailed as he looked down at his own legs.

I took the opportunity to grab his hands, rubbing circles into their backs. “Harry, I promise that I really care about you. I just, I’m not ready for something like that.”

“Okay, I understand.” His gaze peered back up to me. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to pressure you. I would just really love to show off the woman that has stolen my heart.” I stole his heart and felt mine drop. “Will you let me know when you are?” I could only nod. “Come on, let’s lay back down. I love this movie.”

I don’t know when Harry fell asleep. His soft snores filled the room long before the movie ended. I couldn’t move, but I had to get out of here. I had to tell Thompson I couldn’t do it anymore. I checked my phone for the time. 4:27. I have to go home. I carefully unhooked Harry’s hand from mine. I gathered my things from his desk before spotting a notepad. I glanced over at the sleeping boy. You at least owe him the courtesy to write him a note that you were leaving. He’s done the same before.

I scribbled a simple “Couldn’t sleep, call me tomorrow. - Y/N” On the paper before putting it next to him on the bed.

I cracked the door open as quietly as possible and stuck my head through the crack, looking for any potential sign of life. I slid my body through the door and shut it as lightly as possible. I ran my hands down my face and started down the hall.

“Y/N?” I froze as I was about to round the corner. I slowly turned around to find a confused Niall standing at the other end of the hall. He took several glances between me and Harry’s door. “What are you doing here?” His tone was cold.

“Niall, I – I didn’t think you’d be roaming the halls this early in the morning.” I tried to laugh it off while taking several strides towards him.

He stared at me dumbfounded. “Does Thompson know you’re here?” He took my blank expression as an answer. “So how long has this been going on?”

“Niall, it’s not what it seems.” I defended.

“No, you’re just sneaking over to the WHITE HOUSE in the middle of the night for no reason. Not to hook up with Harry?”

“Niall, it’s really not like that!” I raised my voice slightly.

“Then tell me what it’s like Y/N. You know this could jeopardize the mission!” Niall raised his voice higher than mine. Not seeming to care if other guards heard him.

“I’m being his friend, Niall!” I cried. ‘That’s all.”

“Being his friend?” He asked bemused. “I don’t think FRIENDS do what you’re doing, Y/N.” His voice lower this time.

“Niall, I’m just trying to do the best I can! There’s no precedent for stuff like this! He calls, I answer. If he asks me to be there for him, I am. Like three weeks ago when he had an all-out meltdown!” My hands swung from my sides, to cover my face.

“That’s my job Y/N, not yours. I’m the one he calls to handle situations like that.” He stated the obvious, raising his eyebrows. He spoke almost as if he was telling a three-year-old that they couldn’t jump off the monkey bars because they could get hurt.

“Yeah, Niall. I know it’s your job. But have you been doing it? Are you really his friend and have you been handling it?” I countered his argument. If Niall was the one to handle situations like that, then why did Harry call me instead?

“Y/N, I leave him alone when he gets like that. When he’s ready to talk, he does. I think I know him a little better than you.” Niall crossed his arms over his chest, his eyebrows furrowed, and his voice was ear-piercingly serious.

“Do you, Niall? Do you really? You may know about everything he’s going through professionally, but –“ I took a deep breath, composing myself so my voice was even. “Do you even know the real him? The sensitive Harry that talks about how hard this life is?” I paused taking in Niall’s cold expression

“How about the Harry that’s favorite color is yellow, or that he loves rom coms because they always end happily? Or what about the Harry that’s just trying to cope because this isn’t the lifestyle he planned or hoped for? Do you even know him Niall?” My voice crippled as I finished my rant.

Niall doesn’t know him. Niall knows what he needs to know so he can report to Thompson at the end of the week. Trouble he got into, bars he went to, where the paparazzi who photographed his every move worked so they can get the pictures back from his blacked-out adventures.

“Miss. Y/L/N,” Niall’s voice was too evenly keeled. “At least I know my place, when it comes to my job. Unlike you, who has no issues crossing clear boundaries. I will be pleased to inform Mr. Thompson of your little rendezvous with Mr. Styles this evening.” He turned his back before flicking his face over his shoulder, “And I’m sure we can find out about all the others as well.”

“What?” Niall froze in his tracks; I was too afraid to turn around. “What’s going on?”

I turned to find a red-faced Harry standing in the doorway to his bedroom.

“Harry,” our voices came in unison.

“You – Niall. Mr. Thompson?” The confusion took its rightful place on his face. “This,” Harry glanced at his sock clad feet. “This was a set up?” I couldn’t find the words to defend myself. “How did you – when were you – “ The unfinished questions never left his lips.

“Harry, I can explain.” My voice was thick. It almost hurt to get the words out. If I didn’t vomit when explaining to him why I like the privacy, it was sure about to come up now.

“You both… you both…” another unfinished question. He shut his door behind him and started walking in the opposite direction of both Niall and me. I gave a desperate glance to Niall, who quickly motioned for me to follow him.

“Go, you should talk to him.” His voice was soft. We both knew this wasn’t how it was supposed to play out. “Better you than me right now.”

I jogged to catch up to Harry. “Harry wait,” I called reaching out for his hand. He quickly swiped it from my grip and quickened his pace. “Harry, please let me explain!” I cried.

“Explain what?” He growled, stopping in his tracks. I stopped just before I crashed into him and took a step back. “Explain how you can go about your day just - just lying to me? About everything? Making me feel these things for you?” His voice was exceptionally hard, barely able to detect the hurt laced through.

“Harry, I’m sorry,” I whispered. ”I – “

“Sorry for what.” He barked, whipping around to face me. “Sorry for making me trust you, or sorry for getting caught in your big scheme.” His words rifled through me like he took an AR-15 to my heart. You should’ve known this could be the outcome. “Whatever you’re sorry for, I don’t want to hear it. See yourself out, I’m done.”

His shoulder bumped me as he walked past. I turned to watch him go back down the hall and around the corner back to his room. I remained motionless when I heard his door slam shut. I felt the wetness of a single tear rolling down my cheek and quickly raised my hand to wipe it away.

How could you have been so stupid, Y/N?

91 notes · View notes

transsergio · 3 years

Text

The Invitation (read on AO3)

Moreid / Gen / 1561 words

The BAU is finally invited to the yearly FBI gala, and Spencer wears something new. Derek escorts him.

Spencer traces the raised script with his finger. The FBI’s winter gala is not something the BAU usually attends, so he’s missed out on this gold-lettered invitation for several years. This year, though, Erin Strauss has extended the party to them. Spencer suspects she’s receiving some sort of award and wants Hotch to see what he will never attain – upward mobility. It doesn’t help that the BAU has been on thin ice for a record number of weeks, making attendance more than “suggested”.

The morning they’d received the smooth, creamy envelopes warranting their presence, the bullpen had buzzed. Obviously the profilers were invited, but so were interns, clerical workers, and anyone else whose position fell under the BAU’s umbrella. It was going to be an expensive party, and Spencer was prepared. He had black-tie regulation suits in his closet. They were tailored and everything (at Penelope and Derek’s insistence once they’d seen how his coat consumed his shoulders). But something about them felt… off. They weren’t itchy or uncomfortable, but when Spencer looked at himself in the mirror, he felt like a mannequin in a store window. Too crisp. Too clean. So, he went shopping.

Spencer hadn’t been in the women’s department of a store in nearly a decade. He thrust himself into hormone replacement therapy as soon as he could afford it, roughly three years ago, but even before then he’d avoided the section. With his short haircut and a face that said he was either an ugly girl or a porcelain doll of a boy, people usually relied on other context clues to gender him. Wearing boy’s clothes, using the men’s bathroom, and jogging to the boys’ half of the gym when the coach separated a class by gender all helped. People usually didn’t question him, especially now that his voice had dropped and his little body fat had redistributed.

This felt most like freedom. Spencer no longer worried about caging himself in, speaking as little as possible, and the oversized fit of his shirts. He was still binding, but had found a groove in his own collection of sweater vests that kept him flat. He was realizing that his chest wasn’t really an issue anymore, regardless. It was no longer a dead giveaway that he wasn’t cis; and what was so great about being cis, anyway? Gender was a vast and personal experience that Spencer was only just starting to explore. While masculinity was what he’d chased for so many years, the distinction between masculine and feminine was growing increasingly blurry. Fabric was fabric draped over human form, and human form was pliable under their own hands. Had Spencer not developed a jawline by his own medical intervention? Had he not participated in his own evolution?

Spencer found himself nearing prom dress boutiques. He didn’t ask any of his team for help; this was something he wanted to discover on his own, and he wasn’t ready to answer any questions about whether he liked this fabric or this shape. He wasn’t sure if he would be truly comfortable in a dress, or if he simply admired the fashion. Once inside, he spent a lot of time touching. He got a sense for textures he didn’t like (gritty, shimmery layers scratched) and for what he did (smooth, cool satins were pluses). And then, the cuts and colors. There were so many more choices than men’s styles offered. Spencer tried to solve it like a puzzle. Somewhere in these shops was a dress he would feel most like himself in, that complemented his hair and skin, that went with his eyes. He wanted to find an extension of who he was, much like he had when he first came out to himself, trolling Goodwills for a new wardrobe – but this time, without making the attempt to hide in plain sight.

“Reid?”

Spencer turns, no longer lost in thought. He stands in the parking lot of the gala hotel, just beyond the yellow glow of a streetlamp.

Derek is looking at him. Derek, who teases him when he flunks his firearms qualification. Derek, who’s arriving in a standard suit and not smiling, for once. Spencer doesn’t particularly mind that part. He feels like Derek is in on a joke he isn’t most of the time, and he’s finally caught Derek off-guard.

“Hey,” Spencer says softly. He’s not so much afraid as he is uninterested in explaining himself.

Derek walks around Spencer’s car to take in the full view. Spencer wears a plum gown that poofs slightly from his waistline, but not excessively. The purple material extends up and is snug against his chest, his torso under a layer of lace that halts at his shoulders. It is technically sleeveless, and Spencer’s shaved his underarms for the occasion. The lower half is slit up to his knees and exposes his strappy silver heels. They’re short. He wouldn’t be standing if they were over two inches tall.

Derek’s hands are in his pants pockets. He takes a moment to read Spencer’s expression, who hopes he isn’t giving anything away.

“No makeup?” Derek asks.

Spencer rolls his eyes. “No. I’m not very good at it, so.” He shrugs.

Derek nods. He comes closer in a few strides. His shoes are freshly shined and reflect the parking lot lights.

“Were you comin’ in, or waiting for someone?” Derek leans against the side of Spencer’s car. Spencer considers telling him he hasn’t had it washed in at least a month, but figures Derek knows that. Derek seems to know a lot that Spencer doesn’t, ironically.

“I’m… not sure.” Spencer swallows. He doesn’t want to admit the rest. That he’s happy, that he’s had more fun swishing around his apartment in this dress than he has in a long time, doing something purely for himself. That if he were going to be alone in that ball room, this wouldn’t be a problem. That the last thing he wants is to put Hotch in hot water. That this will make things harder, and however useful he is to the team, it won’t compare to this new challenge he’s voluntarily imposing on them.

“Well, you got a date?” Derek is conversational. He talks like Spencer’s in his khakis and it’s another morning by the coffee machine. It’s a little grounding, a little exhilarating.

Spencer licks his lips. “No, nothing like that. I’m debating whether I should get back in my car or not.”

“Did you forget something in it?”

“Uh, no?”

“Then what’s the hold up?”

Spencer looks at him, truly, for the first time. Derek’s eyes are softer than Spencer usually finds them. They’re deep. He might trip into them and never come out. He’s focused on Spencer like minutes don’t matter. It’s a scrutiny based in full-hearted devotion that Spencer’s never seen before.

“I don’t… know.” Spencer says. He feels his eyebrows crease, his lips slightly pout, as he struggles. He does know. He won’t admit it here, not with a majority of the FBI waiting inside where they could see it all over his face – but the terror is shrinking. Derek is warm, and here, and gentle.

Derek sighs. It isn’t exasperation or impatience, like many of the sighs Spencer’s familiar with, but thoughtful. Derek refuses to look away as he says, “I get it. The fear that you’ll show this part of yourself and have to live with the judgment. I have my own secrets, kid. But you’ve gotta know the whole team will be behind you, no matter what. We won’t let you do this alone. I won’t let you.”

Spencer can’t stop himself. “How could you understand what this feels like? What’s Derek Morgan, ladies’ man and hunk of the office, got to hide?”

Derek scoffs with a grin, the kind that lights up his face. “What do you think, genius? I’m telling you, I get it. I’m glad you think I’m hunky, though. Was worried you weren’t getting my signals.”

“Signals? What signals?” Spencer feels his brain come to a screaming stop. He hates when it does that – when it processes new information too fast, and doesn’t know what to do with the rest of him. He’s still, like a beautiful scarecrow letting its arms wave in the wind.

Derek stands upright and shakes his head. “Nah. I’ve given you too much of a head start already. You come find me when you’ve figured it out.”

Spencer’s about to protest when Derek offers him his arm. Spencer reaches for it cautiously, as if he might startle Derek and bring the reality of the gesture crashing in. That Derek is essentially sacrificing himself for Spencer’s sake. For the life of him, Spencer can’t figure why, but Derek is already leading them towards the building.

“This isn’t a case, you know. You don’t have to do this,” Spencer whispers. They’re nearing other agents as they move through the parking lot.

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t have to save me.”

Derek slows and turns in toward Spencer. His breath heats Spencer’s ear. “I’m not. I’m taking a pretty boy to a good meal. Is that so wrong?”

Spencer shivers. Derek takes his silence as a no, and they keep walking.

“Besides, you sit by Elle, and I don’t think we’ll have a problem.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure she’s wearing a knife."

#moreid #criminal minds #derek morgan #spencer reid #moreid fic #text #cm #mine

69 notes · View notes

cesabutterflywrites · 3 years

Text

The Duke of the Bay: Part 8

[Spotify Playlist] [Youtube Playlist]

First Part, Ao3 Link, Next Part (Coming Soon)

Story Warnings: Guns, threats, alcohol, violence homosexual slang used pejoratively and positively, internalized homophobia, ask me to add any if need be

Chapter Warnings: This is a heavy chapter. Violence is only implied, but the implications have a heavy impact. Read with caution.

Chapter Word Count: 3839

Summary: Patton O’Hearty was a great detective. Most people didn’t take him for one at first glance, especially when he dressed casual. He was abnormally chipper; he thought everything was the cat’s pajamas. He had a smile for everyone he met. He was always tipping his hat at the dames and gents when he walked the streets of the Bay Area.

The only person he could never catch was the leader of the planted mob in Emeryville, nicknamed The Duke. The Duke was good at hiding his dealings and joints well, and he rarely had a snitch in his ranks. The few who tried, well, somehow they disappeared before they could give the police any substantial information. He was well hidden, but popular among the residents of the town. People talked boldly of his rambunctious parties, never revealing the locations though. He was hard to catch, to say the least.

So what happens, when instead, the detective is the one that’s caught?

The dawn came as it always did- a soft gray and orange haze streaking in with the marine layer over the water of the San Francisco Bay. Roman de Rossi had a lovely view of it from his family mansion on San Pablo Avenue. A mansion that felt too big lately, with too high of a price to keep.

Roman rolled over to get out of bed when he bumped into something hard and stiff. His heart skipped a beat when he heard his wife cry out.

“Jeeze, Ro, trying to be the first at the breakfast table again?” Rosalie’s voice was gruff. She rubbed the spot on her back where Roman had bumped. “I already got one slugger goin’ for my kidneys.”

Roman rolled his eyes, though he was relieved he hadn’t hurt Rosalie. “Rose, why aren’t you in your bed?”

“Because I needed the warmth and comfort of my husband.” she mumbled sarcastically into her pillow, already on her way back to sleep.

All exhausted bitterness left him at the sound of her snores. At the beginning of their marriage it had been incredibly overbearing for him-to the point they shared separate beds- but with the rising threat of the gangs, he never knew when he’d see the last of his wife. After yesterday, there wasn’t even a certainty that he’d make it to see the birth of his twins.

Carefully, with a hesitation that seemed to become all-too-familiar, he rested his hand on Rosalie’s belly that was under his blanket. Rosalie hummed in response, but kept her eyes closed still. Roman tried to feel for any movement from the twins, but they didn’t. He tried to think that it was because they were also sleeping. It had nothing to do with the fact that every time he tried to feel for their movement he would get nothing. He ignored the tightness in his throat, he disregarded the burning tears, and prayed to God silently that he would make it through this trying time long enough to at least hold his children once.

The thought was an unwelcome intrusion since that fateful telegram from the Duke’s right hand man two months before. Shoving the bitter memory of that message aside, he got himself ready in the dark with a swiftness, already wanting the day to be done. He couldn’t tell whether his need to stay home was due to his anxieties of being a father, his weariness of having more caseloads of rising crime, or his paranoia about criminal eyes spying on him. He watched his large wife turn about in her sleep as he dressed; she was unable to find a comfortable position. He couldn't blame her. Something he wished he’d have considered before the pregnancy was getting a large family bed so they could share it. Even if she snored like a boozed up bear.

A lock of her thick black hair fell out of it’s wrap and was caught in the light from the hallway behind him. Her lips were pushed out in a half pout, half pucker. The gown she was wearing was a large blue cotton dress with flowing sleeves. Her eyes were closed, not restful, but crinkled under her worried brows. Her face had gotten wider in her pregnancy. Her cheeks were flushed with red with elevated temperature from the warm room. She moved her hand to hold under her head as she laid on her side, facing Roman and the door.

She was beautiful, and Roman took this moment to appreciate her beauty, for he didn't know if this was the last time he would see her. He’d never know from now on.

"I can feel ya starin', darling husband," her teasing tone was muffled by the pillow and her sleepiness. "Get to work so I can sleep."

He quietly leaned over her, just as he always did, and kissed her.

He’d never know that his tired wife had noticed the despair in the extra moments their lips were met.

“Send for someone right away if anything happens, alright dear?” he asked while brushing a stray curl aside.

“Sure thing honey…”

His walk to work was dim in the early morning as the fog was thick as wool. The only light guiding his way was a soft orange desperately clinging to the lampposts. The fog was dense with the promise of the coming autumn season for next month. It wasn’t smart of him to have left so early. There was no one on the street. No vagrants, no Jezebels, and no wayward orphans. Just him, the mist, and the sound of his shoes on moist stones. Still, just because he couldn't see anyone, it didn't mean that he didn't feel like he was being watched with eyes capable of seeing through all sorts of darkness.

It was soon enough in his hurry that he made it to the precinct. He ran his hand through his somewhat damp hair as he took his hat off at the entrance. He was early, earlier than normal, and the shift-changing deputies milling about by the entrance desk stood up straighter when they saw him.

“Hey, Cap’n. How’s the missus? Ready to burst just yet?” the old man at the desk asked. His name was Reggie, and if you called him a secretary you’d get a busted lip. He was the nicest-and oldest- member of the force.

“Oh, she’s fine. Doc says it’s gonna be any day now ‘til they’re here. I think she’s more excited than I am for it to be over. She’s been complaining about her feet being so swollen she can barely stand,” Roman laughed. The use of the word ‘complain’ was only polite. Rosalie’s ‘complaints’ about her pregnancy would make sailors blush.

Reggie guffawed. “Yeah, I remember when Ethel had her first. She was cursing so bad near the end you’d think she was a drunken sailor in a brig!”

“Women have a way with words, don’t they Reg?” Roman commented as he made his way around the desk. He wasn’t really waiting for an answer as he kept walking away.

Reggie must have been in a nice mood, since he didn’t point out the Captain’s distracted behavior as he walked off. Roman appreciated that. He was already in deep enough trouble with his reputation as a younger force captain.

Roman was grateful that he was going to be able to take some leave soon. He didn’t like being away from his pregnant wife all day. Especially now, with everything so changed. He sat down in his rolling chair with the force of a thousand anvils. He opened the folder on his desk, knowing there’d be no change in it since the last time he filled it a month ago with the ‘tip’ Logan and Patton got.

Case Number: 103625 - Open - “The Duke”

He sighed to himself as a heavy headache formed behind his eyes. It was a new day, which meant new trouble, which meant he seriously needed some coffee. He reached for his announcer when-

“Captain, there’s a visitor here for ya.” A fresh faced rookie announced while walking into the office. His voice was a bit too anxious-to-please for the captain’s liking in the morning .

Roman’s voice imitated distant thunder - a warning, a looming threat - “Haven’t you heard of knocking, boy?”

The young man was smart enough to appear embarrassed. “I apologize, sir.” He stood at attention as he had been trained to do. His badge gleamed in the light of the office as his chest puffed out.

Roman felt guilty for snapping at him. He didn’t want to be an angry, bitter leader, like his predecessor. Or like his father had been. Those old men were so hardened by stress that they felt no regard for those beneath them. He refused to be that way, no matter what. So he forced his body to relax as he imagined the darkness in his heart being swept under the new rug of his office.

“I understand. I was a rookie like you once upon a time. What seems to be the trouble?” Roman forced a smile on his face, as though it was drying cement to keep in place.

“You’ve got a guy saying he’s here for a meeting, a...Mr. Doris? Fella has a scar right here on his face." The officer took his finger and motioned on his face as an indicator of his description. Obviously the young man’s mind was wandering to stories about the nastiest criminals known to man.

Roman nodded, cleared his throat, then told him, "Bring him in."

The young officer disappeared, and in one breath the enemy had walked through the office door as if he owned the place. Roman sighed in defeat. It wasn’t ‘as if’ he owned the place, it was that he practically did. Especially now that the detectives weren’t ever going to ‘catch’ the bad guys like they should have ages ago.

“What brings you in so early, Mr. Doris?” Roman asked. He stood up, smoothed down his tie, and held his hand out to shake his visitor’s gloved hand.

The visitor smirked. “I like the new you, Roman. Straight to the punch without any frivolous small talk. Such a change from the last time we had spoken.”

The memory sat between them. A smoked out room, sweaty foreheads, two guns between two young men, a kiss- a stalemate.

Roman gulped down the anxious sensation and forced himself to speak. “Well, I haven’t had any coffee yet, so I’m not feeling patient enough for chit chat.”

Mr. Doris’ laughter sent chills down Roman’s spine. His voice was dry and raspy, like a lizard. “I see. Well, the good news is that your two lead detectives are good at their jobs.” He slammed his fist down onto the desk as his eyes peered into Roman’s. “The bad news is, they’re so good at their job, even you don’t control them anymore.”

“That’s not true!” Roman exploded. The force of his anger pushed him out of his seat so he was practically nose to nose with his guest. “I just suspended Logan Smith for admitting he’s working with one of your men! Detective O’Hearty is too personable to be focused on investigating your precious boss! Hell, he’s probably going to be too busy sidetracked into chasing wild geese from that stunt Logan pulled. And another thing-”

“That’s enough, Roman.” Mr. Doris covered Roman’s mouth with one of his gloved hands. “You’ve told me all I needed to know.”

It’s too easy to play you, dear Roman, Doris thought to himself. I knew something was up with Virgil Vitale. He couldn’t keep the grin off of his face at the thought of finally teaching the little punk a lesson.

Roman shook the hand off of his mouth. His breath was shaky. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, I won’t tell you, dear,” Mr. Doris hummed. He walked to the doorway without any explanation. It was time to take business into his own hands after all. No more time to waste. “I’ve gotta run. Say hi to the missus for me.” He looked over his shoulder to make sure the unspoken threat hit its target.

Roman was left standing in that position. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. His hair laid out of control around his face, his heart pounding, and the sense of impending doom- as if he just sentenced an innocent man to death.

----------

Alice woke up to the sound of the radio downstairs playing some German concerto. It was a slow morning for once. She hummed to herself, pleased that she was able to wake up slowly to beautiful music as opposed to the sound of harsh knocking at her door. Yet as she turned over in bed her peace was interrupted by the brightness of the sun shining through the window. She groaned at the disruption to her dreamy haze.

Alice hefted herself out of the large bed and made herself to the large vanity-much nicer than the one at her apartment- and started working on her hair. Once she was done making sure she looked presentable she made her way down the grand staircase to meet Logan wherever he was at. Which, knowing how large the house was, meant that it could be a proper while before she would find him.

The smell of sizzled meat wafted through the large hallways. Instead of looking for Logan, she decided to make her way towards the dining room from the night before. It’s rude to check in and hover over a cook’s shoulder, she reckoned. No matter how curious it was to her that Logan didn’t have any help at all.

The moment she sat down she heard the door from the kitchen open. Logan was pushing a dining cart forward on his own. He had a white rag placed over his shoulder and a stained white apron tied around his waist. He was whistling an unfamiliar tune to himself as he set out the platters in front of Alice. She couldn’t help but laugh. She was enjoying this bright version of the detective.

“What’s the occasion, detective?” Alice asked once he sat down with her.

Logan struggled to hide a sheepish grin, “It’s just been a long while since I’ve had any sort of company over. I don’t get to go out much with my line of work.”

“Aw, didn’t wanna bring any wayward souls home for Christmas?” she teased.

Logan rolled his eyes at her. It was good that he was loosening up around her humor. Alice wondered if she could get away with cursing around him yet, but decided not to push her luck, given that they had a long day ahead of them.

“It’s gotta be more than me, come on.” Alice waggled her eyebrows at him. “What’s with the shift in the wind?”

Logan ignored her prompts. Instead, he lowered his head. Alice rushed to set her fork down so she could follow suit.

“Father God, I ask that you bless this food and those who consume it. We thank you for providing for us. We ask for you to sustain our spirits as well as our bodies. I ask that you help us in all of our endeavors today, and I thank you for bringing me someone to share this meal with. Thank you for providing me such youthful company. Amen.”

“Amen.” Alice echoed. She tried to keep her questions to herself. Logan’s prayer wasn’t one she had ever heard before.

Alice lifted the cover to reveal her breakfast. There was sausage, eggs, and toast with powdered sugar. It smelled amazing.

“Thank you, Logan, this looks delicious.” She immediately went for the eggs. It had been so long since she’d had eggs for breakfast. Not since she left her farm home nearly two years ago.

They sat at the table with only the sounds of the radio in the living room occasionally drifting in through the doors. Alice was enjoying her meal so much, she jumped when she heard the fancy telephone in the hallway ringing.

“Excuse me, Alice.” Logan muttered. He wiped his hands on his apron and swiftly walked on his long legs to the hallway.

It was irritating, being called in the morning. Especially when his meal was being interrupted. He lifted the earpiece off of the ringing box and greeted the operator quickly. Who would be calling him now that he’s suspended?

“Logan? Is this Logan Smith?” a partially familiar feminine voice asked over the receiver.

“Yes. Who is this?”

Her words were spoken in rushes with pauses sounding like heavy breathing. “It’s Rosalie...Rosalie de Rossi.-” she took in a deep breath ”-I’m your captain’s wife!” After that she let out a bone-chilling moan.

The captain’s wife? He had only met her once at the Independence Day party at the Captain’s new mansion. Why was she calling someone like him?

The woman on the line hissed. “God fucking dammit! It hurts!”

“What hurts? What’s wrong? Where are you?” Logan threw his questions at her quickly as he reached for his notepad.

“My my,” a slick, whiskey smooth, masculine voice answered. He tutted. “Not very clever, Detective Smith.”

“Where is Mrs. de Rossi?” Logan asked. He felt as if the air around him was heavier. There was a weight settling into his chest. He ignored the familiar sensations and made a note that someone else had taken the line.

“She’s still alive. And she will stay that way, if you do everything I ask.” The man’s words were drawn out. Almost as if he were bored, or stalling.

“What do you want?” Logan hissed. The million questions he had were shoved aside when the man answered.

“I want your lover, Detective. Bring that filthy, grimy, Italian punk to the fisherman’s market in San Francisco after dark. Or I’ll just have to do something to your boss’ beautiful broodmare.” The voice chuckled at his sick comment.

This man was evil. The most evil he'd ever come across. Logan felt like he was going to topple over. “What makes you think I’ll come alone? That I won’t go straight to the captain?”

Laughter as dark as water at midnight bled through the receiver. “Oh Mr. Smith, that’s what I want. Give me a reason to pluck those sweet babies out of his missus.”

Logan heard a scream in the background. A string of curse words that he didn’t doubt were justified.

“Please don’t hurt her. Be reasonable. Why did you call me? I’m on suspension, I don’t have access to the resources-”

“Because your lover's family declared war, my boy!” the man roared. Logan identified his accent-Irish, or Scottish perhaps. “I’m going to get what I need outta him. So lock your brunette bitch away, grab your buddy and your faggot, and get your ass to my docks when the sun sets. Or-” another blood curdling scream from the woman in the background “-the captain’s dear wife and her babies drown.”

Just like that, the phone call ended. Logan didn’t have time to stand in the shock. Instinctive training responses immediately took over his body. He didn’t go back to the dining room and instead ran to get himself dressed. No other thoughts intruded. His head was empty of everything other than the fact that he needed backup.

He needed Patton. He needed to gather his resources. It was still nine in the morning. He had maybe eight hours before it was sunset, then two hours to cross the bay into San Francisco to the fisherman’s market. His mind was fixated on trying to create the quickest itinerary possible and how to notify the captain without the mysterious caller knowing. He seemed to know much more than Logan was comfortable with.

Logan was tying his shoes as he thought. He hadn’t told anyone about the night with Virgil. No one knew. He figured Alice may have suspected, but she hadn’t been able to talk to anyone. Not that she would. She was just a kid. She was just caught up in all of this business out of desperation and survival. Alice was just a pawn in a twisted game. She wasn’t a main player.

Patton was too wrapped up in his obsession with the Duke to even notice. Still, he was very angry towards Logan now that he knew Virgil was involved. Who knows what the captain and Patton talked about after Logan was dismissed. He remembered the knowing look at the Lion’s Den last month. His partner said then that he accepted everybody. Could he have been saying that to blend in?

Then there was the fact that this was the captain’s wife. Why kidnap her to get to Logan? He didn’t know the woman at all, only that the captain loved her very much. She was pregnant when they had met, and from the sound of the call she still was.

“Logan, where are you going?” Alice asked from the doorway of his bedroom.

“There’s an emergency. I need to go.” He pushed himself past her and rushed down the staircase. “Please stay here. Don’t leave.”

“Will Virgil be back to nanny me again?” she asked indignantly.

The question struck him through the heart. He couldn’t leave her unattended. She was defenseless here. The Duke's men could come looking for her. No doubt one of them was behind this in the first place as a way to distract them.

“No. No, I-” he turned to her. “There’s trouble. I need to move you somewhere safer. You can’t be alone.”

Alice’s face seemed to grow ten years older. “I understand. Let’s go.”

They both grabbed their hats from the hook and walked out the door. Logan made his way to his car without another word. Alice felt in her gut that they were running into something more dangerous than she had ever known.

“Where are we going?” Alice asked after climbing into the carriage seat. Logan saw that she had withdrawn into herself. The silly child that he was starting to get introduced to had left her body.

“To Patton’s. I don’t think he’ll have left yet. We need his help.” Logan pulled out onto the street. “I’ll tell you on the way.”

Before the pair had shown up to Patton’s house, he had just drank his coffee. He didn’t need to go into the station today. All of his caseloads were closed except for one. Today was a day of regrouping and hitting the pavement. It was time for some good old fashioned talking to people again. The best way to find someone was to ask their friends or neighbors politely. Give them a smile and such.

He took his time getting ready. Trying to find the man that he used to be before this craziness started. The man who was able to walk down the street with faith in his heart. The detective who could solve everything with the right words someone needed to hear. That man was nowhere to be found as he pulled clothes from his closet.

It was a new day. He knew he would make progress today. No one was going to get the drop on him again.

When he sat down in his armchair his eye was caught on something on the end table. A piece of paper that didn’t seem to be from any of his notepads. It wasn’t there when he had gone to bed the night before.

A familiar delicious thrill rushed through his body. Part of him thought to call on the locksmith soon, though it might not do much good. Carefully, as if the note were an explosive and not a simple message, he lifted the paper.

It was no simple message.

You’re in danger, dear detective. There are worse evils than I. Don’t do what your colleague asks. Come to me at the Lion’s Den instead. -The Duke

Before he had time to react, there was rapid knocking at his door.

A/N:

Hello there! It's been nearly a year. There's a reason for that.

I work very, very hard when it comes to my stories. This one has a very important place in my heart. I had to take a break from it because the last thing I wanted to do was make rush decisions or half-ass everything.

In doing so, it meant that I had to wait until I had the time to give it the attention it deserves. I recently had a lot of my life change this past year, mostly losing loved ones. So this fic didn't get much of it's deserved time at once.

That being said, I swear this has a direction. While a lot of it is up to interpretation, this has a very direct sequence of events. That's why it's important for me to be able to pay extra attention.

That being said, I'm making a new normal. This fic goal is to be updated every 3 months, maybe less. My practice is to edit 3 times at least before I post.

Let me know what you thought of this chapter. Tell me your theories about what will happen next! I love talking about this story with anyone who will listen.

taglist: @deceits-left-glove

let me know if you want to be on the taglist for this or any other ship/story

check my pinned tumblr post for more of my work

22 notes · View notes

waatermelon-sugaar · 3 years

Text

Half-Priced Chocolate

Words = 2.8k

Summary = You hate Valentine’s Day. Nick tries to change your mind.

Warnings = One swear word

A/N = Reader is described as a similar height to Nick, and taller when she wears heels. Also I didn’t mean to write this, it just sort of happened so sorry if it’s not very well thought out ahaha

Posted to AO3

Masterlist

***

“You know, I’d pegged you as the type of girl who would do anything to ensure she had a Valentine’s date.” This observation comes casual as anything from your boss, Mayor Wasicsko, as the two of you work together to build beds in the town hall.

A combination of a lot of snow, an early thaw, and then rain, had resulted in flooding all around the city, many having to be relocated. And so here you were, on a night that most were celebrating with their loved one across an over-priced bottle of champagne, some heart-shaped chocolate and probably something red themed, in the town hall, setting up extra accommodation with Nick.

Who you should probably call Mayor Wasicsko in your head.

You’d been here for hours, first building the beds with other volunteers, all of whom had melted away as the night had gone on. All, apart from you and Nick.

“Yeah? Well I pegged you as the type of mayor to sit on his ass all day.” You snipe back, not thinking for a moment, before slapping a hand to your mouth in horror. “Sorry, Mayor Wasicsko, that was really unprofessional of me-”

You stopped your rambling, because … was he laughing?

You flip your end of the sheet the two of you are attempting to fit to the bed, successfully causing his end to yank out of his hands, flying up and causing enough of a breeze to dislodge his hair enough for a strand to flop onto his forehead.

Not that you’d noticed.

“I told you, call me Nick. And it’s ok,” he’s still smiling, annoyingly. “I just - you don’t have some annoyed boyfriend who’s sitting at home waiting for you?”

You shake your head. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no.” You finally tuck in the corner of the sheet at the top of the bed and move to the bottom. “And anyway, I hate Valentine’s.”

Nick throws you a pillow and a case when you hold your arms out. “So you hate love? And happiness?”

You roll your eyes at him, busy stuffing the case, leaving him to struggle with the duvet, gathering the new sheets for the next bed as you talk. “No. I just … I hate the commercialisation of it.”

You wait for Nick to finish with the duvet, before attempting the next bed. “It’s like … so what? If my hypothetical boyfriend doesn’t get me flowers, and chocolate and some shitty card on this one specific day of the year, he doesn’t love me?” You scoff. “No thanks.”

Nick tucks in his corner, thinking about his response. “I think it reminds people to be thankful for the people they love.” Oh God he’s one of those. As if he hasn’t managed to drop in the fact that he’s woefully single for the last two hours whenever the opportunity arose.

“Only romantic love,” you remind him. “And,” you continue, remembering more and more reasons. “It’s all over-priced anyway, and it’s just so couples can feel smug while they walk hand in hand down the street, trying to get a table to a restaurant, where the prices have been upped for two people, and so single people, specifically women, can feel shit about themselves?”

You harrumph again, handing Nick the other end of the sheet. “There is good about it though.” He’s looking at you differently, and you’re not sure how, but maybe it’s because you’re having the first real conversation with him tonight, despite having worked for him for the last year.

You’d talked before, of course, but it usually had something to do with politics, Nick ducking out of his office to ask your opinion on something, before returning back to his phone and papers. It had never been a two-way conversation like this, never nothing to do with either of your jobs.

You raise an eyebrow, tucking in your corners as you wait for him to make his point. “What about the half-priced chocolate the next day?” And … he nearly has you. Until you remember a counter-argument.

“So it’s back to its normal price?”

Nick looks at you like he’s never seen you before in your life. But he changes tack, which you take to mean that you’ve won that particular battle.

“And what’s wrong with celebrating love? Even-” He anticipates your response before you do, “-if it is just romantic love?” He grabs the pillow before you can, leaving you to struggle with the duvet this time.

You’re smiling now, unable to help yourself, as you watch the Mayor of Yonkers, of all people, pick up a pile of bedding. He looks good like this, you think, shirt rolled up to his forearms, collar open, tie left behind somewhere with his jacket. Not that he doesn’t normally look good.

You’ve become more relaxed too, you can feel it, as though every bed that the two of you have completed has shod you of another layer, making you feel lighter. Your heels are by the door, and you are a similar height to Nick without them, which you’ve never noticed before, either being taller than him, or sitting in his presence. There’s something weird about it, but also nice, in a domestic sort of way, as your stocking feet pad around the beds, occasionally catching on the wooden floor. You hope you don’t get a hole. Or worse, a ladder.

But you know it’s your mind which has relaxed the most. Allowing you first to smile at his jokes, then joke back, the tension in your shoulders melting away. And now this. A deep conversation. Which you suppose was bound to happen, the two of you alone after the last volunteer had called it a night at 1am and gone home. But love? Really?

“There’s nothing wrong with celebrating love. It’s just forced, somehow. Like you’re a bad person for not doing it, just because of some long-dead guy who’s now in our calendar.” You finish your duvet, and move to help Nick.

“I think you’re wrong.” And maybe it’s the way he says it, like it’s the most simple thing in the world. “I think it makes sure that people take a breath and appreciate what they have.”

He looks so hopeful, you stop the scoff in your throat, instead letting yourself consider his point. “Well it doesn’t matter, it’s …” You pause and check your watch, blinking in surprise. “Fuck. It’s four in the morning. It’s not Valentine’s Day anymore.”

And then you look up. Properly.

There’s one bed left. You turn around, admiring all the made-up beds. Ok they could be neater, but so what?

“Well.” You turn back to look at Nick as he speaks. “Do you want to take advantage of those sales, or not?”

You blink at him, even as he gestures at you to take the other end of the sheet, unsure if you’re dreaming now.

***

When you exit the town hall, the sky is the cool blue of pre-dawn. Grey clouds still hang, heavy and angry over Yonkers, a precursor of the rain to come. It’s been a cold night, a glimmer of frost on the ground, but you can already feel that it won’t last the day.

You yawn, rubbing your eyes with one hand, while your other holds your heels. Nick’s thrown his blazer over one shoulder, the tie hanging out of his trouser pocket. “C’mon.” Is all he says as he walks towards his car.

It takes a second for your brain to engage. “What?” Your voice has become hoarse from a lack of sleep.

“Can I show you something?” And how can you say no, when he leans against the car roof with one arm, opening the door for you, and looking like that?

Inside the car it’s warm, and tiredness sinks down on you until you can hardly keep your eyes open. Nick only asks for your address, which you give him, and then you’re asleep. You wake when he stops the car on the high street, but fall back asleep when he tells you he just needs to pick up some groceries.

You don’t wake up when he comes back, nor do you wake up when he sets off again. You open your eyes when he gently shakes your shoulder. The sky is much brighter now, the sun peeking over the horizon and you blink, looking at your watch. It’s nearly 7. Which means Nick let you sleep for 2 hours. It takes a second for your surroundings to fall into place, green and brown surrounding you.

Nick’s sitting next to you in the driver’s seat. And in the back seat are his groceries.

You blink again. Harder this time.

Praying your makeup isn’t smudged all down your cheek, you move to sit up straighter, where you’d fallen asleep against the window. “What … where are we?”

Nick doesn’t answer until he’s grabbed one of the bags, clambering out and opening your door for you. “We are in one of the city’s finest parks.” He announces, using his Official Mayor Voice.

As far as you can tell, it’s a pretty basic park. The only notable point is the view. You can see the full scrawl of Yonkers below you, as the sun rises to your right, still fighting the storm clouds left over from yesterday. Funny. You’d heard there was going to be more rain.

As you step out of the car, you put your heels back on, and wince a little. Nick hands you a blanket to carry and sets off towards a clear area without too many trees, and you follow him, spreading the blanket for the two of you to sit on. Nick’s put his blazer back on and you try not to be disappointed, reminding yourself that he’s your boss.

He places the bag between you, and … it’s stuffed with half price Valentine themed food. Chocolates, champagne, even a small teddy. You can’t help it. You let out a laugh as the two of you sit next to each other, the bag between you.

“I never knew the Mayor would be a cheapskate.” You’re only half-serious, and you think Nick knows this, catching the glint in his eye as he replies.

“You’d rather I bought you this full price?”

You shake your head, grinning, but confused on the inside. You must be tired. Hearing that the Mayor, your boss, wants to buy you something for Valentine’s? You must be misinterpreting this.

“And I’ll have you know, that everything in this bag came to less than what it would be in a normal month.” He winks and you groan, theatrical and over the top.

So instead you open the chocolate, grabbing the first one you see and popping it in your mouth. “Nice though,” you mumble, without having swallowed your mouthful, savouring the sweetness of it as it coats your tongue, eyes closing as you lean back on the blanket, missing the way Nick looks down at you.

“Yeah? Worth every cent, aren’t they?” You smile, shaking your head.

“Yes, Nick.” You finally sigh, giving in. “Worth every half-price cent.” You squint open an eye, waiting for his reaction, glad when he laughs, propping yourself up onto your elbows so you don't fall asleep again. And then you look down, and your eye catches on a bottle of champagne.

You reach for it, twirling it on the ground. “So Nick, seeing as how you’re the Mayor and my boss,” you start, sure you’re going to get what you ask for, “and we worked all night long, can we have today off?”

You look at Nick to see him watching your face, amused at the long winded way you’re going about this. Finally he nods. “Yeah I think we deserve the day off.”

You grin widely then, sitting up properly with a burst of energy, and pop the cork. You take the first sip straight from the bottle, leaving a small ring of lipstick behind. You use your thumb to wipe it off before passing it over, the bubbles still tingling on your tongue, washing away the chocolate.

Nick takes a healthy swig as soon as his hand is wrapped around the cool bottle, and you can’t help but watch the way his throat bobs when he swallows, wiping at a drop that escapes his mouth.

You turn to the rest of the bag to distract yourself. There’s at least 3 boxes of chocolate, a pack of strawberries, and a small bear. All of them have the tell tale yellow half-price stickers in clear view. You pull out the bear, amused. “He’s cute.”

Nick hands the bottle back to you, running a hand through his hair. “Got a name for him?”

You think about it for a minute, before deciding. “Arthur the Fourth.” And you place Arthur at the bottom of the blanket, so he’s looking at the two of you.

Nick frowns, looking between the two of you. “The Fourth?”

You laugh, biting on another chocolate. “Yeah. Throughout my childhood, I have had three other teddies, all named Arthur. He will be the fourth.”

“And you lost them all?”

“No, I still have Arthur the Third.” You wash the chocolate down with another sip of champagne, and when you go to scrub away your lipstick again, Nick’s hand stops you. He shakes his head, like he’s having a secret conversation within your public one.

“Shame to hear about the first two though.” You let him take the bottle from you, watching as he - his mouth - touches your lipstick. You can feel your heart rate raise, thumping inside your chest like a drum. You can still feel the ghost of his hand, warm where it touched yours.

You look down on Yonkers again, unable to cope. “Yeah, well. It’s how it happens in real life, I guess.”

The two of you fall silent as the sun climbs pathetically further and further, finally disappearing behind angry storm clouds. Conversation is quiet observations, both of you feeling wrapped up in a bubble of tiredness.

You lie back down, ignoring how the cold of the ground is seeping through the blanket now and closing your eyes as you take a chocolate from the box which you intend to be your last, and you can hear Nick’s smirk when he talks. “Chocolate’s not too bad then?”

You just hum, pretending to think about it. “Yeah not bad,” you finally agree, opening your eyes and turning your head to watch Nick as he leans back on his hands, “But it’s not Valentine’s day so you haven’t changed my mind …”

And Nick’s looking at you like that again, and you could never in a million years anticipate his next question. “So you wouldn’t count this as the best Valentine’s Day date you’ve ever been on?”

You freeze, what? You decline in that moment to mention that it’s the only Valentine’s date you’ve ever even been on, and you also choose to ignore that it’s not Valentine’s Day anymore, shaking your head. You can’t quite believe what you’re about to say, heart beating faster than normal, blood thrumming in your ears. “I would count it as the best date I’ve been on.”

And then you’re laughing at the look of shock on his face, quickly stopping when he ducks down to kiss you.

Nick, your boss, the mayor of Yonkers, is kissing you.

It takes you a second to respond, shock freezing you where you lie. But then your hands are on his neck, pulling him back down over you as he deepens the kiss, tongue exploring your mouth. His forearm is resting on the blanket next to your head, supporting his bodyweight, his other hand cupping your cheek. His moustache is tickling you slightly, but you don’t care.

He tastes sweet, from the chocolate. But then, you can taste the bubbles from the champagne, you can taste how cold it was, you can taste the birds chirping in the trees above you, and you can taste how warm the sun’s rays felt five minutes ago.

It’s perfect.

Until the clouds open above you.

It starts gently, and you don’t feel it at first, and when you do, you ignore it, more interested in snogging Nick. Your feet are becoming wet quickly and the rain falls in large drops.

Nick’s the first one to pull away, and you follow him, chasing his lips with your own, not wanting to open your eyes. When you do, you realise your feet are wet from the bottle of champagne falling over, and Arthur’s looking to be in danger of rolling away.

You can feel the rain on your head, and the drops are falling faster. You snatch Arthur and the now-empty bottle up, Nick scrambling to get everything back in the bag. At the last second, you ball up the blanket, ignoring how it brings half the floor with it, and the two of you run towards Nick’s car, laughing as the rain soaks the pair of you.

***

Thanks for reading! Reblog and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰

#nick wasicsko #nick wasicsko x reader #nick x reader #show me a hero #nick wasicsko fanfic

96 notes · View notes

wecantseeyou · 3 years

Text

a word on color - how line of duty series 6 uses wardrobe color to frame narrative (pt 4)

Author’s note: this is the conclusion to my essay on wardrobe color and how it’s used to inform narrative in series 6 of line of duty. Previous parts can be found here: Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3. This part covers episodes 5, 6, and 7. Heads up, my analysis of episode 7 is actually quite short because of my focus on Jo, but I have many, MANY thoughts on Kate’s second to last scene and the general wardrobe choices for Kate in this episode.

Thank you to everyone who has been willing to entertain my ramblings here. While I have a background in theatrical production, this kind of meta analysis was quite new for me. I was relieved to see (most) of this theory actualized in the finale. Now, this part is nearly 8k words, all four parts together clocked in at over 20k words and nearly 40 pages, single-spaced, so I’ve officially written a third dissertation (after the other two took me 10 months…).

Regular warnings apply: I’m American and therefore may be missing certain cultural context. Spoilers abound, but I stick to Jo’s storyline for the most part, and don’t include my thoughts about the finale writ large (I may write an analysis of the series 6 storytelling separate from this, if there’s interest).

Read on below the cut.

EPISODE 5

Episode 5 opens with Lomax briefing Jo and Kate about connections between the armed robbery and Gail Vella's murder, showing them results for an industrial estate that matches the description given by one of the robbers. Jo is wearing the same outfit she ended episode 4 in, the orangish brown sweater and navy suit, while Kate is wearing a grey jacket over a white shirt, buttoned all the way up. A side note - this grey jacket does not fit in with the rest of the wardrobe Kate has been in all series, and from a meta perspective, this is because they have to conceal the firearm Kate is now carrying. Ryan watches from the other room, again in a call back to the way Jo was watching Kate in episode 3. Kate tries to talk to Jo, but she's quickly brushed off, much to Kate's chagrin.

Jo’s outfit, which we’ve seen her in numerous times, again demonstrates her pull between what’s right and pressure from the OCG. After all, Ryan has just threatened her twice. She knows that the investigation is heading in the right direction, which she both wants and is afraid of, and she is panicking. At the same time, she’s wary of letting Kate get too close lest she suspect something and acts on it, putting them both in danger.

Kate’s outfit actually shows some of that forced distance Jo is causing. We’ve seen her wear a white shirt buttoned all the way to the top once before - when she spoiled the raid of MIT by AC-12. That outfit showed her pull between Jo and AC-12, and we’re seeing that here again. This time though, the grey jacket shows that she’s leaning AC-12.

We see this in the next scene where Steve, in his grey suit with a white shirt and red tie, is directly paralleling his former partner’s wardrobe. Kate visits AC-12, and it's been revealed that she has permission to carry a concealed firearm because of the threat Ryan Pilkington poses. Now, call me crazy, but I believe we’re meant to understand he’s a threat to her at least in part because of her relationship to Jo, but I’m uncertain. When Ted asks for an update, Kate notes that Jo has become "cold and distant" toward her, and the team reveals Jo has been put under surveillance, which Kate isn't happy about. It's then revealed that Jo is related to Tommy Hunter (from series 1 and 2) through incest, which is of course horrifying, though we don’t know the full story of it quite yet.

Back at her apartment, Jo checks the laptop to find out the OCG won't let her go because of AC-12's continued investigation, which she promises to take care of. She’s surrounded by her blue flat, in her navy and orange outfit, her actions and heart still at conflict with one another. She’s distraught, and stuck.

Later, Kate and Steve meet in an underground car park in their matching navy coats. Steve shares that Lakewell gave him information off the record, which is that Gail Vella had been looking into the death of Lawrence Christopher at the time of her death. He also tells Kate about his discovery that Hastings gave Steph Corbett the missing $50k of supposed bribe money (from series 5). The former partners match here because they are coming closer to being full partners again, working in tandem and trusting one another with information. They have been at odds this series, particularly when it comes to Jo, but they have remained on the same page in their disappointment in the gaffer and belief in finding justice for Gail Vella.

Back at MIT, Kate is looking into the industrial parks that may hold an OCG workshop. As she researches, she repeatedly looks over at Jo in her office and seems to have an idea. She then steps out of the office and calls Steve, though we don’t see the details of their conversation. Kate returns to the office and goes into Jo's office, telling her that they may have found the OCG workshop. She asks to brief the team immediately to avoid leaks, which Jo allows while glancing out at the bullpen. We can see once Kate leaves that she was looking at Ryan, who is watching her closely.

We don't know it yet, but Kate has found a way to test Jo’s loyalty and her belief that Jo isn’t bent. She tells the team about 1 location, makes them hand up their phones (which pisses them all off), and Jo makes them all stay within the MIT offices just as Ryan is about to step out. As the briefing ends, Kate goes to Jo’s office once more and demands to speak with her, despite Jo’s rude and annoyed response.

It’s later revealed that Kate then tells Jo there are 3 total locations to be looked at, but they’re starting with just one. Meanwhile, AC-12 surveillance teams are stationed at all three locations to see if people are tipped off and by who.

In these scenes, Kate is wearing a navy suit with a light blue shirt buttoned to the top, while Jo is wearing a grey suit with a grey turtleneck. For both women, the high necklines that fully encircle their throats indicates their discomfort and their desire to have a wall up for their own protection. We see Kate in all blue as she’s on a crusade to prove the truth - Jo isn’t bent, and this will reveal who is (as she suspects Ryan). Jo, meanwhile, is uncertain, and her monochrome grey outfit reflects that. Normally, this is the type of thing she would be expected to tip off to the OCG (as she did with Carl Banks), but Kate has cleverly made it so she can’t. She’s trying to push Kate away, but Kate keeps pushing herself right back in. She’s meant to be wary of Ryan, but she stopped him from an opportunity to send out a warning - and that’s before she knew there were three potential locations. All Jo knows is that she wants out from this lie and constant threat she’s lived under. She’s in all grey, not true blue but certainly not a warm tone, because she hasn’t decided what her next step is yet. Temporarily neutral.

The initial raid is not a success, so Jo informs the team that they'll move on to the other locations instead, revealing that she and Kate did not give them all of the information. Lomax is pissed off, and directs that anger at Kate. From his perspective, the boss just told them she doesn’t trust him or the team and treated them all like a potential rat, and he chalks that up to the former AC-12 officer’s involvement. In an interesting parallel, Jo and Kate are wearing the same outfits under their body armor that we saw them in during the raid in the first episode - Jo in her black jacket and Kate in her green jacket.

During this raid, Ryan snuck out to call in the danger to the OCG from a burner phone, an act which was recorded by Chloe “the only real detective” Bishop. Steve, at the real OCG workshop, rushes in with his team which results in the deaths of two suspects. Jo and the MIT team arrive on the scene not long after, and Jo and Steve come to disagreement over jurisdiction, and she ultimately forces him to stand down using her rank (which we’ll see her flex once more later in the episode). I have to say, I have loved watching Jo and Steve come to blows in this series in part because Jo is so much better at it than he is. Steve truly has been Jo’s foil, contradicting her at every point. We see this even in their clothes in this scene. While Jo is wearing a grey turtleneck (typically in the AC-12 color palette), it is hidden under her black jacket, and Steve is wearing a blue shirt under his body armor. On the visual face, they appear to be working at opposite ends to one another, and in this moment they are.

Back at AC-12, Kate debriefs the team on what happened and let's them in on the honey trap* (*not really) Kate set for Jo, which she didn't fall for (but Pilkington did). The team is taken aback, and Hastings points out how risky a move that was. "As far as I'm concerned, that's proof she's not bent," Kate replies, stubborn to the end. Steve has a different interpretation - Jo assigned herself to the raid on the location with the workshop, and took control of the crime scene from him. "That doesn't fit with what I've witnessed firsthand. I needed to know one way or another." Kate will not back down from her staunch belief that Jo is not bent, an unfortunate foreshadow to Jo’s eventual betrayal. Hastings sides with Steve, but Kate clearly still disagrees. However, Steve does believe Ryan should be removed from MIT, even as Hastings wants to keep him there. This raises their suspicions because Kate had originally talked the gaffer out of bringing Ryan in, but the reality of the matter is that Ted feels he’s on a ticking clock with his forced retirement, and wants to handle this fourth man situation before he goes.

Kate and Steve are again in coordinated outfits here, dressed head to toe in blue. We’ve seen this before, the former partners in clothes that parallel one another while seemingly at odds. Sadly, this is because they’re again both right about Jo. She is using her position (and even Kate’s trust) to manipulate the investigation, but that manipulation stems from fear for her own safety as she herself is being manipulated and doesn’t want to do what she’s done. She’s like a cat stuck in a box - bent and not bent.

On the Hill, Kate gives the team the low down on the OCG warehouse and their next steps. Jo congratulates the team and tells them to get to work collecting forensic evidence while Pilkington sends laser eyes her way. This time it’s Kate wearing a turtleneck, this one in black under an olive suit jacket, while Jo wears a grey suit with a grey-green sweater and a blue shirt buttoned all the way to the top. Again, the high necks of these outfits demonstrate the discomfort and reservedness both women are feeling, but we also see a subtle connection with the green tints of their clothes. As usual, green represents the pull between two different compelling interests. For Kate, the pull between Jo and AC-12, for Jo the pull between Kate and the OCG.

Wearing these same outfits, Jo catches up with Kate outside of Hillside, where she confronts her about AC-12's knowledge of the raids. Kate tells her she tipped them off because they're making a lawful inquiry. "Look, I'm telling you the truth Jo, because I trust you with it." Jo takes advantage of Kate sharing the information with AC-12 and tells Kate to put in a transfer request, saying, "I wouldn't want to harm your career, Kate. It's best if you request a transfer." Kate is taken aback and asks "You've been distant with me for days. Is this personal?" Jo denies this, pulling rank the same way she did with Steve, "I'm your senior officer, I should be distant." Kate seems confused and concerned with her response of "But I thought we were friends. What's happening here?" And here we see Jo’s fear crack through her irritation, just for a moment, when she says, "So you can tell AC-12?" As much as Jo is pushing Kate away in order to get her out of the picture, she also has a real fear that Kate continuing to share information with Steve will get Jo killed. She’s playing up Kate’s betrayal to explain her anger, but she’s also hurt and she wants her to know that. Jo trusts Kate, even if she doesn’t trust her enough to tell her the truth on her own. Up until this point, Kate has worked with her and told her about AC-12’s work, even helping her get a leg up on Steve. Now Kate’s helping AC-12 get a leg up on her.

But Kate is nothing if not determined. "No, I wouldn't tell them personal stuff." Kate refuses to take the transfer, and Jo leaves in frustration and anxiety, leaving Kate confused yet again.

Back at Jo's flat, she's on the OCG laptop again. She tells the user she can handle AC-12, but they claim she can't because of Fleming. Jo tries to ask for more time to sort it, but time's up. "Get rid of her." Get rid of Kate, the last person Jo trusts, the one who just broke her trust.

And here is Jo’s betrayal. "As long as it's my last job." She looks devastated after she sends it, and she is. What she’s about to do is unforgivable. But scared and vulnerable people often do unforgivable things to save themselves. Jo just wants to be free, and she’s willing to pay a price for freedom.

Steve, in his iconic grey suit and navy tie, goes to visit Ian Banks in prison and learns that Ted is the one that disclosed John Corbett's identity that later got him killed. He later calls Kate to tell her the news. Matching Steve, Kate is in a navy shirt, but is wearing a black suit, only the second time we’ve seen her in this suit. The first was in episode 2, when she gave Jo the information about AC-12 and they later had dinner together.

Kate heads back into Hillside after her conversation with Steve and runs into Jo in the hallway, who asks to meet with her outside of work to discuss their 'personal issues'. Jo specifically looks at officers further down the hall to confirm they're leaving before speaking to Kate. She also lowers her voice at her own mention of personal issues, adding an extra layer of privacy to an already empty hall.

Checking to make sure there alone is something that Jo and Kate have done frequently throughout this series. In the handhold scene, they break apart when officers step into the hall. They mention how it’s easier to talk outside of work during both of their dinner scenes. When Kate tells Jo about Ryan’s spying, she dismisses Chris first, and later in that conversation when Jo puts her hand on Kate’s arm, they pull apart when they hear officers approaching.

Kate is surprised at Jo’s sudden change in behaviour from the past few days, but she agrees to meet with Jo after work. As Jo walks away, Kate clearly knows that something is up with her, but seems willing to find out what it is when they speak.

What Kate is sadly unaware of is that Jo walks away to lock herself in the bathroom and have a breakdown, distraught at the machination she has set in motion against Kate. Her hand shakes as she locks the stall, she falls to the ground, she looks around desperately for salvation. Jo’s mask, one that she maintains so strictly, falls for just a moment (not dissimilar to her breakdown in her car after framing Farida). Thirty seconds in a toilet stall to breakdown, to think about the consequences of her actions, about what she’s done to Kate. But she takes a few deep breaths, wipes away her tears, and we watch as her mask slips back into place.

Back at AC-12, Chloe “my back is worse than Steve’s from carrying this investigation” Bishop has uncovered more about the racist gang that attacked Lawrence Christopher, including the investigators, Buckells and the current Chief Constable. This was the story Gail Vella was looking into when she was murdered, and appears to be the reason for her death. Steve is wearing the same grey suit and navy tie as when he spoke with Kate, and while he’s grateful for Chloe for digging everything up, he’s also concerned that the young Black woman had to learn so many details about the lynching of a young Black man. [Note: to be incredibly clear, the death of Lawrence Christopher as described by the script was a lynching, and the narrative did not do enough to reckon with that fact for anything more than relevance to the global racial justice uprisings reborn in late May of 2020. More than willing to discuss this further if anyone cares for my thoughts.] As they discuss the case, Patty Carmichael walks in with gusto (and damn if that voice isn't an incredible acting choice). She’s taking over AC-12, and she’s cancelling the surveillance on Jo and Ryan.

That night, Kate arrives at Frederico's to meet Jo, who calls her the moment she’s locked her car to ask to meet somewhere less public, for claims of privacy. Kate is immediately on alert, especially after her attempts to convince Jo to stick with the original plan. But after a small plea from Jo, she acquiesces, but not without caution. Kate immediately knows something is off - this is not how Jo interacts with her. Little do we know, Pilkington is skulking in Jo's backseat, coaching her actions.

As an aside, this is also the only time we see them meeting out of work while they're both wearing casual clothes, not just the clothes they wore to the office.

Kate drives to the lorry park and calls Steve, because she's both an idiot and a genius. He’s wearing the same suit as before, grey with a navy tie. She learns that surveillance was pulled on Jo and Ryan, and explains Jo's odd behaviour, forwarding him the address. Unfortunately, their conversation is cut short by Carmichael, which immediately sets Kate on high alert and she ends the call. Just as Kate is about to leave, Jo pulls into the lot, and the tension escalates.

Steve receives the address and immediately informs Hastings and Chloe, ordering the team to get a unit ready. The team starts to rush out and Carmichael asks for calm, which Ted isn't gonna do when one of his people is in danger. AC-12 isn’t about to let Kate down.

At the lorry park, a distraught Jo gets out of her car and approaches Kate’s car. Kate tries to convince Jo to go somewhere else, but all Jo can say is that she's sorry. Kate is confused, but that goes away pretty quickly once an armed bent bastard steps out of Jo's car. He gloats to Kate, saying "Jo wanted to give you a way out. Should've put in for that transfer." Kate tries to convince Ryan to put the gun down, that the authorities will find him, but it doesn't work. Which is when Kate makes a gamble - she tells Ryan about the surveillance on him and Jo. Ryan tries to blame Jo for their situation, but she acts none the wiser (even though Kate told her about Ryan’s surveillance in the previous episode).

"Why would she come here otherwise?"

Sure, Jo is playing down her relationship with Kate for Ryan’s sake, but it isn’t quite that simple. Jo doesn't want to believe Kate had any faith in her. She wants to believe she was pretending, because she has no faith in herself. Her reaction does provide enough of a distraction for Kate to be able to pull her own weapon, and the most tense standoff ever begins...

One of the most key color choices of any outfits so far on the show are the clothes Jo and Kate wear to the lorry park where Jo sets up Kate to be killed by Ryan. Jo is wearing her grey coat, a blue sweatshirt, and a red top. Kate is wearing a blue coat, and a blue striped sweater with a band of red in the middle. These two outfits are ultimately the thesis statement between these two women. Jo is wearing red as her last layer, the one closest to her, but is surrounded by cool tones through her sweatshirt and coat. Meanwhile, Kate’s sweater has a stripes of red and orange surrounded by shades of blue.

But it doesn’t matter that Kate is being visually connected to Jo, because Jo is about to be responsible for her death via Ryan ‘the bent bastard’ Pilkington.

EPISODE 6

Nevermind though, no death for our beloved Kate!

Now, I’m going to take the next parts of the episode slightly out of order in order to tackle Kate and Jo together before their ultimate confrontation with Steve and AC-12. First, a run down of the AC-12 crew: Hastings is in full uniform, which represents his ultimate faith in the system, despite the bad actors and groups that try to destroy it. Carmichael is wearing a grey coat, aligning her with anti-corruption, but it’s piped along the edges with red, which shows how she’s opposed to AC-12 (though not necessarily corrupt). Steve is in his classic blue on blue on blue under his body armor, which shows his dedication to justice and also his faith in Kate. Carmichael confronts him directly about Kate’s whereabouts, which he fastidiously denies having any knowledge of, but unfortunately Hastings is forced to admit that Kate was permitted to carry a concealed firearm for safety. Steve doesn’t trust Carmichael, and this is shown back at the office when he tracks what Patty C is up to, mobilizing Hastings when she’s on the move.

At first glance, Kate and Jo’s red and blue outfits read as a visual metaphor for AC-12 closing in on their location, but I posit that these outfits are also indicative of Kate's belief in Jo, despite her anger that Jo has just set up her death. It’s clear at this point that their simple flirty banter from the beginning of the season has evolved into a deeper connection, which is part of what makes Jo’s betrayal so painful - Kate has been on her side the whole time. Jo just didn’t know it. [note: wrote this before the finale so guess who has egg on her face now…]

After a time jump (of nearly two hours, based on someone else’s analysis of time stamps and radio calls), Kate and Jo arrive at Steve's apartment. Jo asks if Steve can be trusted, and Kate leaves no doubt. Jo also asks why the surveillance got pulled, and Kate informs her about the chief and Carmichael. Jo denies having any part of it, but Kate isn't sure if she can believe her given the whole, you know, attempted murder thing. In a desperate bid to prove her loyalty to Kate, Jo asks for her gun, intentionally putting her prints on the murder weapon. Again, their coordinating outfits are the outward manifestation of their connection. Kate, while still angry, seems to accept what Jo is offering to her, but is clearly trying to maintain distance in the moment.

Jo then tries to see if things between them were real, but Kate refuses to entertain the conversation. What Jo is completely unaware of at this point is the lengths to which Kate has gone to prove that Jo isn't bent, up to and including risking a crucial raid on the OCG workshop. To Kate, it's a question that doesn't need to be asked, [the egg on my face remains] but Kate is also in disbelief that Jo would question her feelings when she's the one who was nearly killed by Jo. It’s an inappropriate time to have this discussion, and Kate lets that be known. They find Steve's personal car, a slate grey Mazda because this show is nothing if not subtle with its vehicular choices - even their personal vehicles tie in to their allegiance with AC-12’s mission.

Driving in Steve's car, Jo asks again if Kate was pretending with Jo, and Kate diverts the conversation away from herself. Was Jo lying to her when she hired Kate because she was ex-anti-corruption? No, she was hoping Kate, with her anti-corruption background, would stop her. Would save her, really. They discuss Jo's ongoing work for the OCG, and Jo's fear that she'll be killed if she turns, just like Tommy. She insists that she's not bent and Kate implores her to prove it.

Kate is pissed [for the non-Americans, she’s very angry, not drunk…] in this scene, as she should be. She believed in Jo, she still believes in Jo, but she betrayed her in a major way. And now, when Kate is sticking her neck out for Jo again, she's still too scared to reveal what she knows. Jo does reveal that Tommy was her uncle, and that her father was a bent cop, which of course doesn’t align with what Kate knows. At Kate's further insistence, Jo directs them toward Gail Vella's house, and finally to the old print shop the OCG had used in the past that is across from Terry Boyle’s flat.

Kate and Jo arrive at the print shop, and Jo is finally about to reveal the truth to Kate. This act, coupled with putting her prints on the gun, earns Jo back a little bit of the trust she lost, and this is shown when the two women share the same shot. Most of the scenes between Jo and Kate have been over the shoulder shots where one woman is the primary focus, and this scene pivots to end with both of them together as the focus. This change happens in time with Kate dropping some of her much-deserved hostility toward the other woman.

But before they can step out of the car, flashing lights and sirens appear behind them - they've been found. The fact that they've been tracked shocks Kate, but she spends no time dwelling as she throws the car into drive and speeds away. AC-12 AFOs have set up an intercept point, which Kate ignores in a truly badass handbrake turn, no matter if it makes any sense that they could have possibly known the route Kate would take in order to set up a kind of road block.

Handbrake turn or no, the Mazda has been intercepted and Kate and Jo are stuck. Kate is still confused that they've been found, but Jo knows the jig is up and tells Kate she's going to say she forced her to drive. It isn't until Jo tells her they have no other choice that Kate gets out of the car. Once out, Jo puts her hands up, but Kate refuses. Just then, AC-12 arrives with Carmichael, and Kate is in shock. "Jesus Christ, Steve's in on it" - cut to Jo's panicked face. This is the man Kate said they could trust, and now he's after them too.

What follows is a very tense standoff between the two fleeing detectives and AC-12. Jo surrenders, but Kate refuses. First Carmichael tries, then Hastings (at which point Kate tells Jo she learned some shady stuff about him), and then finally Steve walks up to them. Jo begs Kate to surrender repeatedly, but the DI believes she’s onto her second major betrayal of the night and she isn’t willing to give in that easily. She thought she could trust Jo, and she nearly killed her, and to her mind she trusted Steve and he turned her over to Carmichael.

Kate is prepared to tear him a new asshole, but he swears up and down that he has no idea how they got tracked, he wouldn't do that to her. Once he promises to get the two women into safety, Kate surrenders. As he walks them in, Kate shared Ryan's confession of murder and Jo's clue about the print shop. To the end, Kate believes in justice and will pursue it.

We then see a disillusioned Kate in her all grey Fruit of the Loom being walked into her jail cell. She sits down on the plastic mattress, looking at a total loss.

Later that night, Steve and Hastings are discussing the events of the previous few hours. Steve is in a grey suit with a blue shirt and tie, same as he had been wearing during the chase. The gaffer questions why Steve didn't tell him about Kate, and Steve claims it was to prevent putting him in a difficult position with Patty C, who walks in with the same question. Apparently, the former partners have keys to each other's houses and vehicles, in case of emergency. Carmichael taking Steve's phone would've read to Kate as an emergency. Steve refuses to back down, and she appears to drop it for the moment.

Now, onto Jo’s interrogation. A lot happens in this thirty minute scene, but to boil down to the important points: Jo is wearing her best Fruit of the Loom, stripping her of her identity and any affiliations she has. The lighting in this scene is cold and sterile, completely cool in tone. Steve sits with Carmichael and Hastings on the other side of the table, dressed in a navy suit, white shirt, and red tie.

Something very important to note in this scene is Jo’s reliance on Steve. He speaks with her gently, acknowledges her pain, and encourages her to be truthful even when it is clearly very difficult. She takes Kate’s trust in him at face value and decides to trust him too. His outfit actually reflects this truth. He’s wearing the same red and blue that Kate and Jo wore while they were on the run - blue surrounds the red. As much as Jo is trusting Steve here because of Kate, Steve is being kind to Jo here for the same reason. His partner and friend does the right thing nearly always - if she was willing to go to these lengths to defend Jo, he owes it to her to learn the truth. Nothing exemplifies this more than when the conversation turns to Pilkington’s death.

Jo refuses to answer at first and actually waits for AC-12 to show its hand first. She notices that Steve hesitates when Carmichael instructs him to talk about the evidence regarding Kate's gun, and she realizes this is her in, this is how she can prove herself to Kate once and for all. It's only after this that she claims to have shot Pilkington and completely shifts the blame from Kate to herself. This catches both Steve and Hastings up, and they react in obvious shock, which changes how Hastings treats her through the rest of the interview and cements Steve’s belief in Kate’s trust. Afterwards, she looks to Steve, who nods. He understands what she just did for Kate, and Jo is relieved to see his comprehension. The questioning continues, and Jo only admits to what she can take direct responsibility for, but nothing that involves the larger network.

Once Carmichael and Hastings leave, she quickly turns to Steve and says a desperate "I'm so sorry." Sorry for hiding evidence in Operation Lighthouse. Sorry for framing Farida. Sorry for what she’s done to Kate.

And Steve, gentle when he can be, gives her a kind "Yeah, me too," in reply. I’m sorry you were groomed into the OCG. I’m sorry you were scared for your life. I’m sorry you hurt Kate, too.

Patty C goes to talk to Kate, and lets her know she won't be charged for Ryan's murder - Jo will be. Kate has a look of relief on her face as she processes the information. But Patty C notes Jo isn't firearms trained, and Kate is. She's telling Kate she knows what really happened, and she's letting it slide. This time. Kate is well aware that Carmichael isn’t stupid - she knows Jo was lying and is only letting Kate get away with it because it better serves her interests. Kate is free, and she sighs with relief and the knowledge of what Jo did.

Steve, still in the same outfit from the interview, and Kate, in a navy pea coat and yellow sweater, meet in an underground car park. once she's been released. A quick note on Kate’s coat: I’d love to say there’s a deeper meaning for the shift in her coat, but I genuinely think it’s just because filming was originally in the spring, then was moved to the fall and continued until November, so it was simply colder. The cut and color of the coat are generally the same, despite the style changing.

Steve offers to lend an ear about the shooting, and then Kate asks about Jo's interview. Steve tells her they didn't get enough information out of her, and Kate tells him that Jo told her that her dad was an officer. "She's scared, Steve. After what happened to Tommy, Dot, Lakewell, nevermind John Corbett". Kate’s anger seems to have dissipated at least a little at this point, because here she is, defending Jo by explaining why she wasn’t forthcoming with a lot of information. This is most obvious through her yellow sweater - still affiliated with Jo, even through everything else. Steve lets her know that Jo is in a secure cell with extra monitoring, which seems to appease her. Kate then informs him she's been made SIO at MIT, and will guarantee cooperation with AC-12. Lomax calls Kate, and the two partners are back working together.

Kate and Steve meet Lomax at the OCG workshop, where he goes over the forensic findings so far as MIT’s resident plot reciter. Kate tells him they need to look further, and orders him to dig up the floor, ruining the poor man’s plans for the evening.

Chloe calls Steve with an update on Thurwell. Then we get a weird scene of darkvision Spanish police apprehending Thurwell. Truly hate it. He's dead. It's a deadend. Clever writing, Jed.

The episode ends with Jo in her navy blue jumper being put into her cell at Brentiss. Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee, Lindsay Denton’s besties, walk up threateningly before Jo is led into her cell and the door is shut. I do love the shot here of Jo through the door, caught in a small tight space that’s almost closing in on her.

EPISODE 7

Before I fully jump into Episode 7, please be aware that I am doing a textual analysis. I’m not going to go into the fourth man reveal and its logic or even greater meaning (particularly because I’m looking at this show from a different political context as an American), and I’m not going to speculate on things not seen, at least in this analysis, because the focus is on wardrobe. You can trust I have many thoughts, particularly around race and the writing around female characters, some of which I’ve included but most of which I did not. It took me 9 full days to write everything for this one episode, and was shockingly exhausting. Forgive me if it doesn’t live up to my other ramblings.

We’ll jump right into things. I'm gay but Steve looks so good here in his AC-12 uniform. Anyways, Steve is watching Hastings' old interview with Carmichael about Ian Banks. His concern about Hastings is clear. He’s in pursuit of justice, even if justice puts him up against the gaffer.

Later, Steve and Kate discuss the gaffer and his suspicious behaviour, and he informs her that Ted is slated for retirement. Steve wants to let it go, but Kate refuses. She asks if Steph Corbett knows anything more, and suggests she may be blackmailing Hastings, but Steve is dismissive of it. This causes Kate to raise an eyebrow - oh god Steve's done it again. Steve pleads "It's not like that, mate, it's different," and Kate has never looked more disbelieving and annoyed. She responds, "She's a person of interest,” and their conversation is cut short when Chris calls Kate with an update. Steve is still in his navy suit, and Kate in her yellow sweater. The lack of coordination in these clothes show Kate isn’t quite on the same page as Steve yet, but they’re getting there.

Lomax tells them there was a case found in the floor of the workshop, much like the one holding Gail Vella's computers at the abandoned print shop that Jo led them to. No comment on the OCG’s evidence techniques.

Steve, who kept skipping his occupational health warnings, is in therapy. I didn't cover the OH stuff throughout this analysis since it didn't relate to Jo, but this manages to tie in later so here it is now. It ends in him agreeing to temporarily give up his firearms license. I'm not going to discuss the rest of the meeting, given that Steve seemed to kick his pill addiction and reliance on alcohol and pain relievers to deal with his back pretty damn quickly and it's a storyline of entirely no relevance except as something Ted holds over Steve in a moment of manipulation later. Steve also admits this to Hastings before Occupational Health can tell him. This entire storyline is frustrating. Moving on!

Kate is watching Jo's AC-12 interview at her desk on the Hill, specifically rewinding to parts concerning who Jo believed her father was. She pauses it on a frame of Jo’s face, the terror clear. Kate is dressed in a black suit and a light blue shirt, back on the side of AC-12 and in pursuit of justice, not only with regard to the OCG, but for Gail Vella and Jo.

Steph calls Steve again, and he ignores it, because he's being a bit of a dick. Then he steps out of his car and has a back spasm. This only comes up so Kate can ask about it later and show that Steve, wearing a blue jacket, listened to what she said about getting close to a person of interest. Would truly love to know why Steve parks by an underpass by a river for this scene, but needs must, I guess.

Back at Hillside, another Lomax briefing! Because Chris, Chloe, and sometimes Kate are truly the only people who do any detecting in the entire series!!! Anyways, Chris tells Steve and Kate about the contents of the box under the floor of the workshop. Conveniently, it held four murder weapons (can Jed Mercurio spell deus ex machina?) and neatly tied a bow on Corbett, Bindra, and Vella's deaths, and in a nice series 1 throwback, Jackie Laverty's murder! Kate is wearing a grey turtleneck which coordinates beautifully with Steve’s grey suit, blue tie, and blue shirt. This shows that they’re back on the same page and on the same team, despite their ups and downs this series.

Kate and Steve return to AC-12, where Kate in her new navy pea coat shares that the proceedings against Terry Boyle will be stopped. Except, to my knowledge, Jo already handled that...? They literally made a point of it in her interview. Anyway, Chloe, like Chris, did all the detective work and tells them that the IP of the OCG laptop is in the UK, not Spain as previously believed. Amanda from forensics, the only other person who does any real work, interrupts with a message that shows Jo is about to be targeted. Definitely is spelled wrong. I give up. They feel the need to spell out what JD and BP mean, but spend 3 episodes never explaining what a CHIS is. Sure. Chloe is tasked with finding the fourth man via spelling.

Also I'm truly not being funny by why is Kate on the investigation board in AC-12. Like. What. Was she a suspect? She’s not with the other victims!

A very forlorn Jo in her blue Brentiss jumpsuit is sitting in her prison cell before being collected for transport to Hillside. Jo is very aware that something must be wrong because she’s a damn fine detective. She's mad suspicious as they head out to the van, and lo and behold, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum are on the transport team.

En route to Brentiss, they learn that Lomax and Kate's signatures were forged on the production order for Jo. Meanwhile, Jo is too smart for her own good, and questions the guard during the transport about the requesting officer. Tweedle Dee plays dumb.

And then… nothing happens. They intercepted the van in advance, removed Jo, and planted Steve and Kate on the van. Because Steve is such a great choice what with his being an UNARMED OFFICER AT THE TIME. They arrest everyone. Steve ends up with a gun. Ok.

In an interrogation room, Kate and Steve explain what happened to Jo. Hastings looks on. Kate tells Jo she can apply to witness protection, and that all of her notes will show that she was under coercion from others, giving her a shot at the life she never had, but only if she reveals who the top man is, aka her father. Jo begins to cry, and Steve reminds her those OCG men were sent to kill her - this man doesn't care for her. Jo begins to tell them that she had no reason to believe Tommy was lying to her, all while speaking only to Kate. Steve encourages her further, telling her she's not bent. Kate asks her one last time for the name, and we see Jo resolve to say something before the scene cuts. Heaven forbid we show something happening instead of faking built suspense.

Now, I need to pause here for a small moment of rage. Kate should have been the one who got the call back line by telling Jo she's not bent. Not for any romantic reason, but because their little run from the police stunt was done at least in part under the auspices that Jo could prove to Kate that she wasn't bent. In fact, Kate pleads with Jo to do so. It's just frustrating, and gives Steve an emotional beat he hasn't truly earned with Jo, or at least hasn’t earned as much as Kate.

And Jo gives them a name! They search a prison cell, and find nothing. It's really built up to seem like it's Fairbank, who is revealed to be a confused old dude. Why Jo thought she was communicating with him this entire time is simply never addressed. Whatever. They ask about the murders and cover ups, and he offers nothing. Kate asks about Jo, and after some more pushing, Fairbank implicitly agrees that he and Tommy Hunter convinced Jo he was her father. Hastings is pissed, but Chloe calls to save the day (again).

Chloe "I should be Chief Constable" Bishop brings the team up to speed on the text search for incorrect spellings of the word definitely. Which they've apparently managed to do in a matter of hours, even on handwritten reports from 17 years prior! Because Jed has definitely never needed to do a text analysis by hand before. They then proceed to NEVER NAME THE SUSPECT. FOR 1 MINUTE AND 10 SECONDS.

Oh but don't worry, because this is the perfect opportunity for our realigned partners to confront Hastings about the bribe money and his conversations with Ian Banks. Can't reveal who the fourth man is when the head of the investigation is also a bent cop, silly audience. And it's revealed that Ted leaked Corbett as a UCO because of Corbett's role in the attack on Hastings' wife. But it's okay because he's sorry about it!

To be hella clear: Hastings, an anti-corruption officer who prides himself on following the letter of the law, took actions he knew would result in the death of John Corbett and Kate later forgives him for it. Jo was under threat of death from the OCG and tried to get rid of Kate via transfer and then led her to an empty lorry park to be killed while she thought Ryan was under surveillance that could likely intervene, and we in no way see Kate react to that experience in this episode. Cool!

Finally, we get the interview with the fourth man, which is revealed 8 minutes and 32 seconds after the characters themselves learn the information. For some reason unknown to God or man, Kate is there despite not being involved in Buckells' case since she works for MIT, not AC-12. Frankly, not gonna delve into it. Kate is wearing a sweater we've yet to see her in, a blue crew neck that is frankly more feminine than anything we've seen this series so far, and moreso matches what she's worn in previous series. It’s unsettling. Steve is in his classic AC-12 uniform.

Just a quick q for the kids at home - if Buckells only ever communicated with people via a secure browser on burner devices, how in the hell did he get a laptop in prison? Also, why did he not break himself out of prison by having someone else plant evidence of some kind, especially since he supposedly had a lot to blackmail Jo with?

At what I can only assume is their local, Steve and Kate congratulate themselves on doing nothing beyond sit in interview rooms to catch Buckells. Kate might go back to AC-12 - even though she left because of the gaffer's actions which turned out to be WAY WORSE THAN SHE PREVIOUSLY BELIEVED? Sure, Jed. They have a chat about what's been happening with Steve and his painkiller addiction. Kate implies he should drive up to Liverpool to see Steph, which he doesn't think is a good idea. But don't worry, they've got each other, mate. Platonic soulmates forever (no romantic underscoring in this analysis).

And then, with no previous discussion in the script or even telegraphing by the camera, Kate is in therapy. Which is great, because she truly needs it, girl has been through a lot. She mentions her ex, and Josh who is apparently her reason for living but she's texted about him once and mentioned him offhand to Jo to tell her he'd be with her ex, and then her great friend and partner, Steve (which is true, but the romantic framing is gross and out of character).

Not being funny, Kate is wearing a truly horrendous mauve top here, over a white shirt. We've never seen her in a color like this, it doesn't fit in with the rest of the color palette in her wardrobe, up to and including all of the orange and brown she wore at MIT. It's honestly frumpy, and in no way aligns with the characterization shown to us through her wardrobe in the rest of the series. The last time we do see her in an outfit like that is during the interview with Jo. Jo left and took Kate's excellent sense of style with her.

Kate and Steve meet with Patty to discuss Darren Hunter's involvement in the murder of Lawrence Christopher, and discuss how there's more corrupt officers to be uncovered. Patty C isn't gonna do anything about that tho. Hastings strolls up to chat with Patty C, and we learn that Buckells will get immunity. The trio are about to leave when Ted storms back into her office to confess to his actions leading to John Corbett's death. He gets one more speech about carrying the fire and bad apples in policing before they all leave.

For the final outfits we may ever see them in, Hastings is wearing a blue shirt, Steve is wearing a grey suit, white shirt, and green tie, and Kate is in a white turtleneck with a navy pea coat. Again, this turtleneck is more effeminate than anything we’ve seen her in this series. Hell, even Patty C is wearing blue to show she’s aligned with anti-corruption and just kind of a bitch, not actually corrupt.

Finally, to the blessed epilogue. Shoutout to Terry and Farida for getting some closure to the bullshit they’ve been through.

Jo steps out of her little stone cottage in the country, dressed in a casual sweater of grey and blue, breathing in the fall air deeply. Her layers of clothing are gone, her hair is down and soft. Her Icelandic sweater shows that she’s finally free to honor her heart, and no longer feels trapped by her family and who she thought they were.

And then, a dog trots out after her, and we see Jo bend down to hug the retriever and kiss its head. This is the most free affection we have ever seen Jo give. A set of legs appear in the doorway behind her, and a redheaded woman steps out of the cottage to meet Jo and the dog. Jo smiles at her, oh so freely after the tension she carried for 21 years, and they clasp hands, walking down the country road away from their home. Because Jo is free, and she can freely love and live without fear in her new life.

Now, from a purely logistical standpoint, very little affection between anyone could be shown from episodes 3-7 because of COVID filming protocols (which seem to be far more strict on physical distancing than American and Canadian productions). The production team actually did a brilliant job using forced perspective and interesting over the shoulders to make people seem like they were closer together than they were. From a film nerd perspective though, they broke the 180 rule so frequently that I nearly lost my mind (glass boxes are great but they ignore all rules of perspective).

All that aside, the logistics of filming in COVID mean that moments where we do see physical distancing broken are all the more important. Kelly filmed this scene with an actress who she has not been working with for months, because it is so, so important to see Jo come out of the other side of her tragic life intact. It also matters that her partner is wearing a warm hat and has red hair (intentional casting or otherwise) and that their home has a red door, because it shows that those warm tones represent something different for Jo now. They don’t represent fear and betrayal and being trapped - now they represent home.

Additionally, there are a lot of comparisons made between Jo, Dot, and Ryan. All three had been groomed by Tommy Hunter since childhood to work for the OCG, all three were put into the Central Police to act as inside men, and all three committed terrible acts in their own interest. But there are differences here. Ryan was a little shit as a kid and he clearly had a terrible home life - his mom was the worst. He gravitated to an authority figure who offered him something different and who gave him power. He is a victim of circumstance - but he also found power and enjoyment in his terrible actions. He gloated about Maneet Bindra and John Corbett’s deaths, and he enjoyed wielding power over Jo when he was threatening her.

Dot is the blend between Ryan and Jo - he too was groomed by Tommy to enter this world of crime, and did many awful things without regret, including killing people who threatened to expose his identity as the Caddy. It’s not until his friendship, and burgeoning relationship, that his behavior changes. He almost gets away from the Central Police, despite Kate hopping on a lorry for a free ride to track him down, but when faced with the reality that this would mean Kate’s death, he sacrifices himself and gives her a final clue to dismantle the OCG within the police.

Jo, from what we’re shown, felt regret after everything she did, and the show made it a point to demonstrate Jo as a victim of her family and genuine fear for her life if she didn’t continue following the actions of the OCG. We never saw Ryan or Dot with a gun to their head or with a dozen locks on their door. We never saw them break down in bathroom stalls, or even framing people and discrediting them instead of killing them. And it’s ultimately her relationship with Kate that changes things for her - she tries to use Kate at first to get caught, and when they get close she tries to push Kate away in order to protect her, right until she thinks she has no other choice but to let Ryan kill her.

It’s interesting that all three characters meet their end with Kate (and a damn shame the show never chose to address that fully). She quite literally kills Ryan, has a standoff with Dot that ends with him sacrificing himself for her and giving a dying declaration, and goes on the run with Jo to give her time to prove she isn’t bent and who plants evidence against herself to protect Kate. Later, it’s Kate who convinces Jo to give up everything she knows about the OCG and the man who claimed to be her father, and Kate who offers immunity and witness protection. Finally, in their last scene together, Kate manages to save one of the people corrupted under the thumb of the OCG. She completes a task she first set out for in series 1, the first time she interviewed Ryan and tried to get him to realize there’s a better life out there for him.

Kate does what Jo was hoping she would: she saves her, and gives her the life she never thought she could have.

I wish I could end this with a perfect bow that ties the wardrobe threads of this series together, but frankly I can’t. On a macro level, cool tones remains the symbol of anti-corruption and the pursuit of truth and justice, and warm tones represent any force opposing those ideals. On a micro level, Steve’s clothing choices and what they represent remain consistent throughout the series, as do Jo’s. However, the character that ties Steve and Jo together, the person who believed in the truth of Jo despite what face value was saying, that person’s wardrobe gets thrown to hell in the final episode. Kate’s colors remain cool, and it’s understandable that the warm tones that represented her connection to Jo disappear as Jo turns on the OCG, but the actual physical clothing is completely different from what she’s been wearing before and doesn’t fit her characterization.

I think it’s crucial to note that her femininity is only played up when she’s back on a team with men, where her earlier androgynous dress became suddenly unacceptable. It’s a damn shame, because the emotional payoff for Kate’s growth outside of AC-12 could’ve been really spectacular, and she was stymied in the end in favor of her male colleagues.

#line of duty #kate fleming #jo davidson #steve arnott #flemson #kate x jo #lod spoilers #line of duty spoilers #It took me a long time to finish this because I struggled with the absolute 180 degree turn the show took tonally in the final episode #It honestly threw off quite a few of my conclusions #and I had to rethink the analysis #but thank you to everyone who stuck with me #enjoy!

40 notes · View notes

darkheart-brightsmile · 3 years

Text

The Eye of The Storm

This was meant to be a drabble and y'know, I got carried away so I introduce part one of my Barson mini-series. Using a prompt from my beautiful Barson Babes on Twitter where Olivia ends up wearing Rafael's clothes.

WC: 2927

Warnings: Mentions of the William Lewis story arc but nothing explicit. Hurt/comfort, mild angst.

Happy reading peeps.

***

He looked up suddenly at the sound of his office door slamming open violently.

“’Liv?”

“There’s a thunderstorm going on outside if you didn’t already know.” she snapped.

Rafael took a second to take in her appearance, she was soaked through to the skin. Her hair was wild and untamed around her shoulders, wisps clinging to her face. Her suit pants were stuck to her legs (he tried not to notice their pleasing shape but failed), her blouse was clinging to her breasts and stomach and her jacket was hanging over her arm, dripping all over his office floor. Despite the fact she looked uncomfortable, cold, and bewildered she still looked as beautiful as she ever did.

“And you decided to take a stroll in it?”

“Not initially.” she smirked, “I was halfway over here when the heavens opened, and I decided to run for it.”

“And the rain clearly beat you.”

“Indeed.” she laughed.

“Well first, you need coffee. Secondly you need to change out of those clothes. You’re not going to get warm and dry if you stay in those.” he gave her a pointed look, spinning on his heel to retrieve a fresh jug of coffee from the machine he kept in his office and pouring them both a cup.

“Oh yes, let me just pull my emergency change of clothes from my bag.” she replied grumpily, taking her cup from him, and gripping it tightly to warm her numb hands.

“I have something you can wear if you want.” he replied, moving behind his desk to the cabinet in the corner and opening the door. He crouched down, obviously looking for something. She watched him curiously wondering what an earth he was going to whip out when she heard an ‘aha’ and a split-second later noticed his grinning face and what looked to be a gym bag held out in one hand.

“I doubt you’d treat your suits like that so what’s in the bag, Counsellor?”

“Gym kit, there’s sweatpants, a t-shirt, I think a hoody and maybe some clean socks?” he replied, looking pleased with himself at being able to save the day.

“I can’t wear your clothes, Rafael.” she replied, frowning, and shaking her head.

“Why on earth not?” he asked aghast, surely, she just wanted to be dry and warm was his first thought.

“You seriously don’t mind?” she replied quietly, looking up to watch his face carefully, knowing immediately if his offer was truly sincere.

“I really don’t. You’re soaking wet and starting to ruin my carpet.” he replied with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood and noted her slight smile at his remark. “At least change into these for now, we can dry your stuff the best we can until the rain stops and you can get home.”

She nodded slowly. “I think that’s a half decent idea. What I mean is, thank you. Where can I, uh, you know?”

“Oh. Yeah, in here. I’ll step out and guard the door.” he cleared his throat and avoided looking at her again, that blouse really was rather transparent when wet, he noted.

Olivia blushed as Rafael moved to hand her the bag, now acutely aware how her wet clothes were clinging to her curves and how, bizarre, it would feel to be wearing his clothes instead. They were friends, close friends, but wearing Rafael’s clothes? She shook that thought off as the door closed behind him and she set about changing.

She knew he wouldn’t barge in; she knew she was in relative privacy, but it didn’t stop her constantly glancing to the door and window (he had closed the blinds before he left) expecting someone to come bursting in or peeking through the glass.

Moving behind his desk felt like the safest option so tugging her boots and socks off first, she unzipped his bag to find sweatpants with a tie waist and breathed a sigh of relief that at least she could make them fit decently.

She stripped off her pants, wincing as the damp fabric now freezing cold, slithered down her legs, her underwear was wet too but that was staying firmly put – one step too far she thought.

Sweatpants on and adjusted at the waist she started unbuttoning her blouse, struggling to peel it from her arms, the rain having saturated the entire garment. She hung it carefully over his desk chair, before yanking off her tank top and placing that over the top. She rummaged around in the bag, finding a plain white t-shirt, and pulled that on quickly, if only to avoid standing in his office in only her bra any longer.

The t-shirt was faded and well-loved and even though she knew it was freshly laundered, it still smelled of him.She breathed it in for a second before pulling the Harvard hoody over her head. She fell back into his desk chair with the socks in hand, when she heard a knock on the door, her head shooting up.

“’Liv? You decent?”

“Yeah! Yeah, come in!” she called out, watching as the door opened and his head hesitantly peeking around, as if he was still worried, she was half naked.

“There you go! You look much better.”

“God, I feel better already.” she sighed, tugging one sock on then the other, “you really are a lifesaver, Rafael.”

“My pleasure.” he replied smoothly, shutting the door, and coming further into the room. “Even if I don’t get to the gym often enough, the clothes have served their purpose today.” he laughed.

She picked up her mug of coffee, waving it in his direction. “Cheers to your clothes saving my ass.”

He laughed whole heartedly at that, picking up his own coffee and taking a sip, trying to steady himself at the sight of her in his clothes – of course she made them look good. The woman could wear a trash bag and look sexy. He smiled gently coming around to perch on the corner of her desk.

“We should hang those up to dry.” he pointed at her things flung across the back of his chair and swallowed deeply at the thought that only moments ago she had been stripping them off.

She stood up to gather her things and he moved past her to retrieve a coat hanger from the same cabinet.

“Really?” she laughed seeing him holding it out to her.

“Like you said, my suits need tender love and care, I keep spares here just in case and always have a spare hanger if I have to send something out to the dry cleaners before I go home.”

“If you send your suit out what do you wear home?” she asked innocently.

His eyes raked over her body, and he gave her a pointed look.

“Oh right.” she laughed, suddenly feeling rather self-conscious.

“That’s when I go to the gym.” he laughed, “if I’m already dressed for it, I’m more likely to actually go.”

“Very savvy.” she laughed in response, manoeuvring her tank top and blouse onto the hanger.

He took it from her, before holding out his other hand for the pants which she frowned out but passed over. She watched him as he crossed the room and opened a small cupboard, she had assumed was storage. He leant forward hanging the hanger up on a rail in the top and laying the pants over what looked like a pipe running through and upwards into the ceiling.

“Dare I ask?” she chuckled.

“The heating pipes for the floor above cut through here, so I basically have a drying cupboard at my disposal. An hour or so and your clothes will be toasty and dry. Very handy for when I’ve been caught in the occasional downpour coming from court too.” he chuckled, shutting the door and refilling his coffee mug.

“I always thought that was just storage.” she replied incredulously.

“The best kept secret about this office.” he smiled, taking a seat on his couch, “Don’t tell anyone else otherwise I’ll be forced to share.”

“You shared the secret with me, not to mention your clothes – I won’t tell anyone, cross my heart.” she replied gently, still grateful that he had come to her rescue.

“You’re not just anyone, ‘Liv.” he said smoothly, shaking his head ever so slightly.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” she smiled, blushing again under his intense gaze, something about the look he was giving her turning her insides to jelly.

“It was intended as one.” he murmured softly, patting the space on the couch next to him, hoping that she would join him for a little while. His office always feeling that much brighter when she was in it.

She sighed when she sank into the couch, resting her head back and closing her eyes for a second, and he watched her closely, relishing in the tranquillity of them sitting side by side, not a word uttered between them, just savouring the company.

“Feel better?” he whispered, almost fearful of disturbing her meditative state.

“Mmmm.” she hummed, “not quite dry but much better, thank you.”

“How are you still wet?” he asked, not having thought his question through properly.

She blushed heavily before replying. “Well, I wasn’t taking my underwear off too, Rafael.”

He choked on his coffee, and she covered her mouth to stifle her laughter as he spluttered and used a handkerchief to dab at his shirt and face.

“Sorry.” she said, tilting her head to watch him as he settled back into the couch and started sipping what was left of his now lukewarm beverage.

“No, it’s my fault, shouldn’t have asked. Besides, it’s not like I’ve got anything suitable for you to wear instead.” he smirked.

“I would hope not.” she laughed. “If I had found a bra and women’s underwear in your gym bag there would be some serious questions.”

“I can safely say, in my office and my apartment, there��s not a single item fitting that description.” he knew he didn’t need to add that in about his apartment, but something made him want to tell her, albeit, indirectly, that he wasn’t seeing anyone.

“Really?” she asked, blushing again, and looking down at her feet curled up underneath her knees.

“Yep.” he nodded.

“Okay.” she flashed him the most brilliant smile, before sipping her coffee, her eyes fixed on anything except his face, and he was secretly thrilled that she was so happy he was obviously single. It made his heart leap ever so slightly, just enough to be hopeful.

“Okay then.” he grinned back. Well, that was something.

The rain was still pounding against the windows, the noise echoing through his office as they sat comfortably together on the couch, sipping the last dregs of their coffee. Rafael knew he should be getting back to his work but somehow, he couldn’t find it in him to move away from her.

Olivia for the most part was content thinking her own thoughts, the swell of the storm was ironically relaxing, she actually loved the rain, the smell of the air afterwards, the hypnotic noise as the drops pelted the windows at a steady pace – getting caught in it, not so much, but warm and dry she found herself almost ready to drift off to sleep.

“Hey, you still with me?” he asked quietly, his voice floating across her consciousness. God, she loved his voice.

“Just about.” she groaned, tucking her head further into the cushions of his couch, keeping her eyes closed.

“This couch is surprisingly comfortable to sleep on.” he replied.

“You mean to say the great Rafael Barba occasionally naps whilst at work?” she teased, opening one eye to peer at him and seeing him smirk at her question.

“More like collapsed in exhaustion and woken up the next morning.” he chuckled.

“You really are committed to your work aren’t you!” she laughed.

“I can count on one hand the number of times it’s happened, but it’s only been when your squad has been in crisis.”

“That’s strangely comforting. When was the last time?” she asked quietly, now curious what would constitute him needing to kip in his office rather than trudge home.

He cleared his throat and glanced at her quickly before he spoke. “Uh, William Lewis.”

“Oh.” She replied quietly, desperately pushing those memories back down to the dark depths they were surfacing from, the gun, Russian roulette, having to hold the trigger to her temple, his eyes burning into hers, then the blood after he pulled the trigger – no. She gritted her teeth and swallowed back the tears. She would not let him ruin her day. She spent too much time focussing on staying calm and rational, he would not be allowed to ruin this evening for her.

“I’m sorry, ‘Liv, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t. It happened, there’s nothing either of us can do about that. And he’s dead. Living with the memories is the hardest part but that’s why I have a good therapist.” she finished with a small smile and shrug, but he could feel the mixed emotions and tension radiating from her body.

He tentatively stretched out his hand to hold hers that was tugging at the knees of his sweatpants, clasping his fingers in his warm palm. She sighed again, looking up him slowly from under her eyelashes and he was heartbroken to see tears prickling in the corner of hers.

“You amaze me sometimes, Olivia.”

She sniffed and swiped at her eyes. “How?” she chuckled.

“Because despite the horrors you’ve seen and experienced, the pure terror you’ve seen in your life, you keep going, you’ve never given up. And I don’t know how many people that would be able to do that in your position. They would lock themselves away and let it tear them apart from the inside, and you never have done. And that is incredible, Olivia. You are incredible.”

It was the most heartfelt thing he had ever said to her, and her heart thumped wildly in her chest as he smiled gently at her and squeezed her hand tighter.

“I thought you didn’t want me to cry.” she choked out, the tears now falling down her face at his passionate speech and he shrugged and looked sheepish.

“Depends on whether they’re happy tears or sad tears.” he smiled, handing her his handkerchief.

“They’re ‘that was a lovely thing to say’ tears.” she laughed through her sobs as she dabbed at her eyes and wiped her nose. She thought she looked awful now, her mascara was probably running down her face and her eyes were sure to be puffy and red. He still thought she looked as beautiful as ever.

She moved onto her knees and suddenly without warning threw herself around his neck and squeezed him into a huge hug. He was shocked for a second before he realised, she was obviously okay with him touching her, so his arms came around her waist and he tucked her closer into his body, her face curled into his neck.

“Thank you.” she whispered into his skin, and he felt another tingle run down his back. He breathed in deeply, surrounding himself with her scent, something flowery, and subtle but so alluring.

“You’re welcome.” he murmured into her neck, pulling back to press a delicate kiss to her temple as she slid to curl into his side for a few more moments.

“The rain’s stopped.” he murmured into her hair as she tucked herself closer, her arms wrapped around herself, and his one arm around her shoulders, holding her into his body.

Later, once she had changed clothes again, he was struck but just how special she really was. She never let anyone see her like that, he knew that well enough – she projected calm, certainty and control. So, the fact she had broken down in tears and thrown herself into his arms was a sign that their friendship was one that she valued, that she embraced, that really meant something to her. He was touched by that.

He had stepped out for her to change and returned when she had said it was safe to do so. She had put her own pants and shoes back on but had kept his socks on, his t-shirt and hoody on at his insistence that it was warmer, and she could return them whenever she liked. She folded up her own things carefully and tucked them into his gym bag which she had decided she was going to take with her. Gathering up her bag and phone.

“Well, thank you for my coffee, and the loan of your clothes, and the pep talk.” she smiled, as she reached his door and he grabbed the handle, to keep it open for her.

“I would never leave a damsel in distress.” he smirked.

“So, what does that make you? Prince Charming?”

“Charming is one thing I can definitely be.” he murmured quietly, as if he was letting her in on a secret. He tilted his head slightly just enough to kiss her cheek and let his lips graze her skin as he pulled away. “Goodnight, ‘Liv.”

She squeezed his hand one last time. “Night, Rafa.”

She could feel his eyes on her back all the way to the elevator, but she refused to turn around. If she turned around, she wasn’t sure what would have happened, what she would have done, and that thought stayed with her all night and trailed into her dreams.

***

@igreg04 @mhargitay64 @tinyboxxtink @lauchasstuff @nippow @chasingeverybreakingwave @i-run-with-scissors39 @barsonlover2021 @michael-rooker @alwaysachorusgirl @storiesofsvu @chunex @klk1618 @simpforbarba @dubuforeveralone @zizzlekwum @tinyboxxtink@human––tragedy @a-queen-of-chaos @raulesparza4eva @thatesqcrush

#barson fanfic #barson fanfiction #Rafael Barba fanfiction #Olivia Benson fanfiction #svu fanfic #svu fanfiction #barson drabble #barson fic #svu drabble #svu mini series #Rafael barba #Olivia benson

20 notes · View notes

magalidragon · 3 years

Text

fire on ice | a crackish Jonerys drabble

Soooo... @moggett reblogged this post and well I felt compelled to write a drabble for one of those prompts so I give you this crack fic-- a funeral home meet cute!

I give you....FIRE ON ICE! And this is also partially @youwerenevermine‘s fault, lol, because we literally had same idea for one of the prompts.

“Thank you so much Mr. Snow.”

Jon nodded politely, solemnly, his gray eyes the perfect amount of sympathetic, sad, and he hoped the right amount of ‘normal’— lest people think him a total fucking creep—while he shook the hand of the Greatjon Umber, whose son Smalljon Umber had unfortunately encountered the wrong side of a chainsaw while out trimming trees.

Greatjon began to go into a tale about his son—who by all accounts had been a horrible person—speaking like he was the second coming of Aegon the Conqueror for all his ‘talents’ and ‘successes.’ “Hmm,” he murmured, walking him slowly to the door. “He sounds like quite a man your son, thank you Mr. Umber, we will speak later regarding tomorrow.”

“Of course, thank you again Mr. Snow.”

The door shut loudly behind him, Jon slumping against it, relieved. He glanced at his cousin, who had emerged from the basement, shaking her chopped bob out of its messy little knot atop her head. “He gone?” she demanded.

“Aye.”

“I had half a mind to sew his arm on backwards.”

Jon closed the doors to the viewing room where Smalljon rested in repose until tomorrow when he’d be taken to the Karstark’s castle for the final funeral and ultimate burial in the crypts, as was custom for the Northerners. He clicked his tongue. “Arya, be nice.”

“Remember when his wife died, and he squeezed my arse?”

“Aye, I remember.”

“Thought so.” Arya checked her phone. “Your beloved texted me. We have another on the way. This one fell from the Wall. Ygritte said he’s a fucking mess.”

He made a face; he hated that she referred to his ex-girlfriend as his ‘beloved.’ “Will you stop calling her that?”

“She works for the morgue Jon, what were you thinking?”

“It’s hard to find women in this line of work.” He heard the bell ringing on the other side of the old stone house that served as their place of business and home—the five-floor monstrosity he knew people in town referred to as ‘Castle Black.’ He did wear a lot of black. Came with the territory. He waved off Arya. “Just make sure you finish up with Mr. Lannister before the end of the evening.”

“The rich dude who died on the shitter? Yeah, no thanks, that’s all yours.”

“Do you want to take this one? Where the fuck is Robb anyway?” Robb was the master of this shit, not him. He was better with the dead.

Arya walked away before he even could try to play ‘Dragon, Wolf, Lion’ with her or answer as to where her eldest brother happened to have gone off. Guess it was all him. He caught his reflection in one of the mirrors in the hallway, adjusting his black tie at his neck and raking fingers through his curls. It did nothing to tamp them down. He schooled his expression, solemn, and pushed through the dark wooden doors from the funeral home side of the floor to the entry way. He let them swing back and folded his hands in front of him.

“Welcome to Three Wolves Funeral Home, may I help you?” he asked, voice gentle; you never knew who might be waiting to speak with you on this side of the building. He’d been accused too often in Robb’s post-services discussions of being too cold.

The woman standing in a dark red dress with long black overcoat was not someone who appeared to be in mourning, but then you never really knew, some people were good at masking emotions. Her silver hair was in an elegant, braided knot at the back of her head and she had large black sunglasses folded in her hands, gazing at the table with various brochures for caskets.

She turned, blinking wide violet eyes at him, her lips crimson, face pale. “Good afternoon,” she greeted him, eyebrow arching. “I’m inquiring as to your crematory services.”

“For yourself?” he blurted, before he realized how it sounded.

She smirked, while he flushed, thrown off by her stunning beauty. He tried to school his expression again; she could very well have been there for her husband, boyfriend, or other, he did not need to stumbling through this. He wished Robb was there. “That would be interesting, wouldn’t it? Well, I can assure you I’m not here to burn myself alive, but you know…” She inspected her hand, a couple rings on them glittering gold. She grinned up at him. “I have heard stories my ancestors were immune to flame.”

His throat constricted. “Apologies. Can I help you?”

“Your crematory services?” she wondered again, walking by him and into the showroom, running a finger over an ebony casket.

“Ah…I am afraid Three Wolves does not offer such services. We can, however, assist with selecting one, urns, and preparing a memorial service.” He wondered what she was doing; she was now leaning down to look underneath a massive white casket. No one really cared what the underside looked like. He gestured towards the office. “We can speak in private, if you wish?”

The woman shook her head. “No I’m fine, thank you. Just doing a little bit of research.”

“For a relative?”

“Something like that.” She wore very high heels, which clicked loudly on the hardwood. She glanced sideways; eyes shrewd. “Are you one of the Three Wolves on your sign out front?”

“Yes, Jon Snow, I’m the mortician.” It sounded so creepy like that, but it was the truth. Robb handled the hand shaking, the business side. Arya was their resident makeup artist—she could do wonders with faces practically taking them on and off—but he was the one who handled everything else.

“Hmm, yes I heard of you.” The woman offered her hand. “Dany.”

“Jon,” he repeated, like an idiot. He was put off by her beauty, rather disarming. He swallowed hard again. “Nice to meet you. Is there…”

“This was enlightening Mr. Snow. I’ll be back.” Dany wiggled her fingers, waving, striding out decisively. “See you later.”

What the seven hells was that about? He spun on his heel, about to ask her what else he could help her with, when the front door slammed shut, bell ringing on her exit. He heard the door from the services wing open, Robb walking in. He scowled. “Where were you?”

“Talking with the Umbers, heard it went well, did we have a customer?” Robb adjusted his tie, eagerly seeing dollar signs. “Where are they?”

“They left.”

“Damnit Jon!”

He rolled his eyes, storming by. “I’ll be downstairs.”

“With Tywin Lannister? Better make him look good, the Lannisters are paying through the nose for this.”

“Aye,” he said idly, heading downstairs and to his ‘lair’ as Robb referred to it. He shook his head, preparing in the locker room, putting on scrubs and his protective gear. When he tugged on gloves, walking over to the block of freezer drawers, he rolled his eyes again, making another face. He was better with dead people anyway.

-----

A couple of weeks later, Jon saw the beautiful silver-haired woman again, this time from the front step of the funeral home, while Arya sat on the railing, Robb in shocked horror as the sign went up across the street.

Dracarys Funeral Home and Crematory Services

“How did this happen? We had the run of things here!” Robb exclaimed.

Arya cracked her gum. “Want me to get info?”

The silver haired Dany waved from the front step of her home. “Hello Starks!”

Jon shook his head, appalled. “I thought she was just asking because someone died…like they all do.”

“You didn’t think that she was scoping the competition?” Robb shouted.

“I told you I’m better with the dead than I am the living!”

“Oh leave him alone,” Arya chided. She rubbed Ghost’s ears—his great white wolf—gazing across the street again, shrugging. “Maybe we can make this work. Jon, you were the one who met her, maybe you can get some more info. They do crematory, we don’t. Maybe we can make a deal or something.”

Robb nodded, poking his shoulder. “Go over there, find out more.”

Jon sighed. He really didn’t want to do this. “I have that Wall guy to deal with.”

“Jarl will keep, go find out more.”

He slid away from the column, clicking his tongue for Ghost to follow him, the two of them crossing the street and up to Dracarys. He entered into the front room, seeing that everything was a shade of black and red. He glanced at Ghost, who was scanning the space with his bright ruby eyes, white fluffy tail wagging slowly. “What do you think?” he mumbled.

The walnut wood stairs creaked in the back, drawing him towards the door leading away from the showroom and sitting area. He peeked into another part of the old house, just like how their business was set up, with a viewing room and seating area. He moved to another door, which was open, leading down a set of stairs.

A massive black cat yowled from a sunbeam near the door, hissing at Ghost and running off. Ghost didn’t bark but took off after the cat. He sighed, calling out. “Please don’t kill her cat!”

He went down the stairs and pushed open a set of swinging double doors, pausing at the sight. It was state-of-the art and he scowled at some of the fancy equipment he’d been trying to convince Robb to upgrade to for the last year. He ran his tongue over his teeth, arching a dark brow at the woman who had been wearing head-to-toe designer when he’d met her and now was in black scrubs and protective gear, leaning over a dead man, a kit of makeup and brushes next to her.

“Jon Snow,” she called.

“Daenerys Targaryen.” He used her full name. The proprietress of the competition, he would not refer to her as Dany. “You could have told me you were moving in across the street.”

“And you would have shown me around? I think not.”

He stepped closer, curious at what she was working on. His eyebrows flew to his forehead. “Greyscale, huh?”

“Hmm,” Dany murmured. “Yes.” She looked up, grinning. “I saw you coming over, decided not to stop you from finding me. You’re not squeamish.”

“No I’m not.”

“They call you the King of the Dead.”

It wasn’t the worst thing he’d been called. “And you are?” he retorted.

“The Dragon Queen, I suppose you could call me. Or at least, that’s what they called me at mortician school.” She selected another brush, grinning. “I’m offering a service that your busines does not Jon Snow, that’s all.”

“The North doesn’t burn their dead.”

“I know, but many in the South do. There’s plenty of them moving up here.” Dany stood and pushed the gurney with the greyscale man into the freezer, closing the door. She removed her gloves and gear, walking by him, and began to wash up. She tossed a serene smile over her shoulder. “I think we can make this work Jon Snow. Don’t worry about it.”

“Robb isn’t used to competition.”

“And you?”

He shrugged. “I work better with the dead.”

“So do I.” When she finished, she studied him for a few seconds, which unnerved him. He tore his eyes from her, wondering what she was doing. She approached him, hands on her hips. “Would you like to get a cup of coffee?”

He frowned, nose wrinkling, surprised. “Coffee?”

“A hot beverage, sometimes served with milk and sugar? Other times with various accoutrements like cinnamon or chocolate?” Dany’s smile softened. He saw then how gentle she actually was, how soft. It was comforting and he wasn’t even grieving. She must be very good at her job, he thought. He was numb, unsure how best to reply. She patted his arm, stepping by him. “Come on, I’ve got a lovely blend from Braavos.”

In the kitchen on the third floor of her house, where he assumed, she lived, she prepared the coffee. He wondered where Ghost had gone. “This how you get all the competition?” he managed to get out. “Ply them with coffee?”

“Just you.” Dany sat down across from him at a small bistro table in a large bay window, with a beautiful view of the mountains in the distance. She passed him the mug of coffee and used a small ceramic pitcher to pour milk into her coffee. Lifting it to her lips, she smiled again, warm and eyes dancing. “You intrigue me.”

He sipped his coffee—it was very good—a small smile on his lips. “You are an interesting one, Dany…if that is your real name.”

“Only my friends can call me Dany,” she mouthed.

“And we’re friends?”

“Well I hope we’re not enemies.”

Jon figured he’d have to wait it out and see for certain, but he didn’t think enemies was the best word for it. He was not good at this sort of thing, so he chose to continue drinking his coffee. He set the mug down on the table, sighing and cocking his head, a slight furrow to his brow. “I’m not good at this.”

“I know,” Dany shrugged. “But I am.”

Well that was that then, he figured, smiling at her.

-----

“So where did you two meet?”

Jon wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, as one of Sansa’s friends from King’s Landing had cornered him, trying to get info on Robb. “Where did I meet…?” he echoed, playing dumb.

Margaery Tyrell frowned. “Where did you meet Daenerys? Sansa didn’t tell me. In fact, she’s being really weird about things. Won’t even tell me what Robb does for a living.” Her eyes lit up. “I like a challenge.”

“Um, well…”

His wife of the last two hours emerged at his side, looping her arm through his. “We met at a funeral home,” she said, smiling at Margaery’s wide-eyed, horrified expression. Dany gazed up at him, love shining from her beatific face. “In fact, we contemplated holding the reception there, but figured everyone might think that a little weird.” She smiled even wider. “Also in the future, please keep the Fire on Ice Funereal Services in your thoughts for any funereal needs!”

Jon stifled a snort, glad to be rid of the odd questions. He smiled down at his beloved. “We didn’t actually consider the reception there or…did you?”

“No of course not, I don’t want to mix business and pleasure.”

“Isn’t that exactly what we did?”

“Nah, I came to scope out the competition and this really cute guy who couldn’t look me in the eye without blushing wandered in.” Dany rose on her toes, pecking his cheek. She patted her hand against his chest. She beamed again. “Best decision I ever made. I could have sent Viserys.”

At the mention of her annoying older brother, Jon shivered. He squeezed her close. “Very well then. Let’s at least try to figure out a better story, you’re scaring people.”

“Well it is the truth.”

Jon shook his head, but smiled anyway, his arm around her and hers around him, both of them walking off into the crowd of guests. He even thought that he overheard someone say the King of the Dead had found his queen. He kissed her temple, sighing. He certainly did.

THE END

#jonerys #Jonerys au #Jonerys drabble #worst prompts challenge ACCEPTED #I blame Erika for this one #crack fic totally

60 notes · View notes

ssa-daddyhotchner · 3 years

Text

Undercover - Chapter 4

Chapter Selection

The next day

I touched on the Reid subject yesterday but I didn't want him to worry so I decided to drop it. I brought It back up and Hotch called Reid.

"Hello."

"Can you come down the office for a few there's some paperwork I need you to lookover."

Hotch doesn't mention me but I sit in on the call. "Yeah I'll be there in 10", Reid hangs up.

"Haven't you noticed", Aaron focuses on the road. "Noticed what?", I keep my eyes on him.

"Okay so a few days ago I saw Reid in the elevator and I assume I've been at the BAU long enough so he's not awkward with me." He hummed in agreement.

"And he was avoiding eye contact, he was shuffling towards the door like he was trying to get away from me." I take a breath then continue.

"I've been noticing on cases he's not talking as much, he's avoiding just everyone in general."

We pull into the garage an make our way upstairs. I walk into the building first Aaron coming in a few minutes later.

Reid walks into Hotchs office, then he calls me in after. "Take a seat." He gestures to Reid, "We need to talk." His brows furrow and he pouts. "About?" I watch his body language and listen to his speech.

There's a single bead of sweat going down his forehead. His hands are trembling in his pockets; he's shuddering more than he usually does. Is he withdrawing?

I step in, "Hotch I think I know what's happening." He looks behind Reid and at me. I walk to the desk leaning on hit crossing my arms.

"So... how long has it been." Reid slowly turns up at me and Hotch.

He lets out a sigh, "3 days." Hotch watches him closely. "You're back on dilaudid? since when?", Reid stands up, "2 months."

A small gasp leaves Hotchs lip, and I stand in a bit of a shock. Nobody realized, 2 months he'd been high off his ass on cases and we didn't know.

"Why?", I asked; It hurt that he couldn't have told us he was hurting enough to relapse.

"My mom's been getting worse, the meds aren't helping as much as they were. I wanna visit her but there's been so much going on here that I didn't wanna leave."

Hotchs face softens, "You can take some personal time you know that right. I don't wanna see you in the office for the next 2 weeks. Go visit your mom."

I walk out of his office going to my desk. JJ walks up to me, "What are they talking about." She nods to the window. Morgan and Emily approach.

"Reid's... back on diluadid." I say in a hushed tone to not attract attention; gasps leave all of them. "I had know idea", Emily said.

"Emily none of us knew, I'm the one that told Hotch something was wrong." Morgan smirked, "you told Hotch huh."

I gave him a glare, Hotch closed the blinds and called me in; Morgan winked at me.

I shut the door and walked up to him. "What's the plan"

"He told me he was gonna go to some meetings try to stop but....I don't know if that's going to work."

"So he's gonna go to rehab?", he nodded. I let out a sigh and sat on the his desk. "I'm not the closest with Reid but I want him to be ok."

I said and Aaron came up to me. "Reid gonna be fine", he reassured.

"Hey I wanna ask you something", I hummed. "How would you feel if you met Jack." My eyes widened and I smiled, "Of course.. when."

"Maybe in a week it depends on when Hayley will let me see him."

"What if he doesn't like me." Hotch put his hands on my waist and pecked my lips, "He'll love you don't worry."

__________________________________

I was at Aarons sleeping and was woken up by the sound of his phone. I reach over without checking the ID.

"Hotchners phone," the other side of the line was quiet. "Hello?", the other person finally speaks up. "Hello is Hotch there?"

The person on the phone was JJ. My eyes went wide and I go to wake up Aaron.

He opens his eyes, "What is it baby." I muted the phone, "It's JJ she doesn't know it's me but here." Handing him he phone he unmutes the call.

"What is it." I can hear JJ say there was a case so I go into the shower. I feel hands snake around my waist and kisses being placed on my jaw. I turn around and peck his lips.

The water going in his hair and down his back. He tosses his head back and I wash his hair massaging his scalp.

He washes it out and does the same to me. He takes the body wash and runs it over my skin.

The movements are slow as he washes around my legs and back. I moan softly and he stops.

Leaning to my ear whispering, "Only if we had time."

"We can make time." I go to kiss him but he pulls back. "There's fun in waiting."

We step out the shower getting changed for work at 4am.

Finishing the shower. I try to be comfortable wearing a turtleneck and black pants. Aaron was about to put on his tie but I interrupt him, "Let me." He watches me carefully want to know what I was up too.

I just wanted to tease the hell out of him for fun. He wants to wait fine. I'll just make him wait till he's begging for it. I thought to myself.

Getting into the car and driving; his hand on my thigh the whole time tracing patterns. We go in holding hands until we get to the bullpen then we pull away.

The team looks tired, irritated and sluggish. "Let's go over the case." Hotch says walking up the ramp to the round table.

Garcia walk in, "Okay my lovely's you are going to Seattle, there has been 5 murders in the area all married mothers with a single child. Each victim was found with multiple stab wounds in the abdomen. Each in different parks"

"The mothers could represent their own, taking out there anger building confidence till he can take out the original source", Morgan States

Emily looks at the crime scene photos, "The victims were cleaned up, there hands by their side and hair combed. Maybe the unsub knows the them."

Hotch takes a looks and flips the page. "The unsub could be punishing the mothers for being terrible to their children."

I put my hand on Aarons thigh has he's talking. His breathing hitches but continues.

"So he sees himself as a protector." I say and everyone nods. "Wheels up in thirty."

________________

They team file out of the room and I stay behind holding Hotch by his thigh. He looks down and a small smile spreads on his face.

I meet his eyes as I slowly bring my hand to palm him through his pants; rubbing him till he was hard.

A small groan erupts from him when he grabs my hand pulling it away.

"Not here", he whispers into my ear then nibbling on my ear lobe.

I close my eyes when it goes cold; he'd left the room leaving me to imagine what would've happened.

I get my go bag and I go to the jet being the first one there. Aaron steps on taking my hand and dragging me to the bathroom.

He pins me against the wall and his hand makes it way to my throat. A soft moan leaves my lips.

He uses his leg to separate mine and puts his knee in between.

"Little girl, do you really wanna play that game with me?" I nod and he kisses me dragging his hand and ghosting it over my core.

I try and lean forward; grind on his palm but he pulls away shutting the door behind him.

When I gather myself and walk out the bathroom. I'm met with Rossi sitting next to Aaron with a smirk.

"How are you guys", Rossi says; me and Aaron glace at each other both saying fine in unison.

The rest of the team files on and takes there seats. I sit across from Aaron my leg running up and down his. Morgan surrounded by JJ and Emily.

Reid took the personal days to see his mom.

The majority of the team taking a nap. Rossi had gotten up to move to a single space so I took his seat, staring at Aaron.

I looked around and realized no one could see us. I leaned my head on his shoulder; he kissed the top of my head and I took a quiet nap.

Woken from Aaron shaking my shoulder to go over the case before we land. Garcia appears on screen.

"Ok let's go over the case", Hotch says in a stern tone. JJ speaks up, "Stabbing is consistent with those that are imponent. He could be using the stabbing as an outlet for sexual release."

"What if he's not though", I say in an unsure voice and they all look at me to continue.

"Now yes it is unlikely for the unsub to be a women but what if there was no sexual assault because they had no need too.

I mean yeah they could use the stabbing for release but if they were a women they just wouldn't have the need for it."

Hotch nods, "Let's not rule anything out and keep that thought in mind." I grin to myself knowing I got I wasn't completely wrong.

Morgan starts speaking, "Baby girl were the victims married?" I can hear her typing.

"Technically yes but the fathers were all absent. It was just the mothers and the kids."

"How are the kids", Emily asked Garcia, "Some of them have a pretty long hospital records, I see broken wrists, arms, and some ribs. Honestly guys I think they were getting abused."

"So lets say they were abused the unsub could've been a doctor or nurse at the hospitals.", Rossi states.

"Rossi and Morgan go to the latest crime scene. JJ and Prentiss interview the closet family. Y/n and I will set up station", Rossi gives us wink. He defiantly knows.

Hotch pulled Rossi to end of the jet.

"Do you mind if what you think you saw earlier, you keep it to yourself."

Rossi smiles to Hotch, "How long."

"2 months", He says happily and slightly embarrassed.

"I won't say a word."

________________

When the plane lands I reached for my bag when I felt something behind me. Hotch had pressed himself to my ass it made me gasp a bit. "What the fuck?"

He tried to have a serious face but I could tell that he had a grin. He knew what he was doing and he was defiantly gonna pay for it later.

When Hotch and I got to the station it was 7pm most of the Officers had gone home; leaving only the sheriff and 3 other cops. The sheriff walked up to us holding out his hand.

"Hello this is SA Y/n Y/l and I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner." We shook the mans hand as he showed up to the board room.

We pinned up pictures of the victims and the crime scene photos to try and get a feel; seeing it from a different point of view.

The room was closed off, blinds shut, and we had already set up; we were waiting for the rest of the team to come back so it was just Aaron and I.

I was looking over the photos when I wanted to tease Aaron a bit more. I bent over the table just enough so he could get a perfect view of me. I heard footsteps behind me and hands grab my hips.

"Little girl you're just begging me to fuck you right here aren't you." I suppressed my moan but he noticed. "Yeah you are aren't you." I nodded.

"Come on baby we've been over this use your words." His voice was coated in lust and it was low.

I bet if he really was able to he'd fuck me here and now. I finally spoke up.

"God... yes please." He wrapped his hand around my neck and brought my head to his mouth.

"I don't think you deserve it at this point little girl." He pressed me back onto the table.

My chest hitting the cold wood as his bulge pressed against me. Then he walked away sitting back down going back to drinking his coffee.

That was when the team walked in. They didn't see or hear anything thank god but it still worried me; what would've happened if they caught us.

They carried on with casual conversation; Aaron talking to them like he didn't just slam me on to the table a minute ago.

It was now 11:30; there was no leads on the case so far other than the possibility that the unsub could've been a women; that the mothers may have been abusing their kids.

So the unsub see themselves as a protector/ savior to the children. We were currently trying to put together other theories but half of us were asleep. Morgan was knocked out in the chair.

JJ and Emily were laying down together on the couch. Hotch was drinking his coffee with me next to him. Rossi had left for the hotel an hour ago.

Hotch took the last sip and woke everyone up, "Okay we've done all we can let's go; we can continue in the morning." The team had left before us and they were so sleepy; not paying attention.

My finger intertwined with Aarons as we walked out not wanting to attract too much attention.

Once we got to the hotel everyone got a separate rooms. Me and Aaron got conjoined rooms but I was sleeping in his.

I was wearing a white crop top and a pair of Aarons grey sweat pants; Aaron was wearing a white t-shirt and black pajama pants.

I got situated and threw my stuff on the chair before heading to bed.

I was swept up from behind and was thrown over Aarons shoulder when he slapped my ass hard and tossed me on the bed.

His voice was dark and dominant, "I think we've played enough for today."

He leaned in closer my lips grazing his; he whispered, "I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to stand."

Wetness grew between my legs and from that moment on I knew.

It was gonna be a long night.

_____________________

@mac99martin @donttellanyoneireadfanfiction @appleblossoms-posts @marie1115

#aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner #reader x aaron+hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron #hotch x y/n #hotchner x reader #hotch smut #smut #fanfic #writing #story #criminal minds #bau #ssa hotchner #hotchner

62 notes · View notes

idreamofplaid · 3 years

Text

It Begins

Square Filled: Tongue Fucking for @spnkinkbingo & Singing Christmas Songs for @spnchristmasbingo

Characters: Sam x Olivia (OFC); Jensen and John mentioned

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Oral (female receiving)

Summary: Olivia is new to the marketing firm owned by John Winchester, and is surprised to be assigned to an important ad campaign for a high profile client. She feels like she’s in over her head with the work, but she’s in even deeper with the boss’ son, Sam.

Word Count:3781

A/N: This is Part 1 of a Series called Surrender to the Truth. It’s an AU mash up of RPF and SPN characters. I’m also playing with time. Imagine Season 8 Sam and Jensen a year or so into the future.

It was beta’d by the wonderful @fangirlxwritesx67. Thanks Viv for your patience with all my questions, your enthusiasm for this project, your thorough reading that really made me think about what I was doing, and the series title.

Why were Mondays always like this? Olivia found it hard to decide what to wear after a weekend of being relaxed in pajamas and denim. Traffic was predictably the worst, even more so because of the holidays, and if there was any day she was going to forget and leave her coffee on the kitchen counter; it was Monday.

She made it to work on time with only a couple of minutes to spare. This was only her second week on the job at the city’s most up and coming marketing firm and being late was not the way to make a good impression on her new boss. John Winchester was a man with exacting standards and high expectations.

Her first stop was the coffee pot in the breakroom. There was no way her creativity was going to start flowing without caffeine. Cup in hand, Olivia made her way to her office. It was a respectable office, larger than the little more than a closet sized space she’d had in her last office. This one even had a small window. These things might seem insignificant, but Olivia had worked hard for them, and to her they were badges of success.

Olivia had barely had two sips of her vanilla creamer laced coffee when she had a visitor in her office, the kind of visitor who doesn’t knock: Sam Winchester. She hadn’t been here long, but she had been filled in on Sam. He was practically legendary among the women of the office, and some of the men. She took another sip of her coffee to hide the fact that her mouth had fallen open. This guy lived up to the hype.

He was wearing a white dress shirt, minus the jacket, and the way his shoulders and chest filled out that shirt was nothing short of sinful. His tie formed a perfect Windsor knot at his throat, and the face above that tie was Greek god handsome. He was a Greek god with dimples.

As he walked across the room, his every move exuded power and privilege, without the arrogance. Holy fuck. Could a man be more attractive?

He put a folder down on the edge of Olivia’s desk. Work. Right. He expected her brain to focus on what his family was paying her for.

She sat down to take a look at what was so important Sam Winchester himself had delivered it. When he spoke, his voice was just as delicious as the rest of him.

“New account. Dad wants you to take it.” He sat down smoothly on the edge of her desk to watch her look through the file like he owned the place, which he basically did. She finished looking through the file then looked up at Sam, more confused than ever. She was the new kid here. Why would they give her something this high profile, as in Hollywood high profile?

It wasn’t her most impressive moment or the most professional thing she’d ever said, but she blurted out, “Why me?”

Sam rested his hand on his thigh. The way his long fingers spread out over it wasn’t helping her concentrate or wrap her head around this situation. “Because you’re from Texas. Gives you insight into the culture, the vibe, the feel of it.” He stood and adjusted his tie, drawing your attention to his hands again. “This Ackles guy is a personal friend of my dad’s, so make it good.” As he left, he looked back over his shoulder. “Besides, everyone likes beer; you’ll come up with something.”

She said to the empty room, after he closed the door behind him, “No, actually I don’t.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For a couple of minutes after Sam left, all she could do was stare at the nicely framed but generic artwork on her wall. The Winchesters were trusting her with a huge account for some reason, and she was scared completely out of her mind that she was going to screw it up and ruin her future with this company, along with her career in advertising. Why did it have to be beer? Finally, she opened the file and spread the pictures of the brewery and the photos of its famous owner across her desk.

She picked up one of the glossy pictures of Jensen Ackles in all his male model perfection and took a good look at it. He was just as gorgeous as Sam, but his look was distinctly different. His eyes were a clear green, and they held a deep intensity. Those eyes were captivating in a photograph. What would they be like in person? She allowed herself to indulge in that fantasy for a few seconds then shook her head to break the spell. She needed some Bailey’s in her coffee. Excellent idea. She was already walking a perilous line at this new job, so why the hell not?

Olivia swiveled her chair and opened the cabinet behind her, reaching into the back to grab the bottle of liquor where she’d stashed it. She poured a generous amount into her cup, hoping it would calm her nerves. With that in mind, she turned on some music. The soothing notes of an instrumental version of “White Christmas” floated from the speakers.

She closed her eyes and let the taste of the coffee and the Irish cream sit on her tongue. This had been one of her favorite Christmas songs when she was growing up. It always took her to a fantasy wonderland, a place where life was ideal and Christmas cottages had perfectly trimmed trees with beautiful presents piled beneath them, fireplaces alive with glowing fires, stockings hung on the mantel, and snowflakes falling gently outside. Living in Texas, snow had been a magical and rarely seen event.

That long cherished holiday dream filled her mind and calmed her. She started singing along with the music. ...just like the ones I used to know. After a stanza or so, she opened her eyes to focus once again on the pictures of the brewery in front of her. A snowy Christmas was her fantasy, but she had a job to do; that was her reality.

By the end of the day when Sam came back to check on her progress, Olivia had practically nothing to show him. It would do no good to try and stall or hide just how little she had managed to accomplish. He was her supervisor on this project, and he was here to see how much progress she’d made.

He flipped through the work she’d done that day. His expression was unreadable, but his words were clear enough. “The Taste of Texas? Not exactly original is it?” He paused and cut his eyes over to her, then dropped them back to the papers he was holding. “The drawings aren’t bad though. We can probably use some of these hill country sketches. Maybe a logo design.” He closed the file and tossed it back on her desk.

“Do you know what you need?” Her silence said she didn’t. “Inspiration.”

She put her hand on the folder lying on her desk, the one that represented her failed day of work. “Where do I get that exactly?” She was unable to keep a hint of exasperation out of her voice.

He flashed her those unbelievable dimples and winked. “Follow me.” Sam took her to his office. It was easily four times the size of hers with an entire wall of windows that revealed a breathtaking view of the city, the lights from the skyline competing with the white lights on the tastefully decorated Christmas tree that adorned his office. It was opulent and sleek, a space befitting the heir to the growing empire.

She allowed herself to indulge in the breathtaking view of the skyline for a few seconds before commenting, “It’s an incredible view, but I don’t see anything about a family business in Texas out there.”

“Your inspiration isn’t out there; it’s in here.” His voice drew her eyes away from the magnificent view. Sam walked to his mini fridge and pulled out a six pack. He held it up. “A little Cosmic Cowboy from Family Business Beer Company. How can you create an impactful and memorable campaign without sampling the product?”

Sam twisted the top off a bottle and handed it to her. She took a sip of it. Unfortunately, she wasn’t one of those people who could describe the taste of beer. It was cold. It was beer. That was all she had. She was not a connoisseur. How was she ever going to do this ad campaign? She didn’t even like beer.

Sam had been watching her reaction carefully. Olivia didn’t have a poker face, though she’d tried to hide her reaction. It didn’t slip by him that she wasn’t comfortable with this beer thing.

“Not your favorite then?” He took a drink from his bottle. “Taste it again.”

He was the boss’ son, effectively her boss right now, and this was her job; but she got the feeling she would have done whatever he asked even if that hadn’t been the case. She took another sip, and Sam coached her through it. “Think about what you’re drinking; savor it. Just like wine, beer has notes; and they’re all different.”

She took one more drink. “What am I supposed to be tasting?” She’d never been good with wine either, but once someone explained there was blackberry or oak or whatever in it; she could pick up on that. She needed Sam to tell her what she should be tasting.

“Do you taste how it’s substantial but still light?” She took another sip and nodded. “It’s the grapefruit and pineapple that make it light; the pine in it gives it a little something more.” When he said it, she could taste it. She could taste it all.

Sam’s office had a fireplace, not like the one in her fantasy Christmas cottage, but when he picked up a remote and clicked it bringing the flames to life, it was cozy nevertheless. Sam took off his tie and tossed it on one of the upholstered chairs in front of the fire. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt and rolled up the sleeves. Absentmindedly, Olivia took another sip of her beer while she watched him.

Sam sat down on the plush rug in front of the fireplace, his back leaning against the leather sofa, legs stretched out in front of him. He put what was left of the six pack of beer down beside him and patted the floor on his other side, inviting her to join him. Olivia lowered herself next to him. She was thankful her pencil skirt wasn’t so tight that it didn’t allow some freedom of movement, and she tried not to stare at the way the firelight danced over his golden skin. He caught her looking at his strong forearms, exposed below the rolled white cuffs of his shirt. Sam smiled, a flirty and suggestive sort of smile. He finished the last of his beer, and popped open another.

Olivia was slower to finish hers, but she was beginning to warm up to the taste. Perhaps it was something you had to acquire, or maybe the company you were in made all the difference. Beer might be okay after all.

He asked, “What do you think of it now?”

“I can taste everything you said.” The crackle of the fire, the lights from the Christmas tree, and the skyline in the background created a perfect storm of romantic atmosphere. Olivia noticed how Sam’s eyes were a beautiful honeyed brown, dappled with green and gold. His lips looked incredibly soft in contrast to the hard line of his jaw. He caught her starting again, this time at his mouth.

He took her empty bottle and slotted it back into the cardboard square where it had originally been and put what was left of his beer in the empty square beside it. Sam turned back to her and leaned in closer. He took her face into his hand and looked into her eyes for a long second or two before he lowered his mouth to hers.

The way he kissed was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. His tongue was sure but gentle as it circled hers. He had complete control of her through what his mouth was doing. A wet spot was forming in her panties, her body responding to him. At the same time his hand was cradling her face while his fingers moved slowly back and forth through her hair, massaging her scalp and melting her under his touch. He could do anything to her. She was eager for it.

He broke the kiss, and now he was holding both sides of her head in his enormous hands. His lips were still just inches from hers. She could feel his breath when he asked, “What do you taste now?”

This man could make her breathless. He was either meant for her, or he was excellent at reading her actions and responses. His attention was completely on her, waiting for her response.

“I...can still taste the beer, but the way you taste makes it better.” It wasn’t eloquent. For someone who worked with words to pull the maximum effect from them, he could make her forget how to use them properly.

Sam kissed her again, hands roaming down her back and stopped just above her waist. “You know what else might really inspire you?”

Olivia pressed her body so tightly against his she could feel the muscles in his chest and stomach through his shirt. It made her wetter. “I have some ideas.”

He took off her jacket and let it fall to the floor. “Then let’s get those creative...juices flowing.” The blouse she was wearing was form fitting. Sam’s gaze traveled over her breasts before his eyes locked onto hers.

A spark traveled between them. Lust? Need? Want? Whatever it was, the sexual tension hung in the air for a moment before their lips crashed together.

Sam lowered her to the floor while he pulled her shirt up. He broke the kiss to tear it over her head and throw it out of the way. Now it was his turn. She took a fistful of his shirt and pulled it out of his pants, then did the same on the other side. He propped himself over her on his hands while she unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. She ran her hand across his chest and over his shoulder. What he’d been hiding beneath that expensive shirt was impressive.

Sam smiled down at her. “You like?”

“Very much,” she answered while he took off her bra and lowered his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth. He teased it with his tongue until she was arching her back and raising her hips off the floor.

Sam sucked hard on the nipple in his mouth before pulling off it. “Do you want more?” Her eyes closed and her lips parted, a small moan escaping from them.

He unzipped her skirt and dragged it down her legs, then turned his attention to her lace covered mound. Sam rubbed his fingers over her panty covered core. “Already so wet.” He pushed her panties aside and swiped his fingers through her folds. Then he lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked her juices from them. His eyes bore into hers. “Tastes so good.”

He tore her panties from her body to gain access to what he wanted; she heard the sound of silk and lace ripping. Sam’s hand felt huge on her thighs as he pushed them wide apart. He held them there, and his tongue found her clit. He sucked it the same way he’d worked at her nipple.

She was raising and lowering her hips beneath him, fucking nothing and needing to be filled until Sam swirled his tongue all the way down her slit to her opening and thrust it inside. She wasn’t empty anymore, and it felt incredible. He moved his tongue in and out of her, fucking her on it until she was writhing and grabbing fistfuls of his hair.

She wanted to scream but was still aware enough to know they were in the office building. So, with some effort, she held it in. But when he added the pad of his thumb circling over her clit while he continued to thrust into her with his tongue, she started to whimper and moan. Her thighs were shaking when she came on his face. He licked and stroked her through her orgasm until she went still beneath him.

Sam didn’t move for a few seconds, then he raised himself up so he could see her reaction to what he’d done to her, how it had affected her. Olivia smiled up at him, and Sam returned the smile while he unbuckled, unzipped, and pushed his pants and underwear down over his hips. If she’d thought what was under his shirt was stunning, what was under his pants was better. His cock was absolutely magnificent. It stood against his stomach long and thick, resting on his well defined abs. Sam caught her looking at him yet again, and his smile got bigger. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Sam lowered himself from his kneeling position until he was sitting on the floor. He pushed his pants farther down his legs to get them out of the way. He extended a hand to her, and she took it. He settled her on his lap. Olivia wrapped her legs around him. He looked at her with those beautiful eyes that combined colors in so many ways that seemed to change from moment to moment. “Do you want to go through with this? It’s not too late to say no.”

She squeezed her thighs into his sides. She was imagining the feel of his cock stretching her open. From the looks of him, it was going to be a tight fit. “I absolutely want to go through with this.”

That was all he needed to hear. He took a condom from the wallet in the pants pooling around his ankles and rolled it down over his length. Sam put his hands on each side of her waist and lifted her up, lining her up over the tip of his cock.

When he started to lower her down onto his shaft, she rolled her head forward. Her hair brushed over his shoulder as he continued to slowly ease her down onto his length, giving her time to adjust to his size. Once he was fully seated inside her, he began to roll his hips. Oliva imitated his movements, rolling her hips with the same rhythm.

She raised her head because she wanted to see into Sam’s eyes while he thrust up into her. There was something in the depths of them that she couldn’t quite define, something she wanted to figure out, something she wanted to understand and know better. He covered her mouth and kissed her with an intensity she could feel through her entire body.

His tongue was circling hers, tasting her, when she came again. Olivia clenched around him and her body spasmed in waves as her orgasm crested and blended into another. Sam kissed her all the way through it. She went limp in his arms, and he kept moving.

She could feel his hands on her and the warmth of the flame from the fire on her skin. She could feel the way his cock throbbed, still buried deep inside her, and she could taste him. He pulled away from her mouth and buried his face in her neck when he came.

“Olivia.” He said her name once, just the one word, and it struck her to the core. Olivia regretted that she couldn’t feel his hot release painting her insides. It felt like some part of him was being held back from her, and she wanted it all.

Whatever magic she’d felt hearing the sound of her name on his lips dissipated with the reality of Sam pulling himself from her body and carefully removing the condom. He pulled his pants back up before walking over to his desk to dispose of it in the wastebasket there. Olivia imagined it wouldn’t be the first time the cleaning service found one of those in his trash.

What was she doing? She just screwed the boss’ son in his office. She was a total cliche. Her mind told her she should feel like a slut, but she didn’t. She refused to be ashamed of what she’d done. The sex had been mind blowing; her body had never responded to any man that way. Sam had stirred something in her physically, but it had gone beyond that. It was something she would examine later and try to define, but now all she could think of was escaping the overwhelming thoughts and feelings consuming her. Hastily, she grabbed her clothes and was in the process of putting them back on when Sam returned.

He took her hand and charmed her with his boyish dimples and his eyes that had turned a soft gray like the color of a sky lit by a silvery moon. Still, it was his words that got to her the most. “Hey, don’t be in such a hurry to leave; you’re going to make me feel cheap.” He was flirting with her. Guys like him moved smoothly through situations like this as though they were born to it, and in a way they were. Still, part of her hoped he was being at least a little sincere.

Sam hadn’t let go of her hand. “Stay with me. We can watch the fire, enjoy the lights on the Christmas tree.” This was a fling, right? It was a one night stand with the irresistible guy at work. “Plan our trip to Texas.” What did he just say? “A six pack is just an introduction to the business. What you need is to see the brewery.”

Sam sat down on the sofa, and Olivia sank down beside him. She lowered her guard a little and let some of the bliss she was feeling wash over her. The ambience created by the light from the tree and the fire enhanced her mood; both the light and her mood seemed somehow softer now.

“We can take the company jet. Ring in the new year in Austin.” Listening to him, Olivia had a most happy thought. Maybe this wasn’t a one night thing after all.

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @heycasbutt @jules-1999 @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @mrs-meghan-winchester @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @sea040561 @dawnie1988 @volleyballer519 @outcastedangel @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @daisymoder72 @sorenmarie87 @winchesterxfamilybusiness @deansotherotherblog

Sam/Jared: @girl-next-door-writes @stunudo @feelmyroarrrr @sammit-janet @idabbleincrazy @evansrogerskitten @focusonspn @autumninavonlea @spnxbsessed @durinsbride @deansyahtzee @waywardnerd67 @fullmooner @julesthequirky

#spnkinkbingo #spnchristmasbingo #sam smut #sam x ofc #sam series

47 notes · View notes

theinvisibledreamergirl · 3 years

Text

Has everything changed? (Part two)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Klaw Craig)

Word count: ~2.5k

Category: Angst but in the end... you’ll see it 😉

A.N: This is the second and the last part for this fic. Thank you so much for taking your time reading these bullshits of mine❤️ and then for everyone waiting OH AU 1 the next fic is called “Friendship questioned”. Hope you enjoy this!

MASTERLIST

PART ONE

————————————————

She wanted now to escape from this building as if that kind of air was blocking her lungs. A cup of lemon tea would somehow release the tension in her shoulders.

At Derry Roasters everyone were talking about the same topic with new faces appeared in front of her. Interns chatting excitedly about their first day and cursing their attendees for the anxious hours they spent until now.

She let a smirk to herself remembering the first day when she was an intern. A rebel one and didn’t even have to spare a glance to the man whom she hated the most. She was so clueless about him that only knew his name but not his face.

You can say she was the only intern who got the attention of Dr. Ramsey after a decade and no one could replace her.

The interns eyed her incredulously as if they were seeing a miracle whispering to each other.

“It’s her!”

“Shush dude she doesn’t like gossiping.”

“She’s so fucking gorgeous!”

“Damn lucky whoever is with her!”

“It’s Dr. Ramsey.”

“Really?”

“They’re such a power couple!”

“Hm. I wonder if they’ll invite us to their weeding.”

“Matt shut up or she’s going to hear us and I don’t want to have any bones broken!”

“Fine fine.”

She took a seat at the corner of the bar facing the window in her left.

This was their place.

The place where they felt themselves and out of the real world.

He would be opposite her smiling and telling his stories as a troublemaker teenager or how his father would always get angry after another defeat in the chess game.

Or how he would touch and kiss her hand bringing closer to him.

Or how she would scold him to not do anything publicly and he still didn’t give a damn what the others would say.

She really wanted to relive these moments so much but her logical side told her he was wrong and he had to apologise.

Whereas the feeling side... told her to go and kiss him and tell him that it was just a temporary weakness and that she loves him.

While she was sipping her tea relishing a sigh a soft voice distracted her.

“So British of you.”

She chuckled while placing the tea to the plate. “You’re not British if you don’t drink a cup of tea.”

“I highly agree with that. And you’re not American if you don’t drink an espresso.”

Both women shared a laugh when Harper Emery took a seat opposite her.

“Soo... how’s the first day going?”

“Really Harper? Just say what you want. I know this look of yours.” She knew what she came for and didn’t want to skip it like nothing had happened. Even though she sounded harsh Harper only let a gentle smile.

“Fine I just wanted to ease this conversation a bit but it looks like I have a long talk with you little miss.”

“If he has sent you here don’t even try.” She said nonchalantly bringing back the tea to her lips.

“Correction: he didn’t and I don’t think he would.”

He wouldn’t? Of course what did you expect.

“I came here because I wanted to talk with you Klaw. As friends.”

“What makes you think you can change?”

Mini Ethan. Stay strong Harper.

“Well let’s just say that I have this instinct of mine that what I want to achieve- it will be achieved. I know it’s sounds cliche but I’ve never failed in this path.”

“Keep going then.”

“Look Klaw... I think the real problem is not you or him. It’s you both against the problem.” She eyed her curiously.

“The problem is Leland and it’s dragging you both into a black hole till you fall and no one’s going to help you. What you need to understand is that Bloom is trying to provoke us and to see who’s going to be on his side. What Ethan agreed wasn’t because he is on Bloom’s side. He agreed because-“

“That was the only way he said.” Klaw replied in frustration while reminiscing his court voice on her mind.

“Tone, please?” Harper arched an eyebrow.

Gosh they’re both the same.

“Sorry.” She murmured while her gaze was falling on her nails ripping the cuticles.

“As I was saying he only agreed because he knew that even he would do the contrary, Bloom wouldn’t listen to him anyway without asking us because this is his character and is unpredictable. Ethan is taking this calmly but do not forget- he will always be on your side. Yes he’s really mad with you because of your lack of control against your emotions and of not showing professionalism. But he is wrong too for treating you as someone foreign and not considering as your colleague and not rethinking that not always you will agree in everything.”

Harper was thinking if this could work for both of them because she wanted to help as much as she could and also couldn’t see them separated from each other.

“Or if I make it simple- just fucking go and get him already!”

“I don’t think that would be simple. He said if I don’t get my shit back then there’s no way I could step in the team.”

“And you think with such a weak and useless threat of him you’re not going to talk about this? Bullshit. This is the perfect moment to say the apology because if not- you’re going to be very late and you’ll lose him.”

“But this is not actually what hurt him.” Harper frowned in confusion while Klaw’s eyes started to well up.

“I offended him Harper. I said that... that he doesn’t care about me even though I know he cares! He does...a lot but... I’ve really messed this thing up and I’m worried about facing him.” She gulped while putting her palms behind her neck. “I can’t do this. How am I supposed to look him in the eye Harper? I know he is right now really tired of this behaviour of mine and has tried his best to push me and to seal this bad sided woman you’re talking to! Ethan has been a careful, supportive and kind to me in many ways that I can’t explain. Whereas I...” she let a scoff. “I’ve been nothing but only bragging about everything and not be the best girlfriend he wants.”

Harper Emery was lucky to know someone as Klaudia Craig because not only she had been a great shoulder to lean on for everyone but also has been a great person to her.

She would always be in a debt for making Aurora speak and standing up for herself in her intern year and to show what a mistake she did by underrating her niece for her achievements.

And here she was now- confessing her feelings such beautifully for a man whom she loves most and if she was in her place... No.

It was clearly that this woman was the only spark who could give light in Ethan’s darkness and the contrary.

They were both meant for each other.

“Then all of these things you said to me-“ She leaned her palm giving hers a gentle squeeze. “- you should say to him. Whatever happens. I think he will listen to you.”

“You think so?”

“Hey. I’m a neurosurgeon and this the dumbest question ever raised by you Dr. Craig.”

Klaw let a weary chuckle. “Okay. Let’s see if the grumpy man wants to talk with the grumpy woman.”

“That’s my girl.”

—————————

Her steps lead her to the Diagnositics Office and far from the corner she could see there was no one inside. So the only place he could be was...

Hospital’s gym.

She could hear some hard breathing and panting while kickboxing in a big arena. He was wearing his loosely T-shirt and his sport’s boxers that fit perfectly his shape of the body.

Every movement he did and his focused gaze to the training made her head tilt in a wander that how was possible this man could be such sexy.

And how she was so lucky that he was hers.

Or that’s what she thought.

“Ethan!” She called behind him but it seemed he didn’t hear her as he was having his headphones on clearly listening to his rap music. She tried again. “Ethan Jonah Ramsey!”

No answer again. “Is he fucking kidding me or what? I’ll show him.”

She entered the ring arena rapidly and when she was just about to call him again unexpectedly was twirled in his arms, her back facing chest. She gasped and felt her breath hitched. What now?

“Well look who made it here.”

“I...”

“What the hell do you want Rookie?” He growled on her left ear.

Her lips trembled despite her efforts to not cry in front of him. “I’m sorry.”

He sensed her change of tone and turned her back to face him.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I know that I’m really such a bad bitch when it comes to these situations but I want you to know that I love you and I don’t want us to have these debates ever again because I know that always screw the things up... I ALWAYS RUIN IT!” Her last words flinched him when she punched his shoulder in anger and couldn’t see her in this broken state.

“No. I ruined it.” He admitted. “I know I shouldn’t even think about what you considered Harper at first because I know you weren’t jealous about her and still I thought it-” he let a weary chuckle “-and you never fail to be right about that. And I know I shouldn’t treat you as someone who wasn’t part of the team and I’m sorry if I made you doubt about yourself.”

He pulled her closer giving her the kiss she deserved but she backed off saying. “No more fights?”

He gave her the brightest smile. “No more.” She smiled too and felt his soul completely in peace. “Now Miss Craig-” he held his right hand to her. “-would you like to be my companion for tonight’s gala?”

She giggled and cleared her throat. “How can I refuse it Mister Ramsey?”

———————————————-

After two hours at Ethan’s apartment.

“I seriously can’t believe we’re going to that fucking party.” She was strapping her high heels frustratingly then got up while Ethan was doing his buttons of his sleeves looking at the mirror.

“Relax Rookie. Just put a fake smile and chat about medicine as doctors usually do.”

She scoffed while reaching to do his tie. “How can you be such calm? I expected you to be furious just like me.”

“Well unlike you ma’am I have a master’s degree that I’ve held for eleven years for being talkative, social and well respected diagnostician.” He let a smirk when she quirked her left eyebrow.

“I totally agree with the last one but I highly doubt about the first two y’know.”

He pressed her body closely to him, his eyes looking intensely into her dark brown. “And may I know why you’re doubting Dr. Craig?”

Instead of making it as a casual chat she turned it to something else. “About everything.” He got the message when she lowered her gaze playing mindlessly with the buttons of his lapel jacket. “I mean- what’s going to happen later Ethan? Some things have changed and we already are aware of it but...” She pressed her lips.

“But?”

“For how long? What if Bloom will try his tactics again to track another doctor and if there’s going to be someone else- who knows? I’m scared Ethan. What if this is the end of all of us? What if we lose our jobs for nonsense reasons?”

“I know. I’m worried about it too and I have absolutely no idea where this is going to take us. But one thing’s for sure.”

She let his hands cup her cheeks meeting with his face.

“No one...not even Bloom can tell us to back off from what is right. We will continue our mission, Naveen’s mission and we will always do it for the sake of the Oath. Don’t lose the confidence you have and all your thoughts even when they’re wrong. I’ve told you since the first day of your residency last year. It is not wrong to ask questions ‘cause if you didn’t well I would be very concerned. I know you say that you trust yourself but I don’t agree with it. So please... don’t overthink it. Let’s just enjoy this night while we can hm?”

His voice was so assuring and there was nothing else she wanted to hear.

The one she fell so hard capturing her in an inevitable trap.

His presence made her entirely safe whenever he gave a smile just like now with his eyes reflecting on hers like a magnet.

She wanted to stay there forever.

In his arms.

In his heart.

He seemed to notice it and kissed her forehead while she was closing her eyes.

“You always calm me down. How the hell you do this Rams’?”

“You’re not the only one with skills here lil girl.” She scrunched her nose when he tipped with his index finger. “Now I think we should leave before we are too late.”

“Actually...” She bit the corner of her lip. “Can we please not go? I don’t want to see that big rat blooming all the way up.” She pleaded while shrugging her right shoulder crossing her arms on her back.

“Klaw you can’t be serious.” When he saw her expression he scoffed before pointing his finger. “You’re too late to anything else because we’re dressed now for that occasion. Many doctors will be there and then is goin-.”

She grabbed instantly the back of his neck silencing him with a kiss. “Will you repeat that again doctor?”

“Not now Klaw-”

She kissed him again pinning him to the wall then whispering in a sultry voice.

“Wrong answer doctor. I’ll propose this- we’ll get the best scotch from Reggie and then buy some Calzones while we are enjoying the starry night that only the Boston’s sky can give us. Completely alone. Just the two of us. So...what do you say? I think it’s an opportunity of a lifetime.” She winked.

He sighed while looking up in the ceiling as if searching for help in his defeat. She loved making him at this state.

At her command.

“How the hell do you convince me Craig?”

“Well you’re not the only one with skills here old man.” She squeezed his cheeks while he was frowning. “Aww you’re so cute and you look like a fish doing ‘o’!”

He spoke or better tried to mumble the words. “I’m mnot olf man and I’m mnot ffsh!”

“Yeah yeah that’s why you can’t use the Instagram correctly.” She giggled when couldn’t contain her laughter anymore then took his hand leading them to the door. “Now shall we go because I’m really starving and we won’t make it home earlier.”

“True. We won’t make it home until the morning.”

He gave her a known devilish grin while he was unlocking the door that made her eyes go wide, her heartbeats accelerate and gulped hardly.

He winked.

Damn it.

This was going to be a very long night ahead of them.

—————————————————

TAGS WILL APPEAR IN A REBLOG!

#open heart fan fic #open heart choices #open heart fan fiction #ethan ramsey #my mc #klaw craig #ethan ramsey x mc #klaw x ethan #OH Book 3 rewrite #my writing

34 notes · View notes