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reidsmanuscript · 5 months ago

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Seven Seconds

Summary: when Katie Jacob's gets abducted in a Mall, setting the clock for the BAU, who needs a legal favor, and it's been a year since the A.D.A. has know anything about Spencer Reid. Pairing: Spencer Reid x lawyer!reader Genre: pinning, SLOW BURN, maybe right moment?, angst bc i love angst wc: 4.6k! (i know so small comparing to part 1 bear with me) TW: cm canon typical violence, set in 05x3 "Seven seconds" (obviously lol), sexual violence, implied reader's dark past, glimpses of female rage. A/N: my idea for the serie is be taylor jenkins reid and have you question if lawyer reader exists or not (delusional bitch), english is not my first language and let's pretend it's proofread part I - part II - part III - part IV - masterlist

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Spencer sat on the park bench reading a book while playing chess with Ethan, brilliant kid for his age and good opponent, not good enough though because when he cheered “I see checkmate in 5, What do you see?” It took Spencer one glance to calculate all the movements necessary.

“I see it in 3” he answered looking at his book again, the kid turned around the board and moved the pieces

“We've missed you out here” he said, staring at the board amazed.

“Thanks. I, uh, I had to take a little break”

“How come?” His hands froze on the book for a second before closing it.

Spencer had been clean for over a year now, it was 14 months and 2 weeks ago that he had freaked out after noticing his stash of Dialud was gone along with his needle. Where could he find more? Who knew about his addiction? Where was his stash? Who the fuck is Dr. Fitzgerald? Did you report him?

His first instinct was confronting you, given that you were the only person who found out his drugs that he knew, the first days he was a complete paranoid, he jumped every time Hotch called his name, or that Gideon looked at him a little too long.

At the end of the week he was thinking where he could find more, and when that thought scared him, he called the number of the card you had left in the same pocket his drugs used to be.

“Hello this is Dr. Fitzgerald” said a calm voice, it was 10 p.m. so there was a higher chance of going to voicemail, but he got an answer and the tremor of his hands got a little worse. Was it the anxiety or the withdrawal?

“Umm hello.. this is.. Dr.. this is Spencer Reid and someon-""I've been waiting for your call Dr Reid” the other line interrupted, he froze for a second.

“I used to play with a co-worker friend of mine. He's probably the best mind I ever went up against. One day, he just decided that he didn't want to play anymore.”

Fast forward, she helped him get clean and stay clean after Gideon left, getting tested regularly, and gave him the contact of the help group of FBI addicts. He was better, he was alive.

“So you gave up, too?”

“Just the opposite. I attempted to play Through every permutation of moves on a chessboard.”

“That's an infinite number of games.”

“It's not infinite. It's just- it's exponentially large.”

“You couldn't have played through them all.”

“There's an average of 40 moves per chess game, And I'll tell you something– the more I played, The more I realized that every single match every single chess game, Is really just a simple variation on the exact same theme. You know? It's aggressive opening, Patient mid-game, inevitable checkmate, And I realized why my friend quit. He was tired of repeating the same patterns And expecting a different outcome.”

“That's because you haven't come up on Fridays or Mondays in a while” the way his eyebrows went up along his voice tone made him feel like he knew something that he didn't.

His eyebrows furrowed “What do you mean?”

“There's this great player who comes around those days, she even brings the best pastries, and her games is similar to yours, always two or three moves ahead, she always beats everyone here… i think her boyfriend called her Buzz or something like that, like the Toy Story character”

“Buzz?… i don't really remember anyone with that nickname”

“It’s probably not that one but you don't know her because she started coming like 8 months ago.. I'm sure you have a lifetime of chess strategy in your head that you're just sitting on, but when you meet her?” He made a dramatic pause “You'll have to play it.”

He glances at his watch to realize his 15 minute break is coming to an end. “I still use it. I just, uh... I apply it differently. I have to go. It's good seeing you.”

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That evening, the BAU was called in for a local case—a little girl, Katie, had been kidnapped from a busy mall. A week earlier, another girl had been taken from the same location and found dead hours later. Now, they were all racing against the clock.

Katie’s parents were desperate. As any parents would be in this situation, right? But when Hotch asked the father if either of them was having an affair—a routine question in abductions—the man took offense. Deep offense. So much so that he refused to let the FBI search their house.

Now, what kind of parent refuses to help the police find their missing child?

In a small surveillance room, Morgan and Reid sat with Garcia, who was visibly frustrated by the mall’s ancient security system. They were surrounded by screens displaying grainy footage from different angles—well, almost every angle. They had a single glimpse of Katie in one video, and then, seven seconds later, she was gone.

JJ and Prentiss were with the mother, aunt, and uncle, trying to get a read on the family dynamic. Meanwhile, Morgan and Reid had conducted a cognitive interview with Katie’s cousin. It had led nowhere.

“The family has refused permission to search the house,” Hotch announced as he stepped into the room.

“What do you mean they denied?” Morgan’s frustration was evident. “Your only child goes missing, and you refuse to collaborate?”

No one disagreed. They were all thinking the same thing.

“The cousin didn’t say much,” Reid added. “He was too distracted in the game room to notice anything.”

Hotch exhaled sharply. “I’ll speak to the detectives, see if we can get a warrant.” His tone was firm, but they all knew time wasn’t on their side.

Garcia adjusted her glasses. “Sir, I mean this in the best way possible, but it’s almost 8 p.m. I don’t think-”

“I’ll handle it,” Morgan interrupted.

All Reid and Garcia turned to him with identical looks. What do you mean you will handle it?

Hotch’s eyebrows furrowed, but after a moment, he gave a small nod and walked away. Morgan was already pulling out his phone.

“I have a contact,” he explained, dialing.

He put the phone on speaker. It rang once. Twice. On the third ring, a voice answered—sharp, direct, and all business.

“A.D.A. Woodvale.”

Reid went rigid.

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It was late in the office; most people had already gone home, including your assistant Molly. All but Austin, who was still there because he had a lead on one of your cases. You knew he was still hanging around because, over a year ago, when someone had snuck into your office to harm you, you’d become a little paranoid. You’d gotten better, but Austin insisted on keeping you company, especially since your car was in the mechanic’s.

You were reviewing a legal brief, pen in hand, skimming the margins to jot down notes when the desk phone rang. Without looking up, you hit the speaker button with the tip of the pen.

“A.D.A. Woodvale.”

There was a beat of silence before a familiar voice cut in—smooth, direct, urgent.

Morgan called your name “Hey. We need a warrant. Fast.” You blinked, setting the pen down.

Reid and Garcia exchanged glances as Morgan jumped in without hesitation.

“Katie Jacobs. Eight years old. Abducted from a mall earlier tonight,” Morgan started, all business. “Another girl was taken from the same place a week ago—she was found dead hours later. We’re working against the clock.”

You frowned, swirling the pen, going through the multiple scenarios. You had heard about last week’s case, and how slow the police had moved back then.

“We’ve got mall surveillance footage,” Morgan pressed. “At first, we thought she just vanished, but Garcia finally pulled something from one of the side corridors. Katie wasn’t taken by force—she was walking calmly with someone.”

Your fingers tightened slightly around her pen. “Someone she knows.”

“Exactly,” Morgan confirmed. “That narrows it down to family or close acquaintances.” They all shared a silent thought. Family.

We know they’re hiding something,” Morgan corrected. “We just don’t have the probable cause to kick the door down.”

Garcia watched as Morgan paced slightly, his tone firm but urgent.

“That’s thin, Morgan,” Your voice came through the speaker, steady and unyielding.

“We don’t have time for airtight,” Morgan countered.

Your jaw tightened. “You don’t have time for me to get laughed out of a judge’s office, either. Refusing a search isn’t a crime, and suspicion alone doesn’t cut it. I need more.” You understood where the suspicious came from, how are you supposed to help them if they had nothing?

There was a pause. A beat of silence. Then, another voice—one you hadn’t heard in over a year.

“99% of abducted children who are killed due within the first 24 hours” He cleared his throat, willing his voice to stay even. Spencer Reid. “75% within the first 3 hours, and what only law enforcement knows is Jessica Davis joined the 44% of children who are abducted and killed within the first hour. We’re already past the three-hour mark. If we don’t act now, statistically speaking—”

“The likelihood of recovery drops exponentially,” You sighed, already standing up, ignoring how his voice sounded. So different. So… clean.

Your gaze flicked to the clock. 8:06 p.m. Damn it.

You grabbed a blank warrant form from her drawer and reached for a pen. “Send me the address and everything else you have. Give me 20 minutes.”

Click. You didn’t have time for goodbyes.

Austin raised an eyebrow from his seat. “Guess you’re not going home anytime soon.”

You didn’t look up as you started writing. “I never was.”

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The courthouse was mostly deserted at this hour. The fluorescent lights hummed quietly, and the stillness of the evening was only interrupted by the sharp click of your heels on the polished floors followed by Austin’s boots toward the judge’s chambers.

“You sure you don’t want me to take this one? Sweet-talk her maybe?” he teased.

You shot him a look. “You think Judge Holloway is the type to be charmed? Plus, you’re a private investigator, not a lawyer.”

“She’s not gonna like you showing up this late.”

You didn’t miss a beat. “If she’s still up, she’ll make time for this.”

Taking a steadying breath as you stopped in front of the door, you quickly ran through your notes, making sure you had every detail in order. Then, without hesitation, you pushed through the heavy wooden doors of Judge Evelyn Holloway’s chambers.

Inside, the judge barely glanced up from her paperwork. “You have two minutes, Woodvale.”

Stepping forward, you set the warrant request on the desk. “Your Honor, I apologize for the late hour, but we have a child abduction case we’re working against the clock. A young girl, Katie Jacobs, was taken from a mall over three hours ago. We’ve obtained surveillance footage showing her walking with an individual—someone she likely knows. We believe the family is withholding information, and they’ve refused to allow us to search the residence.”

The judge narrowed his eyes, folding her hands on the desk. “And what do you propose I do about it? What evidence do you have to warrant a search?”

You kept your voice steady. “We have footage of the girl with someone who wasn’t a stranger, Your Honor. The parents are refusing cooperation, and the father was evasive when asked about possible affairs, which raises red flags about his involvement.”

Holloway sighed, leaning back in her chair. “That’s thin.” You were ready for that.

“I have the full footage from the mall security, including a timestamp showing the precise time the girl went missing. She is last seen walking calmly with someone she knows, most likely family.”

There was a brief pause, and for a second, you thought you were about to lose her. So you pulled Reid’s words from memory, adjusting them just enough to make them your own.

“Time is working against us. Statistics show that 99% of abducted children who are murdered lose their lives within the first 24 hours 75% within just the first three. And only law enforcement-”

She cut you off with a raised hand, signaling you to stop.

The judge exhaled through her nose, it was late and you were rambling about statistics and you knew she wanted you out as soon as possible when you started citing numbers. So pushing himself out of her chair with a slight groan. “Fine. Get me the paperwork. I’ll sign it—but you better have your ducks in a row.”

You nodded, her demeanor unflinching. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

As you turned to leave, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the hours ahead of you. But you were used to this—fighting against the clock.

“Let’s move,” motioning to Austin. He gave you a small nod. “You got it.”

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Exactly 15 minutes after the call, 5 minutes earlier than promised, Morgan’s phone rang. He answered it without even looking.

"You got your warrant. I'll meet you there," Alex’s voice came through, crisp and businesslike, just as expected.

Morgan exhaled, his relief barely hidden. "Thank you, Woody."

He paused for a moment before adding, "I owe you one," then hung up, turning to Reid.

“Tell Hotch we’re heading to the Jacobs’ house,” he instructed, already moving toward the door.

Spencer had been timing her. It wasn’t the first time he'd gotten caught up in the tense waiting game of law and order, but the pressure of it had a different weight today. The memory of your voice, clear and resolute, echoed in his mind, sharper than before.

For Reid, part of getting clean wasn't just the physical withdrawal—it was the emotional weight of confronting his mistakes. The memory of how he'd lashed out at you a year ago still haunted him. How could he have been so cruel? The hurt in your eyes, the way he dismissed you, the way it all spiraled… it wasn’t just the drugs that had made him say those things. And the fury he saw when you looked at him, Dialuid in hand, how you looked like a timing bomb when he was trying to see if he could talk to you, the tension in your shoulders, the lock in your jaw, the grip on the file. He’d been battling so much more since then, in his mind, you saved his life by doing what he couldn't do.

He’d rather die than relive that moment again, than say those things. And yet, here he was, standing in the middle of another chaotic case, still carrying that guilt with him. He stayed behind Morgan for just a beat before pushing down his feelings and moving quickly.

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The engine of Austin's bike rumbled to a stop as they pulled up in front of the house, where Morgan and Reid were standing in front of the black SUV. You slid off the back with practiced ease, taking off the helmet and letting your hair fall loose.

Austin followed your lead, taking his helmet off with a groan. “So, what exactly are we looking for?”

You shot him a quick, sidelong glance, handing him the helmet, keeping your expression flat knowing he’s about to be a drama queen. “You’re not coming inside. The warrant’s for FBI and police only. Not P.I.s included”

Austin paused, a mock pout crossing his face. “Excuse me? I just got you here, through all that traffic, risking myself to get a speeding ticket and now I don’t get to search? This is the second time in the night that you P.I. shaming me. Do you hate me?”

“If I hated you I wouldn’t have bailed your ass out of jail… twice” you remark the last part. He had a talent for sticking his foot where he shouldn’t be, maybe that’s what makes him good at his job.

“You act like you wouldn’t do it a third time” he was mocking, but he was right, something you would never admit to him.

You start walking to the house “Mhm.” you hum rolling your eyes, heading towards where Morgan and Reid were.

You didn't expect him to be there, or maybe you did, maybe you wanted to see him and know what had happened to him since the last time you saw him. They were looking at you, Morgan with a curious already-profiling-you stare, while Reid expression was more… cautious. He looked so different, his cheekbones were prominent in an attractive way and not sickly, he had put on some healthy weight and was not fidgety. You were not mad anymore, because of course at the moment the hurt had turned into rage like it always does for you, but it was more because of phantoms than anything else.

“Got your golden ticket” you said, avoiding Reid’s gaze as you pulled the warrant from the inner pocket of your gray coat and swung it toward them.

Morgan nodded “You staying?” He gestured with his head to Austin who was leaving.

“I have to make sure you find something, otherwise the judge will have my head for this,” you said dryly, shrugging as though the threat didn’t bother you, but there was a flicker of seriousness behind your words. You were only talking to him, which felt rude because Reid’s stare was locked in your profile.

Reid was thinking how pretty you looked, how the black vest suited you, and he couldn’t ignore the fact you had changed your brown bag to a black one that looked nothing like his. Your white shirt and gray coat gave you an older, wiser look, but as Reid analyzed your features, he realized he didn’t even know how old you were. You couldn’t be older than him. Serious, sharp, and young... How was it possible for someone that young to be the A.D.A.?

Reid’s mind couldn’t let go of the numbers. The average age of an Assistant District Attorney in the U.S. is 36. You couldn’t be older than 25, and yet you were already in that position.

You glanced at him for a moment before stepping inside the house, feeling the weight of his stare. The look made him snap out of his trance-like state, and of course, his eidetic memory hated him, because for that brief second, he remembered how you had looked at him a year ago.

Morgan nodded and thanked you again before he and Reid walked into the house. You left the warrant on the hall table with a deliberate touch, your fingers lingering for just a moment—as if to remind yourself that you weren’t entirely done with this.

“Somebody lit a fire last night,” you heard Reid say.

“Well, there are dirty dishes for three in the kitchen, so they eat together as a family.” Morgan’s voice carried from the other room as they moved through the house, taking in the details.

If Katie was in danger, the signs wouldn’t be in plain sight. You had to look where they hid—where children kept their secrets. Their bedrooms.

“Hey, my favorite movie from when I was a kid.” Reid held up a DVD, turning it in his hands before pulling it from the player just as you passed by him, tugging on latex gloves before heading upstairs, you did feel a little guilty for not even looking or talking to him, but it was something you did unconsciously.

“So they watch movies together, too,” Morgan mused. They were starting to build a picture of the family’s dynamic.

“By a fireplace in a house that’s straight out of a catalog,” Reid added. “Norman Rockwell couldn’t have painted this any cozier.”

“That’s what worries me.” There was weight in Morgan’s voice. A tension that sat between them.

Upstairs, you searched through the rooms with careful precision.

When you first became a lawyer, you made a promise—never ignore a sign. Since then, you have gone further. You didn’t just refuse to ignore them; you searched for them. Hollow eyes. Unexplained bruises. Small bloodstains. You looked for them in teenagers, in young adults, in the elderly. But nothing—nothing—was more painful than a child who couldn’t speak up.

Because they were small. Because someone older, someone stronger, was hurting them. There's nothing more hurtful than not being able to speak out, to say something and stand up for yourself. Except when someone did—someone saw the bruises, the fear, the signs—and they looked away deliberately. Because a child’s pain was inconvenient. Because it came with a mountain of paperwork no one wanted to touch.

You had spent your whole life making sure you never looked away.

That’s why you were hunched over the small desk in Katie’s bedroom, flipping through her drawings when Morgan and Reid entered the room. They started searching, their movements efficient and methodical.

“Katie’s been wetting her bed,” Reid said as he lifted the duvet, inspecting the mattress beneath it.

“A lot of six-year-olds do. Could be bad dreams,” Morgan replied, crouching beside you as he sifted through a pile of toys.

You considered that possibility—it was perfectly logical. In a perfect world.

“Some kids won’t get up at night because they’re afraid of the dark,” Reid added, his tone careful. Almost knowing.

“Or it could be a lot more complex than that.”

Morgan had found a doll. Not a Barbie missing a shoe or one that had simply been played with too much. No—this doll was different.

Its hair had been hacked off, jagged strands sticking out unevenly. Red marker smeared across its face like smeared blood. Its clothes were yanked askew, twisted, and wrong.

“Most girls covet their dolls like an extension of themselves.” He took the doll in his hands like it was made of fine glass.

“Reid, I know these signs-— acting out on her toys, wetting the bed. She's obviously covering up something about that necklace.”

“And her cousin might be holding something back.”

“Well, this looks more like a man than a boy to me,” you said, holding up a drawing of a tall, shadowy figure towering over a small, crying child.

Morgan took it from your hands, his expression hardening as he analyzed the image.

“Psychology says drawing is a child’s way of channeling their inner world. Look at the strokes—how harsh they are,” you pointed to the dark, jagged lines forming the tall figure, then traced your finger over the smaller one. “And this looks like Katie to me. She forgot to draw the hands, which means she feels powerless… helpless.”

Morgan took his phone out, dialing up “Hotch, we think Katie’s being molested,” Morgan said, his voice clipped. “And we both know the odds.”

A brief silence. Then Hotch’s response, firm and certain. “Most likely by someone under the same roof.”

He hung up, and both men started toward the door, their movements brisk with purpose. But you stayed behind for a moment, rooted in place, taking in the scene. Trying to quiet the distant sirens that echoed in your mind, the same ones always shouting when you were face to face with these situations. A loud pause—maybe out of respect for Katie and her pain, for everything she had been forced to endure.

From the doorway, Spencer glanced back. The dim light from the hallway cast your figure in stark contrast, outlining you in shadow—your form dark against the soft glow of the room. He couldn’t see your expression, couldn’t read your face. He focused on the way your hands curled into fists at your sides, the tight set of your shoulders.

And he wished—just for a second—that he could see more.

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You stood outside, leaning against the wall, arms crossed tightly over your chest. By your side were Morgan, Jeremy, Katie’s cousin, and Reid.

Turns out, Katie’s uncle, Richard, was her abuser. A disgusting son of a bitch who deserved to rot in hell. And you were going to make sure he did. He had destroyed Katie’s childhood, probably more than just hers, shattering an entire family in the process. His own son, standing right next to you, was collateral damage he clearly hadn’t spared a thought for. And then there was his wife. The woman who had chosen to look away. Who had taken Katie and nearly gotten her killed, all for the pathetic, desperate hope that it would somehow stop her husband from creeping into little bedrooms at night. She deserved the same hell he did.

A stretcher rolled past, Katie’s small frame barely visible beneath the blankets as the paramedics guided her into the ambulance. Her mother clutched her tiny hand, whispering something—words meant to soothe, to promise safety.

A young voice cut through the air. “I heard her call my mom’s name. That’s what I remembered before.”

You closed your eyes, your mind already racing ahead. Your attorney brain was piecing it together, sketching out the battle that was coming. If the kid had heard it, that made him a witness to the abduction. His own mother had committed the crime against her niece. And God only knew what else he had seen—what else had been happening in that house—without fully understanding it.

“We get it, kid. That’s your mom,” Morgan said, his voice steady. But you knew the truth: if Jeremy could barely say those words to them, getting him to the stand in front of a jury would be another fight entirely.

The boy shifted on his feet, staring at the ambulance. “What’s gonna happen to me now?”

If God existed, He had already been too cruel. He had let all of this happen. And you knew how these things worked—knew there was a very real chance that Katie’s parents, burdened with their own grief, would resent Jeremy by association. That they wouldn’t take him in. That he would be swallowed by the foster system.

You wouldn’t let that happen.

The sirens blared outside the mall, cutting through the air with urgency, but it was the ones inside your mind that were louder—screaming in the same rhythm, as if they were one and the same. Distant and deafening, they filled every corner of your head, drowning out everything but the grim reality unfolding before you.

“I don’t know, Jeremy,” Reid answered, his voice gentle. “But we’re gonna make sure you’re alright, okay?”

Jeremy didn’t look at him. His eyes stayed fixed on the ambulance. “Is Katie gonna be all right?”

You wished—desperately, violently—that you could tell him yes. That you could say it with certainty and make it true. But how could you give him something you didn’t have?

“She will, eventually,” Morgan said, his voice firm.

You exhaled sharply. The words made your skin crawl.

“Is she?” The question slipped from your lips before you could stop it—low, bitter, nearly spat out under your breath. Just quiet enough that the kid wouldn’t hear. Just loud enough that Morgan did.

Before he could respond, you were already moving.

Your feet carried you toward the police car, toward the sick, selfish bastard they were shoving into the backseat. Your hand shot out, slamming the door closed—harder than necessary, just enough that it cracked against Richard’s face.

Morgan watched. So did Spencer.

And for the first time, he realized just how much of a puzzle you really were.

Partially because, throughout all of this, you hadn’t looked at him once. Not when he entered the room, not when he spoke, not even now, standing just a few feet away.

Partially because your eyes, when he finally caught a glimpse of them, were full of something he rarely saw outside of a case like this. Pure, undiluted rage.

Not just anger. Not just frustration. Something deeper. Something personal.

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part III　 Feedback feeds motivation! Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated <3

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zevrra · 2 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩: the last thing you had expected in your years of peace was to see a ghost from your past; joel miller. a man you had known years ago, who had left you years ago, and one you had tried your hardest to avoid since you ended up in jackson. but none of that mattered now when he shows up on your doorstep with a pale face and a wounded leg.

𝐰𝐜: 2.5k

𝐟𝐭: jackson!joel x ex-gf!reader

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬: mdni, one shot, angst, hurt/comfort, tw blood, tw injuries, tw needles, ex established relationship, slight age gap, medic!reader, eventual fluff, mentions of joel being a smuggler, joel is on the verge of tears in this, he’s a lil insecure if you squint.

𝐚/𝐧: this probably isn’t any good but i couldn’t get the idea of it out of my head AAA

“H-hey, uh, can I come in?” Joel half ass chuckles before sucking in a breath from the pain, leaning against your door to support himself.

You quickly glance over the pale man, immediately catching the scarlet staining his pants from what you assume is a pretty deep wound. And in your heart you know you’ll never turn him away but dammit if you don’t consider closing the door, stepping away, and leaving him this time. But you couldn’t. No matter what, he was still Joel, and you couldn’t leave him to die.

“This way. Just try not to get blood…everywhere.” You say with a roll of your eyes before moving to his side, taking up one of his arms and laying it across your shoulder and guiding him into your home. You carry him off towards the bathroom, the cleanest place you can think of, settling him down on the edge of the tub. “Take off your stuff.”

“Not gonna help?” Joel teases but the look you give him shuts him up, for the moment. He begins to strip to the best of his ability while you rummage under the sink for your damn first aid kit. Finding it right about the same time he’s attempting to shed his durable jacket.

You set the first aid kit on the closest ledge to the bathtub before begrudgingly helping Joel out of his clothes. You toss his brown durable jacket onto the floor behind you before your fingers head straight for the buckle on his belt. You twist and turn it, like you’ve done…far too many times, before discarding it along with his coat. Your nimble fingers quickly work on his jeans next; using your own knee for support as you strip him of his stained jeans, finally allowing you a decent look at what he’s gotten himself into.

“Shit…” You swear under your breath, slightly turning his badly wounded leg to the side, just to see how far the knife wound goes.

Joel laughs though, despite the circumstances. “That bad, huh?” He groans at the first press of your fingers, sucking in another sharp painful breath.

You don’t answer him, ignoring him for the moment as you continue to look at the wound. Blood bubbles under your examination and you needed something to stop the bleeding an hour ago. You move back to the bathroom sink, grabbing a towel and drenching it in the warmest water you can manage before moving back to the battered man. You press the soaked towel into his wound as hard as you can, fishing for another towel at your feet and handing it to him. “You know what to do with that.”

Joel takes the towel you offer him, wrapping it around the thicker part of his thigh, right above the wound, and ties it tight around his leg; a late attempt to stop the bleeding while you work your magic. “Damn hunter,” Joel grunts through the pain, tightening the towel with every word. “Didn’t see him. Caught me on my way back to town.”

You weren’t that interested in how he got to this point. Knowing what happened would just make your fingers tremble and your heart hurt. So you try your best not to indulge him. “You’re just getting old.” You mutter back before you press hard into the wound, your other hand rummaging with the lid of the first aid kit beside you. You retrieve a thin needle and the sutures needed for stitching the wound, nodding your head for Joel to replace your hand with his as you attempt to thread the needle as quickly as you can.

Joel starts to chuckle but the pain spreading across his thigh has him trailing off into a groan. Once successfully threading the needle, you return to your work, peeling off your now ruined towel from Joel’s wound.

“You know I was, uh, never…good with words,” Joel frets, picking at something invisible under his nails. Dull and dim from years of working with his hands. “But uh…thank you. For this.”

“Yeah, you made that a little too obvious, Joel.” You hum back, hoping to hurt him as much as his knife wound did, before continuing to work on the task at hand. Your fingers trail along his inner thigh, smoothing over the edge of his wound, sizing it up once more. “Now, no more moving. Or talking.” You add before placing the needle on some clean gauze, reaching for alcohol to sterilize the wound and the needle.

Silence falls between the two of you, allowing you to focus entirely on fixing him up. With a deep breath, you steady your hands before pressing the tip of the needle directly into his skin. You move skillfully, having also done this a time or two, pushing the needle in, stitching it across, threading it back down to tightly seal the wound. You keep your gaze locked on the work you do. Watching every press of the needle and the sutures that follows suit. You may be upset about some other old wounds of your own opening up— but at least Joel wouldn’t die to this one; not this time.

“Just like…old times, huh?” He says through gritted teeth, tossing his head back when you press the needle through his skin.

You exhale an annoyed huff through your nose at his statement. Trying your damned best to quickly do the rest of the stitching needed to keep him from bleeding out everywhere. You didn’t want to linger too long anyway. “Heh, yeah, before you left me in the middle of the night, right?” You say, biting your bottom lip to keep it from wobbling. No, you couldn't break down crying…not right now, not in front of him.

After what feels like maybe forever, with just a few more twists of your needle, you’ve managed to completely sew up his knife wound. Quickly, you knot the edge of the thread as tight as you can, clipping the suture with a pair of metal scissors before tossing the entire kit back into its box. With a slam of the lid, you forcibly close it, turning to put the first aid kit back where it rightfully belongs— for next time. Why you would ever hope there was a next time…you didn’t know. Didn’t really need to get your hopes up.

What you needed was a fucking drink.

“You’re still angry at me.” Joel weakly says, clearing his throat in an attempt to try and not make everything so damn awkward…it obviously wasn’t working.

In that moment, everything comes back to you in a rush. The feelings, the sleepless nights, the tears you shed…everything rushes up like a punch to the gut; knocking the air from your very lungs. “Dammit Joel!” You yell, turning on your heel to stare him down, unable to stop the tears from forming this time. “Of course I’m still angry! I spent months waiting on…fucking anything from you! You left me in a world full of shit!” You choke out, picking up his coat and throwing it at him with as much force as you can manage. It almost pisses you off more that he easily catches it without so much as a flinch. Your next target is the bloodied towel as you pick it up with a tight grip.

And you think the silence that stretches for mere seconds right then and there was going to be the end of it…but your thoughts just keep spilling out.

“You would rather throw your life away than tell me goodbye! You didn’t care if you died tomorrow while I sat waiting, hoping, praying for your god forsaken safe return.” You cry out, pointing an accusing finger his way. “But what hurts the most, damn you, is that I could never stay angry at you! I knew you had your reasons! Knew in my heart I…I would always forgive you!” You finally snap, slamming down the blood soaked rag into your sink. You turn away from him once more, tension lining every inch of the muscles in your shoulders as you grip the edge of your bathroom sink for any semblance of balance. You wished you could keep going, to yell at him some more to make up for all the lost time the two of you had but your words are quickly replaced with broken sobs and hot tears streaming down your face.

The silence, once welcomed, is now suffocating. The only sound echoing inside the room was that of your pathetic sobs. You think for a split second that maybe he’s going to just gather his things and leave you, to flee into the night, never to be seen again…but instead of listening to him run away, you feel a shaky hand press into the small of your back.

Joel stands beside you, hazel gaze full of sadness and worry as he looks down at you. He leans heavily against the vanity, trying his best to keep up off his hurt leg for the moment.

“I’m…an idiot. And sorry.” Joel whispers as he retrieves his hand from your back, moving it to caress the side of your face— and like a fool, you let him. “I can’t apologize enough. I just…dammit, I was scared. I’m not a good man, darlin’. I was a smuggler back then and was…terrified you might end up hurt because of it. I’ve lost too fuckin’ much. I couldn’t…lose you too.” He admits with a weak tone.

If anything, at least you knew he was genuine about the entire thing; you truly had never seen such a vulnerable state out of Joel before. It was evident that the years had changed him; and you.

“So you just left?” You ask with that wobble to your lip, tears still streaming down your face.

Joel frowns, swallowing a lump in his throat, as his thumb moves to brush along the trails of tears left behind on your pretty face. “Yeah, I left. It was wrong. And I’m…a fuckin’ coward for it but I was fallin’ for ya, too hard and too fast and it scared me.”

You want to say something, to stop him from speaking, but all you can manage is a whine followed by a sniffle. With the back of your free hand, you wipe across one of your tear filled eyes, trying to return to your previous cold-like state.

But before you can, Joel with his other hand, catches your own in a firm grasp. His fingers press gently into the cup of your palm, smoothing along your soft skin while butterflies dance in your stomach. He brings the back of your hand up to the curl of his lips, placing a gentle but forgiving kiss against your skin. You watch his eyes fall close for just a split second, as if he’s gathering the strength to continue. “You may never be able to forgive me for that and…and…I’m so sorry.” He mumbles apologetically. He was never able to find the right words so all he could muster was to apologize. And he would, until his very last breath.

Now you really can’t find the words to respond to him. Cotton in your mouth, choking you, keeping you from further speaking your mind.

He takes your silence as an answer though.

He coughs slightly, clearing away the pain that lingers in his own chest. “I’ll leave and this time…uh, I’ll stay gone.” Joel finally says, promising to never return. Didn’t want to hurt you more than he already has.

And yet, he lingers letting go of you. His warm hand catches one more tear from your reddening eyes before he slowly begins to slip his hand from your face. Sculpting you— as if he wanted his hands and his heart to never forget you, if this was to be the last time he ever saw you. So when his hands finally fall away, untangling entirely from you, it feels like the weight of the world slams into your chest. You watch as he stumbles back to the edge of the tub, fishing after his stained jeans.

Time slows as your gaze follows him. You watch him move sluggishly towards his clothes littering your bathroom floor. You imagine him leaving, for good, this time, limping his way back to his little corner of Jackson, leaving you, avoiding you for the rest of your numbered days, never to see each other again…and that thought hurts more than anything.

You were not losing him a second time.

You reach out for him. A firm hand stretches out quickly and you grip around the thick of his bicep; stopping him in his quest for his clothes. Tears spring free once more before you can stop them, and now it’s your turn to caress his confused face. You shake your head and thankfully, without any words, Joel seems to know exactly what you mean. His hand slips over your own, tangling his fingers into yours once more, while his other hand returns to press flush into your back. He moves like a man not wounded as he sweeps you up into him; closer and closer, he needs your body against his far more than he needs anything else. Pain, to be forgotten, as his lips crash into yours. He kisses you, full of longing and passion and need and all sorts of want. As if he had been waiting for ages to get the chance to kiss you once more.

A sob slips from your lips and into his own but you kiss him back nonetheless. He gently squeezes your hand as you reciprocate his yearning, kissing you deeper and you accept it all. Falling into a perfect rhythm, as if you two had never parted in the first place. Twisting and turning, stitched together, made to fit perfectly for each other.

You’d never admit how many nights you had lied awake, hoping for another moment like this with him. Never once had you sought out someone to fill the hole he had left. There was never going to be anyone else— it was always going to be him, and deep down you knew that from the moment you two had met.

You’re the first to break from the kiss. Sucking in a sharp breath, tilting your head down and away from him for the moment. A laugh bubbles in your throat but it never comes out, so Joel oddly laughs for the both of you.

“I don’t deserve this.” He admits, shaking his head in disbelief. As if he truly cannot grasp that whatever this was, that it was happening.

“Maybe so,” You respond, finally clearing your throat of every obstacle from before. “You’ll just have to do a really damn good job of making it up to me.”

“I’d…like that. To make it up to ya.” He echoes your request, brushing his thumb once more across the high of your cheekbone, collecting any tears that he possibly could. His gaze is softer than you had ever seen it before; even when it had just been the two of you, surviving in Boston. Regret, sorrow, and love in those damned hazel eyes of his as he looks so sweetly at you. “I wrote…letters. Tried to, anyway, was just never good at words.” Joel chuckles, restating at how bad he truly was with words…and his feelings. That much was obvious, again.

This time, you finally manage to laugh along with him. “Mhm, tomorrow, I’d really like to read them.”

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erkolblinguispretre · 1 year ago

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Here's a depressing one-shot with that character to distract you from his similarities woth Dr.Octopus lol :

Contingency plan

Aelita wanted to cry. To let herself fall on the ground and scream her despair. But she couldn't. Not now. Not when her mortal enemy had her in the palm of her hand, while possessing the one she loved with all her heart.

"So, Aelita," said xanafied-Jeremie with a bored voice. "Have you finished that useless struggle yet?" "Never!!" spat Aelita with rage. "My friends will soon be there and..." XANA interrupted her with a cruel laugh. "It seems you don't understand your position my dear Aelita," said the monster with Jeremie's voice. "Your friends have been dealt with. And by Jeremie's perfect plan at that."

That last sentence paralyzed Aelita. "What do you mean...?" she uttered. "After William's downfall," explained XANA as if he had all the time in the world. "Jeremie thought about something. What to do.. if the others were possessed? How could he restrain them in order to buy him some times and free them from my grasp? So," continued the malevolent AI while approaching Aelita "our dear genius listed the weakness of his friends, speculating soft ways to restrain them, put it all in a secret file, between walls and algorithm. It was quite the obstacle. Anyone different than I would never have access to those files." added the AI with a chuckle.

"You... you're lying!" stuttered Aelita. "Jeremie would never plan this against us!" "Oh but he did," replied joyously the thing that was using Jeremie's body. "He's quite competent at that, I dare say. But his ways were... far too tamed for my taste. So I decided to give them a little... boost." Jeremie's face was deformed by an evil grin that would never appear on the kind boy's face. "He though about talking to Ulrich with his father's voice, by complimenting him in order to provoke a shock. So I took samples of Mr. Stern's voice, and made him say horrible things, not really different from what he usually says to his son, and added the voices of all his friends to confirm all the things Mr. Stern was saying. How to break muscles by hitting on his mental."

"Stop!" exclaimed Aelita while backing away. "For Yumi, it's quite similar," mercilessly continued the AI "but by using images of her family falling to their demise because of her. The poor girl is so obsessed with protecting others..." Aelita was soon blocked by a wall on her back, while her enemy was still advancing toward her, while exposing how he isolated her for good.

"William, since he's free, is obsessed with taking his revenge against me. So he makes sure to execute all the monsters that crosses his way. So, I put a trail of kankrelats while shutting down his means to communicate with the others. And now, he's drying himself up, while fighting against waves of monsters that flashes images of him when he was possessed."

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" screamed Aelita while preparing two Force Field. "Odd was the most difficult to counter," said xanafied Jeremie while ignoring the pink-ette "but Jeremie pointed that his velocity and agility was his main force. So I ordered my most agile monsters, the hornets, to attack him while aiming exclusively at his legs. I know it's quite lacking compared to the others." added the AI with a cruel laugh.

He was now at a mere meter from Aelita. The elf kept her Force Fields in front of her. She was going to fire them. She HAD to. "But do you know the most surprising thing?" asked XANA with a smirk. "For you, there wasn't any kind of plans. Just two names. Franz Hopper and Jeremie Belpois." He was now close to her. Close enough to touch her face. Close enough so she could see the blue eyes of the boy she loved tainted by the evil machine. Close enough to be hit by her attacks without any doubts. But she couldn't. The mere thought of attacking the only being that kept her going even if she had nothing left on Earth, the one who saved her from her numeric prison and swear to always be there for her, in the secret of one of her nightmarish night. She couldn't, and XANA knew it.

"Now," said XANA in a whisper. "Come with me 'Lita. I have plans for you as well." Had she been outside Lyoko, she would have puked. How dared XANA use the affectionate nickname Jeremie used. How the AI spat on the memories the two lovers made together. Suddenly, a voice resounds through the sky. And Aelita thought for a second she had become definitely crazy when she recongnized it.

"Get away from my daughter, you MONSTER!" But if she was crazy, Aelita wasn't the only one. Because Jeremie backed away from, as if he had been burnt. "FRANZ?!" screamed the AI while looking at the sky. "Impossible! You were-!" "Dead?" interrupted the hard voice of the scientist. "Close enough. Belpois saved me just before I died, and when you finally had the occasion to possess him, it was because he allocated all his resources to bring me back! And he succeeded! And do you know what contingency plan Jeremie had for him? Me!" Suddenly, Jeremie fell down, his face contorted with pain. "Curse you Franz...!" gritted the AI through his teeth. "And curse you to, Jeremie!"

But the mechanical arm of the xanafied boy suddenly fired at the ground. "It's only a hiccup," said XANA to Aelita. "Soon, I will affirm my dominance over Jeremie's body. And then, you will all fall by your friend's hand. Goodbye 'Lita." And before the pink-ette could do anything, the monster with human feature jumped into the hole made by his mechanical arm, and fell right into the Digital Sea. Aelita fell to her knees, exhausted. "My angel," said Franz from the sky. "I know you have a lot of questions, and a lot of grieves, but we lack time. Go help your friend, and get out of Lyoko. There, we'll talk all you want." Aelita opened her mouth but shut it quickly. Her father was right. She had work to do before letting the despair take a hold of her.

"Alright," she said while standing up. "I'm ready. Where are my friends?"

My turn for a XANAfied Jeremie ! What ? Inspired by Otto Octavius ? Don't know what you're saying, I'm absolutely innocent XD

#code lyoko #code lyoko au #angsty one-shot #yes there is Franz Hopper #No I don't have any explanation how he survived #this is merely a one-shot AU that I do for fun #but feel free to retake it XD #had to redo this tumblr didn't like it apparently...

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natswife-marvelicious · 9 months ago

Text

Shattered Edges

Plot: After a mission went south, you come home and try to hide your injuries from Natasha. Your past has taught you to cope with them on your own instead of asking for help. However, your blood loss has made you forget that Natasha is a trained spy.

Warnings: blood, injury, trauma, angst

Word count: 3,3k

Masterlist

Y/n stumbled through the corridors of Avengers tower, each step an excruciating effort. The mission had been a disaster. One of those kinds of disasters where things went wrong before they even had a chance to go right. But it wasn’t the mission that weighed on her. It was the pain that radiated from the deep gash along her side, the broken rib that she could feel grinding against her insides with every breath, and the exhaustion that clung to her limbs like lead.

Her training had kicked in the second she realized she was hurt, long before the others had even noticed. Hydra had conditioned her well, to conceal pain, to suppress vulnerability. In her world, weakness meant death, and there had never been room for mercy, let alone care.

The familiar, sterile walls of the Tower blurred as she made her way down the hall, her vision swimming slightly. But she kept her pace steady, determined. Natasha couldn’t see her like this. No one could. The others were still debriefing, but she had slipped away, not trusting herself to stay upright long enough to make it through the meeting. She told herself she just needed to clean up. Get it under control. She would be fine. She was always fine.

The room she shared with Natasha was just ahead, and the door was slightly ajar, light spilling out into the darkened hallway. Y/n felt a small, sharp spike of panic as she saw the light, Natasha was already home. She had hoped to get back before her, patch herself up, and brush it all off as nothing. Now, the plan was ruined.

Her heart raced, and she tried to steady her breathing, ignoring the burning pain that flared with each inhale. Maybe Natasha hadn’t seen her yet. Maybe she was still in the bathroom or the kitchen. If she could just make it to the bed without collapsing, maybe she could still hide it.

But as she reached for the door, her vision blurred, the edges of her sight darkening. The pain hit her harder, a fresh wave that nearly knocked her off her feet. She gripped the doorframe, her knuckles white, and for a moment, she thought she might pass out. She couldn't pass out here, not where Natasha would find her.

Get it together, she thought, clenching her jaw. You’ve been through worse.

With a shaky breath, y/n slipped into the room, careful not to make a sound. She leaned against the wall for support, every nerve in her body screaming in protest. The door closed softly behind her, the faint click somehow deafening in the quiet of the room. Her pulse thrummed loudly in her ears, and she could feel the blood pooling beneath her suit, hot and sticky as it soaked through her side.

She moved toward the bathroom, her only thought to clean up, to hide the evidence. But before she made it halfway across the room, her knees buckled. She gasped, catching herself on the edge of the bed just before she fell completely. Pain shot through her side, so intense it brought tears to her eyes. She bit her lip hard, willing herself not to cry out.

She collapsed onto the floor beside the bed, pressing her back against the mattress, trying to calm the panic that clawed at her chest. She was slipping, and she knew it. The blood loss was more than she had anticipated. Her vision swam, the edges of the room blurring and twisting in ways that made her feel sick. But she couldn't let it show. She couldn't let Natasha see her like this.

Natasha had always been the strong one, the steady one. Y/n had seen the way Natasha handled herself in battle, the way she carried herself through life with an unshakable sense of control. She had never wanted to be a burden to her. Especially not now, when Natasha had so much else to deal with. Y/n didn’t want to be one more thing she had to worry about. She had to hold it together, had to clean herself up before Natasha noticed.

But the door creaked open. "Y/n?"

Natasha’s voice was soft but tinged with concern. The sound of her name on Natasha’s lips made y/n's heart clench. She closed her eyes tightly, hoping against hope that Natasha wouldn’t see her, wouldn’t notice the blood or the way she was barely holding herself together.

She forced herself to answer, her voice a weak imitation of calm. “I’m here.” She pressed her hand harder against her side, trying to staunch the bleeding, trying to hide the pain in her voice. She prayed Natasha wouldn’t come closer, wouldn’t see her like this.

But Natasha’s eyes were sharp, always sharp, and y/n could feel her gaze linger on her too long. There was no escaping it. Natasha was already at her side before y/n could blink, crouching down in front of her.

“Why are you sitting on the floor?” Natasha asked, her tone too careful, too controlled. Her green eyes locked onto y/n, scanning her with that intensity she usually reserved for battlefields.

“I’m just… tired,” y/n replied, trying to shrug it off. She shifted, but the movement sent a white-hot pain lancing through her side. She stifled a groan, but the strain didn’t go unnoticed.

Natasha’s hand shot out, gently but firmly resting on y/n's shoulder, keeping her in place. Her brow furrowed as she looked closer, taking in the torn suit, the blood, the way Y/n was holding herself. Her expression shifted from concern to something darker, a quiet fury burning beneath the surface.

“What happened?” Natasha’s voice was low, but there was a sharpness to it now, an edge that cut through the fog in y/n's brain.

“I’m fine,” y/n lied, her breath hitching as the pain flared again. She couldn’t meet Natasha’s eyes, couldn’t let her see how much she was struggling. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” Natasha snapped, her voice trembling with barely restrained anger. Her eyes dropped to y/n's hand, the one pressed against her side, and her breath hitched when she saw the blood seeping through y/n’s fingers. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s just a scratch,” y/n muttered, trying to brush it off, but the words sounded hollow, even to her own ears. Her vision swam again, and she had to blink hard to keep from blacking out.

“Don’t lie to me,” Natasha’s voice was raw now, the calm veneer slipping away as fear bled into her words. She knelt closer, her hand hovering near y/n’s side as if she wanted to touch but didn’t know where to start. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/n clenched her teeth, her chest tight with guilt and panic. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want Natasha to see her like this, so weak, so broken. She was supposed to be stronger than this.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” y/n whispered, the words barely audible as they slipped past her lips. Her voice cracked, and she hated how small she sounded.

Natasha’s expression softened, but the fear in her eyes didn’t fade. “You think this doesn’t worry me?” she asked, her voice quieter now but no less intense. She gently reached for y/n’s hand, pulling it away from her side to get a better look at the wound. Y/n flinched, biting back a cry of pain as Natasha’s fingers brushed against the torn fabric of her suit.

“You’re bleeding, y/n,” Natasha said, her voice tight with barely controlled emotion. “This is more than a scratch. You should’ve come to me. Why didn’t you come to me?"

Y/n felt her throat close up, the weight of Hydra’s teachings pressing down on her like a lead blanket. She had been trained to handle pain, to endure it, to push through it without complaint. Asking for help had always been a sign of weakness, something to be punished. Even now, after all these years, those lessons were hard to shake.

“I… I didn’t want to…” y/b’s voice faltered. She didn’t want to say the words, didn’t want to admit how deeply ingrained that fear still was. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Natasha’s eyes widened, her face contorting with shock and hurt. “A burden?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “Is that what you think you are to me?”

Y/n couldn’t answer. She couldn’t bring herself to look Natasha in the eye, not when she could feel the weight of her disappointment and pain pressing down on her.

“You’re not a burden,” Natasha said, her voice fierce but soft. She cupped y/n’s cheek gently, tilting her head up so their eyes met. The intensity in Natasha’s gaze was enough to make y/n’s heart stutter. “You never have been, and you never will be. Do you understand me?”

Y/n swallowed hard, her throat tight as she fought back the tears that threatened to spill over. She nodded slightly, her chest aching from more than just the physical pain.

Natasha exhaled slowly, her thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped free. “I don’t care what Hydra taught you,” she whispered, her voice shaking slightly. “You’re not with them anymore. You’re with me. And I love you. You don’t have to hide from me.”

Y/n's defenses crumbled, the walls she had built around herself shattering under Natasha’s words. She had spent so long trying to protect herself, trying to be strong on her own, that the thought of letting someone else in, letting Natasha see the broken pieces, terrified her. But there, under Natasha’s gaze, the fear loosened its grip, and all the exhaustion, the pain, and the fear she had been holding back poured out.

“I don’t know how,” y/n whispered, her voice breaking as the tears she had fought so hard to hold back finally spilled over. She hated how weak she sounded, hated that she couldn’t even hide her trembling anymore. “I don’t know how to ask for help.”

Natasha’s expression softened, the anger melting away as she pulled y/n closer, wrapping her arms around her carefully, as if afraid y/n might break. Her embrace was warm and strong, grounding in a way y/n hadn’t realized she needed.

“You don’t have to know how,” Natasha whispered against her hair, holding her just a little tighter. “You just need to let me be here for you.”

Y/n exhaled shakily, her body sagging against Natasha’s as the adrenaline that had kept her upright finally began to wear off. She let herself lean into Natasha’s warmth, let herself be held, even though every instinct screamed at her to pull away, to run, to hide her weakness. But here, in Natasha’s arms, it didn’t feel like weakness anymore. It felt like safety.

“I’ve got you,” Natasha murmured, her voice soft but firm. “Let me take care of you.”

Y/n nodded, her throat too tight to form words. She closed her eyes, her head resting against Natasha’s shoulder, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself let go. She didn’t have to be strong, didn’t have to pretend everything was fine. Not with Natasha. Not here.

Natasha pulled back just enough to look at Y/N, her hands gentle as she brushed y/n's hair away from her face. “We need to get you cleaned up,” she said, her voice laced with worry. “I don’t like how much blood you’ve lost.”

Y/n grimaced, the pain in her side flaring up again as Natasha’s hand moved over the wound. She had been trying to ignore it, to pretend it wasn’t as bad as it felt, but now, under Natasha’s watchful gaze, there was no hiding the truth.

“Can you stand?” Natasha asked, her tone gentle but commanding. She wasn’t asking out of weakness, she needed to assess how bad it really was.

“I… think so,” y/n whispered, though she wasn’t entirely sure. The room still spun a little, and the pain was making it hard to focus, but she nodded anyway.

Natasha moved with the efficiency of someone who had been in combat too many times to count, carefully slipping her arm around y/n’s waist, avoiding the injured side. “Lean on me,” Natasha said, her voice firm but tender. “I’ve got you.”

Y/n did as she was told, her body sagging against Natasha’s as they slowly stood. She bit down hard on her lip as the movement pulled at the gash in her side, the pain nearly unbearable now that the adrenaline had worn off. But Natasha didn’t let her falter. She kept her steady, her arm strong around y/n as she guided her toward the bathroom.

Once inside, Natasha sat y/n down on the closed toilet seat, kneeling in front of her to assess the damage. Her fingers were gentle but methodical as she peeled back the torn fabric of y/n’s suit, revealing the deep wound beneath. Y/n winced as the cool air hit her skin, her breath hitching as Natasha’s eyes darkened with concern.

“You should have told me sooner,” Natasha muttered, more to herself than to y/n, as she reached for the first-aid kit they always kept nearby. She worked quickly, cleaning the wound with steady hands, her touch careful but efficient.

Y/n watched her in silence, too tired to protest, too tired to do anything but sit there and let Natasha take over. There was something comforting in the way Natasha moved, so sure of herself, so in control. Y/n felt a flicker of shame that she couldn’t handle this on her own, but it was quickly drowned out by the overwhelming relief that she didn’t have to.

As Natasha cleaned and bandaged the wound, y/n closed her eyes, the exhaustion weighing down on her like a heavy blanket. She let herself relax, her head leaning against the cool tile of the bathroom wall. Her body ached, every inch of her screaming for rest, but the pain was dulled by the warmth of Natasha’s presence.

After what felt like an eternity, Natasha finished bandaging her up and gently stood, her eyes still scanning y/n for any signs of further injury. “We need to get you into bed,” Natasha said softly, her voice now thick with concern.

Y/n nodded weakly, too drained to argue. She didn’t even care about hiding her weakness anymore. Not from Natasha. Natasha had seen everything now, and she hadn’t turned away. She hadn’t recoiled in disgust or frustration like y/n had always feared. Instead, she had stayed, strong and steady, like a lighthouse in the middle of a storm.

Natasha helped her stand again, and they slowly made their way back to the bed. Y/n barely registered the movement as Natasha gently guided her under the covers, her limbs heavy and uncooperative. Natasha sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes never leaving y/n as she tucked the blanket around her.

“Are you comfortable?” Natasha asked, her voice soft as she brushed a stray strand of hair away from y/n's face.

Y/n nodded, though in truth, her entire body hurt. But the pain didn’t matter. Not right now. Not with Natasha sitting beside her, her hand resting lightly on y/n’s arm, grounding her.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was heavy, but not uncomfortable. Y/n could feel the weight of Natasha’s gaze, but it wasn’t judgmental. It was something softer, something that made y/n’s chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with the physical pain.

Natasha broke the silence first. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked quietly, her voice thick with emotion. “Why did you try to hide it from me?”

Y/n swallowed hard, her throat tight. She wasn’t sure how to explain it, how to put into words the years of conditioning, the fear of being seen as weak. Hydra had drilled into her that asking for help was dangerous, that it was something to be punished. Even after all this time, those lessons were still hard to shake.

“I didn’t want to be… a burden,” y/n admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want you to think I was weak.”

Natasha’s eyes softened, and she reached out, gently cupping y/n’s cheek in her hand. “You’re not weak,” she said firmly, her thumb brushing lightly across y/n’s skin. “And you’re not a burden. You never have been.”

Y/n’s chest tightened, the guilt and fear twisting inside her. “I just… I didn’t know how to ask for help.”

“You don’t have to ask,” Natasha whispered, her voice fierce but tender. “I’m always here for you. Whether you ask or not.”

Y/n felt her heart swell, the weight of Natasha’s words settling over her like a warm blanket. She had spent so long trying to protect herself, trying to be strong, that she had forgotten what it felt like to let someone else carry some of that weight. To let someone else be there for her.

“I’m sorry,” y/n whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to worry you.”

Natasha shook her head, her eyes filled with something y/n couldn’t quite name. “I’ll always worry about you, y/n. That’s what love is. But I need you to let me in. I need you to let me help you.”

Y/n blinked, her vision blurring with tears again. She hadn’t expected Natasha’s words to hit her so hard, but they did. They cut through all the fear, all the doubt, and left her feeling raw and vulnerable in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

“I’ll try,” y/n whispered, her voice shaky but sincere. “I’ll try to let you in.”

Natasha smiled softly, her hand still gently cupping y/n’s cheek. “That’s all I ask.”

For a long moment, they just sat there, the silence between them now warm and comforting. Y/n let herself relax, let herself sink into the warmth of the moment, into the safety of Natasha’s presence. She didn’t have to be strong right now. She didn’t have to pretend.

Natasha leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to y/n’s forehead, her lips lingering for just a moment longer than usual. “Get some rest,” she whispered as she pulled back. “I’m right here.”

Y/n nodded, her eyes already drooping with exhaustion. She felt Natasha’s hand slip into hers, the warmth of her touch grounding her even as she began to drift off to sleep.

For the first time in a long time, y/n didn’t feel like she had to carry everything on her own. She didn’t feel like she had to be strong all the time. She had Natasha, and that was enough.

As she slipped into sleep, her hand still held in Natasha’s, y/n felt a sense of peace settle over her. The pain was still there, and the wounds would take time to heal, but for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel like she had to face it alone. She wasn’t just the soldier, the weapon, the survivor anymore. With Natasha by her side, she was allowed to be something more, something softer, something real.

Natasha stayed beside her, watching y/n's breathing even out as she drifted deeper into sleep. Her thumb gently stroked the back of y/n’s hand, a quiet reminder that she was there, that she wasn’t going anywhere.

For a long while, Natasha just sat there, her heart heavy with a mix of love and worry. She had seen y/n fight, had watched her take on impossible odds without hesitation, but this... this was different. This vulnerability, this pain she tried so hard to hide, it cut deeper than any mission ever could.

"I’ll keep you safe," Natasha whispered softly, though she knew y/n was already asleep. "No matter what."

And as y/n slept, a small smile tugged at her lips, as if some part of her had heard. Natasha leaned down, pressing one last kiss to her forehead, before settling beside her. She would be there when y/n woke up, just as she promised. Always there, through the pain, the fear, and the healing.

Together, they would face whatever came next, but for now, y/n slept soundly, wrapped in the knowledge that she was loved and no longer had to carry her burdens alone.

Another fanfic I really like :) I love these kinda angsty oneshots with happy endings.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff one shots #actress #oneshot #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #angsty #natasha romanoff angst #angst with a happy ending #natasha angst

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writtenbyan-aries · 6 months ago

Note

i have a request for sam. so basically it’s like divorced dilf!sam and reader is the babysitter for the kid and one day the mom picks up the kid and sam says she should come over. and it’s like lowkey really smutty

Summary: reader gets invited to her job after hours.

Warnings: SMUT18+, swearing, dad!sam, babysitter!reader, flirting, kissing, scratching, hair pulling, oral (m rec), unprotected sex, creampie, general filth

Word Count: 4.5k | unedited

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Come on, sweetheart. You gotta get your shoes on. Mom will be here any second to get you!” You sigh quietly as you watch the crazy four year old running around the living room, “Zoe, honey. Mama is coming.”

She sighs, plopping down onto the couch with a small groan, “I have more fun with you.”

You stifle back your laughter as you walk over to her, “don’t say that, Zo, you have lots of fun with mom.”

She rolls her eyes and you raise your brows, “Who taught you to do that? Mommy or daddy?” She giggles as you slip her shoes on, “Mommy.”

Figures, you think as you shake your head.

The door bell rings and you gasp, “Is that mom?” Zoe gets up and squeals, “Mommy!” She runs to the door and you follow close, laying your hand on her shoulder before opening the door.

“Hey Lilly.” You smile, “She just had lunch, so she should be good for a little bit.”

Lilly smiles, “Perfect.” She points to you, “Did you tell y/n, bye?” You drop down, giving the child a big hug, “Be good for mom, okay?”

She laughs, “I will, y/n.” She turns taking Lilly’s hand, “Bye!” You wave as you hand her backpack to Lilly, “everything she came with is in there. Sam gave me a list and I double checked.”

“Also perfect. Thank you.” She smiles, “I’ll see you.. Monday morning when I drop her off, right?” You think for a second, “Yes, Sam has to work later Monday so I’ll also pick her up from school.”

She gives you a thumbs up, “You’re great.”

You laugh slightly, “I try.” You smile at Zoe, “See you Monday, Zoe!” She nods and walks with Lilly to the car. You close the door and look at all of the toys strewn all over.

You let out a sigh and walk over to pick up the toys, then make your way to the kitchen to clean up from lunch.

As you’re washing the dishes, you hear the door open and you glance over, “Hey.” You give Sam a smile, “Lilly came to get Zoe like twenty minutes ago. I’m just cleaning up our mess from the day.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.” Sam laughs slightly and you shrug, “Hey, I made the mess. I can clean it. Lilly was a lot earlier than I thought she’d be.”

“Yeah, usually she runs late.” Sam rolls his eyes and you laugh, “Sorry. I’m not- Zoe rolled her eyes at me today and she told me learned it from mom, but.. now I’m starting to think it could go either way.”

He smirks, shaking his head, “Oh, no.”

“She was good. She ate all of her breakfast and lunch.” You reach in and unplug the drain, watching as the water goes down the drain for a few seconds before reaching to dry off your hands, “She did fall and hurt her elbow, but she was using it just fine after a little bit of ice and time.”

“That’s good.” Sam crosses his arms and leans against the counter, “We’re still good for Monday, right?” He looks over at you and you nod, “Yep, i will be here in the morning and I told Lilly I’ll pick Zoe up after school.”

He nods, “perfect.”

“Alright, if that’s everything.. I guess I’ll see you, Monday then.” You walk by him, his eyes following you, “Monday evening.”

“Right, yes. Monday evening.” You smirk, “Have a good night Sam.” You grab your bag and walk over to the door, stopping, “Oh.” You turn around, “There is some leftover lunch in the fridge if you want it.”

“Sounds good, thank you, y/n.” He smiles and walks over to the door, opening it, “Drive safe.”

You nod, “Always.”

You turn, walking out and down to your car. You get in, and start your drive home. On the way, you can’t help but think about Sam.

How him going into dad mode is one of the hottest things he does. How he stares at you for just the right amount of time, and just how perfect he is in general.

Sam is literally the perfect guy, and anyone could be lucky to have him. Your mind starts racing, what if he’s seeing someone, is he seeing someone? You start racking your brain, has he mentioned anyone?

You gasp, slamming on your breaks as you see the car in front of you growing closer and closer at a slightly fast and scary rate.

You tilt your head, taking a deep breath before letting out a sigh, hoping no one saw that.

You feel your cheeks grow hotter as the thought of Sam creeps back onto your mind. You shake the thoughts away, moving around in your seat as you try to drive home without almost causing anymore accidents.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“I need you.. to tell me I’m crazy.” You sigh, laying your hands over your face, “Like an-y-thing to calm my delusional ass down, Mel.”

She laughs, “I mean, from what I’m hearing, there’s something there.”

“No.” You whine, “Don’t say that.” You laugh, “Like, I was thinking about him on the way home, like.. I almost caused an accident.”

Mel gasps, “Oh, you got it bad, girl. B. A. D. Bad.”

“Shut up.”

“Do you want my help or not?” She scoffs, “I’ll gladly ha-“

“No, no. Please.” You laugh slightly, “Like, the way he looks at me, like isn’t the way you should look at a babysitter, right? Like it’s like.. fuck, I can’t even-“

Mel cuts you off, “Like he’s undressing you with his eyes?”

“Yes!” You sigh, “Exactly that. It’s like he’s trying to get me nervous or something, and I mean, if that’s what he’s doing, it works. But, I’m not going to let him know that.”

“Maybe you should tell him, call him out on his shit.”

“What, so I can spend the rest of my days as his babysitter feeling awkward around him? No thanks.” You shake your head, “I just, wish there was a way for me to get over this, like he’s just..”

“A total dilf.”

“Yes.” You sigh, and Mel continues, “He really is though. Like, I’m jealous you get to see him everyday.”

“Not everyday.” You correct, “I mean, do I wish it was? Yeah, but I think the less days I spend around him, the more I’m able to keep my composure around him.”

Your phone dings and you sigh, “I got a text.”

“Who is it?” Mel asks and you walk over to your phone, “I don’t know, probably Lilly saying I forgot to pack something for Zoe.”

“She isn’t my cup of tea. Good for Sam getting divorced.” She laughs but you stare at your phone, in shock mostly.

“Hello? You still there?” Mel speaks louder, “Hello?”

“Y-yeah, I’m here.” You scoff, blinking as you read the text over and over again, “Sam just texted me.”

Mel gasps, “What did he say!?”

You laugh slightly, “He just said he has a question.” You tap the screen, What’s up? You hit send, “I just said, what’s up?”

“Maybe he’s going to invite you back over. I mean..” She changes her tone, “he’s kid free all week, you can’t tell me he doesn’t get lonely over there in that big house when he’s all alone.”

You roll your eyes, “I doubt that, Mel.”

You see his text pop up at the top and your heart skips a beat, “He wants to know if I’m busy.” Mel scoffs, “No. you’re as free as a bird flying high in the sky.”

You laugh slightly, tilting your head, Just waiting for my laundry to dry so I can fold it and put it away.

You read what you sent and Mel groans, “Why did you say that?!” You groan, “He makes me nervous, Mel, fuck.”

You purse your lips as he responds, Well that’s exciting, lol. The reason I asked is because I was wondering if you had dinner yet?

“Did he answer? What did he say?” Mel asks and you sigh, “Nothing, he hasn’t answered yet, but my laundry is done, so I’m going to go take care of that.”

“Bor-ing.” She laughs, “Have fun, talk to you later.”

“Talk later, bye.” You hang you and sit down, typing back to Sam, I haven’t actually, that was my next thing. Your eyes watch as the bubbles pop up and get replaced with his text, Would you want to have dinner with me?

Your heart was racing, along with your mind.

Was this a date? What it a casually dinner between friends. A professional dinner?

You lick your lips, nodding to yourself as you type, I would love to have dinner with you, Sam. I can come over in a few?

You stand up, immediately thinking about what to wear and your phone dings. You pull it up, reading over his message, text me what you want from Melinda’s and give me like thirty to pick it up.

You let out a relived sigh, typing out what you usually get, Thank you, see you in a little. You add a smiley face and hit send, immediately regretting the smiley, “Oh my god. I’m going to make a fool out of myself.”

You press your palm to your forehead and walk to the bathroom.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

After your quick shower, you get dressed. You didn’t know what to expect, so you just settled for a cute sweater and leggings.

You slipped your shoes on and grabbed your keys, giving Sam a quick, I’m on my way, message before heading to your car.

The whole way there, you kept having to wipe your palms on your pants because they were growing sweaty from your nerves, “Oh my god.” You felt like you were a mess, “what the fuck.”

Maybe Sam did like you. Maybe you both have a mutual pining for one another, and just maybe, it was finally going to work out in your favor.

As you pulled into the driveway next to his car, you took a shaky breath, “Fuck, okay. You can do this.” You nod to yourself, “Come on.”

You get out, walking up to the door and knocking.

The door swings open and Sam smirks at you, “You practically live here during the day. You don’t need to knock, sweetheart.”

Your heart skips a beat as you desperately try to form words, “I-I just- sorry.” You close your eyes, “I’m a little nervous, if you can’t tell. That’s why I brought this.” You extend the bottle of wine out and Sam takes it, raising a brow, “this shit is good, and expensive, how’d you get this?”

You walk in, “from my old job, a coworker during a secret Santa thing.”

“I take it you’re big into wine?” Sam asks as he closes the door and you nod, “Well, not like I’m always drinking it or anything. I promise I don’t drink on the job.”

Sam chuckles as he walks over, “You need to relax, y/n. I know you don’t drink on the job.”

You let out a small sigh, “Sorry, I just-“

Sam cuts you off, “Here.” He walks over to the table and pulls two glasses towards him before opening the bottle, “Drink this and take a breather.”

He probably thinks I’m a fucking loon, you think as you force a smile, “Thank you.” You take the glass and take a sip, “Oh, this stuff is good.”

“You haven’t had this kind before?” He asks as he brings his glass to his lips, “This is my favorite wine.” He takes another sip before motioning to the table, “Shall we eat?”

“Yes, please. I’m starving.” You walk over and Sam pulls the chair out for you. You give him a smile as you sit down, “Thank you.”

He nods, “Mhm.” He walks around, sitting across from you, “I didn’t realize how much this looked like a date.. I’m sorry if-“

“I was stressing about what to wear, so I think we’re on the same page, Sam.” You were shocked you said that, maybe you aren’t as nervous as you thought?

“Yeah, I think I can say the same. I got a suit out and then I was like no, I’m at home not at work.” He laughs, “So I hope you’re not offended by my sweatshirt and sweatpants.”

“Oh, Sam. I’m appalled by your attire tonight.” You tease and he smirks, looking down as he nods, “My apologies, I’ll get right on that.” He laughs and looks up at you, “I was nervous you were going to say no.”

“What made you think I’d say no?” You tilt your head and Sam shrugs, taking another sip of his wine, “I just, wasn’t sure if you thought it would be weird to have dinner with the dad of the girl you babysit.”

You purse your lips and take another sip of your wine.

Sam furrows his brows, “It is weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I-“

“No, no. It’s not weird at all, Sam. I’m actually.” You laugh slightly, “I’m actually really glad you asked me.”

“Really?” He smirks and leans back in his chair, “I mean, that’s a relief, I’m glad I’m not the only one who felt something.”

You smile, “Right, now I can stop almost causing accidents on my way home because I’m too busy thinking about you.” Your eyes go wide, “Oh that just.. came flying out..”

“Oh.. my god.” He tries not to laugh, “Yeah, that’s not, I mean. I’m happy you think about me, but I’d rather you not crash your car.”

You nod, “Yeah, me too.” You laugh, finishing your wine, “I’ll have another glass if you don’t mind.” He smiles, leaning forward to grab the bottle and fill your glass halfway, “Good?”

You nod, “Good.”

“So..” Sam glances up at you, “What were you thinking about, exactly?”

You tilt your head, giving him a subtle shrug, “that’s a conversation to have with me when I’ve had a few more glasses.” You smirk and he raises his brows, “Mm, I see.”

“So, if I can ask..” you glance up again, “And please, stop me if I’m overstepping in anyway.” Sam shakes his head, “Ask away.”

“What happened with you and Lilly?”

He chuckles slightly, “That’s.. a funny story actually, well. It wasn’t as the time, but now that I think about it..” he sighs, “Lilly and I met back when I used to explore abandoned places with my brother, Colby. She owned, well, her grandfather owned an old hotel that’s been on my bucket list for months at that point. She basically kept up with making sure people stayed out and what not.”

You nod, “Right.”

“We met the day Colby and I went over and hit it off right away.” He shrugs, “One thing led to another, we started dating, then a year later, Zoe made her grand entrance and then I got this idea to propose and after another year, I guess I just wasn’t enough for her anymore.”

“She filed for divorce?” You frown and sam laughs, “Nope. I did. The day I came home from work to find her in bed with her boss.” Your jaw drops and he clicks his tongue, “It’s funny because that day, it was like a big weight was lifted from my shoulders, I just focused on work and Zoe, and that’s really all I needed.”

He takes a sip from his glass, “Or that was until you came along.”

“What do I have to do with it?” You tease, downing the rest of your glass, “I’m just the babysitter.” You smirk as you extend your arm across the table and Sam smirks slightly with a small shake of his head, “You’re really not, though, y/n.”

He lifts the bottle and pours you more, “You’re literally.. everything when I’m not here, correction. Even when I’m here, I still think Zoe would prefer you over me.”

“This.. is going to sound bad, and I kind of feel bad for saying it, but earlier today, right before Lilly got here, Zoe told me she has more fun with me than her.”

Sam purses his lips, “Zoe has told me that before, too. About you, and being fun.” He smirks, “She always asks about you, when you’re coming back. If we can call you. I never wanted to bother you on your off days so I just tell her you’re busy.”

“Sam.” You lean forward, “I have no life other than taking care of that sweet girl.”

He chuckles, “That surprises me. With a pretty face and a perfect personality, it actually shocks me that you aren’t already spoken for.”

You shrug, “haven’t found the right one yet.”

“Oh, so you’re looking?” He teases and you roll your eyes, “Please, I look at you every time I’m around you.”

“I know.” Sam flicks his brows up, “But, I’m not one to talk, because I do it, too.”

You can’t help but smile, “I have no idea why I was so nervous about this. You’re really easy to talk to, Sam.”

“You mean flirt with.” He winks and you sigh, “Whatever you wanna call it, Mr. Golbach.” Sam laughs, “I remember.. when you used to call me that. It took forever for you to call me Sam.”

You shrug, “I was trying to be professional, I think? But, you made me nervous the second I saw you, my mom never told me that the guy I was interviewing with was so.. hot.”

You can see his cheeks turn a shade darker and he tilts his head, “that what you were thinking about when you almost crashed your car?” He tried not to laugh but fails, “sorry.. sorry.”

“No, no. You’re right.” You nod, “And maybe some other things, but we’ll just-“

“No, no. Tell me.” Sam smirks, “I wanna know what runs through that pretty little head of yours when you leave here, or when you’re here, with me. Just the two of us. Whatever.” He shrugs, “I’m all ears.”

You giggle as you remember what Mel called him, a dilf.

“What’s so funny?” Sam asks and you shake your head, “just a term that my friend uses to describe you.” You look up at him, “when you texted..” you groan, “Oh this is so embarrassing.”

You look at him and he smirks, “You’re fine, sweetheart.”

“When you texted, I was actually on the phone with my friend, and I was basically trying to get her to talk me out of my.. feelings, for you. I thought I was just being delusional, you know.”

“I’m glad she didn’t talk you out of it.” Sam smiles, “But anyway, I’m curious about this, term, she used to describe me.”

You laugh, shaking your head before taking a sip of wine, “She called you a dilf.”

He chuckles, “I’m sorry, a what?”

“A dilf.” You repeat, your eyes moving to his, “A dad, I’d like to fuck.”

Suddenly, everything shifted.

“Was she talking about her, or you?”

“Me.” You swallow, setting your glass on the table, “She basically said what I was trying to say.”

“Am I.. the dad you’d like to..” he purses his lips, a smirk fighting to appear, and you nod, “I mean, I’d like to do more than that, of course, but right now, that’s all I can think about.”

“So why don’t you stop thinking..” he sets his glass down, “and do something about it?”

You slowly stand up and walk over to him, laying your hand in his as he holds it out. He pulls you towards him, your legs on either side of his as you sit down on his lap to face him.

Your eyes scan over his face and you smirk before leaning in to kiss him.

His hands slide to your hips, a small groan leaving his lips as they move with yours in a slow motion. You earn another by grinding down onto him, gasping when you feel his cock growing harder under his sweats.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers as he kisses down your neck, “Can I take this off?” His hands slip under your sweater and you nod, “Only if you take yours off.”

“Deal.” He pushes your sweater up your body, pulling it up over your head. You slip your arms out or the sleeves and immediately reach for his sweatshirt.

You bite your lip as you watch him pull it up over and toss it to the ground to pile with yours. Your eyes rake up and down his body, head tilting as you lean back in to kiss him.

You kiss down his neck, earning small gasps and groans as you nip and suck at his skin.

Your hand drags down his chest and torso, slipping into his sweats. You kiss back up to his lips, swallowing his moans as your hand wraps around his cock, slowly twisting up and down.

“F-fuck.” He groan, “You know what you’re doing, don’t you?”

You give him a shrug, “I can show you, rather than tell you?” He bites his lip and nods, “Please.” You slide down off of his lap, sitting between his knees.

His hips raise from the chair as you work his sweats down over his hips and pull them down to his mid thigh. You rise up, spitting a little on the tip and he groans as your thumb slowly spreads it around.

His eyes are on you, watching as you lean in to wrap your lips around the tip. His breath hitches in his throat as his hips buck upward at the touch.

You tilt your head back, flattening your tongue on the underside before licking upward.

He lets out a shuddered breath, “Fucking hell.”

You take him into your mouth, slowly working your head up and down as your tongue swirls around. He reaches down, his hand slowly pulling your hair into his grasp, “Fuck, that’s it.”

You pick up the pace, going a little faster and he tightens his grip, “Doing so good, baby.” He groans, “Fuck, just like that.”

Your heart starts to race at his praise, the walls of your cunt squeezing around absolutely nothing in full desperation.

Sam’s breathing grows faster, “Fuck, okay. Okay.” He pulls your head off of him and you lean back, a smirk resting on your lips, “What?”

“You know what.” Sam smirks, pulling you up for a kiss, “Take your pants off.”

You nod, stepping back to push your pants down your legs. You kick off your shoes, stepping out of them and you walk back over to Sam.

He stands up, his arm wrapping around your waist as his lips crash onto yours. Your hand moves up to rest on his cheek and you moan against his lips.

He reaches back behind you, swiping stuff out of the way and lifts you to set you down on the table. You lift your leg, reaching down to guide his cock into you.

You both pause, gasping as he slowly pushes into you more. Your head tilts back, moans slipping from your lips as you feel the pleasure from him stretching you floods through your body.

“Fuck.” You gasp, arm sliding around his neck, “Feels so good.”

He nods, his lips pressing to your forehead, “So good.”

He slides out, thrusting back in with a grunt, “Fuck, baby.” His hand slides up to rest on your cheek as his lips reconnect with yours. He swallows your moans with ease, his hand dropping to grip your thigh.

Your other leg hooks around his hip, “F-fuck, harder.”

He groans at your words, his fingers pressing into your skin as his thrusts grow harder. You gasp out, sliding your hand down in between your bodies.

Sam tilts his head down, lips parted as his eyes bounce between his cock going in and out of you and your fingers circling your own clit, “That’s it, baby. Does it feel good?”

You nod, eyes squeezing shut, “Y-yes.. so, so good.”

He bites his lip, leaning in to press kisses along your jaw, “Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?”

You gasp at his words, the pressure of your fingers growing harder, “Y-yes, yes.” You open your eyes, locking them onto Sam’s, “Fu-fuck. Don’t..” you tilt your head back, moaning loudly, “don’t stop.”

“Didn’t plan on it, baby.” Sam smirks, his read tilting to the side as your cunt squeezes around him, “God damn.”

You tighten your leg around his waist, moaning out constantly as he gets you to tip over the edge. You pull your hand away, sliding it to the back of his neck as he fucks you through your orgasm.

You were a whining, moaning mess before him, and he loved it.

“Fuck, fuck, there you go.” Sam groans, “That’s it.”

Your nails dig into his skin, “Fuck, Sam!” You pull him in for a kiss, moaning against his lips as his thrusts keep the fast pace, “You make me feel so good.” You tilt your head as his lips trail down and back up to your lips.

“I knew you’d feel good.” He moans, thrusts deeper into you, “I didn’t know it would be this good.”

You whimper at his words, smashing your lips back onto his. After a minute of making out, he leans back slightly, “Where do you want me, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, giving him a shrug as you pull him in closer, “Wherever you prefer, baby.” You bite down on his lip, earning a gasp from him and he groans, “Fuck.. okay.”

He slides his hand up to your cheek, cupping it as he kisses you deeply. You swallow his moans, gasping as he thrusts into you, holding himself in as his cock twitches inside of you.

You moan at the sensation, gently pressing a few kisses to his cheek and jaw.

He slowly pulls out, gently setting your leg down. You sit up, taking a deep breath as you look at him, “That was..”

“Incredible.” Sam smirks, nodding as he lays his hands on your waist, “Literally better than I ever thought it could be.”

You nod, “Oh, yeah. I agree. And trust me, I thought about you a lot.” Sam smirks and nods, “Yeah, I’m guilty of that, too.” He tilts his head, “So, is that what you’d think about?”

You nod, “yeah, that and whether or not you were seeing anyone.”

“Did that answer your questions?” Sam laughs slightly and you nod, “This whole night answered everything.”

Sam smiles, leaning in to press his lips to yours, “So I think I have a solution for you not crashing your car on the way home.”

“Oh yeah?” You smile, looking up at him, “What’s that?”

“Just stay here.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

First fic of the new year! Let me know what you think! Thank you so much for reading! I love you all SO much! I’ll catch you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

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itneverendshere · 9 months ago

Note

hi again! so I've been meaning to send a request, but before i go about it I wish to say it's completely okay if you're not inspired by this, or if you simply don't want to write it, i would hate myself if I made you overwhelmed or smth. love you anyways 💕 so for the request: reader who's autistic. she's not very talkative nor socially active, never had a boyfriend, has one or two friends, yet somehow rafe notices her and finds her endearing. she's okay being herself with her friends, like she's funny, kind and passionate about her interests (like geek stuff, fantasy books, animals and such). she has zero flirting experience and is always dismissive towards rafe bc she doesn't think someone could like her romantically, and she's always suspicious of people bc they've wronged her in the past (in my experience as an autistic person i tend to believe everything ppl say and am kinda naive, so ppl played me or said unrealistic things and I believed them, which then is a reason for laughter, now I'm always suspicious to ppl's intentions). I'm giving you creative freedom with this, just wanted an autistic reader for once :) if you feel like writing it but need to know more abt autism, you can just post question and I'll answer in your asks, if that's okay. Just a reminder again before I go: feel free to decline this request, I know it might not be something cool to write and that's okay ☺️ love you lots, thank you for your time!

i tried my best, hope you like it 🫶🏼 and if you don't lmk so i can do better!! this was really fun since it's a compeltely new topic of inspiration. kinda left an "open" ending bc i couldn't make my mind up lmao. thank you for the resquest and sorry it took me a while to finally do it 🫂

got dreams but i can't make myself believe them - r.c

paring: rafe x autistic!reader word count: 6.9k

The party was a mistake.

You knew it the moment you walked in, the terrible music and crush of people making your skin crawl. Your friends had been relentless, insisting that you needed to “get out more” and “live a little,” despite your repeated attempts to explain that “getting out” meant something different to you.

You’d caved eventually, and now you were standing awkwardly in the corner of a stranger’s living room, clutching your book like it was a life vest. You needed to stop letting them drag you everywhere.

It was the typical college party scene, at least the one's you'd heard or read about before. Red solo cups everywhere, groups of people huddled on couches or pressed together on the so called dance floor, and a few already-drunk guys yelling loudly in the kitchen.

This was supposed to be fun?

“Just stay for an hour,” they said. “If it’s really that bad, you can leave.”

Right.

Except an hour felt like an eternity when you were trapped in a sensory nightmare. You took a deep breath, scanning the crowded room, the noise was a constant, overwhelming buzz in your ears.

This was definitely a mistake.

You did what you always did best in these situations: found a quiet place to hide.

After walking through the drunk college students, you ended up on hidden nook near the back of the house. It was a small room, probably some sort of den or study, but blessedly, it was empty.

With a sigh of relief, you settled into an oversized armchair, opened your book, and let the world outside your pages melt away.

Time slipped by as you read, the overwhelming noise changing into a distant hum. You were so engrossed that you didn’t notice when someone stumbled into the room until a loud crash jolted you out of your fictional word.

He nearly tripped over his own feet, catching himself at the last second with a slurred, “Shit.”

You looked up to find a guy standing unsteadily in the doorway, blinking blearily at you. He was tall, with tousled dark blonde hair and a loose grin that spoke of far too many drinks. His eyes were a striking blue even in the low light, and it took you a second to place him.

Rafe Cameron.

You knew him—well, of him, at least.

He was in your sociology class, always sitting a few rows behind you with his gaggle of equally charming friends. He’d never spoken to you before, though, and you’d never had a reason to pay him much attention.

Rafe's face split into a lazy grin, and he swaggered—no, stumbled—into the room, managing to make even that look effortless.

“Heyyy,” he drawled, leaning heavily against the arm of the chair across from you. “It’s… it’s you.”

You blinked at him. “Me?”

“Yeah,” he slurred, squinting like he was trying to see you clearly. “T-The girl from my class. The quiet one.”

Your stomach did a weird flip, part confusion, part disbelief.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” He nodded sagely, as if you’d just confirmed some great truth. “You’re the uh, the smart one. With the books.” He gestured vaguely at the one in your hands. “Always sittin’ up front, all… all cute n'shit.”

Your cheeks burned. Was he calling you cute? No. He was drunk—really drunk. He probably didn’t know what he was saying.

“Do you need help?” you asked cautiously. “You look—”

“I’m fine,” he cut you off, straightening up as if to prove it, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the way he swayed on his feet. “Needed to get away from those fucking idiots out there. Too many people.”

You almost laughed.

Rafe Cameron, overwhelmed by people? The guy who was always surrounded by friends, girls draped over him like accessories? But he looked sincere—well, as sincere as a drunk person could look.

“Why don’t you sit down?” you suggested, gesturing to the empty chair. “You, um, might fall over if you don’t.”

“Pfft, I’m not gonna—” He paused mid-sentence, wobbling precariously. Then, as if he’d just made the smartest decision of his life, he plopped down in the chair, sprawling out. “See? Told ya m'fine,” he said, flashing you a lopsided grin.

You couldn’t help but snort.

“Right.”

He looked at you then, his gaze roaming over your face.

“What’re you doin’ here?” he asked abruptly.

You glanced at your book, then back at him. "Reading?”

“No, I mean… here,” he insisted, gesturing vaguely around the room. “At this shitty party.”

You shrugged, feeling awkward.

“My friends dragged me. I didn’t really want to come.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and he looked almost sober.

“Yeah, same.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He smirked, a flash of the cocky, arrogant guy you’d seen in class.

“Yeah, well… they’re fucking assholes, but they’re my assholes, y'know?”

You didn’t, but you nodded anyway. “Sure.”

“So, what’s that book about?”

You hesitated. “Um… it’s a fantasy novel.”

“Fantasy, huh?” He tilted his head, eyeing the cover. “Like wizards and dragons n'shit?”

“Sort of,” you admitted. “It’s about a girl who finds out she has magic and goes on a quest to—”

“Save the world?” he finished with a mock-solemn expression.

“...Yeah,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “But it’s more complicated than that.”

“Bet it is,” he murmured, his gaze still fixed on you. “You’re really into that stuff, huh?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah. Why?”

He shrugged, his smirk softening into something that looked like genuine interest. “You looked happy, talkin’ about it.”

Your heart did another weird little flip, and you frowned, pushing the feeling down. He was drunk, this didn’t mean anything. He wouldn’t remember it in the morning.

Rafe's eyes drifted shut, his head lolling back against the chair and within seconds, he was snoring.

You sat there, stunned.

What the hell had just happened?

Three days later, you were sitting in your usual spot in the lecture hall, flipping through your notes. Class was about to start, and the room was filling up with the usual pre-lecture chatter.

You were getting settled when someone slid into the seat beside you.

You glanced up, expecting one of your friends.

It was Rafe.

“Hey, friend,” he greeted casually, like you hadn’t left him passed out at a party a few nights ago.

You stared at him, completely disoriented. “Hi?”

He grinned, leaning back in his chair, acting like this was completely normal.

“Didn’t think I’d forget about you, huh?”

Your eyes narrowed. “I… yeah, actually.”

Rafe’s grin widened, and he leaned in closer, “See, that’s where you’re wrong, princess,” he murmured. “I remember everything.”

Did he just give you a nickname?

Your stomach dropped. “Oh?"

“Yeah.” He crossed his arms, looking entirely too smug. “You, sitting there all cute with your book, talking about magic and shit. Thought I was too drunk to remember, huh?”

“I—” You gawked at him, completely off balance. “Why are you here?”

“Because I want to be,” he said simply. “Got a problem with that?”

You blinked, caught off guard.

“No?”

“Good.” He flashed you a grin, “So, you gonna tell me more about that book, or what?”

You gaped at him. “You actually want to hear about it?”

“Why not?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “It made you smile.”

For some very stupid reason, that simple statement knocked the breath out of you.

“Okay,” you said, still unsure if this was some kind of elaborate prank.

Rafe leaned back in his seat, eyes fixed on you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world. Weird dude.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I think I’ll stick around.”

The next few classes were…weird, to say the least.

Ever since Rafe decided you were his new "friend," he’d taken to sitting beside you every lecture, plopping down in the empty seat as if he’d been there all along. It was confusing.

Most of the time, he’d breeze in at the last possible minute, sauntering up to your row without so much as a greeting and settling into the chair with that infuriatingly self-assured face. You were already seated, your notebook open and your pen poised to start taking notes when he dropped into the seat beside you with his usual nonchalance.

Rafe stretched his long legs out in front of him, casting you a sidelong look, daring you to acknowledge him first.

“Hi,” you said quietly, eyes flicking back to the front of the room.

“Hey, princess."

You kept your gaze firmly on your notebook. You’d quickly learned that the best way to deal with him was to pretend his presence didn’t affect you—no matter how much his proximity messed with you.

He’d spent the last three classes nudging your foot under the desk, passing snide comments under his breath, or leaning over just close enough to murmur sarcastic observations about whatever the professor was droning on about. And today was no different.

The lecture started, Professor Callahan launching into her usual detailed overview of sociological theory. You tried to focus, pen flying across your notebook as you jotted down her points.

“Is she always this boring?” he whispered, leaning in so his arm brushed against yours.

You stiffened, eyes fixed on your notes. “If you listened, it wouldn’t be so boring.”

He snorted. “Yeah, right. Like I’m gonna waste my time listening to her go on about… what is it today? Class structure?”

“Yes,” you hissed, refusing to look at him. “And if you don’t stop talking, I’m going to—”

“You’re going to what?” he challenged, his grin audible in his voice.

You snapped your mouth shut, ignoring the way his leg brushed against yours under the desk. He was doing it on purpose—nudging your knee every so often, moving a little closer until the faint scent of his cologne surrounded you.

It was infuriating.

When you glanced sideways at him, he was looking at you with that maddening, lazy grin that made your heart stutter.

“Just pay attention,” you mumbled, cheeks warm.

“Why would I do that when I have such a pretty view right here?”

Your head whipped around, eyes wide. “What?”

His eyes moved back to the front of the room as if he hadn’t just made your brain short-circuit.

“Relax, princess. Just messin' with you.”

You swallowed, trying to refocus on the lecture. His attention felt like a physical thing—it made you uneasy.

Determined not to give him the satisfaction, you forced yourself to look at the professor, who was in the middle of explaining something about social hierarchies when she suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

“Mr. Cameron.”

The entire class fell silent.

You looked up, eyes widening in surprise as Professor Callahan fixed Rafe with a stern look.

“I’m aware that I’m not as pretty as your classmate,” she said dryly, gesturing toward you, “but I would appreciate it if you could pay attention for at least ten minutes.”

A ripple of snickers spread through the room, and your cheeks flamed scarlet. Rafe, however, didn’t blink, he was completely unruffled and offered the professor a lazy, arrogant smile.

“Sorry. Just got a little distracted.”

Your stomach dropped. He was staring at you, unabashedly.

The professor raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure.” Her tone was dry, unimpressed. “Would you mind keeping your distractions to yourself until after class?”

Another murmur of laughter swept through the room, and you shrank in your seat, mortified. His smirk widened, but he leaned back in his chair, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Of course, ma’am,” he drawled. “No more distractions.”

Professor Callahan gave him a pointed look, then turned back to the board, resuming her lecture. You sat there, face burning, refusing to look anywhere near Rafe, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“Guess I got you in trouble, huh?”

You grit your teeth, still staring resolutely at the front of the room. “Stop talking.”

“Can’t help it,” he murmured, his voice teasing. “You’re way more interesting than this shit.”

“Rafe, I swear—”

“Okay, okay, I’ll behave,” he said lightly, sitting back. But he didn’t take his eyes off you. You could feel him lingering, warm and intent, and you wanted to scream.

How was he so calm? So unaffected, like getting called out by the professor was just a minor inconvenience?

You hated every second of it.

“Rafe,” you hissed under your breath, finally daring to glance at him. “Will you just—”

“What?”

“Stop staring.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Can’t promise that."

Your heart hammered, and you squeezed your pen so tightly it nearly snapped. “Why are you even here?”

He shrugged, his expression turning oddly serious. “I like sitting next to you.”

Rafe Cameron—the arrogant, cocky asshole you’d written off as nothing more than a nuisance—had just chosen to stay by your side.

As soon as class ended, you gathered your things in record time, heart still thumping wildly, keeping your head down, hoping to slip away unnoticed.

Maybe if you were quick enough, you could escape before he decided to make good on his new, annoying habit of sticking to you like glue. But, of course, he was nothing if not persistent.

You’d barely slung your bag over your shoulder when he appeared at your side, his tall frame looming over you as he fell into step like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Heading to lunch?” he asked, as if he hadn’t just spent the entire class making you the center of unwanted attention.

“Yes?” You tried not to sound as thrown as you felt.

“Cool. I’m starving.”

He said it like it was an invitation, as if he was entitled to follow you, and before you could muster up a half-hearted protest, he was already steering you through the crowded hallway.

“Wait, what are you doing?” you demanded, glancing around in panic.

People were staring, eyes widening as they took in the sight of Rafe Cameron, of all people, trailing after you. Whispers flitted through the air, disbelieving, and you shrank under the scrutiny, feeling painfully exposed.

“Uh, going to lunch with you?” He made it sound so obvious, his voice lilting with amusement.

“I didn’t invite you!” You glanced at him, trying to tamp down the fluttery, nervous feeling his presence always seemed to stir up. “What if I’m eating with someone else?”

He shrugged. “Then I’ll eat with them too.”

You gawked at him. “What?”

“Relax. It’s just lunch.”

Just lunch. This was completely absurd.

You narrowed your eyes, debating whether to make a break for it, but he was already pulling you toward the main quad, his hand ghosting the small of your back in a way that made your skin tingle.

Your heart hammered as the familiar outdoor seating area came into view. Your friends were already there, sitting at your usual table—a small group of two girls and a guy, all talking animatedly.

Their expressions morphed from curious to shocked when they caught sight of you—and Rafe—heading straight toward them.

“Uh, hey,” you greeted awkwardly as you approached. They just stared, mouths agape.

Emily was the first to recover.

“What the—since when do you two know each other?” she asked, eyes darting between you and Rafe like she was seeing a glitch in the matrix.

“Yeah, what’s going on here?” Max, the guy in your small circle, chimed in, his gaze flicking to Rafe warily. “Is this, like… a project thing?”

“No, it’s not—” you started, but Rafe cut you off with a breezy smile.

“Can’t believe y’all kept her to yourselves this whole time,” he drawled, pulling out the chair beside yours and plopping down like he’d done it a thousand times before. “Thought you’d have the decency to introduce me to the prettiest girl on campus.”

Your friends gaped, eyes wide with shock. You could see their brains short-circuiting.

Meanwhile, you were fighting the urge to smack him upside the head.

“Please shut up,” you muttered under your breath, cheeks burning.

His gaze slid over your stunned friends with lazy amusement. “What?” he said innocently. “It’s true.”

“What the hell is happening right now?” Emily demanded, still staring at you like you’d grown a second head. “You—you and Rafe Cameron?”

You sighed, already regretting every life choice that had led you to this moment. “There is no ‘me and Rafe Cameron.’ He just—he’s being annoying.”

“Annoying?” he repeated, feigning offense. “C’mon. I thought we were past that.”

“We are not past anything,” you snapped, shooting him a glare.

“Okay, back up,” Max interjected, brow furrowed in confusion. “How do you guys even know each other?”

“Uh, sociology class?” you offered weakly, as if that explained anything. “He’s been sitting next to me.”

“Sitting next to you?” Emily repeated slowly, as if she was trying to process a particularly difficult equation. “And now you’re… eating lunch together?”

“It’s not—” You looked helplessly at Rafe, who was watching the exchange with that insufferable smirk. “I didn’t ask him to.”

He looked completely unfazed by the mess he’d caused.

“What can I say? I like the company.”

“Since when?” Emily shot back, clearly unconvinced.

Rafe shrugged, “Since she started talking to me.”

Your friends fell silent, eyes wide and suspicious as they turned to you, searching for answers. But you just sat there, feeling utterly, hopelessly lost. What were you supposed to say? Rafe Cameron had decided, out of nowhere, to insert himself into your life? That he was following you to lunch like this was some sort of normal occurrence?

“Look,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s really not a big deal. He’s just—”

“Rafe Cameron is never ‘just’ anything,” Emily interrupted, folding her arms as she fixed Rafe with a suspicious look. “So what are you up to?"

“Nothing,” Rafe said easily, his smile all sharp edges. “Like I said, I’m just getting to know her.”

“Getting to know her,” Max echoed, skeptical.

“Yeah.” Rafe’s eyes never left yours, his eyes gleaming with something that made your pulse flutter. “What’s so weird about that?”

Your friends exchanged looks. You didn’t blame them. This was weird. More than weird.

You’d never been the kind of girl to attract attention—especially not from someone like Rafe. Popular, arrogant, and completely out of your league in every possible way. Yet, here he was, sitting with you at lunch like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“So,” He said suddenly, turning his attention back to the group, “Are you gonna sit here gaping all day, or are we gonna eat?”

Emily blinked, snapping out of her daze. “Uh, yeah, we’re… we’re eating.”

“Good.” Rafe turned to you, eyebrow raised. “You eating, princess?”

You stared at him, “I—yes?”

“Cool. Want me to grab you something?”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You’re offering to get me lunch?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I am. What do you want?”

“I—” You swallowed, glancing at your friends, who were watching the exchange. “Um, a sandwich?”

“Got it.” Rafe pushed to his feet, “Be right back.”

To your utter disbelief, he sauntered off toward the food line, leaving you and your friends staring after him.

“What,” Max said slowly, “the fuck just happened?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I have no idea.”

The awkward lunch with Rafe didn’t end as badly as you expected.

Your friends had spent the entire time shooting you confused, bewildered looks, while he seemed to thrive under their scrutiny, lounging beside you like he belonged. He didn’t flirt—Thank God—but he didn’t tone down his usual cocky self either.

By the end of it, he’d somehow managed to charm your friends enough to leave them more confused rather than outright hostile. Still, after that lunch, you’d expected him to lose interest, to join his usual crowd and forget all about his bizarre little experiment.

You learned that the hard way two days later.

It was late afternoon, and you were holed up in one of the campus library, buried under a mountain of textbooks and notes for an upcoming exam. It was your sanctuary—blissfully free of distractions.

At least, until Rafe sauntered in.

You didn’t notice him at first, too absorbed in your notes, hunched over a particularly dense passage in your sociology textbook when you felt it— glancing up cautiously.

Rafe leaned against the bookshelf a feet away, his eyes fixed on you with an assessing look.

“What are you doing here?” you hissed, glancing around nervously.

No one seemed to be paying attention, but you still felt like the entire room was suddenly staring.

“Studying,” he said, straight-faced.

“Since when do you study in the library?”

“Since now,” He pushed off the bookshelf and strolled over to your table, pulling out the chair across from you, “What? Can’t a guy broaden his horizons?”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You’re joking.”

“Not today.” He leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand as he peered at your open book. “So, what’re we learning?”

“We are not learning anything,” you muttered, eyes narrowing. “I’m studying. You...I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Keeping you company,” he said simply. “You looked lonely.”

“Lonely?”

“Yeah.” He tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over your face. “All holed up in here with your books. Thought I’d help.”

What was he even talking about?

This was insane. He didn’t hang out in the library, especially not to “keep someone company.” He was the kind of guy who spent his free time at parties, or on the field, or wherever people like him thrived.

“Rafe,” you said slowly, “you don’t even know what I’m studying.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does if you’re trying to help,” you shot back, frustration seeping into your voice. “You’re—what are you even—”

“Okay, okay,” he interrupted, raising his hands in surrender. “Calm down. Just trying to see what’s got you all riled up.”

You bit back a groan, rubbing your temples. You didn’t need—didn’t want—his attention.

“Fine,” you muttered, turning your textbook around so he could see the page. “I’m going over Durkheim’s theory of social integration.”

Rafe leaned in, squinting at the page. “Durkheim?”

“Yes,” you said, a little impatiently. “He believed that society functions through a collective conscience—shared beliefs and values that bind people together.”

“Sounds boring as hell,” Rafe said bluntly.

“It’s not boring,” you retorted before you could stop yourself. “It’s actually really interesting—he argued that a lack of social integration could lead to anomie, a state of normlessness that causes people to feel disconnected and isolated.”

Rafe stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

At least it felt that way to you.

“What?” you demanded, suddenly self-conscious. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He shrugged, a thoughtful smile tugging at his lips. “Just… you get really into this stuff, don’t you?”

Your cheeks flushed. “It’s sociology. It’s important.”

“Yeah, but…” He shook his head, “It’s kinda cute.”

You blinked, “Cute?”

“Yeah.” He leaned back, crossing his arms as he regarded you with a casual, easy confidence that made your heart flutter. “You get all intense when you talk about it. You actually care.”

“I—Of course I care,” you stammered, “It’s my major.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I like that about you.”

What—what was that supposed to mean? Why was he looking at you like that? Before you could untangle your thoughts, a shadow fell over the table, and you glanced up to see another student standing there—a tall, lanky guy with dark hair and glasses. He looked vaguely familiar, probably from one of your classes.

“Uh, hey,” the guy said awkwardly, glancing between you and Rafe. “Are—are you using this seat?”

Rafe’s expression changed instantly, “Yeah,” he said flatly. “We are.”

The guy blinked, taken aback. “Oh, uh, sorry, I just—”

“You just can find another table,” Rafe cut in, “We’re a little busy here.”

You gaped at him, mortified. “Rafe, stop.”

He kept staring down at the poor guy, his posture tense and unyielding until, with a muttered apology, the student backed off, scurrying away like he’d just had a close encounter with a predator.

“What's wrong with you?” You scolded as soon as the guy was out of earshot. “He just wanted to sit down!”

“Yeah, and we’re studying,” Rafe said dismissively. “No room for distractions.”

“We’re not studying anything!” you shot back, resisting the urge to smack him. “You’re sitting here, being—being weird.”

“Not weird,” he corrected, leaning in again. “Protective.”

You froze, “Protective?”

“Yeah.” His eyes locking onto yours. “Can’t have just anyone bothering you, can I?”

After the bizarre encounter in the library, you were convinced Rafe would drop this whole… whatever it was. For sure.

Surely, following you to lunch and then “protecting” you in the library was enough.

But when you found yourself at another party two nights later—dragged along by Emily despite your vehement protests—you knew it was only a matter of time before he found you. Somehow, no matter where you went, Rafe had made it his mission to seek you out.

“C'mooon, you need to have some fun,” Emily had insisted, half-pulling, half-dragging you through the front door of one of the fraternity houses on campus.

The music was already blaring, people were packed in the main room.

“This isn’t my idea of fun,” you muttered, hugging your arms around yourself as you tried to avoid brushing against the partygoers. It wasn’t that you disliked parties, exactly—it was just that the noise, the sheer volume of people could get overwhelming quickly.

“Just stay for an hour,” Emily pleaded. “Please? I swear it’ll be more fun than you think. We can dance, have a few drinks—”

“I don’t dance,” you cut in flatly, giving her a pointed look.

“Okay, fine, I’ll dance, and you… can hang out and people-watch,” she amended, undeterred. “Besides, who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone.”

You gave her a withering stare.

“Yeah, because I’m such a social butterfly.”

You sighed, resigned to your fate, and began making your way through the press of bodies. You managed to find a relatively quiet corner in the back, near the stairs, and gratefully leaned against the wall.

Perhaps if you stayed out of sight long enough, Emily would give up on trying to get you to socialize and let you leave early. It was a long shot, but you could hope.

You hadn’t been there long when you felt it—the familiar prickling sensation of someone’s gaze lingering on you.

Rafe, in all his infuriating glory, leaning against the wall a few feet away. He looked unfairly good, dressed in a dark button-up that clung to his frame in all the right ways, his hair tousled enough to look effortlessly cool. And, as usual, he was watching you.

You narrowed your eyes at him, your stomach twisting in irritation and something else.

“Are you stalking me now?” you demanded, crossing your arms as you glared at him.

Rafe’s lips curved. “Would it be so bad if I was?”

“Yes,” you said, “It would be very bad.”

He chuckled, the sound low, sending an unwelcome shiver down your spine.

“Relax, princess. I just saw you standing here all alone and thought I’d come say hi.”

“Hi,” you muttered, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now you can leave.”

Instead, he straightened, pushing off the wall and closing the distance between you in a two strides until he was standing directly in front of you.

You tried to step back, but the wall blocked your escape.

“Actually, I was thinking we could, hang out for a bit?” he suggested, tilting his head as he regarded you.

“Why?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Rafe blinked, seemingly taken aback by the question. “Why?”

“Yes,” you insisted, frustration growing inside you. “Why do you keep… doing this? Showing up, sitting with me, following me to lunch, acting like—like we’re friends or something. What is your deal, Cameron?”

Slowly he reached up, bracing one hand on the wall beside your head, leaning in so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“My deal,” he murmured, his voice smooth, “is that I like you.”

No. No, no, no.

That couldn’t be right, people didn't like you, they tolerated you, maybe, or found you useful sometimes, but they didn't like you, not in the way he was implying.

You felt panic rising in your chest.

“You’re lying,” you said shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re just—this is some kind of game, isn’t it? Some—some bet, or—”

Rafe’s expression tightened, “It’s not a game,” he ground out, his eyes flashing. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

You swallowed hard, chest aching. This didn’t make sense.

“I don’t believe you,” you shook your head stubbornly.

His eyes narrowed, “No?”

“No,” you repeated, crossing your arms defiantly. “You’re just… you. You can’t just decide you like me out of nowhere.”

“I didn’t decide,” he murmured, “It just happened.”

Your breath hitched. Why was he doing this to you? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

“I—” You broke off, struggling to find words, but before you could answer, a loud voice interrupted.

“Yo, Rafe! There you are, man!”

You both jerked back, startled, and you glanced over to see one of Rafe’s friends—Topper, if you remembered correctly—stumbling over, a wide grin plastered across his face.

“What are you doing back here?” Topper slurred, his gaze sliding to you. He blinked, “Who’s this?”

Rafe stepped in front of you slightly, his posture tense and protective.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said curtly, “Go find someone else to bother.”

Topper blinked, taken aback. “Whoa, man, chill. I was just—”

“Go,” Rafe repeated, his tone brooking no argument.

Topper stared at him for a long moment, then slowly backed off, muttering under his breath as he disappeared into the crowd. As soon as he was gone, Rafe turned back to you, his eyes softening again.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, “Didn’t mean to—”

“Why did you do that?” you cut in, your heart still pounding.

Rafe frowned. “Do what?”

“Get rid of him,” you said, shaking your head in confusion. “He was your friend. Why would you—”

Maybe you’d misread him, he didn’t mean any of what he said. He was probably bored, looking for some amusement—another toy to play with for a little while.

“I wanted to talk to you. Not him.”

You blinked, bewildered. “But he’s your friend.”

He gave a half-hearted shrug. “So? Doesn’t mean I want him interrupting us.”

Us. Like there was an “us.” Like there could ever be an “us.”

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of confusion. “But I don’t understand,” you mumbled. “I don’t get it. You don’t know me.”

“I know enough,” he said quietly, his eyes holding yours in a way that made it hard to breathe. “More than you think.”

You frowned.

It was impossible to ignorethe nagging feeling that he was just… playing with you, this was all some sick joke and at any moment, the punchline would hit, and you’d be the idiot.

“You’re messing with me,” you muttered, taking a small step to the side to put some space between you. “You’re bored or something.”

“I’m not bored,” he said firmly, stepping forward to close the gap you’d just created. “I told you, I wouldn’t do that.”

“I didn’t ask for this. You’ve been following me around, showing up where I am, saying all these things like—like we’re something, but we’re not.”

His eyes narrowed, not believing what he was hearing. “What are you talking about? You think I’m just messing around?”

“Yes!” you practically shouted, throwing your hands up. “Yes, I do! Why else would you be doing this? You’re Rafe Cameron, for god’s sake. You don’t even like me. This is just some twisted game to you, isn’t it?”

You stared at him, trying to read his face, find any hint of dishonesty, any sign that this was all an act. But all you saw was that same intensity. Panic kept grazing at you. This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be.

People didn’t seek you out at parties or show up in libraries to talk about sociology. Guys like Rafe didn’t choose people like you.

There had to be some ulterior motive.

“You show up out of nowhere, act like I’m some project, some… someone who needs your protection—why, Rafe? Because I don’t fit into your world? Because I’m a joke to you and your friends?”

“That’s not it,” He growled, his voice defensive. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t know what I’m talking about?” you scoffed, shaking your head. “You haven’t given me a reason to believe any of this.”

“You think I’m lying?

You moved your head again, harder this time.

“You’re—you’re saying things that don’t make sense. I don’t understand.”

He took a slow, poising breath, "What doesn't make sense to you?"

"All of this," you replied, your voice quivering with frustration, "You, acting like you—like you care. Like you see me. People don’t do that, not for someone like me. I don’t—" You cut yourself off, not sure how to finish the sentence, your thoughts spiraling.

It wasn’t just that you couldn’t believe him; it was that you didn’t know how to. Your experiences had taught you to be wary, always look for the catch, because there always was one.

Always.

Rafe's brows drawn together in something that almost looked like concern.

"Someone like you?" he repeated, "What does that even mean?"

You swallowed, feeling your insecurities gripping down on your chest.

"It means I’m not… like you. I don’t know how to talk to people, I don’t get things right all the time. People don’t notice me, and when they do, it’s usually because I’ve done something wrong, or because they want something from me. That’s just how it is."

He shook his head.

"That’s not how I see you."

You opened your mouth to argue, to dismiss what he was saying, to protect yourself from the disappointment that was sure to come.

Rafe didn’t give you the chance.

"So I’m messing with you because you’re not like everyone else? Is that it? You think I’m playing some kind of game because you don’t fit into some stupid idea of who’s supposed to matter?"

You wanted to recoil into the safety of your doubts, but something in his voice, in the way he was looking at you, made you stop.

"I’m not going to pretend like I know everything about you," Rafe continued, no less serious. "But I know enough to know that I like you. I don’t care if you don’t fit in with my world, or whatever you think that means. I like that you’re passionate about the things you care about. I like that you don’t put up with anyone’s shit—not even mine." A small, almost self-deprecating smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I’ve spent enough time around fake people to know the difference."

You weren’t used to this kind of sincerity. Part of you still wanted to push it away, reject it before it had a chance to hurt you. But another part of you—a much smaller, quieter part—was whispering that maybe he meant it.

"Why me?"

"Because you're you," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Cliché as fuck. So why were you shaking?

The two of you just stood there, the noise of the party fading while your mind was processing everything.

"I’m not… I’m not good at this," you admitted, "At understanding what people mean, or knowing if they’re being serious or not. I don’t know how to read you."

Rafe’s eyes softened even more at your confession, and he took a deep breath.

"I get that," he said quietly. "I’m not always great at this either. But I’m serious. I wouldn’t lie to you, not about this."

You wanted to believe him. But there was still that tiny voice of doubt in the back of your mind, reminding you of all the times you’d been wrong before, of all the times you’d trusted someone only to be let down.

You hesitated, "I don’t know if I can."

He didn’d demand anything from you, instead, he nodded.

"That’s okay. You don’t have to believe me right now. But I’ll be here when you’re ready."

With that, he stepped back, giving you the space you so desperately needed. That small, almost hopeful smile was gonna hunt you for the next days.

You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d been wrong about him after all.

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angel-sweets666 · 1 year ago

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Break up

katsuki bakugo x reader

Bakugos been distant which ends up in you two breaking up, learning to live without him was difficult

Warning: angst, break ups, arguments, mineta. (This is a mineta hate page🫶🫶) probably badly written argument but it’s more for practice

Bakugo and you used to be probably the cutest couple 1A had ever seen. He would carry your bags, help with your homework, hell he had even figured out how to threaten izuku into switching seats with you so you two could pass notes in class. You were practically best friends with Mina because of bakugo, you had a group of boys (bakugo, kirishima, Denki and sero) who would come to the rescue if you or Mina were afraid or uncomfortable of someone, usually mineta. Everything was great! Until it wasn’t

Bakugo began to grow distant, his usual warm and loving behavior towards you shifting to something colder and more indifferent. It was like a switch had been flipped, and the boy who once made you feel like the center of his world now treated you like an acquaintance, or even less. The cuddles in your dorm, which had been a nightly comfort, stopped altogether. He no longer accepted the lunches you made with such care, brushing off your efforts with a curt nod or a distracted "thanks."

He didn't wait for you or Mina when the lunch bell rang, a small but significant ritual that had always been a highlight of your day. Instead, he would storm off on his own, his mind clearly occupied by something that didn't include you. It was like he was building walls around himself, shutting you out bit by bit. The boys, Kirishima and Denki, noticed the change immediately. Their concerned glances back at you two during lunch were hard to miss. They would wave, trying to get you and Mina to join them like usual, but you felt too disheartened to follow.

Mina, always perceptive, linked her arm with yours and gave you a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay," she whispered, her eyes full of empathy. "We'll just hang out together today."

You forced a smile, grateful for her support but unable to shake the growing ache in your heart. The cafeteria felt larger and lonelier without Bakugo by your side, and the absence of his presence was like a constant, gnawing void. Mina did her best to keep the conversation light and engaging, but even her bubbly personality couldn't fully lift the cloud that hung over you.

You sighed heavily and walked into the common room, feeling the weight of a particularly rough day of training pressing down on you. It seemed like the past few weeks had been nothing but a series of bad days strung together. Inside, you found Sero hanging from the ceiling with his tape, while Denki and Kirishima were busy playing Uno. Sero, suspended above like a makeshift Spider-Man, noticed your dejected expression immediately.

"What's up with you?" he asked, concern evident in his voice. Kirishima and Denki looked up from their game to see you standing there, looking defeated.

"Nothing… just a bad day," you sighed, moving toward the kitchen area in search of some instant noodles. The prospect of a quick, comforting meal was the only thing that seemed remotely appealing.

"You've had a bad day for the past two weeks," Denki remarked, leaning back on the couch and taking a sip of his Coca-Cola. His casual observation stung because it was true; your mood had been in a steady decline for a while now.

"I know… it sucks," you grumbled in response, frustration lacing your voice as you rummaged through the cabinets.

"Is it because of Bakugo? You should talk to him!" Denki suggested, trying to offer some well-meaning advice about your relationship.

Kirishima, always quick to tease his friends, pointed out, "To be honest, man, I don't think anyone in this whole dorm wants your relationship advice when you can't even pull that green-haired chick from 1B." His comment earned a fake offended gasp from Denki, momentarily lightening the mood in the room.

The sounds of their playful banter and the ease with which they interacted only amplified your frustration. Their happiness and carefree attitudes were a stark contrast to the turmoil you were feeling inside. It wasn’t fair – why did everything have to be so hard for you?

As you prepared your noodles, you couldn't help but let your mind wander back to Bakugo. You missed him more than words could express. His absence from your daily life was like a constant, gnawing ache. You longed for the days when he would greet you with a smirk and a teasing remark, when his presence alone could make you feel like everything would be okay.

You slumped down at the kitchen counter, stirring your noodles absentmindedly. The warmth of the broth did little to soothe the cold emptiness that had settled in your chest. Sero, always perceptive, swung down from the ceiling and landed gracefully beside you.

"Hey, if you ever need to talk, we're here for you," he said softly, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

Kirishima and Denki echoed his sentiment, their earlier teasing replaced by genuine concern. "Yeah, we're your friends. We care about you," Kirishima added with a supportive smile.

Denki nodded, his usual playful demeanor subdued by the seriousness of the moment. "We're here for you, no matter what."

Their words were a small comfort, but the underlying issue remained – you missed Bakugo. You missed his rough edges and his rare moments of softness, the way he could make you feel safe and cherished with just a look. The rift between you seemed to grow wider with each passing day, and you couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness.

As you finished your meal, you realized that no amount of comforting words from your friends could fill the void left by Bakugo's absence. You needed to figure out a way to reach him, to bridge the gap that had formed between you. For now, all you could do was hold on to the hope that things would get better, and lean on your friends for support as you navigated this difficult time.

“nah, it’s good advice.. I’ll talk to him. If you hear yelling from us just… I dunno come check on us, or get Mina.”

So you made your way towards the elevator and down the hall, clicking the button that had the number four in big bold writing. Bakugo and you both lived on the 4th floor of heights alliance. (I’m being fr when I say I googled this) and walked to his dorm, knocking lightly on the wooden door “katsuki? Hun?” You called out “yeah? What?” He yelled back at you, sounding annoyed. “Can we talk?” You asked softly, trying to simply be nice to him “we talk everyday!” He just sounded so annoyed. “No like.” You sighed “can we talk.” You said it in a different way so he got the idea. Bakugo huffed on the other side of the door “yeah. Sure. Whatever.” He grumbled out, unlocking his door and letting you inside.

The blonde flopped back onto his bed and rolled onto his back to look at you. “What’s up?” he asked, the once loving look in his eyes now replaced by a cold indifference.

“What’s going on, Bakugo? You keep distancing yourself from me,” you said, frustration bubbling up. “I haven’t seen you actually try to talk to me in two weeks!”

Bakugo rolled his eyes. “Nothing’s going on, I’m just tired. Still love you,” he mumbled, but you couldn't tell if he was lying.

“When you’re tired, you used to cuddle me and sleep. Now you ignore me completely—”

“I said I'm just tired, damn it!” Bakugo suddenly yelled, causing you to wince.

“What the hell, Bakugo! I’ve been nice about it, trying to understand!” you retorted, your voice rising in pitch.

“I’m just… I don’t have time for you, okay?” he snapped, his tone as harsh as ever.

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, feeling a sinking sensation in your chest.

“I don’t have time for you! You distract me from being the number one hero. You're nothing but a distraction!” he screamed, picking up a small stress toy that you got him and throwing it at you, narrowly missing your head.

“What the hell, Bakugo! Who the fuck throws something at their partner?”

“Me! Because you’re being annoying! I’ll talk to you like I did before when you stop being such a distraction!” He groaned and tried to turn away from you.

“Will you? Will you really? I don’t trust you anymore!” you yelled, your voice cracking with emotion.

“If you don’t trust me, let’s break up then!” He stomped over and got right in your face, his eyes blazing with anger.

“FINE!” you shouted back, but you didn’t move.

“FINE!” he roared, his breath hot against your face.

“Why are you doing this?” you demanded, tears welling up in your eyes. “I’ve done nothing but support you, and this is how you treat me?”

“You don’t get it!” he yelled. “Every time I look at you, I see all the things I’m failing at. I can’t afford distractions, not now, not ever!”

“So I’m just a failure to you? Is that it?” you shot back, your voice trembling with hurt and rage. “I thought I was someone you cared about, someone you loved.”

“I did love you! I do! But I can’t do this right now,” he shouted, his voice breaking slightly, betraying a hint of vulnerability.

“Love isn’t something you can just turn off, Bakugo! You don’t get to use me and then throw me away when it’s convenient for you!” you screamed, tears streaming down your face.

“I’m not using you!” he yelled back, but there was a crack in his voice. “I’m trying to protect you, damn it! From me, from this life, from everything!”

“By pushing me away? By treating me like I’m nothing?” you cried. “That’s not protection, Bakugo, that’s cruelty.”

“I’m doing what I have to do to be number one!” he roared, his fists clenching at his sides.

“At what cost, Bakugo? At the cost of everyone who cares about you?” you asked, your voice softening with sadness. “If you keep this up, you’ll end up alone.”

“Maybe that’s what I need to be!” he shouted, but there was a hollow ring to his words.

“Fine. If that’s what you want, then I’m gone,” you said quietly, turning towards the door.

Bakugo stood there, breathing heavily, watching as you walked out of his dorm. “Don’t come back!” he yelled after you, but the words felt empty.

You slammed the door behind you, the sound echoing in the hallway as you walked away, each step feeling like it was ripping your heart out of your chest.

as you went down the hall towards the elevator, you saw Mina try to rush down the hall. She also lived on the 4th floor and she heard everything “*name!*” she called out “what happened? One minute the 4th floor is peaceful then I’m hearing you two yelling! I think they even called mr aizawa!” She sounded panicked “we broke up.” You muttered “huh?” The pink haired girl asked “we broke up Mina, me and bakugo. We broke up.” You reiterated to her “you’re kidding…” she looked like she felt nothing but pity for you, pulling you into a tight hug. You sobbed into her shoulder as the reality sunk in…

the next day, aizawa pulled both you and bakugo aside.

“I understand you two have broken up, however I need you two to be civil. I can’t have you two yelling at each other during class time or during school hours. Keep your relationship problems out of school” the blunt man said in his usual gloomy voice “and with that, I’m changing your seating plan so you two don’t see each other.” He handed you two a piece of paper with the same exact seating plan, except you and bakugo were on opposite sides of the room.

“Tch.. whatever” bakugo grumbled and walked Into class, you stared down at the piece of white paper “yeah this is good” you nodded and also walked into the classroom, mr aizawa following behind you.

the tension in class was sickening, everyone had heard of your breakup and nobody wanted to say anything that would set you two off

minetas ugly ass turned around and faced bakugo with a grin “I heard of your breath up, females am I right?” “Shut the fuck up you purple bitch.”

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daryltwdixon · 6 months ago

Text

Know It's For the Better

Was listening to Phoebe Bridger's Waiting Room today and my heart hurt thinking of Daryl pining, longing, and angsty while critical of himself. Never letting himself have you.

There are moments when he thinks it’d be easier to walk away, to stop feeling like this, but the idea of losing even the smallest piece of you feels like a wound he’d never come back from.

The door swings shut behind Daryl with barely a sound—he’d oiled the hinges last week after they started squealing loud enough to wake the dead. Tonight, he steps out onto the porch, pausing when he catches sight of you sitting on the steps, your figure framed by the soft glow of moonlight.

For a second, he hesitates, unsure whether to join you or leave you to the quiet. But his feet don’t carry him back inside. Instead, he leans against the porch railing, his shoulders pressing into the rough wood, watching you from the shadows. He’s always been good at staying silent when he needs to, moving like a ghost, unnoticed until he wants to be seen.

You don’t look up, your attention on the blade of grass you’re twirling between your fingers. Your body is relaxed, at ease in the stillness of the night. There’s something easy about the way you sit there, your body relaxed, your hair catching the faint silver light of the moon. You look at home in this quiet, the same way you do when you’re laughing with the others or tearing through walkers like it’s second nature. He doesn’t know which version of you hits him harder—the one who smiles without hesitation, or the one who stares a little too long at nothing, lost in her own thoughts.

He likes both. That’s the problem.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been watching you at this point—too long, probably. Long enough that every inch of you is burned into his memory, like some kind of cruel brand he’s too far gone to scrape off. And not just tonight, in the moonlight that floods the neighborhood. But always. He's always watching you. He tells himself he’s just keeping watch, keeping you safe, and that is true... But there's more. He knows he'd be lying if he said that was all it was. When it comes to you, he can't stop...watching, looking--admiring.

You shift slightly, leaning back on your hands, your face turned up to the stars like you’re trying to soak them in. It’s so damn effortless—the way you exist, the way you look at the world like it might still have something left to offer you. He wonders what it feels like, that kind of quiet hope. Wonders what it would feel like if you ever looked at him that way.

He’s too old, too broken. Too rough around the edges to be anything you could want. Hell, he wouldn’t even know what to do if he had the chance. Wouldn’t know how to hold you let alone touch you. And definitely, most definitely, wouldn’t know how to tell you just how much space you’ve taken up in his head without scaring you off.

“Something on your mind?” you ask suddenly, not looking back. Your voice is light, teasing, like you already know the answer.

Shit, of course you knew he was there. It was hard to sneak around you, he should've known by now. Daryl clears his throat, pushing the words back down where they belong. “Nah,” he mutters, glancing at the dark horizon instead of you.

You hum softly, like you don’t believe him, and lean back on your hands. The way your shoulders tilt, your neck arching just slightly, still turned to him with your eyes closed, the curve of your cheek catching the moonlight.--it sends an ache through him. The urge to reach out...to feel, to caress, to just touch you.

He wonders if you can feel it too—that pull between you, like some invisible thread tying him to you no matter how far he tries to stay. He wonders if you’ve ever noticed the way his hands shake when you’re close, or the way he looks at you like you’re something he doesn’t know how to hold but can’t bring himself to let go of.

But he’d never tell you. Not ever. He’s too messed up, too worn down and rough from this world and the one before it. It’s better this way—better to stay at a distance, close enough to watch over you but far enough to keep from ruining whatever this is.

Know it’s for the better, he tells himself, over and over, the words circling his mind like a chant, praying one day he'd believe them.

It’s for the better—because you deserve someone who could give you more than silence and scars.

It’s for the better—because he doesn’t know how to hold you without feeling like his hands might break something delicate, like he’s never been made for soft things.

It’s for the better—because every part of him is rough-edged and jagged, and you? You’re all the things he’s spent his life convincing himself he doesn’t deserve.

It’s for the better—because letting himself think otherwise, even for a second, feels like the kind of hope that’d split him wide open.

“You ever think about it?” you ask, breaking his spiraling thoughts, your eyes on him. He's not sure how long since you opened them and had been staring at him, “What life would’ve been like if this hadn’t happened?”

It’s not a sad question, not the way you ask it. Just curious, like you’re thinking about what you’d do with a world full of empty possibilities.

Daryl shrugs, “Ain’t much to think about.”

The truth is, he doesn’t want to imagine what life would’ve been like if everything hadn’t gone to hell. Because then he wouldn’t have known you, wouldn’t have found you. And even if he can’t let himself have you, he can’t picture his life without you in it.

You stare up at the sky again then, “No dreams? No big plans?”

He huffs out a breath almost like a laugh, looking down at the worn wood under his boots. “Don’t think I’d be much different. Probably still out there somewhere, bein' a screw up.”

You don't laugh, don't reply right away, and yet when he looks up the look in your eyes still makes his skin rise with goosebumps.

“You really don't see how good you are, do you?” you say casually, like it’s a fact you’d bet your life on.

He freezes, his throat tightening, because how the hell are you supposed to say something like that and then just go back to looking at the stars like it didn’t knock the world off its axis? He shifts his weight, the words crawling up the back of his throat before he can stop them.

“You should get some rest,” he mutters, his voice rougher than he means for it to be. His fingers tighten around the edge of the railing like it might keep him steady.

Despite his dismissiveness, you don’t look away, and for a second, the world narrows to just the two of you, the soft rustle of the wind, the faint hum of crickets in the distance.

“You should too,” you say softly, finally standing and brushing the dust off your hands.

As you turn toward him, you hesitate, like you’re weighing something in your mind. Then you close the small distance between you, stepping up onto the porch until you’re standing in front of him.

Daryl straightens instinctively, unsure what you’re about to do, his hand still gripping the railing. You tilt your head, your gaze searching his face, and then your hand moves. Slowly, deliberately, you reach out and brush a strand of hair out of his face, your fingers lingering just a moment too long against his temple.

His breath hitches, and he feels rooted to the spot, like one wrong move might break whatever quiet spell you’ve cast.

"You didn't answer my question." you say softly, your voice steady but gentle.

He swallows hard, the words tangling in his throat. You’re looking at him expectantly but with a kindness so soft it hurts, and it’s all he can do to keep himself from leaning into your touch.

"I uh--" Daryl clears his throat, "I dunno,"

For a moment, your fingers linger on his face before you let your hand fall, the warmth of your touch still ghosting across his skin. You smile then, small and quiet, but it’s enough to make the knot in his chest loosen, just a little.

“Goodnight, Daryl.” you murmur, your voice soft as you step back.

But you don’t leave right away. Your eyes linger on his for a second longer, your expression open, unguarded, like you’re waiting for him to say something—do something.

He doesn’t. He can’t. It's for the better.

“Night,” he rasps finally, the word uneven and raw, but it’s enough to make you smile one last time before you turn and disappear inside.

Know it's for the better, he chants in his head again. But damn if it doesn’t feel like he’s been left out here with half of himself locked on the other side of that door.

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purplecoffee13 · 8 months ago

Text

Nemesis with Benefits - Part 6

Summary: “Three weeks have passed, and the inevitable truth leads to some harsh conversations…”

Wc: 3.3k

Tropes: enemies-to-lovers

Warnings: ANGST big time, fighting, crying (my heart hurts)

A/N: hello… I finally finished the newest chapter and I immediately wanted to get it out so you can all read it. I am incredibly sorry that it took so long, and I am also sorry for the amount of sadness in this chapter… but it had to happen🥲

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

It's been three weeks since you last saw Harry, and you feel terrible.

About what exactly? You're not sure. Dylan's sudden appearance. Harry just— walking out. What Harry and Dylan did to you. What you have been doing with Harry...

It seems that, just as the dust had started to settle, this tornado entirely threw you for a loop again. Finally getting to terms with your feelings and accepting the idea of a friendship with Harry, it all came crashing down the moment you spotted Dylan at that pool table.

You'd spent hours furiously scribbling in your notebook to understand the depths of this tricky situation you'd managed to work yourself into, but you haven't found a logical solution or explanation for any of it.

Only that Dylan is a total dick, that is.

You had to admit that you needed some time to come down from the shock and bottled up feelings that had exploded right in front of your face. But by the end of the week, you were ready to find Harry and talk about this. What that conversation would lead to, you had no idea, but speaking to him was vital.

And apparently impossible.

He wouldn’t respond to your texts, nor your calls when you eventually decided to give calling him a try. When you'd finally mustered up the courage to sneakily ask Benjamin about Harry's whereabouts, you were smacked in the face with the news that Harry had left.

He'd gone home to England to visit his family, Benjamin said. When you'd asked whether it had to do anything with the Dylan fiasco, Benjamin had shrugged and said that Harry did visit his family every single year. But he also mentioned he went a bit earlier than planned, so he thought the other night might have had a little bit to do with it.

Planned or not planned, it left you with a lot of confusion and doubt for the next two weeks, one of which you spent in your own hometown, trying to enjoy spring break as much as you could with a broken heart and an occupied mind.

You hadn't returned to your college town yet when Harry finally did, and you were bummed about not being able to talk to him. Rebecca and Benjamin were going to a party Harry was throwing so you guessed you'd hear about his state when you got back.

It would've be a bit embarrassing to admit, but it's one of the reasons you caught an earlier train this morning. You texted Rebecca, telling her you’d back sooner than planned. but you hadn't heard from her so far. While you'd thought it was a little weird, you figured you'd see her this evening anyway.

You didn't expect her to be at your front door.

A smile creeps onto your face as you neared her, leaving your luggage to the side as you open your arms for a hug, but Rebecca just stands there, arms crossed. Quirking up a brow, you ask:

"Hey, are you okay?"

A few seconds pass before she responds.

"We need to talk."

Absolute, utter dread fills your entire body as you nod, grabbing your suitcase. "What is it about? Do you want to go upstairs?"

Rebecca doesn't answer your question, she only nods in response to your second. You are quick to unlock my door and walk towards my apartment with her. The elevator ride is silent and excruciating, and when you've finally entered your living room, you're quick to ask away.

"Okay, what's going on?" Your question sounds almost irritated, which in hindsight doesn't seem very smart because it only seems to tick Rebecca off. What is going on with her?

"Harry threw a little get together yesterday," Your friend sighs, crossing her arms. "and I couldn't help but notice the familiarity of his home address when he sent it to us."

Your face pales. Oh my god, you are going to throw up. This cannot possibly be happening right now. Rebecca notices your instant change in the demeanor, her own growing angry. You take a few steps back and sit down on the couch.

"You slept with him, after what he did to you?! How could you do that?!"

You are at a loss of words, despite having thought about how you were going to break this news to her one day. "I— I don't know, I don't know..."

"What do you mean you don't know? You slept with the guy your boyfriend cheated on you with! God, have you no self-respect?!"

Her words hit you like a slap in the face, and as the tears roll down your cheeks, you begin to shake your head.

"Rebecca— I..."

"No, listen, Y/N. For months, Benjamin and I have been walking on eggshells, trying so hard to make sure you're comfortable. Benjamin even punched Harry, for Christ's sake. Do you even know that?"

You nod slowly, the guilt that has been tightening around your throat settling in your stomach as well.

"I'm sorry..." You peep, looking down at the floor. Meeting Rebecca's eyes is too terrifying at the moment. You can't handle that right now.

"God... why him? You don't even like him." Rebecca goes on, and the tears prickling in your eyes turn into full blown sobs as soon as the words have left her mouth. With your hands buried in your face, you don't see your friend sitting next to you, but you feel her rubbing your back.

"Shit... you like him, don't you?" She concludes, and your crying only increases at hearing that confession fall from another person's lips. This is the most complicated thing you have ever experienced. It takes a minute or so to finally manage to control your tears, and have calmed down enough to respond.

"I don't know how this happened." You confess between your sobs. "I didn't— I wasn't supposed to!"

"Hey, calm down." Rebecca pulls you closer to her, and you continue crying in her lap. "Everyone has at least one person they weren't— supposed to sleep with."

You pull yourself up, wiping away your tears as you shake your head. "I meant, I wasn't supposed to care about him. Sleeping with him was a choice I made, and I don't regret it because it was a distraction, and it worked. But it only worked because I hated him. I wasn't supposed to start... caring."

"Sweets, being that intimate with someone will leave you with no other option than to care for them, at least at some point." Rebecca reminds you. Your gaze is fixated on the ground, all these truths flying through your scrambled mind. You let out a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry." You finally say, and another tear slips down your cheek as Rebecca strokes your hair.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made that comment about self worth, that was uncalled for, and mean. I was just angry, but that's no excuse."

You look at your friend, whose eyes also seem to be blurry, and conjure a faint smile. "You're forgiven."

Rebecca pulls you into a tight hug, and it takes her a full minute before you finally get her to agree to let go. When she does, she immediately stands up and grabs a glass of water for the both of you while you wipe your smudged mascara away with a tissue.

"So, what are you going to do about it?" She asks when she sits down, handing you the glass. You shrug before taking a large gulp of the water before setting it back on the table.

"I have no idea."

Rebecca leans back into the couch, eyeing you for a couple of seconds before speaking up. "Can I be really honest here?"

You're careful to look your friend in the eyes, her bluntness scaring you sometimes, but you nod anyway.

"I think you two are a pretty good match— you know, if you wouldn't count all the shit that happened of course. I was actually surprised when you went out with Dylan instead of Harry in the beginning. I thought Harry was a much better fit for you.” She tells you, and your brow quirks up at her words. You didn't expect her to go down this route. “You're just... compatible, you know? Plus, I was convinced he liked you."

"Rebecca, he hated me from the start." You scoff, but she shakes her head intently.

"No I know, but I swear, he asked about you before that party where you met him and Dylan. I thought he was interested in you."

By now, you have your hands buried in your hair as you listen to all this new information that you are being fed by your friend. This is way too confusing and it's making your headache even worse.

"But then you told me he was being rude, so I just brushed it off as a lapse of judgment from my side. Of course now we know he was acting like an asshole to you because of Dylan—which I still think is a dick move, by the way." Rebecca rants on. The weight on your chest that had seemed to have subsided for a minute has grown in size again.

"My point is, your relationship with Harry has been a wreck from the start, and the main cause for that is Dylan. So if you can't get over the Dylan situation, it's probably going to be impossible to ever build a lasting relationship with Harry."

Rebecca's words ring in your ears. It's a revelation that has been looming in your mind for a bit now. There was a part of you that knew this was an extremely complicated situation and therefore didn't want to tackle it, as a possible solution seemed to be non-existent. You've hit a wall in your relationship—if it even can be called that—with Harry, and if you really want to move forward, you'll have to climb over that wall and hope Harry will take your hand and come along.

You sigh, your tired eyes meeting Rebecca's. "You're right."

************************************************

It's been about an hour since Rebecca left and you've been pacing your living room ever since, devising a plan on how to talk to Harry. What to say to him, how to say it, and with what outcome in mind.

A knock on the door relieves your from your taunting thoughts for a moment, but opening your door throws you for an entirely different loop as you find Harry standing across from you.

He looks worn out. The dark circles under his eyes aren't extremely prominent but the sole fact that they're there tells you enough. He also appears to be in gym clothes, which makes you wonder whether this trip to your apartment was planned or not.

"Hey." He croaks out, his eyes flicking up and down your face and body, calculating any reaction that might come from you.

"Hi." You respond breathlessly. Neither of you say another word—you spend most of the silent minute staring at him—until Harry finally clears his throat.

"Can I— uh..." his finger points towards your living room, and before you know it, you step aside. He enters your apartment, following you as you head for your couch.

Another dreadful silence follows as the both of you sit next to each other, waiting for the other one to break first. It's excruciating and it feels like it goes on forever. You don't realize you're picking at your nail beds until Harry's voice takes you out of your dissociative trance.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" You scan his face, squinting your eyes a bit. There is something unsettling about his demeanor. It's so passive, at least it seems.

"For just leaving like that." He meets your eyes, and you notice the guilt displayed in them. Not knowing what to say, you refrain from answering as you think of everything that has happened. When you finally do open your mouth, Harry's focus on you is so intense that it makes you a bit nervous, the weight of your words becoming much heavier now that you know Harry will be hanging onto your every single one.

"You really hated me, you know. And it wasn't just because of Dylan. You despised me, always did, and I never understood why."

You watch as his eyes turn glassy and he shakes his head, softly whispering 'no' over and over again. Your brows crease at his attempt at—what seems to you—denial. He can't oppose that he hated you. He has literally said it multiple times.

"Don't pretend that you didn't Harry, I know you did."

"No, that's not—" he protests.

"Then what is it?” The questions falls off your tongue in a hurry, the frustration that has been bottled up inside of you slowly beginning to unleash. "The other night, right before spring break, I really thought we were on our way to becoming friends. I felt like it was actually possible. And then you just— left. One glimpse of him and you were gone.”

You take a deep breath before continuing. “It's been eating at me for the past three weeks that you just walked out and began ignoring me. So please, Harry, clarify it for me because I don’t understand any of this.”

Harry hangs his head and sighs. “It's complicated. And stupid... and probably doesn't make any sense."

"Then make sense of it." You command, leaning forward so he is forced to meet your eyes. He holds your gaze for a few seconds, then nods, a small frown on his face as he figures out what he wants to say. You try not to hold your breath as you wait for him to start, but you find yourself doing it anyway as soon as he starts speaking.

"I, uh— I'd liked Dylan for quite some time, and he knew that. He led me on for a long time, and I was trying to get over him, but it just felt like it was impossible, you know?" He explains, picking at the skin on his fingers out of nervous habit. You hum, telling him you understand without actually interrupting him. He continues.

"So, one day I was walking out of class and I ran into Rebecca. She was with you and some other girls, and you were all waiting for her while she was talking to me. I remember seeing you, and I thought you were very pretty, which was special to me because I hadn't felt so intrigued by someone in a long time."

Your heartbeat becomes more prominent, and suddenly you can feel it beating loudly as he speaks. You fiddle with your sweaty hands. He was intrigued by you? The nerves swerve through your stomach, not being able to make sense of what Harry is saying just yet. It’s contradicting everything you’ve known about Harry’s feelings towards you since you met him. But Rebecca’s words hang in the back of your head, and there is a wave of anticipation that almost overwhelms you: the anticipation that Rebecca might be right. Harry clears his throat.

“So anyways, I asked Rebecca about you and she told me you'd come to the party. Later, I was kind of— stalking you on Instagram, and Dylan saw. He teased me about it. Suddenly he started to give me loads of attention again. And I thought maybe he was jealous, and he had realized that he liked me, and this was finally the moment that it would all work out.” He says with a certain bitterness, not necessarily aimed at anyone but himself. As if he is mad at himself for those past rose-tinted thoughts he had regarding Dylan. “But then he got together with you at the party a couple days late, and I was just... so angry."

Harry’s eyes become glassy, and you feel your heart crack. After your break-up with Dylan it became clear how much effect he had on Harry. Now knowing the history, the constant push and pull, you don’t find it weird. Harry had allowed him inside his heart time and time again, all the while Dylan would just figure out how to play at his heartstrings. Just enough to keep him coming back everything single time, hoping something had changed.

“It felt like he wasn't allowing me to get over him. I had finally met someone who made me realize that maybe the first stages of like— love and dating shouldn't feel like your heart is constantly being ripped from your chest. That it could be innocent and fun. And it felt as if he was mocking me for it, by going after that hope and taking it away.”

He looks at you, and you give him a weak, sympathetic smile, swallowing away the physical pain you get from hearing about Harry’s emotional pain. Caring so deeply can be the most euphoric thing, but it’ll come back to bite you in the ass when the person you care about is hurting. You realize then, in that moment, how thin the line between a blessing and a curse is.

But when your hand finds his and you intertwine your fingers, you figure it’s more of a blessing anyway.

“And I just— I don't want to spin it as if you were a piece of meat, because Dylan cared about you. I saw that, and I hated it because I used to wish it was me. It made me be a dick to you, and I’m really fucking sorry about that, because you didn’t deserve that at all. If I could take all of that back then I would.”

He sighs as soon as all the ramblings of words have left his mouth, and you feel the weight of that sigh. His body tells you it as well: he’s relieved. Initially, you find yourself at a loss of words, and the only thing that your mind can generate as a response escapes before you can stop yourself.

“Well, if you take it all back then we bever would’ve have had such mind-blowing sex, right?” You blurt out, and Harry chuckles at your stupid joke. You laugh along as you try to scramble together a real answer, stroking his hand with your thumb.

“I’m sorry Dylan used you like that, I can only imagine how frustrating that is. And while I agree you should’ve never been so grumpy to me, I can’t say that I haven’t acted rude out of jealousy before.” You say earnestly, the thought of that night at the bar popping inside your head. You weren’t exactly nice to that girl Harry was talking to either. In fact, you didn’t acknowledge her at all.

“Rebecca said we need to get over the Dylan situation if we ever want to build any sort of relationship whatsoever. We need to forgive each other and move past it, otherwise we can never be— friends.” Your cheeks heat up at your quick save. It’s quiet between the two of you, but his grip on your hand doesn’t loosen the slightest bit. Harry is staring at his lap, making it difficult for you to read what he’s thinking. He raises his head to meet your eyes, and when you are met with the sight of a tear rolling down his cheek, your own vision blurs instantly.

"How can I forgive you for something you never did?"

The hopelessness of his question smashes your heart into a thousand pieces. You are quite sure you physically hear it crack. The broken pieces pierce into every part of your body, including your throat, that feels too heavy as you gather strength to answer him. Your breath hitches the first time you try to get some words out and fail, so your voice wavers when you manage to speak.

“I don’t know...”

Taglist: @hisparentsgaleryy @love-letters-to-uranus @moonwitttch19 @notmeherelol173 @fairytale07 @valuunit

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reidsmanuscript · 5 months ago

Text

Profiler, profiled.

Summary: When the past creeps up, more vivid and dangerous than ever, at the same time that the attraction becomes undeniable—and so do the mistakes. Pairing: Spencer Reid x lawyer!reader Genre: mutual pinning but painful, angst. wc: 7.3k! TW: Profiler, profiled canons! so Child abuse (implied and discussed), Sexual abuse, Framing/wrongful accusation, Police misconduct, Violence, mentions of traumatic readers' past!, female rage, violent thoughts. not proofread yet A/N: SO EXCITED FOR THIS ONE, this is my take on soulmates, thank u for all the feedback/support btw, really mindblowing <3 part I - part II - part III - part IV - masterlist

　　　　　　　 .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　　

Something as routine and comforting as traveling to your hometown for your mom’s birthday can go wrong in an instant—sometimes, all it takes is a single moment of doubt. Unfortunately for Derek Morgan, it was the absence of doubt that could become his sentence.

Hotch was notified, as per FBI protocol, that one of his agents had been arrested as a homicide suspect. Maybe it was the fact that he knew Morgan wasn’t capable of something like that—he had been a prosecutor before joining the Academy, after all. As his boss, he refused to believe it. But as his friend, he knew that the smartest move, the one most people failed to make, was calling a lawyer.

The problem? Morgan didn’t have one.

The Bureau’s legal counsel wouldn’t intervene in a case where one of their own was being charged. It had to be someone who knew him, someone who would believe in him.

There was only one person who fit that description.

A.D.A. Woodvale.

So, after issuing an emergency recall for Reid, Prentiss, Jareau, Garcia, and Rossi—Hotch called you.

　　　　　 .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

One thing some victims, or their families, do after the person who ruined their lives is convicted is express gratitude. Sometimes immensely, sometimes barely—especially when the verdict isn’t what they had hoped for.

Still, they are grateful for your time and commitment to their pain. That’s why some send gifts like baskets filled with fruit, chocolates, candy, or all three combined.

You were at your desk, late at night, again, reviewing case files and drafting a legal brief, absorbed in the task at hand. The basket with its chocolates, and cookies remained sitting on a chair near the window, quietly out of place among the legal paperwork without any card or name, maybe they forgot to put it or it fell on the way.

The phone rings, and you answer immediately, announcing yourself. When the voice on the other end speaks your name, you recognize it instantly.

“I’m gonna need your help.” Agent Hotchner.

You straighten your back. “What is it? A warrant? It’s going to be hard at t—”

He cuts you off. “Morgan is in trouble.” That was enough to tell you this wasn’t just any ordinary favor.

You hesitate, cautious. “What happened?”

“He was arrested as a suspect in a homicide in Chicago.” Morgan? Homicide? For a moment, you’re ready to refuse—this isn’t your field. You put people in jail, not get them out. But then you remember—he saved your life over a year ago. And the weight of that debt settles heavily on your shoulders.

“Hotch, I... What do you want me to do? I don’t have connections there. Maybe I could talk to—”

He interrupts again. “He’s going to need a good lawyer. I know this isn’t what you do, but you know him. You know he’s not capable of something like that.” There’s a brief silence as you weigh your options, considering your next move.

"The jet takes off first thing tomorrow morning," he says, giving you an out, leaving the decision in your hands.

You exhale, and resolve settling in. "Send me the details. I’ll be there."

　　　　　 .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

As you stepped onto the jet, you spotted Hotch already seated alone. Without hesitation, you slid into the seat across from him, greeting him with a quiet nod, your back turned toward the entrance.

One by one, the rest of the BAU arrived, offering you brief acknowledgments as they settled in. When Reid stepped onto the jet, he barely glanced up—until he caught sight of the back of your head. He hesitated for just a second before moving to a seat diagonal from yours.

Hotch quickly explained that you were joining them to assist Morgan as his defense counsel. The weight of the situation settled over the jet, unspoken but palpable. You noticed it in the way the air felt heavier, in the subtle shifts of the team’s expressions, like how Prentiss shifted in her seat or the way Reid’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Since the Katie Jacobs case, he wouldn’t call it an obsession—that would be an exaggeration, and his mind rejected the idea of something so unscientific, but a fixation? Perhaps. There was something about you that tugged at the edges of his thoughts more often than he liked to admit. His memories of your first meeting were frustratingly blurred, dulled by the lingering fog of withdrawal, but he remembered enough. The way you carried yourself—composed, sharp, unreadable. The precision of your movements, deliberate in a way that suggested control rather than ease. The way your voice stayed measured even when you were angry, like someone who had learned to sharpen their words into weapons rather than waste them on emotion. And your eyes—steady, assessing, like you were always five steps ahead in a game only you could see.

Did you ever place two magnets next to each other and test how close they could be without touching? If they would repel or attract?

Magnets could only get so close before they either locked together or violently repelled each other. If their north poles faced one another—mirrors of the same force—they would push apart, unable to exist in such perfect reflection. But if one turned, aligning its south to the other’s north, the pull would be instant, inevitable.

That was a physicist's way of explaining why, the moment you caught him in the corner of your vision, you noted how his hair was longer than before, tucked behind his ears; how his fingers brushed over the pages of a book, a well-worn paperback pulled from his bag. Crime and Punishment. The same one you had almost mistaken for yours once. North. North.

But now, seeing it again, you wondered—what did he think about Raskolnikov’s theory of extraordinary men? Did he believe true morality could be measured mathematically, the way Raskolnikov tried to justify his crime with cold logic? Or did he see through it, past the numbers, past the equations, past the desperate rationalizations of a man trying to convince himself he was above consequence?

And what would he think about your take on it? That a man was either a fool for failing to control himself or a coward for refusing to own what he had done? Either way you just wanted to know his opinion. North. South.

You were just about to ask him when JJ spoke up. “I don’t understand. Can you even represent Morgan if you’re an A.D.A.? Wouldn’t that be a conflict of interest?”

It was a fair question, one you had asked yourself last night before finding a loophole.

You let out a slow breath, considering. "Technically, I’m not Morgan’s lawyer—he hasn’t called me personally to represent him. And I wouldn’t be joining you as his defense attorney… officially." You glanced at Hotch. "Prosecutors consult on defense cases all the time—off the record. I’m not filing any motions, I’m not putting my name on anything. I’m just… advising."

Prentiss raised an eyebrow. "Advising?"

You exhaled, running a hand through your hair. "I can’t officially defend him, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help. And the police don't need to know every detail about that."

Hotch gave a small nod. "That keeps you in the clear. No official involvement, no risk to your career."

Reid, who had been silent, finally spoke. "But what happens if they’ve already decided Morgan is guilty?"

Your jaw tightened, but Rossi answers first "Then that’s where we come in. We find out who’s setting Morgan up—and we make sure they don’t get away with it."

　　　　　 .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

As you arrived at the police station, you hung back from the group, not wanting to interfere with the BAU’s process. But when Detective Dennison refused to take Hotch to see Morgan, you decided you wouldn’t stand by quietly anymore.

You stepped forward, standing next to Hotch. “Are you going to take us to see Derek Morgan, or not, Detective?”

He glanced at you as though he didn’t understand the urgency. “Detective Gordinski's in with the suspect now”

“Now is when we need to see him.” you shot back.

“Excuse me?” he started to respond, but Hotch cut him off.

“I have your superintendent's personal cell number,” Hotch said calmly. “And, in the interest of not running roughshod over another police agency, I’ve resisted calling him so far. We need to see Agent Morgan now.”

You couldn’t help but think how Hotch was finally getting some work done.

The detective nodded and, after disappearing into a room, came back with another man. Detective Gordinski, you assumed. It was something you were used to, this unspoken assumption that you were a junior, a minor player in the room, because of your age. It happened often when older men met you—defense attorneys, paralegals, specialists, and even police officers. They assumed you were less than you were. Gordinski was no different. When he approached you, he only offered his hand to Hotch.

“Detective Gordinski, CPD,” he said, as if you weren’t standing right there.

Hotch didn’t seem to notice the slight. “You think an FBI agent, a BAU profiler, committed a homicide?”

Gordinski answered with a level of pride that made your stomach turn. “Actually, three homicides at least, over 15 years.”

You heard JJ and Reid protest, both equally shocked by his ridiculous statement. And the way Gordinski spoke, as though the case was already closed, irritated you. “Has he been charged with anything?”

“I’ve got 72 hours for that,” he replied, clearly still lacking sufficient evidence.

“We’d like to see him,” you said, your tone final. He hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly agreed as Denninson took you and Hotch to see Morgan.

As you entered the interrogation room, you found him in a sort of trance, staring at a photograph in his hands. When he finally looked up, there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

“You okay?” you asked, aware of the detective’s overbearing presence in the room.

Morgan exhaled sharply, turning the photo toward you. “This kid—I was with him yesterday.”

“So?” Hotch prompted.

Morgan shook his head, his voice tight. “So, he’s dead. I drove him home, Hotch, and Gordinski’s saying I was the last person seen with him.” His gaze flickered between the two of you, frustration and disbelief written all over his face.

You didn’t need to analyze the detective’s stance to know he had already made up his mind—his persistence was nothing more than a show, an act to reinforce a conclusion he had already reached. But the look in Morgan’s eyes told you everything you needed to know. He cared about that kid.

Turning to the detective, you asked smoothly, “Is there a more private place where I can speak with my client?”

The man hesitated, taken aback. Up until this moment, you hadn’t explicitly stated that you weren’t an agent. His expression tightened. “I’m afraid we don’t have another space for you and the suspect,” he replied with a forced smile.

You returned his look with a cool, unwavering stare. “You do know that any conversation between me and him falls under lawyer-client privilege, right?”

His mouth opened in protest, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“And denying us the proper privacy means that any so-called evidence you think you can get from this interrogation would be inadmissible in court. Not to mention, it’s a direct violation of SSA Morgan’s constitutional rights.” Your tone remained calm, professional—not threatening. Not yet.

The detective narrowed his eyes but gave a short, forced nod, his polite smile not reaching them. “I’ll see what we can do.”

That was code for We’re not doing a damn thing, but we’ll make this as difficult as possible.

Fine. You’d play their game. But first, you needed to find out exactly what they had on Morgan—and fast.

As you step outside, a harsh voice—too raspy and loud for your liking—carries through the room, discussing evidence. You stay quiet, listening. Being on the other side of the law feels strange, but it’s not difficult. If you know how to prosecute, you know the tricks and games cops play. And if you know your opponent's strategy, it’s easier to disarm them and lead them where you want.

The detective asks Rossi if he’s Agent Gideon, and when the detective explains he was the one who sent the profile that led them to Morgan, you curse Gideon internally. First Reid, now Morgan.

"It also said the way the body was placed gently on a mattress, not just tossed on the ground, indicated someone who was probably consumed with guilt, especially for the first victim. The exact words are—'with a guilt-ridden offender,' the BAU postulates the first victim is the most important and the unsub may still visit the place of the crime or even the victim himself.'"

Gordinski’s voice drips with conviction. "Care to guess who visits my first victim every time he's in town?"

You notice Reid glance at you, but you keep your focus on the detective, listening carefully as he continues.

"Then yesterday, another kid ends up dead, and the last person he was with was Derek Morgan. In the boy's pocket, we found one of his FBI business cards, his cell number written on the back. In fact, every time Morgan's in town, he hangs out with kids."

JJ calls it a coincidence.

"A hell of a lot of coincidences," Gordinski retorts.

“I prefer the term 'circumstantial'” you say from the back of the room.

Gordinski turns, sizing you up with an incredulous look—too young, maybe too idealistic. "And you are?"

"Derek Morgan’s attorney." There was no reason to hide anymore, you didn't bother offering your hand.

Gordinski barely reacts before flipping open a file. "Did I mention that your client found the body in 1991? Hidden way back in a vacant lot. Now, don’t they teach you that when a body is hard to find, the person who finds it is always a suspect?"

You do the math quickly, Morgan would have been too young.

And you feel like Reid reads your thoughts when he answers. "There are key pieces of the profile that don't fit, Detective. The age—25 to 35—Morgan was 15 at the time."

"Profile Also says that age is the hardest to predict, and I should never exclude someone simply because of a discrepancy with the age." Gordinski is grasping now, trying to force the facts to fit.

Prentiss speaks up. "What about the speculation that since he didn't leave any evidence at the crime scene, he's likely to have a criminal record or law enforcement knowledge?"

"He may not have had knowledge of law enforcement, but Derek Morgan definitely had a criminal record." He tosses a file onto the table. You open it, scanning the contents. Resisting arrest. Vandalism. Aggravated battery. You inhale deeply.

"So he was a troubled kid, not a murderer. What kind of 15-year-old kills another boy, then deliberately stages the body just to make sure he’s the one to 'find' it?" Your voice is sharp, challenging him to walk into your tramp.

Gordinski smirks. "I’m sure you know psychopaths are very smart people, Miss."

Bingo.

You tilt your head. "So, is Morgan a psychopath? A guilt-ridden killer? Or an FBI agent dumb enough to leave his own business card at the crime scene? Because he can’t be all three, and right now you're contradicting yourself, Detective."

The room is silent for a beat. Gordinski clenches his jaw, his grip tightening on the file in his hands. He glares at you like you are his personal enemy.

You don’t give him time to recover. "You're reaching. And I think you know it." you say as you leave the room to look for your client.

And if Reid hadn’t been so mesmerized with the way you had subtly guided Gordinski, he might have given in to the impulse he had to correct him when he addressed you as Miss and not Counselor.

　　　　　 .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　

Rossi had sent Prentiss and Reid to Morgan’s house to investigate, while you stayed to ensure none of the Detectives would do something sketchy with the proofs.　　

Maybe it was the PTSD Dr. Fitzgerald diagnosed you with when you were 11, but the moment Carl Buford entered the room, something felt off. It wasn’t obvious, more like a second nature—a survival instinct that had been honed over the years. You weren’t always right, of course. You’d had a few false alarms before, but this time, something in the air shifted. It wasn’t in his appearance or his words; it was in the way he presented himself—as someone kind, someone willing to help, harmless. But it triggered something in you. The sirens in your brain went on, even if they were faint, too faint to be taken seriously but still enough to be annoying.

Reid had just returned from Morgan’s house when he saw you standing by the board, JJ on the phone and Rossi talking to you. He noticed how you discreetly stifled a yawn, and it hit him—it was nearly evening. The Cheetos packet that probably belonged to JJ and the half-eaten cheese sandwich from Rossi were the only signs of food nearby. It dawned on him that you likely hadn’t eaten all day.

He didn’t want to be the kind of person who overcompensated in an obvious way, but seeing you like this stirred something in him. It reminded him of the last time he saw you at the mall, how you’d instinctively avoided him, as if you couldn’t stand being around him for more than a few seconds. The longest you’d managed to stay in the same spot was 8.12 seconds.

That had been the last time, though. Now, things felt different. You were talking to Rossi when Reid approached and offered coffee to everyone. You could tell he was overcompensating—or at least, that’s what you assumed.

Then again, maybe you were reading too much into the moment when he’d slightly quickened his pace as you all entered the police station, holding the door open for everyone. Or maybe he was just anxious about his friend and eager to get inside quickly.

Or when you were rummaging through your bag for a pen, and he handed you one without hesitation. It could have been just a simple gesture, a convenient moment. But you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to it—if he was trying to do something, anything, to bridge the gap between you.

You felt stupid for liking his gestures, for craving his attention. That’s why you said yes when he offered the coffee—because you couldn’t help it.

And he was happy to do it. He put special care into preparing your cup, even though he hadn’t asked how you took your coffee. Statistically speaking, most people put about two teaspoons of sugar in their coffee, but he didn’t know what you preferred. Maybe you liked it with even more sugar than that, just like he did. Maybe you didn’t use sugar at all, maybe you used honey.

He caught himself before he poured too much, measuring out what he assumed was the “average” amount, then handed it to you with a small, careful smile. There was a brief moment when your fingers brushed, and maybe his lingered for a second longer than necessary.

But when you took a sip, it hit you. The sweetness of the sugar was overwhelming, and the unexplainable presence of Carl Buford seemed to crawl into your mind, making it worse. It was your fault for not telling him no sugar. Your hand froze for a moment as you fought to swallow, your fingers tightening slightly around the cup.

Reid noticed. He saw how you stiffened, how your grip on the cup tightened, and he assumed he’d gotten it wrong. Maybe you didn’t like sugar in your coffee, or maybe you just didn’t like it at all. He felt a pang of regret, thinking he’d misread the situation. He wasn’t sure why, but for a moment, he wondered if he was always this wrong about you. North. North.

You didn’t want to overreact or be rude, so you quickly excused yourself to the bathroom, needing a moment to splash some water on your face and steady yourself. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, silently telling yourself to calm down.

Maybe you were overreacting to Buford. But that thought was short-lived. The moment Hotch and JJ entered the room and she began speaking, confirming what you had already sensed, everything inside you seemed to crack. Carl Buford—the man who was fervently helping the police catch Morgan, was the same one who had written a letter to clear his record. The contradiction hit you like a punch to the gut, and you couldn’t shake the sound of the sirens growing.

You followed Hotch as he approached the interrogation room, your mind racing with the unsettling sense you couldn’t shake. You didn’t even notice Reid following behind you, keeping a respectful distance. Hotch entered the room, and the questioning began.

"Carl Buford." Morgan’s voice was tight, his shoulders tensing at the name. He stood up from the table where his arms had been resting. "What?"

"Carl Buford. He runs the youth center." Hotch's voice was calm, measured, but you could feel the pressure building behind it. From the other side of the glass, you stood in front of the glass, only for a moment, before Reid joined you at a respectful distance.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Morgan's tone was dismissive, brushing off the mention of Buford like the idea of talking about him was unbearable.

"He's responsible for getting your records expunged." The words hung in the air, sharp and deliberate. Maybe it was the steady presence of Reid beside you that kept you grounded, or maybe it was that something about Buford just didn’t sit right with you. The sirens in your head grew louder.

"I told you to stay the hell out of my business." Morgan’s voice rose, defensive, but not with rage—more like a wounded animal cornered by a predator.

"You said you visit the youth center every time you come here," Hotch pressed, not backing down.

"So what?" Morgan spat out the words like they were poison.

"Buford says he hasn't spoken to you in years. Why don’t you visit the man who made your career possible?"

"Damn you, Hotch." Morgan’s fist slammed onto the table as he stood up, knocking the box over in frustration. That was when you knew. The sirens in your brain were deafening now—loud enough to drown everything else out, and you couldn’t ignore it.

The sickness in your stomach was undeniable. You swallowed it down, fighting the urge to leave, but your instincts were already pushing you forward. You grabbed the door handle, taking one last breath before entering.

"Agent Hotchner, I would like to speak to my client." When Hotch didn’t move, still focused on Morgan, you added, "Now."

With a quiet but firm nod, Hotch left the room, his stoic expression unchanged. You sat down in the chair, your mind racing even faster. If you wanted Morgan to trust you—if you wanted to get through to him—you had to give him something first.

“Aren’t you supposed to be defending me? Looking for a way to get me out of here?” he snapped.

“I can’t help you if you’re not honest with me, Derek.”

“I am being honest. I didn’t kill those kids! He has nothing to do with this!”

“Then why is he so eager to help the police?” you shot back.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything—just glared at you, jaw clenched, shoulders tense. You recognized that look. It was the look of someone who had learned, maybe too many times, that the world didn’t always care about the truth.

"Derek I can't do much if you don't trust me." You say as calmly as you can.

Morgan let out a humorless chuckle. “Trust you?” he said, shaking his head. “I barely know you.”

You leaned back slightly in your chair, eyes flickering over him. That’s fair. Trust wasn’t something that could be commanded, especially not in a place like this.

But you also knew what it was like to sit on the wrong side of an interrogation table. To have someone who was supposed to protect you look at you like you were already guilty. To feel like the walls were closing in, no matter how much truth you were screaming.

You swallowed, forcing the memories down before they could surface. If you wanted Morgan to trust you, you had to give him something first.

“Derek… I’m on your side, whether you believe it or not. Not because I owe you one, but because I can recognize someone whose trust was betrayed by the person who was supposed to protect them.” That made him look at you—really look at you. And you hated it. Hated the way he was seeing straight through you.

Being read, being seen—that wasn’t something you allowed often. But Morgan had spent his life reading people, understanding them, profiling them to find the truth. And you had spent your life sharpening your edges, and weaponizing strategically everything you didn’t like. But right now, you were offering him a piece of yours.

You took a slow, measured breath, and even though the room felt too warm, you forced yourself to keep going.

“My parents… my birth parents ran a meth lab in the kitchen,” you said, voice steady, though your hands curled into fists beneath the table. “When I was four, it exploded. I was sent to the hospital with burns, malnutrition, and withdrawal symptoms I didn’t understand. That was the first time CPS got involved. They put me in the system.”

Morgan’s expression didn’t shift, but you saw something flicker behind his eyes. Recognition.

“And if you know anything about the system, you know it’s broken. It fails. It doesn’t protect the people who need it the most,” you continued, your voice steady, but your chest felt tight. “There are cracks in it, and some people…take advantage of that. They play the part, they act like saviors, they pretend to care.” Your voice caught, just for a second. But you forced yourself to push through it. “I know men like Carl Buford. I grew up with one of them.”

Morgan’s jaw tightened. That name—Buford—hit the air like a hammer. You weren’t just asking for trust. You were offering something real. Something raw.

His fingers curled into fists on the table, and for a second, he looked away, shaking his head like he was trying to push a memory aside. But he didn’t deny it. Didn’t challenge you. Because he knew.

“And what happened?” he asked, voice lower now, controlled but heavy.

You exhaled sharply. “I clawed my way out, just like you did, got adopted when I was 8. And when I had the chance, I became the system—to change it the only way it’s possible, from the inside out.”

Morgan let the silence stretch, studying you, his fingers tapping once against the cold metal table. Finally, he let out a breath, something almost like defeat but not quite. “So what now?”

“Now,” you said, straightening, “We stop playing defense.”

　　　　　 .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

You stepped out of the room, and though the tremor in your hands had subsided, the warmth lingering on your back remained. Scanning the precinct, your gaze locked onto the person you were looking for—Gordinski.

You strode toward him, your pace sharp, your voice sharper. “Are you going to charge my client with something, or are you just going to keep stalling?”

He smirked, relishing the frustration in your tone. “Miss Woodvale.” The mockery in his voice was deliberate, savoring the way your desperation bled through. “I still have over 40 hours to hold your client as a suspect.”

“Have you found any new evidence? Because all you have is a questionable profile and circumstantial evidence.” You leaned in slightly, wanting to get under his skin.

“We have motive.” He said it like it was a trophy, something definitive, something final.

You let out a short, dry laugh. “No, you have a grudge. There’s a difference, and if you don’t know it, the jury won’t buy it.” You’d seen stronger cases collapse under weaker arguments.

His jaw tensed as he looked down at you, exhaling through his nose like you were an inconvenience. “Look, we have three dead kids and a family that wants closure. We’re just doing our job.”

You knew it was a low blow. You knew it was too much.

“Oh yeah? I wonder where I’ve heard that before?”

That was exactly why you said it.

Gordinski’s expression twisted as realization struck. One of the other detectives snapped at you, voices rising, the BAU stiffened, and you could already see Hotch preparing to apologize—everything was escalating.

Then— “Hey! What, did we turn him loose?”

The tension shifted. The detectives forgot your words in an instant, all eyes snapping to the officer outside the holding room—where Morgan had been.

Chaos erupted. Gordinski bolted toward the room, Dennison scrambled to dispatch patrols, Prentiss and JJ exchanged alarmed glances.

And that’s when you slipped away. Nobody noticed… Well nobody except Reid. He always had an eye on you, even from a distance.

　　　　　 .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

The air was cold, and in the rush of the moment, you’d forgotten to grab your coat. But in some strange way, you were grateful for it—the chill seemed to cool the simmering anger that was creeping through your veins as you headed toward the community center.

Morgan walked beside you, leading the way. You kept your head low, ducking behind columns to avoid the patrols that were probably looking for you. The familiar sensation of hiding felt strangely nostalgic—if you closed your eyes, you could almost imagine the cup of coffee in your hand as you walked through the campus at Harvard.

After ten minutes, you spotted a small field with the lights still on. A kid was out there, playing football by himself. Morgan moved closer to him.

“Lookin' good there, kid.”

You stayed a few feet behind, not wanting to interfere.

“I was tryin' to call you.” The kid stopped running and looked at Morgan.

“I’m here now.” Morgan spread his arms, inviting and friendly.

“Who’s that?” The kid glanced at you quickly, signaling toward you with a tilt of his chin. Unable to stay hidden any longer, you stepped onto the field and leaned back against the fencing, crossing your arms.

“Someone I trust. One of mine.” Morgan’s bold words were enough to drop the kid’s defenses.

You stayed silent, as invisible as you could be, observing how the kid tensed and relaxed automatically when Morgan mentioned needing to talk about Buford. You never thought you were good with kids—didn’t know how to act around them without overthinking, constantly looking for signs and flaws.

The more they talked, the more Derek described Buford’s manipulative ways, using his influence to make kids trust him only to exploit that trust, the more the freezing air of Chicago couldn’t keep the heat from rising inside you. Your hands curled into fists, squeezing your sides, wrinkling your shirt.

There were so many sick ways people used to reward or control others. Buford used alcohol and false bonds to make kids feel like adults, while others used toys or candy.

“My oldest brother’s in jail. My sister was paralyzed in a drive-by... She’s eight years old, and I’m all my mom’s got left. I gotta get us outta here.”

No kid should ever carry that kind of weight. No child should feel like enduring abuse is the only way out.

“Carl’s gonna make sure I get into college. Then I can make something of myself.” The gratitude in his voice was painful—the twisted sense of owing someone everything for their attention, their gifts.

You closed your eyes and looked up at the sky, trying to keep yourself from walking into the building alone and finishing whatever it was you had come here to do.

“James, you are something, man. You’re something right here, right now, without Carl Buford.” Morgan’s words hit you hard. He was right. James was someone. He was someone. You were someone, too. Despite everything, you were still breathing, still standing.

A tiny part of yourself felt grateful when you heard James had told Damien about what he was going through, that he had been brave enough to speak up and look for someone who would believe him and would do something about it. Damien knew. Morgan connected the same dots and realized who was staging the whole thing up.

Carl. Motherfucker. Buford.

Derek eventually finished talking to the kid and motioned for you to follow him. You didn’t know what his next move was, but you were backing him up. “Derek?”

He turned to look at you. “Yeah?”

“Whatever you want to do, I have your back.” You knew he saw it in your eyes—an intense, boiling rage that had driven you to places both good and bad. He knew that whatever he was going to do next, you wouldn’t stop him or doubt him.

　　　　　 .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

He gave you instructions on how to get through the back door of the office. But when you got there, Morgan was already calling him out.

“All these years, I kept my mouth shut. I let you go on being a hero. Carl Buford, my mentor.”

Buford’s back was toward you, and the more he talked, the more the air seemed to thicken with the heat of your rage. Your vision narrowed, blurred at the edges with red. A man. No—a monster. A predator who walked free for far too long, spinning his web of lies, manipulating, violating, ruining.

And he had the audacity to deny it. The smugness in his voice. The complete absence of remorse.

“Whatever lies James told you…” he said so easily, as if that erased the truth. As if that rewrote history.

Your hands clenched so hard they ached. How many lives had he destroyed? How many boys had suffered under his hands? You had seen men like him before—hell, you had been a child under the power of a man like him once. The weight of their hands. The control they wielded. The false kindness that masked something vile.

Your stomach twisted violently as you took in the sight of his office. The trophies. Row after row of gleaming gold, polished plaques. A shrine to his own ego. A testament to the world that this man was trusted, respected, celebrated.

And then you saw it. Dr. Or you think you did

The word burned itself into your mind like a scar. Dr. Calloway. It wasn’t his name, but your hands trembled anyway, your breath coming fast and ragged, and the sirens grew louder and louder. Was it the name? Was it the way the gold glinted under the dim light? Or was it just the overwhelming wrongness of all of this?

Buford was still talking. Still spewing poison.

“How many lives have I provided? Look at you. You’d probably be dead by now.”

Lives.

Lives he had ruined.

Lives you could still save.

Your fingers curled around the base of a trophy—a heavy one, sharp at the edges. You barely registered the name engraved on it as your grip tightened, your knuckles going white.

For a split second, your mind whispered, Do it. The same one that had accompanied you in moments where you couldn’t move. Moments when your body wouldn’t answer to your orders. The voice of that version of yourself that would unleash violence. Do. It.

But then—Morgan. This wasn’t your moment. This wasn’t your fight.

But if he wanted to tear this office apart, you would hand him every single thing worth breaking. You would burn it to the ground and stand there, just to watch Buford scream as the flames took him.

Morgan’s voice cut through the storm inside your head.

“Actually, I’m saying you have everything to do with making me who I am.”

And so did you. Because this rage—this blistering, all-consuming, blood-boiling rage—was just another scar left by men like him. Men who stole, who twisted, who took and took and took until all that was left was ruin.

The sirens in your mind screamed. The voices clawed at your skull, howling for justice, for vengeance, for something more than just words, more than just silence.

Just like the ghosts of the past. Just like the hands of the past. Just like Calloway in the past. In the present.

Calloway. Buford.

"I never hurt you. You could have said no.”

Your grip on the trophy tightened, the sharp edges digging into your palm, but you barely felt the sting. All you saw was red. All you felt was fire.

"You're under arrest, Carl." The words cut through the haze, sharp and final.

Buford barely had time to react before the officers stepped in, twisting his arms behind his back, snapping cold metal around his wrists. He said something—denial, excuses, more of the same filth that men like him always spewed—but it didn’t matter.

It was over.

The red began to fade. The fire inside you simmered, but the embers still burned low, smoldering beneath your ribs. Your breath came in sharp, uneven pulls as you clenched your fist.

Morgan was still staring at Buford, his jaw tight, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

For a moment, you wondered if he felt it too—that same bone-deep ache, the need to destroy, to make it right in ways the law never could. But then he inhaled, long and slow, and you forced yourself to do the same.

He saw the trophy in your hand, and you expected to find judgmental eyes—eyes that would look at you like you were dangerous, like you had lost control, like you were no better than the man they were dragging away in cuffs.

But there was no judgment in Morgan’s gaze. Just understanding. Maybe even something closer to recognition.

Your fingers trembled around the trophy, your pulse still hammering in your ears, but you couldn’t let go. Not yet. The weight of it felt good in your grip, solid and real. It would’ve been so easy—so easy—to swing, to carve your fury into something tangible.

He must’ve seen it in you. The way your shoulders still heaved, the way your jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

Morgan reached out, slow, steady. Not to stop you. Not to take it away. Just there.

A lifeline, if you wanted it.

You exhaled shakily, then forced your fingers to unclench. The trophy slipped from your grasp, landing with a dull thud against the floor.

Your hands were empty now. But the fire still burned.

　　　　　 .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

Resting against the wall, breathing heavily, you watched as they took Buford away under your intense gaze. Gordinski approached you.

“Your actions could be taken as obstruction of justice, Counselor,” he said, the sarcasm in your title not going unnoticed.

An old man threatening you, just to scare you and gloat himself, a pathetic move, especially now when there were still remains of the fire, not ashes yet. You sighed, as if too tired to deal with him, not even bothering to look his way. “And what are you going to do? Arrest me?” You finally glanced at him. “I have the General Attorney one phone call away, and I could charge you with misconduct and Sixth Amendment violation, which could dismiss the case you have been working for so long.”

You let the words sink in for a second while he remained serious. “You got your guy Detective. Walk away while you can.”

Like in chess, any smart player knows when to retreat. He glared at you but ultimately backed off.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Reid watching. For a moment, you couldn’t help but return his stare. But then, lifting your chin, you towards the SUV, ignoring the strange sting of shame, the kind of shame you feel when you want to show the best version of yourself to someone, only to show the worst. It wasn’t the first time you had talked your way out of a charge, but it was the first time you felt ashamed of doing it.

　　　　　 .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

You and Morgan were the last to board the jet. After last night, you'd talked—just not about the… incident. He'd invited you to the grave of the unidentified child with him and his family, and, for some strange reason, it had brought you a sense of peace. Afterward, you joined the rest of the team on the way home.

You spotted Reid sitting by the window, absorbed in his book. North. South. You weren’t one to judge anyone’s demons, especially when you couldn’t even control your own. Maybe that’s why you sat in front of him. Maybe you were tired of pretending you didn’t want to know what was going on in his head.

When he noticed you, his eyes widened slightly, and his fingers nervously traced the edge of the page. Was this it? Would you confront him? Would he finally have the chance to explain himself?

"Do you think Raskolnikov ever believed he deserved the punishment?" you asked, your voice quiet but firm, meeting his gaze. "Or did he just convince himself he was too special to face it?"

Reid blinked, clearly caught off guard, but after a beat, he answered. "I think Raskolnikov believed he was above it all. That his intelligence and theories made him different. But that’s the tragedy—he never understood that punishment isn’t just about what you deserve. It’s about confronting what you’ve done. The guilt you carry. Sometimes, it’s about having someone who believes in you, even when you can’t believe in yourself." His voice softened with the words, as if careful not to scare you off.

You didn’t break eye contact, letting the weight of his words settle. After a pause, you glanced back down at the book. "Someone like Sonia?"

Reid’s gaze flickered, sensing the shift in the conversation. You weren’t just talking about Raskolnikov anymore. Maybe it was about him. Maybe about you. "Someone like Sonia," he said quietly. "She believed in him, not because he was special, but because she saw his humanity. Sometimes, it’s not about whether someone deserves forgiveness—it’s whether someone else is willing to help them find it."

A quiet tension lifted from your shoulders, and your expression softened, the unspoken understanding between you both almost palpable in the air. North. South.

　　　　　 .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

By lunchtime the next day, the events of the prior day still gnawed at you. The feeling only worsened when your eyes landed on the basket sitting in the corner of your office, filled with chocolates and candy.

Taking a deep breath, you picked it up and turned to your temporary assistant, a guy covering for Molly while she was on maternity leave. “I’m stepping out for twenty minutes,” you told him.

Basket in hand, your thoughts blurred together as you walked toward the park. It was a familiar refuge, a place where kids and elderly chess players gathered, lost in their games. A little distraction wouldn’t hurt. It would be good for you to clear your mind, and they always appreciated it when you brought baskets like these or treats from your mom’s bakery.

　　　　　　　 .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　　　　　　　　　

part IV

So we finally see more of reader's past! been waiting for this since i started drafting the story in my mind. You'll know more the next chapter!　　　　 Feedback feeds motivation! Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated <3 Tag list: @arialikestea @hellsingalucard18 @pleasantwitchgarden @torturedpoetspsychward @cultish-corner<3

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leviscolwill · 2 years ago

Text

adore

pairing: bsf!jude x fem!reader

summary: you adored your friendship with jude, but sometimes you wished things weren't so complicated between the two of you. [wc: 3,2k]

contents: mostly angst ??? a few cute moments here and there bc i'm fluff girly thru and thru 🤞, they can't communicate to save their life, drunk jude, a random man being annoying, jude being a dumb fuck, language, did i miss anything ?

note: this wip has been rotting in my drafts for a couple of months, i hope you enjoy it because i really enjoyed writing it 🫶

now playing adore by cashmere cat & ariana grande...

"please don't leave me y/n... you don't understand, i need you here."

"jude, i'm literally going to the toilet. i'll be back in 5 minutes, now let me go."

your best friend had always been the clingy type whenever he'd reach his alcohol limit (which was usually only after a couple of drinks). but tonight he was practically glued to your side, not that you minded, you basically spent your whole life attached by the hip. but you had to admit, it hurt a bit to see the person you couldn't have, not in the way you wanted to have him, at least, act all lovey-dovey with you.

the nature of your relationship with jude was complex, to say the least. he was your best friend since you were kids and you wouldn't change that for the world. but the way he looked at you sometimes made you yearn for something more, or whenever his touches on your shoulder or your waist would linger a bit too long to be friendly. maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you, after all, the chances of jude wanting you the way you wanted him were very low, not to mention the fact you led two different lives. but it didn't matter, you could manage to live and long for him with the hope that one day you could be more than a best friend to him. and this thought was all you needed to face him and his sparkly eyes for the rest of the night.

when you got out of the bathroom, your mind was still full of thoughts of your relationship with jude running in your mind. you were so engrossed in your thoughts that you bumped into a man's chest, not really being careful about your surroundings.

"i'm sorry, i wasn't looking." you quickly apologise to him, you were already on your way to your friends before the man grabbed your wrist, quickly letting it go.

"it's okay sweetheart, can i get your name as an apology ?" you cringed at his poor attempt at flirting with you, but you weren't feeling confrontational tonight.

"i'm-"

"y/n !" jude's voice made your head turn in surprise.

"you were gone for so long i almost forgot what your beautiful face looked like." he said smashing his face on your shoulder.

"is that your boyfriend?"

"ummm, no he's my-"

"depends who's asking." jude interrupted you, side-eyeing the nameless man.

"jude. i can speak for myself." the look he gave you broke your heart a bit, his lips pouting in sadness.

"if he is not your boyfriend, i'd gladly take your number, might even take you back to my hotel room..." it was obvious to everyone around that the situation was uncomfortable for you, that familiar feeling of disgust you always got when a man was being too friendly creeping on you.

"who do you think you are?" your best friend stared at the man with a frown on his face.

"jude, let's not..." the tension between the two men was evident as people stopped to stare at whatever was happening.

"relax mate, i just wanna talk to your friend nothing more." the stranger grabbed your wrist, still looking at jude, testing him, testing how far he would go to stop this.

"let me go." you didn't have to try getting away from him because jude did it for you.

the nameless guy suddenly let you go, and seeing him hold his jaw while screaming profanities at your best friend was all you needed to understand what just happened. jude punched him, but the alcohol in his veins prevented him from dodging the punch that came straight for his eyebrow.

immediately you took jude's arm before he found another idea to mess up your night some more, and walked out of the packed club for some air. you ordered a uber for the two of you and texted your friends that you were getting home early.

even fresh air couldn't rid you of the anger that coursed through your body. of course, you were mad at the man who couldn't keep his hands to himself. but another part of you couldn't help but be pissed at jude and his impulsive behaviour. but when you looked at him and saw blood trickle down from his eyebrow, everything was suddenly forgotten and you could only worry.

"fuck you're bleeding, why didn't you tell me? fuck, fuck, fuck." you searched through your bag for a tissue, mentally cursing yourself for how messy it was, and handed one to jude.

"just didn't wanna bother you..." he mumbled, holding it to his wound.

you both waited for the uber in complete silence, you knew you needed to have a conversation with jude about what just happened but you'd do it tomorrow, when he was sober and when your judgement wouldn't be clouded by anger.

thankfully, your uber didn't take too long to arrive, you helped jude put his seatbelt on after watching him struggle with it for a good minute. the atmosphere was tense and it seemed the driver felt it so he didn't try to make conversation with any of you.

you were halfway to your destination when you felt jude's fingers brush against yours lightly. you took a glance at where your hand lay, on the middle seat, jude's hand was right next to yours and when you looked at him he was suddenly entranced by his shoes, busy pretending it never happened.

you were sick of him acting like a child, so you held his hand, since he obviously wouldn't do it himself. the rest of the drive was silent but the atmosphere was peaceful, a nice change from the club.

you let go of jude's hand once you arrived at the villa you rented with your group of friends. you immediately took jude to the bathroom to clean his cut, he looked like a child while you were gathering the material you needed, mumbling words to himself with a frown on his face.

"is it gonna hurt?"

"probably not." these were the first words you exchanged since the club, the uneasy atmosphere of the room wasn't one you were used to whenever you were with jude. he was the one person who could understand you the best in the world, but it just wasn't the case tonight.

"can you hold my hand?" it was like he turned four again. but you couldn't deny anything from him, especially not when his eyes were glassy from all the drinks he had, so you took jude's hand in yours.

you started cleaning the cut, fully focused on your task, trying your best not to be distracted by the way your faces were inches from each other's.

"you're so pretty..."

if there was one thing you knew about drunk jude, it was that had loose lips. he couldn't keep any secret from you whenever he had the right amount of alcohol in his veins, and that often worked in your favour, but right now his words were only distracting you from your job.

"don't say that..." your heart was racing both at his words and at the proximity you two shared.

"i mean it." he was tracing your jaw with his fingers. you felt your hand quiver at the unexpected contact, and afraid you might mess something up because of jude, you quickly put a bandage on top of his, now clean, cut.

you started tidying up everything you used and expected jude to go to his room but he didn't budge.

"what's wrong?" you were a bit worried his injury was more serious than you thought and his brain was just working a bit slower than usual.

"kiss it better... please?" he said pointing at his bandage with a kissy face.

you were torn between kissing or slapping some sense into the boy standing in front of you. jude bent down so your face was in front of his, you obliged because you knew hammered jude would not have let you go to bed before you kissed him better. not because you wanted to, of course.

he was still unmoved, looking deep into your eyes so you took his hand in yours and led him to his bedroom for him to get a good night of sleep.

once you got jude to his bedroom safely, which wasn't an easy task given how starstruck he was at every little everyday thing in the house, he threw himself on his bed and grumbled something about clothes, before taking off his shirt with no prior notice. you immediately looked at your feet to give him some privacy while he changed clothes. he only giggled at your action saying he knows how much you would like to watch undress. which wasn't true, of course.

you took a quick peek, to make sure he was under his sheets. handing him a glass of water once he had his sheets pulled up to his chin and a content look on his face.

"no thanks, i'm not hungry."

"this is a glass of water?" you were perplexed at jude's words. the fatigue of your body preventing you from trying to understand his nonsense.

"well, i'm not hungry for water." you sighed at his childlike behaviour and considered shoving the water down his throat at some point before retracting, not really wanting to deal with the homicide of one the most in-demand football players of the moment.

you placed the glass on his bedside table and walked towards the door, unwilling to talk to a very drunk jude when all your body asked for was a good night of sleep.

but you couldn't ignore jude calling your name in a tired voice. you turned around to listen to whatever he had to say to you, only for him to beckon you closer with his hand. you rolled your eyes but still obliged, sitting on the unoccupied side of his bed.

"i just wanted to know why you were mad at me tonight." you didn't want to have this conversation tonight, but it seemed jude had other plans.

"because even if your intention was right, i think we could've solved the issue with no fits of screaming and fighting. i know you meant right but you can't just act without thinking all the time." you weren't even sure jude was registering your words properly, his eyes moving up and down your face.

"but i was mad at him too, he kept talking to my girl as if i wasn't right there." although jude was hardly convincing by the way the words came out of his mouth all slurred, you had to admit him calling you his girl put a faint smile on your face.

you thought your best friend was done but he just kept right on.

"fuck, you don't even know how many times i wished i was your boyfriend to stop these men looking at you that way. i mean i wished i was your boyfriend all the time, but especially then and also when you show me whoever you're talking to, you really have a vile taste in men y'know."

you looked at jude in total shock, he wasn't aware of what he just said from the way his face had the same drunken expression as before.

"do you mean it?" maybe he was pulling a prank on you. the look on his face didn't seem too serious, but then again he was drunk, how could you know how serious he was?

he laughed, how could he laugh in what was a very serious situation from your point of view?

"of course i mean it, sometimes it even looks like you want me too, maybe i just thought wrong. just tell me you don't want me, i reckon i could live with the fact i'm your best friend a bit longer." jude's nonsense somehow got even more nonsensical. how could he be saying all this with a smile on his face? even worse, how could he possibly think you didn't want him to be your boyfriend? you didn't even know what to say to him. hell, was there even a right thing to say in this exact situation?

"you can't do this to me jude... you can't just say this shit to me when you're drunk out of your mind. what do you expect me to say? i don't even know if you're aware of what you're telling me right now." words finally found their way out, your voice was much less cheery and much angrier than his as you felt a sense of injustice seeping through your veins. how could he say this to you like it was the simplest thing in the world? did he only love you when he was drunk? did he actually mean that, or was he over-exaggerating things under the influence?

"i love you and i loved you for a long time, please believe me, i know you're my best friend, and i don't want to ruin things between us... but i just needed to get this off my chest." jude was truly confused as to why you were so mad at him for this sudden 'confession'. of course, you didn't have to reciprocate his feelings, but he could only think about how he ruined your friendship for good from the way you responded so vehemently.

"goodnight jude." you left his room before he could add anything, and your thoughts were already running wild. you weren't sure if you should be feeling happy that he felt for you what you felt for him, or if you should be mad at jude for dropping this bomb on you so suddenly when he could clearly not think straight, making you doubt about the whole thing.

if you were overthinking before, your brain was now about to explode from everything that just happened in the span of an hour.

once you got under your sheets, no amount of sheep counting, lofi music, or breathing methods could put you to sleep. your brain was screaming at you, urging you to freak out about what just happened. every and each of your thoughts led back to jude, your own brain was torturing you, forcing you to separate truth from fiction at 3am.

you wished jude told you the truth, you wished his drunken words were his sober thoughts. but you didn't know how you were supposed to act like this never happened if this wasn't the case. how could you possibly come back to your little role, so well perfected over the years, of jude's best friend after he gave you the smallest glimpse of hope? your friendship with jude was the most important thing for you, but you wondered if you'd be able to pretend for the rest of your life or if you would go insane before that.

when sleep finally started taking over your endless train of thought, you came to the conclusion that if he meant what he said earlier, he'd have no issues telling you once he sobered up. you comforted yourself with this idea while your eyes closed by themselves, no more energy left in them to fight for the sake of overthinking.

jude had been avoiding you all day. the only time you exchanged an eye contact was during breakfast and even then he quickly went back to his room, not speaking a word to you. you could tell he was avoiding you like the plague, if he happened to be where you were he'd immediately flee the room, suddenly mesmerized by his phone.

you wished you were mad at him for how he was treating you and how he was making you feel, but the truth is, you could only focus on your heart breaking a little more each time he'd walk past you like you were two strangers.

after dining with the rest of your friends, you decided you were sick of jude's little games. if he didn't want to talk to you, then you would confront him whether he liked it or not.

it took you all the strength of the world to knock on his door after taking a deep breath.

no answer.

there was no way he knew it was you, you were sure of it. maybe he was just avoiding everyone tonight? you quickly refuted this idea, you saw him laugh with a couple of your friends half an hour ago.

you knocked again, a bit harsher this time to make sure he'd hear it. still nothing. you were preparing yourself to knock one more time, with much less hope than the first time.

"y/n, what are you doing?" yasmeen's voice startled you, it almost felt like getting caught doing something you shouldn't be doing.

"um... just needed to talk to jude, do you know where he is?" you couldn't help but feel embarrassed at the question. you were his best friend, if anyone should know where he was, that would be you. and your friend's dumbfounded look wasn't helping the heat creeping on your face right now.

"what do you mean? he left like an hour ago, had an unexpected meeting in london or something like that... he didn't tell you?"

it had been a very long time since you felt this way, maybe since middle school when your math teacher made fun of you in front of the whole class. your mouth suddenly drying, the sensation of your heart constricting, and your eyes stinging, trying their best not to let the sadness spill. it all felt like one big joke, you hoped jude would open the door, he'd tell you he was messing with you, he'd tell you everything he said last night again.

but that moment did not come. you couldn't answer yasmeen, afraid that the truth might spill along with your tears if you uttered a word. you simply shook your head, and went to your room, trying your best not to meet her eyes. your friends weren't blind, they could tell something was wrong between jude and you today, although none of them asked you what happened, they just kept a watchful eye on you and the way you looked at jude, in hopes he'd look back.

it felt good to cry in the privacy of your own room, far from the speculative conversation others were most likely having about the whole situation.

once your eyes were short of tears, you somehow found the strength to take your phone and click on your messages with jude to type a new one.

let's just keep doing what you did all day

i'll pretend you don't exist and last night never happened

probably best for us :)

2K notes · View notes

0nlythrowharrybeaux · 1 year ago

Text

A Surprise^**

Hello friends, thank you so much for your patience. I ended up having quite a disastrous day and it took longer to finish editing! But here is the one shot based off of this request. Hope you like it!

Warnings: TW! abusive partner: mentions of love-bombing, gaslighting/accusations of infidelity, verbal arguments, intimidation tactics (psychological and physical), physical altercation between M/F ( described, but more intimidating than violent or aimed to hurt), physical altercation between M/M (not described but the aftermath is mentioned, bloody nosy type of thing), mentions of law enforcement and law enforcement processes. Mentions of sex, unprotected sex, oral (M/F receiving), fingering, unplanned pregnancy, ultrasound procedure.

WC: 18.2K

You were nervous as you rode up in the elevator. You weren’t claustrophobic or anything, so the feeling of it closing in on you was one you had no idea how to deal with. You were trying to keep your breathing as calm as possible and clearing your head of any irrational or negative thoughts, but it was truly a challenge. It had been a nearly a year since you and Harry had been in any space together and it was nerve-racking. What was originally supposed to be a month or two-long break, turned into all this time and distance. He said he wanted to talk and get some closure, which you thought was bull shit, and that’s why you were so nervous.

Before “the break” you and Harry had been dating for four years. Things had been going really well up until he started getting antsy to work again. You’d moved to London for him and now that he was finally “off” you saw that he was jumping into the next thing he could. You understood that he felt like he needed to do something with his time but soon enough he was back in the studio for hours at a time while you just hung out at his house. You lasted a year like that before you told him that you couldn’t do it anymore. You felt lonely in your relationship with him and you saw that he wasn’t ready to slow down and settle a bit like he said he was before. That was the whole reason why you’d even moved to London for him. So when you suggested a little time apart to have him sort through his priorities he freaked out on you. But the following morning the tune was different, he was more open to this idea of taking some time apart.

You had assured him over and over again that you loved him but that you were ready for the next step and he clearly wasn’t. He then assured you that you were the love of his life and that he’d take a month or two to just tie up all the loose strings with his current project and then focus back on your relationship. You even went back home to LA to give him all the space he needed. You checked in with each other a lot but when the two months were up you reached out and didn’t get a response back until two weeks later. Much to your dismay it was just an “I’m sorry.” And with tears in your eyes you just deleted the entire messaging feed you had with him.

A few months later you were back on the dating scene. One of your co-workers set you up with her cousin, Steven. He came off as sweet, smart, and mature. He mostly had his shit together from what she’d said and you had seen, so you gave him a real chance. Yeah, he was no Harry, but no one would ever equate to Harry, so you stopped comparing and got to know him for who he was. Soon enough you’d started to develop more feelings for Steven, he showered you in attention and time and affection, it was almost too much, you thought. But then you recalled that things had been so cold with Harry towards the end that maybe you just weren’t used it anymore. It wasn’t love-bombing, it was just a man who is interested in showing you what you meant to him. After two months of seeing him casually you started talking about the future, about starting a real, committed relationship. You talked about properly meeting each other’s families and taking serious steps forward, you were gearing up to properly move on with someone who clearly prioritized you! And then Harry called.

He was jealous, you heard it in his voice when he called, but the fact that he was jealous pleased you in a way. Honestly, you thought you’d be so well off that when you spoke to him you’d feel above him somehow, but when you heard his voice your heart ached with longing and your small victory suddenly made you feel a bit sadistic. He then asked to see you to get some closure and you quickly agreed because you needed it too. But that’s how you ended up at his hotel just an hour later. So far you were just standing there at his hotel door just taking each other in. Quite frankly, you were just pleased you had made it out of the elevator alive. But it felt like it’d been ages and no time at all at the same time, your heart was racing in the confines of your chest, making it hard to breathe once again. It made you so happy, but hurt your heart at the same time to see him. It was so confusing, feeling relief and joy and disappointment all at the same time.

“You look great.” He complimented you after a few moments of staring.

“Oh! Thanks.” You smiled timidly, “H-how are you?”

“I’m alright. Come on in.” He said moving aside and you wandered in. You sat at the couch in his suite as he headed to the kitchenette.

“Can I offer you some water or tea?” He asked.

“No, I’m alright.” You assured and he nodded before coming over to sit near you on the couch. You sat in silence for a few moments again before he chuckled in slight disbelief and shook his head.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here.” He confessed with a shake of his head.

“Me either.” You chuckled a bit humorlessly. He had wronged you…the only thing that you knew about him right now was that he did not love you as much as he said he did. If he did he wouldn’t have left you hanging like he had. “I guess I just…needed to see you one more time. I don’t think that we left off on a good note so-”

“Exactly. That’s why I wanted to see you.” He said leaning forward and taking your hand and your facade of stoicism and ease melted away immediately. The hurt from his actions just came to the surface and made a pang of pain ripple from your chest all the way out to your fingertips, you swore even your scalp hurt as his eyes met yours apologetically.

“Harry, it’s almost been a year.” You pointed out and he frowned.

“I know, love.” He confirmed, “And I haven’t even tried t-to apologize since that text I sent you.” He said and your eyes started welling up. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just…I got scared that if I took that step forward with you it meant that my work was gone.” He explained and you scoffed.

“Harry, no! When I asked you to slow down that’s all I meant. Slow down, not stop! I’d never tell you to stop.” You sighed, exasperated and upset that he even thought that you’d ever make him stop doing what he loved most, “I just wanted you to slow down a little and enjoy your life for yourself. Spend time with your mom and your sister and your cousins and nieces and nephews!” You vented, “W-with me.” You added towards the end and he nodded in understanding. “What you do with your work matters to me. I see how happy it makes you. And I don’t think I’ve ever done anything to make you feel like you couldn’t be honest with me about your priorities.” You said and he shook his head.

“You didn’t. I should’ve talked to you about it all, Y/N. I know I fucked up, big time, but I love you and-”

“No you don’t…” you interrupted with a scoff as you pulled your hand away from his, “You’re just jealous because I’m ready to move on with someone else now.” You said to him and he glanced up at the ceiling and smiled sadly.

“Yeah, of course I’m fucking jealous!” he confessed through a pained, breathy laugh, “And I still love you and whether you believe it or not because of my previous actions, I respect you and you deserve an apology. That’s why I wanted to see you.” He explained as his eyes met yours again, “I know that I’ve lost you, Y/N.” He said sadly, “Believe me, I didn’t come to try and talk you out of that decision. I just wanted to tell you, in person, that I love you with my whole heart. I should’ve fought for you. You showed me so much love and gave me all of your care and support all the time! I shouldn’t have been scared t-to talk about it. I shouldn’t have let you go.” He explained, “I’m going to have to live with that for the rest of my life, Y/N. I know that.” He sniffled and you wiped your tears carefully. “I just needed you to know that it’s not anything you did. I love you, even still, I think I’ll die loving you.” He said.

“Jesus, Harry…” you inhaled sharply before standing up quickly. You grabbed your purse from the coffee table and started rushing back to the door.

“Baby! Baby, baby, baby-” he rushed in front of you blocking the door, “J-just wait.” He sniffled, he looked panicked.

“Why should I?” You questioned him, “Why now?” You asked for clarity and he swallowed thickly, “You had this whole fucking time and now that I’m just about t-to forget about you, y-you show up and…” you trailed off as your anger boiled over and your tears started to trickle down your face more heavily.

“Y/N, I’m sorry-” He started.

“Y-you better not be trying to manipulate me!” You warned, your voice raised in accusation and he shook his head.

“I know it might seem that way b-but I’m not, love. I’m not looking for anything from you, I know I don’t deserve it. I just needed t-to see you and apologize to you and tell you how I feel before you wouldn’t entertain the idea of me in your presence ever again. And I know you probably hate me so much right now-” He explained and you inhaled sharply with a disappointed shake of your head.

“That’s the stupidest fucking part of this whole thing! I-” you stopped and shook your head, “I felt so happy when I heard from you.” You confessed, “And I still have so much love for you.” You sniffled and felt sick to your stomach just admitting it. You felt like an idiot for it.

You had gone over a very similar scenario in your head if not millions of times before while daydreaming or lying in bed. You dreamed of him coming back and apologizing and you having the strength to not come crawling back to him after whatever excuse he gave. Except you’d gotten it wrong. Harry wasn’t standing before you asking you to come back to him with an underlying arrogance that came with knowing that your love was enough to have you come back to him. He was actually just coming to be accountable for his mistakes and to apologize to you for hurting you. He came with humility and sincere repentance for his errors, no ulterior motives. And well, you weren’t nearly as strong as you thought you’d be by now.

“Oh, baby…” he sighed, “I don’t deserve it.” He recognized, “And I know that you’re happy.”

“I am.” You sniffled.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel confused, I really didn’t want that. I really just wanted to make things as right as I could after all this time.”

“Thank you.” You responded and he gave you one firm nod. “I think I should go.” You said and he glanced into your eyes and just waited for a moment and when you didn’t waiver he exhaled and moved out of your way to let you leave.

You reached for the door and opened it up before stepping out into the hall, pulling it shut behind you as you cried quietly as you walked back to the elevator, what seemed like a trap before now felt like your much needed escape. You were just about to step inside when you glanced back down the hallway at his door, questioning if you’d been too harsh. After all, you did miss him and you still loved him…you’d definitely regret not giving him a hug goodbye or even just confirming to him that you forgave him. So with all the strength you had, you ignored that pull to return to him and got inside and left. It was time to move on.

****************

You’d been quiet and in your head all afternoon. Internalizing everything you were feeling was weird because you were never one to just let things brew in silence. You had to talk about it and your best friend was back in the UK and she had an important work thing in the morning so you couldn’t interrupt and you just wanted to talk to someone who would be 100% real with you. You decided to just distract yourself until stopped by for dinner, surely his company would provide an adequate distraction.

But even when Steven arrived you found yourself ruminating on how awkwardly you’d left Harry. You certainly got what you needed but you were out of there so fast that you had no idea if he got the closure he needed from you and now you felt bad! That’s what you were thinking about, but your silent and pensive demeanor had Steven feeling iced out which he did not like. So after sitting in your little living room on his phone for half an hour in complete silence as his football game droned on, on the TV he figured he’d just ask you.

“Babe, are you upset at me?” He finally asked as he came into the kitchen. You were just grating some carrots into the salad you were making for dinner.

“No.” You assured him with a small smile as you glanced up at him briefly.

“Well, you’ve been oddly quiet since I got here. More than half the time I’m wishing you’d just shut up for five minutes but I don’t know anymore…it’s weird.” He joked, trying to make light of the situation. But upon hearing that your brows pinched in confusion and offense at his “joke”.

“That’s quite rude and not funny at all. I heard you turn on the game and you don’t like it when I talk to you when you’r watching so I just stayed quiet.” You mumbled a bit spitefully before going back to grating and he came closer and placed a hand on your hip.

“Damn, you’re so sensitive, it was a joke.” He said mawkishly and your irritation continued blooming so you refused to look at him, “Y/N, you’re clearly in your head about something and now you’re taking it out on me.” He said and you sighed.

“I’m not taking anything out on you, Steven. I’m just thinking some stuff through.” You shared with him.

“Stuff like…?” He pressed.

“Like…my ex, Harry.” You said and he straightened up at the mention of Harry’s name.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He asked with a sardonic smile and you put down the carrot and glanced up at him.

“You asked.” You emphasized and he huffed out a sarcastic laugh, “I’m not done, so listen up because it’s good news for you.” You said and he clenched his jaw and nodded, “Well he’s in town and he asked to see me so we could talk,” You explained and Steven’s expression twisted into a disconcerting look, “so earlier I met up with him and we talked-”

“Wait.” He cut you off, “Why the hell would you think to go see your ex?” He asked you, fully offended over what you’d done this afternoon.

“I went to get closure! And well, considering we’ve been talking about starting a relationship in the near future it’s good for us that I just close that door for good.” You explained and he shook his head.

“And you didn’t think to tell me about this before you went there?”

“It happened so fast and I know you were meeting clients all day so I-”

“You should have at least asked if I was fine with you doing that!” He groaned with frustration and you frowned.

“Like…ask you for permission?” You asked and he shook his head.

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Y/N.” He snapped quickly.

“I’m not, I was asking for clarification. You said I should’ve asked if it was alright with you before going. Is that not asking for permission?” You asked and he sighed.

“Look, not permission but like…at least consider me! Like, have me be there so he doesn’t get any ideas.” He said and you looked at him like he was completely delusional.

“W-what?!” You asked in disbelief, “Why would I invite you into a conversation with me and my ex about our old relationship?” You questioned.

“Because, I need to make sure nothing weird is going on! And if you didn’t want me there, which you clearly didn’t, then you should’ve asked if I was cool with you going to meet him all alone! It makes me uncomfortable to think of you two alone.” He said and you were complete confused at his logic.

“And what if you said that no, I couldn’t go?” You asked.

“I would’ve said no and you would’ve not gone.” He rebutted confidently and you were in total shock, “You have no business talking to him again, Y/N.” He added and you sighed and shook your head in exasperation.

“I wanted answers and an apology, Steven. I am owed at least that! And he took responsibility. He was able to give that to me.” You said and he scoffed.

“You’re…you’re so fucking naive.” He said and you looked at him in confusion, “It’s a test. He was testing you! Testing you to see if you’re still loyal to him. Testing to see if he still has power over you! And guess what? By going there all alone the moment he called you up, you confirmed that for him. You confirmed that he still owns you!” He was speaking to you in the most belittling way. You felt your rage flaring up inside of you.

“What are you even saying?!” You scoffed in disbelief, “It was just a conversation! I was in and out of there in less than 10 minutes!” You laughed incredulously.

“10 minutes? Really? That alone fucked you up so much you couldn’t talk to me?” He asked with a sardonic look on his face and you rolled your eyes, “See now, I’m not so sure that something else didn’t happen between you two.” He soft-launched his accusation and you scoffed.

“Nothing happened! I’m telling you that he said what he needed to say and I just left!” You explained, “I’m just thinking on it because I don’t feel right about just having left like that.” You explained, “It was awkward, the way I handled it. I didn’t even ask him if he had any questions for me or anything else to say, I was selfish. I just got the apology I needed and that was that.” You said a bit sadly and his jaw clenched for a second before biting down on the inside of his cheek.

“You promise that was it?” He asked you after a few moments of silence.

“I promise! Literally we just talked.” You reiterated and he nodded.

“Fine. I’m sorry.” He said grumpily, like a child who is dying inside because they had to apologize. You imagined he was feeling a bit ashamed or even embarrassed for jumping to conclusions like that and being so off the mark. So you walked up to him and hugged him tight as you rested your head against his chest. You relaxed in his arms and smiled when you felt his hand grab your jaw and angle up your face. Your eyes met for a few tense seconds, you were preparing for him to ardently kiss you but suddenly his hand fell from your jaw and grabbed around your throat, right beneath your jaw. Your eyes widened in fear as his grip got a bit tighter by the second. His eyes were dark as he stared into yours.

“S-steven.” You gasped in concern as you started to run out of oxygen. You tried to wiggle out of his grip, eyes watery and full of fear as your nails dug into his wrist hoping to startle him out of whatever possessed him to do this.

“I don’t want you talking to or seeing him again. Never again. Do you understand me?” He demanded and you felt your entire body just turn cold. You had no idea how to even react to this change in Steven’s demeanor so you just nodded. “You’re going to be mine soon and I need to know that I can trust you fully.” He said “I want to trust you. But can I? Can I trust you to stay away from him?” he asked and you nodded again, you’d do anything to get out of this situation, “Then say it. Swear to me.” He insisted darkly as he loosened his grip around you.

“I-I’ll never talk to him or see him again.” You whispered, “I swear.” You insisted with tearful eyes and he let you go before walking out of the kitchen silently.

You grabbed onto the counter because your legs unexpectedly lost their strength. You were panting, struggling so hard to breathe as this entire interaction processed in your brain. You suddenly felt extremely nauseated as a wave of fear overcame you. You trembled wordlessly for a bit, feeling so devastatingly mortal. You’d never had such little power. You’d never felt so small. After a short, uncomfortable, and contemplative moment you grabbed the carrot you had been working on and got back to grating. You just had to take deep breaths and grate.

You were walking on egg shells for the remainder of the night, doing anything and everything to act as normal as possible and not bait him into another aggression. Meanwhile, he was genuinely chatting with you so casually, as if he hadn’t just grabbed you by the throat like that. It terrified you that he wasn’t acting, he was genuinely fine. You were questioning yourself now, wondering if there were signs you missed? Granted, you were now getting into more serious turf, but there was nothing that you’d seen before that indicated towards him ever behaving this way. Even as you lay in bed attempting to get some rest you just stared at your ceiling thinking about that moment. How dark his eyes looked…did you need to tell someone? It’s not like he’d actually hurt you…or threatened you…he just made you promise to stay away from Harry. There wasn’t even a mark on you. Who would believe you or what could you even do about it?

He sweetened up intensely after that though and it had your mind reeling. Even when you’d had sex earlier he had been so possessive. Normally, any type of sensual talk got you going but when he told you he was “going to make you his” as he finished it didn’t have the usual or intended effect, it made you feel uneasy and made you regret having slept with him after what had happened earlier on. You immediately hopped into the shower because you just needed to wash off the memory of him of on you. You held in your tears because you thought he would join you but he just called out a goodbye after some minutes. But even in your solitude you were practically frozen and emotionless. You’d never experienced him like that and it worried you, so you decided to talk to your friend about it.

*****************

You were nervous to talk to Marie about this because she was also his cousin, but you just needed to know if there was a history to Steven that you didn’t know yet. Maybe he’d done something like this before, just got aggressive and overly possessive with another partner? Or perhaps he’d been cheated on and severely overreacted because of his past hurt? But Marie’s sort of distant demeanor should’ve tipped you off that things were not going to be good with this conversation.

“Thanks for meeting me. I actually wanted t-to talk to you about something important.” You said as soon as the waiter left after bringing your drinks. “Something that happened w-with Steven.” You said and she pulled away from her straw.

“Look, you don’t need to tell me what happened, Y/N.” She interjected, “Steven already told me.” She said flatly and for a second her anger seemed just. You were glad she was angry at him for you. “And look I love you and you’re my friend, but quite frankly, I can’t believe you’d go and hook up with Harry after how good Steven has been to you.” She said and your jaw dropped in shock.

“W-wait what?” You asked incredulously.

“Don’t do that with me, Y/N. I know how weak you are for Harry.” She said and you shook your head, “I mean…I did warn Steven early on t-to be careful and take his time with you because you’d probably cave and run back to Harry.” She said and you frowned, “But after all this time? I mean Jesus, Y/N! The man pretended like you didn’t exist for almost a year! How little self respect do you have t-to allow him back in after everything?!” She questioned you with disappointment and a harsh judgement.

“Is that really what you think of me?” You asked her and she sighed.

“Look, I’m sorry for being so harsh but I love you and I’m angry at you for cheating on my cousin. He’s a good guy!” She defended her stance and you shook your head.

“I didn’t cheat on your cousin. We’re not even in an official or exclusive relationship so even if I had fooled around with Harry he has nothing to be upset over! He’s the one who hasn’t wanted to be exclusive yet!” You corrected and Marie smiled incredulously down at her drink, “You don’t have to believe me about Harry if you don’t want but believe this, Steven? He’s not a good guy.” You said and she looked up at you again fully offended.

“Y/N, look-”

“No, listen to me. I just need you t-to hear me out. Last night he…h-he grabbed me really hard by the throat and made me swear I would never talk to or see Harry again. He terrified me.” You confessed and her eyes didn’t even soften up, “I came t-to ask if maybe I’d struck a nerve by mistake, looking to justify how he behaved towards me but the fact that he got to you first and lied about what happened…that just confirmed to me that I want nothing to do with him. He’s a ticking time bomb and I refuse to be collateral damage.” You said as you stood from your seat.

“How dare you.” She said and stood as well and you shook your head. “You can’t just go around throwing accusations about someone like that! Especially about this sort of thing! It could ruin him, Y/N!” She said with a quiet and calculated rage.

“Believe what you want, but I want nothing to do with either of you ever again.” You said to her and walked off. When you sat in your car you were trembling with rage, you could not believe the last 24 hours of your life. You were just collecting yourself before taking off, you didn’t want to get on the road with that much anger flowing through your veins. You jumped in surprise when your phone started ringing loudly from your purse and you groaned and reached for it and when you saw Harry’s name on the screen you just felt a wave of comfort and then it turned into fear. You knew Steven wasn’t here but you couldn’t help but glance around your immediate surroundings before answering the call.

“Hello?” You spoke into the receiver tentatively.

“Y/N, I ummm, I need you to come down to my hotel right away if you can.” He said to you and you felt your stomach drop.

“W-why?” You asked him nervously.

“Your boyfriend broke into my suite and tried to attack me.” He said and you gasped. “Are you alright?” You asked instantly.

“Yeah, thankfully. But now h-he’s telling the officers that you put him up to this.” He said lowly, “Just come and we’ll sort this out.” He assured.

“Okay, I’ll be there soon.” You said and took off despite your heightened emotions.

Just before you arrived to Harry’s suite you saw a pair of officers guide Steven away down the hall in hand cuffs. He had a bandage over his nose and a busted lip. He barely held eye contact with you as they pulled him along. You rushed down the hall and hurried into the open suite more than relieved to see a paramedic only icing Harry’s hand while he talked to one of the officers looming over him.

“Oh my god, I’m glad you’re okay!” You exclaimed in relief and he stood right away and hugged you tight as you leaned into him and that’s when all of your emotions from even the night before caught up with you and you started to cry.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s alright. I’m alright.” He assured you lowly.

“Yeah, but sometimes you minimize things to not worry anyone so…” you reminded and he chuckled a little as you pulled back, “I’m so sorry about this, H. Sincerely. Genuinely! I-I can’t believe he went as far as pulling something like this.” You expressed, still quite flabbergasted at what had gone down. Harry rubbed over your back in comforting circles.

“It’s alright. I’m alright.” He assured you, “He’s worse off than I am.” He smirked a bit as he delivered this news.

“Oh, I saw.” You chuckled through your tears and he hummed. “You’re not gonna get into any trouble, are you?” You asked.

“No, love.” He assured you, “I acted in self-defense so we’re all clear there. He did give me a good scare though.” He said more seriously and you sighed.

“This never should have happened…I just don’t get it where this came from? I swear, this is not at all like him! I’ve never seen him behave this way in the couple months we’ve been seeing each other. Even last night was just so out of character for how he’s always been towards me! And I’m not trying to make excuses for him. Clearly this is fucked-”

“Wait. What happened last night?” Harry asked you more seriously and you sighed and shook your head.

“Nothing, really.” You said to him and he gave you a look, not a scary one, just an insistent one. You sighed and shrugged, “Last night when I…when I told him we met up to talk and get closure he got really angry at me. Like, he was livid. It was truly an overreaction to me mentioning that I was really happy over having received that apology from you but that I felt like I had been awkward about it and left it weird with us.” You explained, “Then, he asked why I didn’t ask for permission t-to talk to you or see you or why I didn’t ask him to come with me? And I explained that I agreed to meet with you so that we could clear the air so that I could move on with him in peace and he accused me of fooling around with you.” You explained monotonously as you felt like you were there all over again, “I assured him we just talked and he then pretended like it was fine and apologized half-heartedly… and I went in to hug him but then it’s like a switch flipped.” You recounted what had happened, “I thought he was going t-to kiss me but he…” your voice faded out into an exhale, “H-he grabbed me so hard by the throat and made me swear that I wouldn’t see o-or talk to you ever again-”

“Miss?” One of the officers interrupted and you turned towards the officer as Harry released you just a bit.

“Yes?” You asked softly.

“Can you elaborate more on this altercation?” He asked and you swallowed thickly.

“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.” You said softly, eyes now laser focused on Harry’s dangling pendant as your vision started to blur with more building tears. You were scared more than worried about getting Steven into any more trouble and Harry could see that. “Love, look at me.” Harry insisted and you blinked rapidly as one of your tears trickled down your cheek before you looked up at him, “If he did anything to scare you, you need to report it.” He said, “He’s fucked as it is for this, he can’t do anything to you ever again. He won’t.” Harry assured you and you nodded.

You proceeded to explain what had happened and how he had grabbed you. You explained that you felt intimidated and frozen and unsure of what to do next after the altercation. You were asked why you didn’t call the police or make a report and you explained that you didn’t think there was anything to report. He hadn’t technically hit you or injured you. You had no visible marks on you or anything to prove this apart from the fear you’d been harboring ever since. But the officer informed you that even a forceful grab is considered assault in the sate of California. And that speaking to you that way, exerting any tactics to make you feel subdued or intimidated were also considered acts of aggression and intimidation that were reportable offenses. And after a few more questions and you assuring them that he had never done anything like this to you before they moved back to the situation with Harry. With police reports filed they went on their way and you offered to get Harry a new place to spend the rest of his trip.

**************

It was just a few hours later and you were sitting in your living room waiting for Harry to come out of the shower and for his lawyer to arrive. You felt awful for this whole thing with Steven, you really had no idea he was a psycho like this. Marie had actually tried calling you almost 20 times and had sent you about 15 texts asking you to call back and that she was sorry for not believing you earlier. You were still too angry at her to respond so you put your phone on “Do Not Disturb” and just focused on the TV and wondered if it was a good idea to have brought Harry to your home. You had found another place for him to stay but before you booked it he asked if it would be alright to use your guest room because he was concerned for your safety since Steven knew where you lived.

His concerns were valid. And you knew that Steven was well connected and had several lawyer friends who you were sure could get him out on bail by the morning, so you agreed to let him stay. You just didn’t want to also put Harry in harm’s way again. You would never forgive yourself if Steven did anything to hurt him. All in all, none of this felt real, you felt like you were in an unhinged daytime soap episode just waiting for another tragedy to befall you and those in your life. You were so on edge that you flinched in fright when the doorbell rang. Once the shiver passed through your body you hurried over to see through the peephole and saw Harry’s lawyer waiting there.

“Hi Darius.” You greeted him with a smile and he smiled back upon seeing you as well. It’d been quite a while.

“Y/N! Wow!” He chuckled, “It’s so great to see you!” He greeted you happily as you led him inside.

“Likewise! I think Harry’s just finishing up his shower, he had quite the day.” You said as you locked up behind him and he sighed.

“Yeah. I’m so sorry to hear about that. But I’m glad he’s safe and that you’re also safe.” He assured you and you thanked him before guiding him over to the kitchen and allowing him to get set up while you went to grab the Coca-cola he’d requested.

It was just a couple of minutes before Harry joined you two and caught up a bit with Darius before he got into the story of what happened. Harry was going to follow through on pressing charges and he was even more motivated to get it all done ASAP when he heard what Steven had done to you the night before. He wanted to give Darius his statement as well while it was fresh in his memory so that it matched up perfectly to what he’d told the police and so he started answering the questions while Darius recorded and took notes as well. But hearing it in detail for yourself made it all the more sinister for you. You weren’t even thinking about it all that deeply when you reached for Harry’s hand under the table and he paused and briefly looked at you.

“Sorry.” You mouthed and started to pull it away from him but he instead tangled your fingers together and kept talking.

You stayed at his side for the rest of the time until Darius left, assuring you both that he’d let you know as soon as any headway was made in this case. With a final farewell you were locking up behind him as Harry waited for you just a small distance away. You sighed and turned to him.

“I’m so, so sorry about this, Harry. If I had know that he would do something like this… I mean, I just shouldn’t have said anything to him about you or-”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. How were you supposed to know, love?” He asked as he grabbed your face gently, right under your jaw and you swallowed thickly and he quickly slid his hands down to your shoulders. “Shit, I’m sorry. I forgot.” He said and you shook your head.

“It’s alright. It’s still fresh.” You reminded and he sighed and shook his head.

“I’m sorry…if I had just come back to you when I was supposed to we wouldn’t be in this mess.” He said and you sighed.

“You weren’t happy though, I mean…you preferred to be alone all this time instead of back with me so…it was the right thing for you at the time.” You said to him.

“You forgive me though, right? For not…” he trailed off and you nodded.

“Yeah, H.” You assured him and he pecked your lips quickly.

“Thank you.” He said quietly.

“Of course.” You whispered back. Your lips still tingling from his quick kiss.

“Sorry, I just needed to kiss you.” He said and you smiled slightly.

“I get it.” You assured him. “D-do you want to…sleep with me?” You asked with a little bit of hesitation.

“Yeah, love.” He said without a hint of a doubt, “Of course. I’m a bit shaken up myself.” He said and you nodded.

“C’mon then.” You said and grabbed his hand and guided him to your bedroom. You guys washed up and then cuddled into your bed.

You faced each other silently, just looking at each other, taking each other in. You were telling each other you had missed each other with your shared, longing gaze, but you refused to touch. You both loved the static and electric feeling buzzing between your bodies far too much. It was masochism in its purest form. It hurt to be apart, you missed his vibe. His energy. His presence…Harry was a warm, little ball of light, even on his dark days. He was the kindest, most thoughtful person you’d been is fortunate to encounter. He was so hard on himself also, and you knew he was angry at himself right now. You didn’t want him to be though, you wanted him to be here with you and enjoying this reunion, however unfortunate the situation was that led to it.

The amount of love you felt for him was impossible. As you laid in silence you smiled because you had truly missed the sound of his breathing. You inhaled his exhales, feeling more than grateful to be within his reach. You wanted to feel him on you, skin to skin. You shivered as you felt this intense love just surge through you.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” You said softly and sincerely. His eyes glanced down, averting from your gaze as he smiled in disbelief. “I mean it.”

“Even after all this time?” He asked, “After everything I’ve done?”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t hurt by you.” You smiled and he chuckled, “But yeah, I still love you despite those things.”

“Enough to give me another chance?” He asked.

“I…I mean, yeah.” You chuckled nervously. “And I don’t know i-if I’m a complete fool for that?! But I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, baby. More so lately…” he said and you hummed.

“Why’s that?” You asked.

“Umm…I was cleaning out your side of things. Like to send ‘em back to you and I just…I found this little box in the corner on your side of the closet-”

“The memory box!” You exclaimed, remembering its existence.

“Yeah…I just got to see all of the wonderful things we’ve shared together. How you’ve been there for absolutely everything. You’ve never let me down.” He said softly, “And I just…felt like a total fool for dismissing that. Nothing feels the same without you, you’re the thing that just…tied everything together, you know? You made my heart feel…whole.” He explained, “When I say that I miss you that’s what I mean. I’ve been incomplete without you around, Y/N. I’ve been missing you from everything. I’m so sorry that I waited until I almost lost you to reach out to you…” he whispered with shame. You frowned and reached for his cheek

“Everything happens for a reason, honey.” You whispered, “I mean, I’m glad you came along at this time because you saved me from a potentially dangerous situation.” You said more solemnly.

“I’m glad I was here for this. May-maybe this is a…sign of sorts for you to come back home with me.” He said a bit carefully.

Harry was nervous to bring this up to you but he really just didn’t want you staying anywhere near this man. He wanted to be certain that he could keep you safe, that he could protect you and ensure that you were never so easily in harm’s way again. And on top of that, his love for you continued simmering lowly in the background, it had never gone out. He just fled out of fear and he regretted it so much. He had been selfish and didn’t realize it until far too late. It filled him with gratitude that you’d even hear him out for an apology, let alone give him another chance. A chance that he may have blown with this suggestion he’d just put out there.

“Ummm…I…I’m not sure w-what to say to that.” You responded honestly, “Like, my first instinct is to say yes.” You chuckled nervously and while he was relieved to hear that, he held off his excitement to hear what would come next, “But like you’ve acknowledged a couple times already, we’ve been apart for a while and I think we both hurt each other to some extent and I worry that…in jumping right back into where we left things off that we’ll forget about all of the issues that led to us breaking down instead of working through them.” You said and he hummed.

“Yeah, that’s extremely valid.” He responded, “And I guess I want this right now mainly because I don’t want you here all alone.” He explained, “I realize we have things to work through before we can get to where we were before all this. And I’m so willing to put in the work with you to get to that stage again. But right now I just want to ensure that you’re safe and far away from that prick, Steven. That’s my main concern as of now, baby.”

“Well thank you for worrying about me. I would love to leave with you but I don’t think it’d be a smart move.” You sighed.

“Even just for a few weeks until things cool off a bit? I can set you up somewhere else even.” He said and you bit your lip pensively.

“I’ll think about it.” You responded.

“Okay, that’s…that’s enough for me.” He whispered back.

***********************

It was a couple weeks later when Steven finally showed up at your place. Obviously you had the locks changed, so his key didn’t work, which really angered him. And when you heard him shouting at you and pounding on the door, threatening to break in if you didn’t allow him in, you immediately called the cops as you had a restraining order filed against him. You also recorded everything this time as you tried to calmly coax him into leaving before they showed up. He was angry that Harry was pressing charges against him and he wanted you to talk him out of it. You knew better than to say anything about Harry’s case, so instead you asked Steven how he even got access to Harry’s location. Up until this point it was all speculation, you just assumed he grabbed the information off of your phone, that really was the only way. But there was no proof yet that this was a premeditated aggression on Steven’s end. So when he confessed to you that he searched for the information on your phone you were relieved and would submit that as further evidence to get a more strict order against him.

He refused to leave and the longer you didn’t let him in the angrier he got and even broke a window. Thankfully, the police were just arriving when this happened and they submitted an Emergency Protective Order, this was far more strict than the restraining order but that was really all they could do. You really didn’t feel safe anymore so the next morning you contacted your landlord and explained to her what had happened and let her know that you’d have to terminate your lease early for your safety. She was kind and didn’t make you pay the extra fee or even make you finish out a whole month, she just hoped you’d fine somewhere else soon.

You contacted Harry and of course, he said you could stay with him for a little bit. You felt stupid for not just doing that to begin with like he had suggested. But the reality was that he had also hurt you and let you down and you were worried about what moving in together again so soon would do to impact your future. But for the time being this felt like the safest choice. Steven knew your friends and co-workers in the area thanks to Marie, so there was no one you could go to in LA that you felt he wouldn’t think of. It pained you to quit your job and pack up your life and go, but you needed to. Of course, Harry welcomed you with open arms and you were grateful to know that you were a whole continent and ocean away from LA right now.

*****************

It had been three weeks of you living with Harry and things had been going well so far. You felt drained though, like completely fatigued from everything, you often felt this way when you were anxious or depressed so you prioritized reconnecting with your therapist from before right away. You were seeing her every week so far and were eager to see and feel the results of doing this deep and healing work after what had happened to you and Harry in LA. You also reconnected with a few friends and they were helping you network a bit to find a job. Harry assured you that he was more than capable to take care of you but you didn’t feel comfortable with that, especially since your romantic future together was still a bit up in the air.

You two were doing well, you were reconnecting as friends more than anything right now. Living with him was comfortable though, you had lived together before though, so you knew how to exist in the same space together. You soon noticed that just being in a situation that was familiar to you both was making you both more affectionate towards each other though, which you both had been working hard to keep at bay. Of course, the feelings were there, but having those little things that reminded you, you weren’t alone made you smile, like now…

“Baby, I’m home! Are you here?” Harry called as he came into the house.

“Yeah, I’m in the laundry room!” You called back over the rumble of the washing machine as you folded your laundry. Moments later he was coming into the small, warm room with a smile on his face.

“Hi, love! How was it today?” He asked as he came up to you and hugged you.

“It was good. I met with Poppy and her friend, Sheila, she’s the one who just started up her own tanner line or something and needs an accountant? She’s interested, so I’m meeting with her and her partner again her next week when she’s back from her vacation to see about the position.” You shared.

“That’s really good. Hopefully it pans out.”

“I hope so too.” You said as you dropped the t-shirt you were working on in the basket with folded laundry so that you could interlace your fingers as you clung to him.

“And like I said before though, no rush, okay? You’re doing plenty to help out here. And after everything else you’ve been through, taking it slow can’t hurt.” He added.

“Thank you. I really do appreciate that, H.” You smiled.

“Of course, love.” He hummed. You pulled back slowly and looked into each other’s eyes. “I’m really happy you’re here.” He reassured you.

“Thank you, baby.” You whispered.

“Baby?” He asked with a grin and you rolled your eyes and sighed.

“Well, I mean…you call me that, so…”

“It feels right, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” You agreed with a smile.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” You whispered with a smile. He tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed your cheek.

“Can I kiss your for real?” He asked you quietly and you just nodded. Moments later your lips met in a tentative kiss. There was a little bit of hesitation at first but seconds later you were kissing with more depth. Your hands held his as he cupped your face tenderly as you continued to kiss. You’d kissed very quickly a handful of times since your arrival but nothing like this where you could feel yourself getting all hot and bothered by it.

“Baby…” you mumbled into the kiss.

“Right…sorry.” He hummed and let you go breaking the kiss abruptly and you chuckled as you blindly reached down your leg and finally grabbed the dryer sheet that was half hanging out of the dryer and tickling your leg. You crumbled it up and tossed it in the garbage bin just a few feel away from you before turning back and looking up to him.

“You can continue now.” You said with a small smile and he grinned before picking you up and setting you on the dryer as your mouths met with more urgency. Your kiss and need started to grow and grow and boil over very quickly.

It really wasn’t planned when he carried you to his room and got you undressed. Even though you’d yet to resolve everything from before, you didn’t feel worried or wrong about this. You felt comfortable and beautiful as you felt his bare skin against your own. You were eagerly awaiting it as he kissed down your body and made you feel so good along the way. He wasted no time in getting down and going down on you, showing you just how much he had missed you. He savored you and gave you his best until you were starting to lose your grip on reality.

“Oh fuck, I missed you…” you giggled through a moan as his tongue did it’s wonderful work between your legs. You were tingling all over as he flicked over your clit until you were trembling and then he started to suck, “Oh my god!” You gasped as your eyes started to roll back. “I’m getting so close!” You warned.

Your lips parted and you started to pant when he started to work two fingers into you. Your breath hitched when he curved them up into your g-spot. You felt your body melt into the bed for a second before he started to fuck into you harden until you were so tense your legs trembled as you started to come. The soft moans flowing from your lips were egging Harry on, making him even more hungry for you. You pulled him back up to you and your lips met eagerly as you reached for the button of his jeans.

“Want ‘em off?” He asked and you nodded, “Sure, baby?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, baby. I want you. I need you.” You whispered and he smiled before kissing your lips quickly before pulling back a bit.

“I just…I need you to know that if we do this I want us t-to be the thing that means we’re going to try again.” He said and your gaze softened, “Obviously, I’ve missed your body and having you like this, but this is more than that to me. I want it to be more than that.” He said and you nodded.

“I do too, baby. I want to try again. I really do.” You said to him with welled up eyes and he smiled and kissed you slowly again.

“You are everything to me.” He mumbled as you helped get his pants off blindly as he tugged the material down, “I’m never going to forget that again. I swear it, baby. You make me so fucking happy.” He panted as he toed off the pants before he climbed over you and pulled you up with him towards the the top of the bed. You climbed over his lap and kissed his passionately. Harry’s hands roamed your naked body with expertise. He knew the spots to touch and to pay mind to as you guys worked up to the love-making bit. You too appreciated his body. You touched and kissed over his body and took his length into your mouth, working him up just a bit more before you two had sex.

“Shit, baby…fuck that’s so good!” He groaned as you sunk down on him until you gagged around his tip. You weren’t as used to his size as you once were.

“Careful, baby. Go easy.” He reminded as he stroked over your cheek lovingly before running his thumb along your stretched out bottom lip. He loved seeing how you fit him in your hot little mouth. It had his abs clenching hard as you rolled and fondled his heavy balls in your hands until he was fighting the urge to start thrusting in your mouth. “Baby, please…please, I need you.” He panted and you popped off of him and glanced up at him.

“Can I get on?” You asked and he swallowed thickly.

“A-are you sure you want this?” He asked and you nodded.

“I do, H. I want this with you. I want everything with you. Everything that we had, I want it all back. I love you more than anything in the wor-” he cut you off with his kiss and laid you down. You were dying of impatience as hi heavy erection glided against your slicked up and swollen folds, you were so ready to have him back.

“I love you. I love you so much.” He whispered as he lined up to your entrance.

“I love you too. Please just…I need you.” You begged and so he pushed forward until he was sinking deep in your hot, wet little hole until he bottomed out.

You hissed as you adjusted back to his size, he was great about it, so patient and eager to get you going by rubbing over your clit until you were so wet you were sliding up and down his shaft. He watched you hungrily as you lifted your hips up and down to feel him moving inside of you. But it got to the point where he needed to take over and just get you both to come. His thrusts were deep and slow, he was bottoming out with each one, it was making your brain blank each and every time he sunk into the deepest part of you. Your body was tingling and your walls fluttering and pulsing around him with every movement. Everything felt so good with him. He was looking down at you with so much adoration it was making you even more emotional.

“Baby, baby don’t cry.” He chuckled as he kissed your forehead as a few tears streamed down your cheek.

“It just feels so…good.” You sniffled and he kissed you quickly, “It feels so good to be with you.” You hummed as you rolled your hips up against his and he moaned lowly and kissed you again.

“Yeah? Are you gonna come for me?” He asked and you nodded. “Good girl, let me know when you’re getting close.”

“I will.” You whined out as he delved deep and ground against you until your eyes squeezed shut, “Shit!” You gasped as he started thrusting a bit faster into that spot until you just felt yourself leaking around.

“Fuck…” he laughed, “Fuck, you’re so wet f’me, I-I’m getting close.” He panted and you whined and started to rub your clit to catch up to him.

In a few moments you were right there on the edge with him. Your back was arching as you moaned his name as your orgasm nearly took you out. Your ears were ringing and your vision was blurring as you started to come around him. He started to thrust faster to get off, but he was drawing out your orgasm until you were trembling.

“Fuck…fuck, I’m coming!” He warned as he started to press himself up to pull out. “Oh fuuuuck…” he moaned as he started to stroke himself as he came all over your mound. He thrusted his sensitive cock through your folds, making a little mess of you before kissing you ardently. “I love you. Love you so fucking much.” He whispered, his voice cracked as he started to cry and you pulled him into your chest and held him tight as you both just let your raw emotions out in this moment.

You both needed it desperately. After he settled down he hurried to get something to clean you off and then you started to talk about you two. What you wanted, what you hoped to see in the future. You’d had these conversations before but even now the things that Harry was saying to you were complete different than before. Losing you seemed to be the thing that woke him up to how much he’d been taking you for granted. He’d gotten used to it, he’d gotten complacent at your expense.

“It’s going to be so different this time.” He said softly as he looked deep in your eyes, “I will be different this time.” He assured and you sighed.

“I believe you…there’s just a little part of me that is still not ready to let you back in.” You explained after he had explained how he was going to show up for you from now on, “I want to just trust you fully, but I’m afraid that you’ll make a fool of me again. That you’ll hurt me again.” You explained, “And I know y-you won’t but I just need to let you know that I’m still learning to trust you fully again.” You explained. “So please just…be a little patient with me.” You requested and he smiled.

“I know, baby. I will be patient with you and I will do everything I can to prove to you that I will never do anything to make you doubt choosing me again.” He said and kissed you slowly. You smiled into the kiss and let him pull you closer to him again and that’s how you fell asleep, nestled close together.

….. ONE MONTH LATER ….

In this short amount of time things had drastically shifted between you and Harry. You’d started to go on a date a week, doing thoughtful things for each other, sharing your feelings as they arose, communicated openly…he’d matured a lot in your time apart and helped you overcome your fears faster than you anticipated. You were so proud of him and it was spilling over into every moment. Like now, you were filled with a surge of love as you wandered into the kitchen to see him pulling out your favorite salad dressing from the fridge.

“Hiya, baby. What’re you up to?” You asked.

“Just making us your favorite salad for a light lunch.” He said.

“Wow, lunch already?” you asked and he smiled as you went over to him and hugged him from the back as you peeked over to his hands, eager to direct him on how much dressing he needed to add.

“Yeah, love!” He chuckled, “We had breakfast at 8! It’s already past 2pm.” He informed you and that surprised you. But you’d been so sucked into your work that it was very possible that you forgot to even feel hungry.

“Oh, I didn’t realize.” You explained and he frowned a bit.

“Baby, have you been feeling alright? It’s not just today, I’ve noticed that you haven’t had much of an appetite at all lately.” He pointed out and you frowned as you gave it some thought and realized that yeah, this was something you’d been feeling for at least two weeks. Maybe it was intense PMS? You hadn’t gotten your period since moving here, so you hoped it was just your body finally catching up with itself.

“You’re right…I mean, I have very visceral reactions to stress and big changes…I mean, my whole body and system have just been out of whack for a little but they’ll balance out again.” You assured him and he hummed.

“That’s true, it’s been hectic for you.” He said as he opened up the dressing bottle, “Honestly, I was thinking that-” he stopped as you gagged as the scent of the dressing wafting up towards you. You had to let him go and go hunch yourself over the sink as you felt the scent of the dressing just linger in your nose and mouth. “Baby…?” Harry came over and rubbed your back slowly, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah…” you grimaced, “But I think the dressing is bad. Didn’t you smell that? It was rank!” You turned to him with a disgusted look on your face and he frowned.

“I didn’t smell anything. You look a bit awful now though. You’re all pale.” He said feeling your forehead and you exhaled slowly to ward off the nausea that you suddenly felt making your head spin.

“I might throw up, the dressing smells so bad.” You explained and he frowned and turned to the counter and brought it up to his nose and it smelled just fine to him. He even checked the bottle for the usage date and it was still good.

“This is fine…should I mix your salad with something else then?” He asked and you shook your head.

“I think I’m fine. I’ll just have some toast.” You said and he nodded. Eventually, you had to go back to your “office” and leave him hanging for lunch because you could not handle the look and scent of the salad, especially that dressing. By the time dinner rolled around you were still feeling a little off so you just had some veggies in a chicken broth and that was that.

*******************

You’d truly forgotten about your sensitive sense of smell until once again, you were assailed by an unbearable scent. Except this time it had happened at your friend, Poppy’s house. And this time you did actually get sick.

“God, I’m so sorry, P.” You apologized as you returned to her kitchen with embarrassment, “I swear its not your cooking, my nose has just been so sensitive lately and I get to grossed out by certain scents. I’m not sure what exactly yet though.” You explained to her.

“God, you sound like my sister when she got pregnant.” Poppy chuckled and you froze. That hadn’t even crossed your mind. Yeah, you’d missed your period for the last two months but literally everything impacted your period, your cycle was fickle, especially when you were under as much stress as you’d been. You weren’t surprised that it hadn’t come at all. Truly, this wasn’t new to you, especially when you were stressed out, regardless of whether or not you were on the pill (which you weren’t after moving back here, you’d run out the week before you came out). Then, you recalled that when you and Harry had sex the first time he hadn’t used a condom. Yeah, he’d pulled out but that was never a guarantee.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Poppy asked you with concern.

“I think I should probably take a test just to rule that out. I mean, it’s…very unlikely but I was a bit irresponsible a bit ago and just need some peace of mind.” You said.

“Okay, I have some in my bathroom, let me get you one.” She offered and you nodded so she hurried off to get it for you.

You were sure you were good, but you just needed to see it for yourself. There was absolutely no way you could be pregnant, you weren’t ready for that. Harry wasn’t ready for that. Like emotionally you guys were, but you had just rekindled your relationship, the last thing you needed was something this crazy to throw a wrench in things so quickly after you’d gotten back together.

“Alright, here you are, babe.” She said handing over the box as she came up to you again.

“Thanks.” You smiled nervously.

“W-would you mind if I did it here?” You asked her and she smiled and shook her head.

“Of course not.” She assured you and with that you were off to the bathroom again, sitting there, willing yourself to pee enough to saturate the stick and finally it came and you put the cap back on it and washed your hands before coming out. “I hate to be that person but what if you are pregnant?” She asked and you sighed.

“I have no idea…” you confessed through a nervous chuckle while you stared at the wall blankly, “I mean, H and I just…God, we’re just getting back into the groove of things. Throwing a baby into the mix at this time isn’t going to make anything easier. It’s just not what we need right now.” You explained to her.

“Yeah, I get that.” She chuckled, “Cam and I try and then we stop because of the same thing and like…ugh, it’s just a vicious cycle! And genuinely, if you have that many doubts it’s just that you’re not prepared for it, you know? That’s what I had to tell Cam after a few months.” She explained and you nodded in understanding. “I-if you are…what do you think Harry’d say?” She asked and you sighed.

“I have no fucking clue…” you admitted, “Obviously, before, we had said we wanted to have a family together. But again, that was before everything went to shit with us.” You sighed, “And like, we’re in such a good place right now…” you sighed, “Like I know he wouldn’t be a prick about it but we’re not quite ready for that yet.” You chuckled nervously and Poppy nodded in understanding.

“Well, don’t worry, you’ll see in a few minutes that everything is fine.” She smiled with encouragement.

You decided to believe her that everything was going to be fine. You were already booked for a full body, deep tissue massage next week with Poppy when your timer went off. You turned off the timer and then brought the test up closer and your heart stopped beating and you stopped breathing for what felt like an eternity. Staring right back at you, clear as day, were two little pink lines.

“Th-that means I’m…right?” You asked showing Poppy and she bit her lip nervously and nodded.

“Are you okay?” She asked you with concern and you just exhaled slowly. You were completely taken by surprise. Then you started to get worried.

“I ummm…I think I need to get home.” You said to her, still in shock. You swallowed thickly as you tried to imagine how Harry would react to the news that he would be a father.

“Do you want me to drive you over?” She offered, since you had walked from Harry’s to hers. It was just a 20 minute walk, you guys lived quite close.

“No, no, P, it’s alright. I think walking will be good for me, I need to…I need…” you trailed off as your eyes started to well up with tears as you started to imagine the worst case scenario.

“Hey…Hey, hey, hey, c’mere.” She said pulling you into her arms as you started to cry, “It’s going to be alright, babe. H is not gonna be angry, you know that.” She assured you as she rubbed comforting circles into your back as you held her tight. “You have options, yeah? You know that he’ll have your back no matter what.” She said and you nodded, “Let me get you home, yeah?”

“Okay.” You whispered to your best friend and she gave you one more squeeze before letting you go.

Once you got to your place she encouraged you to have a shower and that she’d get some tea going for you. You texted Harry that you needed him to come home as soon as possible, you didn’t want this solely on your chest for another minute. You took your time and when Harry started pulling into your driveway Poppy popped in and let you know before shouting a goodbye to you. You sighed and relished in the warm water for just another moment before turning off the water. You were soon reaching for your robe and slipping into it. You padded over to the mirror to wash your face and you bit your lip before untying the robe and looking over your body. You looked the same, you saw no evidence of a baby.

“Baby?” You heard Harry calling from downstairs. Soon, his footsteps were heard coming up the stairs and you quickly tied your robe up and got to lathering your face wash in your hands.

“In the bathroom!” You called back before rubbing it into your skin. He rushed into the bathroom and looked more than relieved to see you intact.

“Are you alright?” He asked and you sighed and quickly bent over to rinse your face. You then dabbed it dry as you reached for your toner.

“I think so…” you responded after a little bit, “I don’t know.” You sighed as you grabbed your moisturizer.

“Well what’s going on? Hmmm?” He asked you as he came over and kissed your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your middled and pulled you in closer and suddenly you had to throw up again. You gasped and wriggled out of his hold and turned around to face him. Your eyes started welling up with tears again and you were just building up the courage to say it. “Baby, you’re worrying me.” He said softly and you swallowed thickly.

“Ummm…I…I’m pregnant.” You said and his jaw slightly dropped. He let out a small and nervous laugh before he just pulled you back into his arms without a single word. You hugged him back and just held each other for a little bit.

“What do you want to do?” He finally asked you and you shook your head.

“I have no fucking clue…” you said and he let you go and hoisted you up onto the counter. You draped your arms over his shoulders as he held your thighs, “I mean, what do you think?” You asked and he sighed.

“I don’t fucking know…I mean, that’s gonna be our baby so I…like I’m inclined t-to give it a try. But at the same time I don’t know that our relationship is ready for something like this. I mean, I want this with you in a few years but we’re just getting started again.”

“I know…I don’t even know how this…like you pulled out.”

“I know, but it’s not always a guaranteed thing.” He said and you sighed.

“I should’ve said something then…” you shook your head as you rubbed your forehead with one of your hands.

“Hey, there’s no point for any would’ve-should’ve-s,” he said, “It’s gonna be alright. We’ll figure it out soon, okay?” You nodded, “Just take your time, baby. Whatever you decide, I have your back.” He assured you and you nodded. He grabbed your face and kissed your lips until you were smiling.

“Stoooop.” You giggled, “M’not in the mood.” You pouted through your smile and he smiled.

“I think you’re lying.” He hummed and you rolled your eyes. “Look, how about we get an appointment with the doctor and see how far along you are and maybe that’ll help us decide what we might want to do.” He said and you nodded.

“Yes, good thinking.” You smiled, “God, I was so scared to tell you.” You sighed and he tutted.

“What made you think to take a test?”

“I smelled something P was cooking and got sick.” You said, you felt tour cheeks growing hot in embarrassment. Harry chuckled and then furrowed his brows pensively.

“Didn’t you almost get sick at the salad dressing a bit ago?” He recalled and you chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s true…” you remembered, “I mean, I know I haven’t gotten my period but-”

“How was that not a sign?!” He chuckled in disbelief and you proceeded to explain how your period often skipped when you were under a lot of stress so this wasn’t an odd thing for you. But he was sweet, he was calm, but you could see the cogs just turning at full speed in his mind. You hoped he wasn’t angry at you, but you couldn’t help but think that he was and that he would run again. “I’m not angry, you know?” He mumbled softly and you glanced into his eyes and smiled a bit, “I can see it in your eyes, you know?” He whispered.

“You sure?”

“I am, baby. But I am…excited too…I mean, I don’t want to dwell on it too much incase we decide not to proceed with this but…I am. I mean, you’re the only person I want to have a life with. No matter how it happens, it’s you that I want to have babies with and raise them with and just share that experience with. So if you did want to continue with the pregnancy that would be good with me too.” He hummed.

“Okay. Thank you for your opinion.” You whispered before kissing his lips and hugging him tight against. You kissed at his neck as you just nestled yourself in the crook of it. “I love you.”

“I love you.” He smiled.

…. TWO DAYS LATER ….

You currently found your self peeing into a cup at the doctor’s office. You knew you were pregnant, but the doctor wanted to verify before they did an ultrasound to see where you were at. Once you finished you closed up the little jar and left it not he shelf as instructed. You washed your hands and then scurried across the hall and back into your room to see Harry intently reading the poster on the wall abut pregnancy.

“You know you get super horny during the second trimester.” He said in amusement, “As if you needed any more of that while pregnant…greedy.” He mumbled with a grin and you chuckled.

“You’re dumb.” You said as you went back over to the bench and sat again. You dangled your feet back and forth for a bit before Harry came over.

“What’re you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that…this is fucking insane.” You chuckled.

“In a good way?”

“Yeah…bad too.” You hummed and he nodded and leaned in to kiss your cheek.

“It’s going to be just fine, baby.” He assured you right as the doctor knocked at the door. “Come in!” Harry called and soon the woman was coming in.

“Hello, Y/N!” Dr. Sallow greeted you sweetly, “Glad you’re back!” She said with glee and you smiled.

“Thank you.” You replied, “And ummm, this is Harry, my…partner.” You said and she turned to him and smiled.

“Harry, wonderful to meet you.” She smiled and extended her hand and they shook them quickly before she walked over to the screen. “So, you’re here because you are pregnant.” She said and you nodded, “I can confirm that.” She smiled and Harry squeezed your knee when you inhaled sharply. It sort of felt official now. “So we can definitely do an ultrasound if you’d like, the room is available. Or did you have other questions?” she asked.

“Definitely an ultrasound. Want to know how far along I am and that sort of thing.”

“I’d assume fairly early if you’re just noticing any symptoms, so don’t be too disappointed if we don’t see much of anything just yet.” She forewarned and you both nodded. “Alright, I’m gonna have nurse Debbie set up the room and then she’ll escort you over and we’ll get a look at you.”

“Thank you.” You smiled and soon she excused herself before fluttering off to her next patient. You only waited a couple of minutes before nurse Debbie came to escort you to the ultrasound room and got you all set up. Harry was practically bouncing beside you with anxiety as he waited.

“Let me get the doctor.” Debbie said and hurried out. You glanced over to Harry.

“Hey, hold my hand.” You said and he dragged a chair over and interlocked your fingers. “I’m so excited to see.” You whispered and he grinned wide.

“Me too.” He confessed and you chuckled. “Maybe we…think a bit more about keeping it…” he suggested and you smiled a bit.

“Yeah? You mean it?” You asked softly and he nodded.

“I do, baby.” He smiled.

A few moments later Dr. Sallow was announcing herself again before coming in. She explained the procedure and then got the gel on you before grabbing the camera and gliding it over your tummy, looking for the best spot.

“Oh…there we are.” she hummed and Harry immediately shot upon seeing the image projected on the screen.

“Oh my god…” he whispered as he squeezed your hand tight and you smiled up at him quickly before you both glanced back over to the screen.

“So that there is the head and the arms and legs…” she pointed out and shifted the angle, “Do you want to know the sex?” She asked as she turned to you and you chuckled.

“That’s…ummm, isn’t it a bit early to know that?” You asked her and she shook her head.

“Not at all, we can tell as early as 10 week if the position is right.” She explained and you’re heart stopped.

“And I’m already 10 weeks along?” You asked shakily as the realization of what this meant started to settle in. You felt Harry starting to pull his hand away from yours.

“Oh no, you’re more like 14 weeks, dear.” She said and that’s when Harry completely pulled away from you and you felt the air completely leave your lungs. You turned to him and he just clenched his jaw as he ran his fingers through the top of his hair. “So do you want to know?” She asked and you were so frozen that you nodded quickly as your eyes teared up. “It’s a girl.” She said with a smiled and you just nodded.

“That’s…that’s so great.” You whispered and then brought a hand up over your mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound as started to cry. Dr. Sallow turned to you quickly with concern and then you felt Harry’s hand grab yours again. You turned towards him and saw he was crying too. “I’m sorry.” You whispered and he shook his head.

“We’ll talk about it.” He said to you softly and you nodded.

“Is everything alright?” Dr. Sallow asked and you sniffled.

“Sorry, yes. I just didn’t mean to say that.” You explained and she apologized but you assured her it was fine.

You just wanted to get out of there… you were mortified. This wasn’t Harry’s baby and now you really had no idea what to do. You always used condoms with Steven, but now that you knew he was psycho, you had no doubt that he was capable of sabotaging you like this. More than anything you were so hurt and angry that he had taken this from you and Harry. For a second you almost turned and asked for an appointment for an abortion but you glanced at the screen and you were flooded with guilt for even thinking that.

“Ummm, I’d like to leave.” You said as you started to sit up and Dr. Sallow was quick to clean you off. Harry helped you off of the reclining seat and you were back on the road not even ten minutes later.

You were just silent the whole way home, you felt like shit. You felt awful for getting Harry all excited only to know that this was not his child you were carrying. You were so confused right now, you almost wanted to pinch yourself and hope you woke up. You could feel Harry continuously glancing over at you but you couldn’t look at him. There was no way you could look at him after this. It was over between you two…there was no way you could ask him to stay with you after this. It wouldn’t be fair to him. When you got to the house you made it to the stairwell and plopped down as you started to sob violently.

You moved to the side when you saw Harry coming over, assuming he was just going to go up to the bedroom. But then he crouched down and sat a step above you and pulled you into him by the shoulders.

“It’s o-”

“Don’t say it’s okay.” You cut him off, “This is not okay.” You whispered sadly. “I hate Steven.” You seethed and he swallowed thickly as you started to sob and he pulled you closer and kissed the side of your head.

“I love you, okay? This doesn’t change that for me.” He said to you and you shook your head.

“I would never ask you or expect to stay. It’s not fair to you, Harry…” you said sadly, “I was about to tell Dr. Sallow that I wanted to abort but then I saw the screen again and I just…I don’t think I can do it. That’s like…a part of me too and I just…I don’t think I can go through with it.” You said again, sputtering on your tears. “If that means that we’re over, I get it. I totally understand it.” You sniffled.

Harry frowned deeply as he heard you say this. His heart was completely torn right now. He thought you were reacting this way because you were going to terminate the pregnancy upon finding out that it wasn’t your baby together. But hearing you say that you wouldn’t be able to do that, it made him so angry and so hurt. Despite his own feelings about this, he fully understood why changed your mind. After seeing the tiny little thing tucked inside of you his heart was in shambles too. He was fully ready to advocate for you guys keeping it, but hearing how far along you were, it completely shattered his heart. He felt physically ill as the moment replayed in his brain. You’d both slept with other people during your time apart, so he wasn’t angry at that, it was more that it was Steven’s. A man who had hurt you and disrespected you and that scared you. It made the hate he felt for him grow even more intense than it already was. He was livid, he could kill him for taking this from you two. Harry had to decide how he would proceed from here. You were fully prepared to leave him again in order to keep this baby and the thought of it put so much sorrow in his heart. He didn’t want to lose you.

The idea of leaving you and letting you do this all on your own made his sad. You didn’t deserve that. You deserved to have a good pregnancy, one that came with a supportive partner, someone to share the experience with. He wanted to be the person to be there for you but right now the thought of that little thing growing inside of you made his blood boil with hatred. He couldn’t think clearly in the slightest.

“I ummm…I love you so much, baby. I just, I think I need some time t-to process this and just think about it all.” He said to you and you nodded. “I love you though. You know that right?” He asked and you nodded again as he kissed the side of your head.

“Love you too.” You whispered and he hummed. “Should I go for a couple of days?” You asked quietly.

“No, baby.” He said quietly, “You stay here and rest up.” He hummed lowly, “I think I’m gonna go up north and just spend a few days with my mum, clear my head, if that’s alright?” He asked. You wanted to say no, the last thing you wanted right now was to be all alone with this information. But you had no choice but to agree, you had just put him in the most impossible position and he deserved to have the space to think about it as calmly and comfortably as possible.

“Yeah, sure.” You whispered.

“Can I tell my mum?” He asked and you sighed.

“Why the fuck not…” You chuckled through your tears and he pouted.

“Hey, look at me.” He insisted, “I won’t if you don’t want me to, baby. This is about you, about your body. If you want me to keep it to myself I will.” He assured.

“Sorry. I’m just afraid that it’ll change how she feels about me.” You explained nervously. You’d had a wonderful relationship with Anne. You missed her wisdom and kindness and friendship during your time apart from Harry and hearing that another man had impregnated you, her son’s girlfriend, well you’d understand if it upset her.

“No…I mean, things happen. Accidents happen.” He said and you shook your head.

“Baby, I-I don’t think this was accidental because we used a condom every single time. I’m certain of it!” You wept, “Like I’m not stupid, or careless like that.” You assured.

“You think he ruined the condoms?” He asked and you sighed as you recalled all of the overtly possessive things Steven had been saying to you during sex the last month or so that you had been together. Things about making you his forever, about giving him babies one day, making you a mom…you thought he was just introducing some of his preferences in bed with that kind of talk, but maybe it was more than that.

“It’s very possible.” You said softly.

“Jesus…” he shook his head, “How fucked up was this guy?” He asked you and you shrugged.

“I never saw that side of him before all of this.” You said and Harry sighed and nodded. After a moment of silence he cleared his throat.

“Ummm…I’m just gonna pack and head out soon, want to avoid that rush hour traffic near Birmingham.” He said and you nodded.

He stood up and then offered to help you stand as well before you guys went up to the room. You sat on the bed as you watched him pack a couple days worth of clothes. You wanted to ask him to stay, but you couldn’t be that selfish. This was the least you could do for him after that a-bomb was just dropped on him. Not to mention the a-bomb you’d just dumped on him too. When he finished packing up his bag he went over and kissed you quickly.

“I’m not running away from you, okay? I just need to clear my head.” He reassured you, his words were mumbled against your forehead before he kissed you there, “I love you so much.” He whispered before kissing your lips.

“Love you.” You mumbled, “Text when you get there, yeah?”

“I will, baby.” He assured.

“Be safe.”

“Always.” He hummed before he bid you farewell once more before he left.

Once you heard him pull out of the driveway you just curled up on your side and started to cry. This couldn’t be real…there was no way this could be real. You felt completely defeated. The only thing you could think that made you happy was that you never wanted Steven to know about this, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. You had no idea how that would go down with your child in the future, but right now you wanted him not to know a single thing about you ever again. After coming to that conclusion you ended up calling your mom and telling her everything that happened. You talked and cried for nearly an hour before she had to go, but not without promising she’d call again and chat the next day in order to keep you some company, even from afar.

After that you decided to draw yourself a warm and relaxing bath, that always made you feel so calm. So you started out on that, letting your bath bomb melt in the warm water as you made yourself a nice cup of tea, your last caffeinated one for the foreseeable future, and then got inside.

*****************

Harry had been driving up the M1 motorway for a bit before he quickly texted his mum his ETA. This caused her to call him right away and ask what this surprise visit was about, but he couldn’t speak when he answered her call. He just sobbed, he sobbed for nearly 15 minutes before he shared what had happened that morning at the doctor’s office. He explained everything he was feeling, even the bad things he was thinking, but the one thing that kept coming up was how much he loved you.

“I love her so much but I just don’t think I could get past the fact that, that prick is the baby’s dad…I cannot for the life of me sit with that information and not become enraged by it.” He said, it pained him to spare Steven a thought.

“D-do you feel angry at Y/N for being with him?” She asked and he frowned.

“No/ It’s not like I didn’t see other people but I hate that she thinks that I couldn’t be with her after this. Like, I think about letting her go, like she’s saying, and it absolutely guts me.” He explained. “And like…I feel bad that it crossed my mind at some point, but not for the reasons you might think, it’s just that I don’t know i-if I am even prepared to take that role on.” He sniffled.

“No one ever is, even when it’s meticulously planned, H.” She reasoned and he sighed,

“Are you concerned about him wanting to come back into her life?” She asked and he nodded.

“Yeah…a bit.” He admitted, “I mean, I don’t think he’s the type to take any accountability for his actions but if he finds out about it he’s so arrogant that he might want to just to make her uncomfortable. I mean, Y/N thinks it may have been deliberate because she said she always made sure t-to use protection. I mean, I wouldn’t put it past him to do something like that, the man was completely mad.” He shared and his mum hummed in understanding.

“Well sweetheart, it doesn’t sound to me like you’re all that conflicted. It sounds to me like you don’t want to end things with her.”

“Of course not! But what if I…what I can’t love that baby as much since I now know this?” He asked.

“I-is that what’s holding you back?” She asked and he hummed on confirmation. He felt like a complete prick saying that but he was legitimately concerned about this. What if you went on to have your own kids together and it just changed something in him? What if he was open to being with you now but then changed his mind? What if he saw Steven every time he saw that baby and only felt anger instead of love? The chances of something like this happening were extremely low, practically non-existent, but not 0%. And in the end he would hurt you and that baby even more if he walked out because one of these things happened.

“You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think you will love her just fine, H. You know why?” She asked and he hummed, “Because out of everyone in the world you know the impact that one incredible and dedicated man can have on a child.” She said and he sniffled, “You’ve seen for yourself that a biological connection is not needed to give someone unconditional love and support. You’re lucky, you got that from two fathers.” She said and he smiled.

“Yeah.” He whispered.

“I’m not saying that it won’t be scary and difficult at times t-to do this, but it can also be extremely beautiful and rewarding. You’re both such wonderful people that if you decided to stay and do this together you could impact that child’s life for the better, just like yours was.”

“Right…” he said softly

“And well, honestly sweetheart, these concerns you have, they’re things you need to figure out with Y/N. She will listen to you, H. I mean, if you’re feeling this conflicted about things I can’t image how she must be feeling now.” she said with sympathy and when he saw himself nearing Birmingham he felt awful. It got as bad as him feeling sick to his stomach as he pictured your fearful and distraught face back in the bedroom. He’d done it again, he’d left you hanging at a time when you needed his love and support the most. He loved you so much, he could not believe he’d left you alone in that state. And in two seconds he started to signal to get off of the motorway.

“Mum, I ummm…I need to go back and be with, Y/N.” He decided, “I shouldn’t have left here there by herself after everything she had to hear today…I’d be surprised if she was still there after I just walked out…fuck!” He groaned in frustration.

“H, she loves you so much.”

“I love her too…why do I keep doing the wrong thing and hurting her?” He cried now as he got off at the next exit. He was waiting for the traffic to clear before he could make his turn to turn around.

“I think it kind of scares you, how much you love her. And I think in a way you might feel like you could lose her, so you pull back regardless of how that might make her feel. It’s self preservation.” She explained and he swallowed thickly. Hearing this helped him mentally decide that he wasn’t going to run any more, after everything he’d done you’d given him another chance regardless of the possibility of him hurting you again. This was his chance to show you that his love for you was bigger than everything else. “Don’t be afraid to open your heart, sweetheart.” She added and he hummed.

“Alright, thank you for listening. I’m just gonna call Dr. A and ummm…hopefully sort some mental things out before I get back to Y/N.” He said.

“Okay, bub. Be safe, please let me know when you’re home safe. I love you.”

“Love you.” He mumbled before he hung up and got back onto the motorway but heading back towards the South. He wasn’t going to do the same thing again and leave all alone to guess just how much he loved you, not this time. He was going to be there for you and support you and love you both.

*****************

It was a bit odd to you when you heard the large gate to Harry’s house opening up. But then you recalled that sometimes his PA would do errands that required him to come to the house. So you just got out of the tub quickly and rinsed your body off in the shower before getting into your robe in case he came upstairs for any reason. You were just getting one of Harry’s hoodies when you heard his voice.

“Baby? Are you still here?” He called out as you heard the front door shut heavily against the frame. You hurried into the yoga pants you’d grabbed and rushed out to see him coming up the stairs.

“You came back.” You sighed in relief as he hurried up and he just pulled you right into his arms and you started to cry.

“I’m so sorry. I should never have left you like this, baby.” He sniffled as he kissed your head over and over again. “I love you so much. I love you so fucking much.” He assured you. “I’m not leaving you alone with this, baby.” He said to you and you pulled back a bit to look at him.

“What do you…mean by that?”

“It means that we’re doing this together.” He said to you and you shook your head.

“I can’t…I couldn’t do that to you.” You said to him and he shook his head.

“You’re not doing anything to me, baby. If you’re keeping this baby I am choosing to do this with you. I know it’s going to be hard but I will be there for you every step of the way and love our little babygirl with everything I am. I love you far too much to not see this through with you.” He said and you just broke down and hugged him tight.

You had no words, there was just joy. You knew this would be hard and challenging and even sad at times, but he’d come back to you and he wanted you to stay with him.

“I love you so much, H.” You finally whispered before kissing his lips.

“You’re everything to me, baby. We’re gonna get through this.” He smiled and you smiled.

“Promise?”

“I promise.” He smiled, “It was actually my mum who reminded me that biology had nothing to do with being a great father, so…she doesn’t hate you.” He said and you chuckled through your tears.

“Good, that would’ve definitely been the worst outcome.” You said jokingly and he smiled. “And look, I know that there are a lot of logistics and other things to discuss and I’m still sorting through that mentally, s-so if you can just be a little patient with me while I…get that together in my head I would really appreciate that. I’m still processing that there’s a little person forming in there and it’s kind of…freaky.” You said as you looked up into his eyes and he sputtered on a laugh. You frowned at his reaction, “What?”

“I thought you were going to say it was magical or amazing, not freaky.” He giggled and you did as well.

“Oh…well, I…I don’t feel…happy about it yet.” You confessed to him and this brought on a fresh wave of tears, “I feel like shit about that. Like I’m gonna be a mom, I should be happy, not freaked out, shouldn’t I?” You asked him.

“Not necessarily. You can feel however you want about it, baby.” He assured you, “Especially in this situation, it’s come as a surprise to you. I don’t judge you at all for not feeling happy about this yet, baby.”

“Promise?”

“I swear it.” He promised before pecking your lips again quickly.

“Thank you.” You whispered and he nodded and smile at you.

“Wanna do something to take your mind off of things for a bit?” He asked.

“Like what?”

“We can…sort through the pantry and fridge and see what foods you’ll have an aversion to?” He offered and you smiled and shook your head at his bizarre, yet completely productive suggestion. “I see you trying to hold back your smile.” He teased and you finally gave in.

“That’s the wildest but most genius thing you’ve ever suggested.” You giggled.

“I know. Imagine how smart our kid’s gonna be?! We’ve got this in the bag.” He said confidently.

“You think so?” You asked and he nodded.

“With you as her mum, I know so.” He smiled.

…. 1 YEAR LATER ….

You woke up feeling completely refreshed and renewed. It was absolutely quiet in the house and it was strange to wake up in silence. When you rolled over and looked at your phone you saw it was nearly 10am and shot out of bed. You had no idea how you’d slept in that much! The baby needed to be fed and changed! You hurried over to the nursery already thinking up an apology in your head for Ellie. But when you made it into the nursery it was empty. Harry had some work to do for Pleasing today so you knew he’d be out. Maybe he called someone to come look after the baby? When you passed by his home studio on the way to the kitchen you heard his voice along with others, so you knocked on the door.

“Come in!” He called quickly and you peeked inside and immediately smiled when you saw Harry spin around in the chair with Elara sitting on his lap, she was literally just chilling there while she drooled all over one of the newer nail polishes Pleasing would release soon. He smiled at you over the sounds of whoever was speaking right now. “Hey guys, are we good for today or is there anything else we needed to go over?” He asked with a smile as you waved from the background.

“We’re all good!” You heard and then heard the multiple voices bidding farewell to you and baby Elara before he hung up.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You said to him as you walked into the room to grab her from him.

“It’s alright, baby, we were just chatting a bit.” He assured you, “Weren’t we?” He asked the baby who just ignored him to keep attempting to bite the bottle in her hands before he started to rub at her back.

“I know you had work, you should’ve woken me up.” You said as you kissed his head.

“No way.” He chuckled, “You know, you slept through two whole alarms, you clearly needed the rest. I thought you were dead for second there.” He said with grin and you tutted.

“Don’t even say that.” You scolded.

“You’re right, sorry. Bad joke.” He corrected himself, “But really, my love, I don’t mind doing these launch plan meetings online, it’s none of the fun stuff so.” He shrugged and you smiled, “Besides when I have Ellie on camera everyone is so obsessed with her little smile that they’re so agreeable, so it’s a win-win.” He chuckled and you smirked.

“God forbid the paps see her and exploit her for money, but her own father is exploiting her cuteness for sway in the board room.” You said with a grin and he chuckled.

“Hey, she likes hearing all the commotion too.” He added and you smiled before kissing the top of her head and she sighed and laid over his chest making you both coo. “She finally slept through the night. Sorry you missed it.” He said softly and you chuckled.

“I’m sorry you’re so used to waking up to her crying that you noticed!” You giggled as you raked your fingers through his curls easily and he hummed.

“I don’t mind it. Reminds me that this little cutie is finally here.” He said and you smiled at how sweet he was with her.

“I can’t believe she’ll be six whole months tomorrow.” You said in disbelief.

“I know…S’your half birthday, bub.” He said to her and she just blinked tiredly, "She’s perfect though, isn’t she? Your little twin.” He hummed with pride as he looked down at her and then at you again. You nodded and watched him with her for a few moments.

Harry had nothing but love for baby Elara. He adored her completely. He almost felt silly for being so worried that he wouldn’t bond with her as genuinely as if she were his biological daughter. Once he saw you starting to show and you guys started shopping for the nursery, and picking out baby names, every ounce of doubt he had melted away. That was his daughter in every sense of the word. He had so much love for the both of you that he felt like his heart would burst sometimes.

“I love you so much.” You said to him and he glanced up at you.

“More than Ellie?” He smirked and you chuckled.

“The same, I think.” You hummed and he looked surprised.

“Oh wow, I was expecting a firm no.” He laughed.

“Oh my god…I love you both. It’s a bit different for sure but I somehow get it all to fit in my heart.” You said and he smiled as he stood up.

“Look at her, she’s about to pass out again.” He said as he looked down at the baby.

“I think we should get her back in the crib and have a cuddle. We can watch that show you’ve been pestering me about.” He suggested

“Love is Blind?” You gasped and he nodded.

Soon enough you had washed your face and brushed your teeth, as you did every morning, all while Harry got Ellie down. But he soon joined you in bed as you waited for him to return. He climbed into the bed beside you and like a magnet, you immediately scooted right up against him and kissed him gently, it caught him by surprise.

“Thank you for letting me sleep in, baby. That was exquisite.” You confessed and he smiled and pecked your lips again.

“Of course, baby. Anytime.” He smiled. “I do have a question for you though…when are we going to have another baby?” He asked you and you giggled.

“Ummm, ask me in a year!” You laughed.

“A year?” He scoffed.

“Hey, it’s hard work!” You added and he smiled.

“Yeah, but it’s so worth it, isn’t it?” He asked with a smile and you sighed happily at his response.

“Yeah…” you hummed, “It’s all worth it.” You smiled.

“Our little family makes me so happy, I just want one more.” He said and you glanced into his eyes.

“Just one more.” You agreed and he chuckled.

“Yeah, just one.” He assured you, “So in a year I’ll ask again, okay?”

“Okay.” You sniggered and kissed him quickly again before you got the show going.

You were explaining a little bit about why you were suddenly so interested in this show without trying to give away too much of what you knew had gone down, thanks to your friends and social media. He easily got sucked into the narrative and when you both started commenting as you watched on you just got so happy that you could share something so simple together and then also something as huge and serious as a baby. It made your tummy flutter and swirl with love for him and you then realized that maybe it would be less than a year before you’d be trying for another baby and you were perfectly alright with that.

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