#(that she let paparazzi expose quite easily)

[thissmycomingofage]

That's so weird how I do not care at this point. I do not care if he cheated, I do not care if she cheated, I would even dare to say I do not care if she's happy. Because we're at a point where all that I can bring myself to care about is that she's, you know, dating a racist, antisemitic, sexist and so on and so on kind of person. She made me not care about her happiness, she made me resent her for proclaiming her happiness. She doesn't seem to care so why should I?

[graveyardvalentinee]

hii can you do where reader comes back home crying because of people at work making fun of her and saying bad stuff about her relationship with ney

of course lovely :)) thank you so much for your request !! I’m not sure if by “people at work” you meant her co-workers or customers but I just made it where the customers were being rude.

—————————

consequences / neymar jr

pairing : neymar x reader

When I said yes to Neymar after he asked me be his girlfriend , I didn’t realize all the criticism it would come with.

We met at my job - a jewelry store. He had went in looking to buy a birthday gift for his mom , I just happened to be the only available employee.

I didn’t know who he was at first , until after he had asked for my number and left. My co-worker basically screamed once I told her and she revealed to me who he was.

And after that everything was history between us. He was the best boyfriend I could ever ask for , the best partner I could ever have.

He had his own way of loving , and it’s one of the main things that made fall for him so quickly.

He’s easily a charmer.

On our first couple of dates he would always surprise me with small gestures - flowers , books that I had mentioned I wanted, small jewelry pieces , and much more.

I would always protest and insist how he didn’t have to buy me any of that stuff - that those weren’t the reasons why I accepted to going out with him but he would always brush me off , saying how he wanted to give me all these things.

He showers me with compliments any chance he gets , making me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

I also deeply enjoy his touchy side. Kisses everywhere - no matter where we are or what we’re doing. His hands somewhere on me at all times when we were together. He claims he can’t sleep properly through the night if I’m not there next to him - or wrapped in his arms.

But all that aside - he’s very attentive to me and my feelings.

He always makes my feelings valid , he always insists on talking everything out with me. I don’t think there was ever a time where he’s been unthoughtful towards me.

I was iffy at first - to open up to him about everything but he made me feel so welcome in his embrace , and I easily was able to tell him anything that would be wrong with me.

But today - that all changed. I had never dealt with hatred towards me like this before.

When me and Ney started our relationship I made it clear to him I still wanted to have a normal life - I didn’t want him to expose me to the media.

Sure he would post pictures of us , but none ever showing my face.

We thought we were safe up until 2 weeks ago when the paparazzi took a clear picture of me and ney outside his house.

I tried covering my face once I noticed the paparazzi but it was too late.

The media soon found out who I was through Neymars following - I made the stupid decision of not making my account private.

My co-worker had tagged me in a photo of a work party we had - also tagging the location. I’m guessing that’s how Ney’s die hard fans found my job.

Every day since then it was a lot more busy , people specifically requesting me to take their orders.

When the pictures got out to the public , Ney insisted I quit my job and just let him work for the both us - something he’s been trying to make me do for moths.

But me being me - I told him nothing about his fans going to my job and acted as if the paparazzi spotting us changed nothing in my life.

I now realize that was a stupid mistake.

Earlier today I was helping two girls who had walked in and came straight to me for assistance. One blonde and another brunette , both seeming to be around 16 or 17.

It was all going swell until the questions started.

“So Y/N - how did you manage to snatch Neymar all for yourself ?” The brunette asks.

“I don’t discuss my personal life with customers.” I tried to remain as calm as possible , giving them a small fake smile. This was the first time anyone had actually mentioned our relationship to me.

The brunette looks at her friend , turns back to me and laughs.

“No seriously - are you like a you know service girl of some sorts ?” The blonde asks me now, whispering the last part.

Is this what people think of me?

“Excuse me? I am not!” I fight back , trying to hold back any tears. I have no idea what to do or say.

“Come on , Neymar couldn’t have seriously chosen you for no reason - I mean just look at you. You don’t have much to offer.” The blonde continues , her eyes raking down my figure , gaze filled with disgust.

I shamefully look down. My hands start to shake and no words come out of my mouth.

The girls start to snicker to each other. I can’t make out all the words that their saying because of their low tone but I do hear the words -

“If I knew Neymar went for the first hooker he saw on the street I’d been on that street months ago.”

“Security ! Please escort there two girls out.” I finally get the courage to speak.

“What ? We haven’t done anything! We’re simply shopping for a pair of earrings.” The blonde says , putting on a fake voice.

I look up at our security - Marcus , me and him get along very well and he’s been very aware of all the fans coming in and out of the store.

I mouth a “please” to him , just wanting these girls gone as soon as possible.

“Ladies please do not make me drag you out of the store. The exit is that way.” Marcus firmly says.

The two girls look at me and roll their eyes before walking out of the store.

I grab all of my stuff from the back room and clock out , not caring to warn anyone about me leaving.

I get into my car and rush home. As soon as I step into the house I burst into tears , letting myself fall on the floor.

When I left the store I didn’t even check the time - 5 pm.

The exact time Neymar gets home from practice.

My mind was so fogged with everything that had just occurred I didn’t even have time to notice Neymar on the couch.

His eyes look up and meet mine. He rushes up off the couch and comes to my side.

“Amor what’s wrong ? Por que minha linda garota está chorando?” He softly says holding me in his arms. [why is my pretty girl crying ?]

I’m so dumb. I should have went to my friends house or something instead of coming here. The last thing I wanted was to tell Neymar about the humiliating things they told me at work.

I bring my hands up to my face and wipe my tears off , trying to get out of his tight grasp.

“It’s nothing Ney , I’m fine.”

“Y/N everything is obviously not fine. I’m not letting you go until you tell me what is wrong.”

“I’m serious querido , everything is fine.” I try to get the words out and put a smile on my face but my tears betray me.

My thoughts going back to what those girls said of me , making me cry ever harder.

“Look at me” he whispers.

I look up into his eyes , my vision blurry with tears.

“Take your time amor. I’ll wait here for you to tell me what is wrong , you know I am always here for you. What ever it is you are going thru I won’t leave your side.”

He won’t budge , and it’s no use to keep it in , im sure those girls will upload the conversation we had to the media and Ney will find out one way or another.

“These - these -” I try to get out but more tears end up falling.

“Breathe amor breathe , I’m here for you , I’m right here.” He whispers , kissing my temple.

I take in a deep breath and finally calm myself. Ready to tell Neymar everything that had been happening.

“Ever since the pictures got leaked there’s been more and more customers coming into the store , specifically requesting me to take their orders - I’m sure you can figure out why. Everything was fine tho , no one asked any questions just eyed me a lot and looked very excited to be assisted by me. Until today - these two girls came in and told me the most horrible things.”

I can tell he’s bothered by me not telling him about the customers coming in but I continue before he has a chance to scold me about that.

“They asked me -”

“God. They asked me if I was your whore. They said I had to be a worker in that department of some sort because there’s no way you’d choose me out of thousands of girls.”

“Y/N -”

“Before you get mad at me for not telling you about all the people coming into my job , I’m sorry I really am - I should have spoked up earlier. I now see you are right about the whole quitting my job thing.”

“Meu amor I could never be mad at you , specially over something like that.” He begins

“What those girls said is no where near true and we both know it. You know why I chose you-”

“Do I really know why tho? Why did you chose me Neymar? You could have any woman you want.” I interrupt , a wave of insecurity going over me.

He drops his arms from around me and helps me to stand up , walking me over to the couch. He sits down and grabs my arms causing me to straddle his lap ,bringing one of his hands up to the side of my neck and letting the other rest on the outside of my thigh. Reaching up he gives my forehead , cheeks , and lips a small kiss before speaking -

“I chose you because when I walked into that jewelry store my eyes went straight to you. I could not take my mind off of you for the next week after that. I had to make you mines. I found any stupid excuse to go back there and just speak to you.”

“You have changed my life im so many unexplainable ways Y/N. There’s no other woman that I could ever dream of when I have you right here - all for me. You are the light of my life. I love and adore every single thing about you , you have bewitched me mind and soul.”

“I like to believe you were made just for me because there is no other woman on this earth that can make me go crazy like you. I will continue to show you-”

He leans forward laying gentle kisses on my neck.

“Every single day-”

His hand on my thigh starts slowly finding its way to my clothed center.

All my thoughts from what those girls told me earlier completely vanished , my focus now being on Neymar’s words and his hands making every inch of my body hot with desire.

I can tell he’s doing this to take my mind off things and it’s definitely working.

“That you are -”

I can feel his hard on under me so I decide to move forward - just a bit to tease him.

“The most utterly breathtaking-”

His hand at my neck now making its way to my behind , giving it a tight squeeze , causing me to roll my hips forward onto him again.

“And perfect woman for me.”

His face comes up from my neck before he smashes his lips on mine , i kiss him back immediately with everything in me.

I pull away to look him in the eyes and wrap my hands around his neck.

“I’m tired of us hiding linda. Eu te amo , e você merece ser mostrada como a beleza que você é.” [I love you and you deserve to be shown of like the beauty you are]

“Eu te amo mais.” I say back pecking his lips.

“And okay amor you win. But I’m really going to miss our privacy time together.” I add.

His hand leaves my center and comes up to my behind , giving me a squeeze before picking me up , causing me to squeal.

“We can have privacy time all the time princesa, just give me a heads up , the answer is always yes.” He says smirking before carrying me up the stairs while ripping off all my clothes.

“You’re crazy Ney.”

“Only for you meu amor.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a/n : okay first off - i had to use the pride and prejudice quote i just had to. i know it’s definitely not something ney would say but this is all fiction so let’s imagine like he would lolll.

also i feel like i drag out these imagines a little too long or i go a lot into detail , that’s how i like my writing but if you guys do feel like their a bit long please let me know and ill make them short or if you guys enjoy them this length or even want them longer please let me know.

finally thank you again for who ever sent in this request i really appreciate you taking interest in my writing and thank you guys so much for 100 followers ♡

[cherrykindness]

wild tweets |

pairing: Harry Styles x Actress!Reader

summary: as newlyweds, you and harry read thirsty comments for buzzfeed.

warning: it's thirsty tweets, so below there is adult humor 😳

"It's a bright, sunny morning in Los Angeles, and there's nothing I want more than to be on BuzzFeed and read wild tweets alongside my husband."

"Thirsty tweets, babe." Harry corrected, laughing out loud with the producers behind the cameras.

"Thirsty Tweets." You said quickly, putting your hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle. "I'm terrible at that, I'm sorry. Can we start over?"

"Let's take a break for one to two minutes. You've given us a great introduction, Y/N."

You shook your head, smiling shyly before turning to Harry, who was already watching you with that easy smile at the corner of his lips. You liked how his hand remained firmly on yours, making those circular movements with the thumb that always served as a natural medice for your anxiety.

"You look so fucking beautiful."

The pleated dress with flounce sleeves fit you like a glove. You had made peace with the various shades of white since the wedding and knew that Harry liked to see you in that color too.

"Thank you, you're not too bad either, Styles."

You intimately suspected that Harry would always seem far beyond that "not bad" that came out as a euphemism from your mouth. He wore nothing but a pair of bell-bottom pants in a strong shade of blue and a soft vest printed with fluffy little sheep on a striped American collared shirt - in your opinion, no one could look better in farm animal clothing than Harry Styles and Princess Diana with her red "Black Sheep" sweater in the 1980s. In contrast, you knew your husband well enough to know that he was arrogant and knew exactly how hot he looked - you also made your thoughts clear enough when you kept him backstage beyond ten minutes in a rather heated kissing session.

"Are you anxious?" you asked curiously, remaining with downcast eyes fixed on the strokes that remained assiduous on your warm skin. "To read about how the whole internet dreams of fucking my wife?! Of course." Harry joked, leaning over to leave a small one on your cheek. "We agree on that, don't we? Although I'm a little nervous, I'm really interested to know all the crazy things they say about you. Everyone knows you're mine at the end of the day, that's enough."

At the end of the break, you and Harry made a silent agreement that you should be the first to pick up one of the scattered papers in the red pot. There were quite a significant amount of tweets, and as much as you were used to reading rather sordid things about your husband on the Internet, the excitement was there as if you were wading into uncharted territory.

"I would be a good girl all year round if Santa guaranteed me a threesome with Harry and Y/N Styles on Christmas Eve." You laughed, Harry staring at the camera with an expression close to the meme of the surprised Pikachu. "You guys are incredibly nasty, I love it."

"If that was the first one, I'm really worried about the next ones." Harry commented with a little corner smile, picking the next tweet out of the bucket. "I have an entire folder on Pinterest dedicated to Harry Styles' hands, and let me tell you why: those hands are art, and art needs to be recognized."

"What- Guys, you promised you wouldn't post my anonymous tweets here." You quipped with false reproach, laughing at your own stupid joke while everyone else in the studio did the same. "But I can't blame her, honestly." Shaking your shoulders, you opened another piece of paper. "Harry Styles finally confessed that he wrote Watermelon Sugar for Y/N!!!! Are you guys imagining the same thing as me?!!!!!! 🥵🍆💦"

"Exhausted emoji, eggplant emoji, and water emoji?" Harry frowned, staring at the tweet you held up. "I imagine you're in need of a vacation somewhere refreshing and you're craving a fruit that everyone eats like it's really a vegetable."

"That reminded me of that story-" You laughed, hiding your face on the table as Harry continued to offer a poker face to the camera, struggling not to keep up with you laughter. "I'm sorry, lovie, I have to share this with the rest of the world." You stated, wiping a few tears from the corner of your eyes. "Harry always wears those fancy suits to concerts, right?! Right! Turns out he looks really hot in some, like his ass molds perfectly into those tight pants and everything. I was home that night because I wasn't feeling well enough to face the big crowds, but I was still following everything on twitter. It was a concert in London, not so far from where we lived at the time, so it was obvious that he would come home after it was over. I follow some portals that do really fast updates of pictures, videos, etc; everything that happened at Harry's concert was on my timeline in a matter of seconds. When one of these profiles uploaded a picture of him with his back to the camera in a heavily accentuated black and white suit, I quickly sent him the image along with a peach emoji and then wrote "looks good tonight". He didn't reply to me until a few hours later, of course, but I obviously didn't expect a "ready for a Fifth Avenue peach salad for dinner?" and numerous cutlery emojis."

Harry rolled his eyes comically, indulging in laughter as did everyone else who occupied the backstage area.

"I'm against the eroticization of emojis." He said between uncompensated breaths, shaking his head negatively. "Let's go to the next ones, please, I'm already feeling exposed enough here."

"I like your old-fashioned spirit, baby." You assured him with a smile, laying on the sturdy shoulder hidden under the fluffy fabric.

Harry chuckled low, leaving a little kiss on the top of your head before selecting the next paper. The fans would die when that video aired, everyone was sure. You two easily forgot the cameras when you were side by side, and the public display of affection had never been a problem.

"My life mission is to look at someone the way Harry looks at Y/N and be reciprocated the way Y/N looks at Harry, then I could die happy." Harry read. "That was very good and healthy, thank you!" He smiled. "But don't settle for death in that case, please. Just make sure to keep that person around forever."

"Awn, we got so sweet now." You made a pout. "Thank you for sending us something so cute! I really hope you find the right person soon." Sending a kiss to the camera, you moved on to the next tweet. "I wouldn't want to get a golden ticket to visit Willy Wonka's factory, I would like to get a golden ticket to actively participate in Y/N and Harry Styles' Honeymoon.

"That was creative, so I will disregard the fact that you removed my last name from my wife's name." Harry joked.

"I will always be an Y/L/N." You flashed the tongue. "We had a great Honeymoon, but I know you guys already know all about it because there are pictures all over the internet of outings that I don't even remember existed."

"Even though we chose a rather reserved city, many paparazzi still managed to photograph some of our nights there." Harry agreed. "There was one particular day when we opted to have dinner at a restaurant near the beach. Y/N had found it even before the trip, it was pretty laid back and we could spend the evening at karaoke. I don't really remember what happened, but we woke up the next day with a terrible hangover, still wearing the clothes from the dinner and with several headlines saying that I was cheating on my wife in the middle of our Honeymoon with a blue-haired italian girl."

"That wig made me sexy, man." You blinked, laughing as you remembered the situation. "It's a shame the paparazzi only got low quality images, but I swear I looked really amazing that night. Italy, I miss you."

"We're coming to the end and I haven't had to ask production for a glass of water yet, thank you to whoever selected these tweets." Harry raised his thumb to the camera, smiling before turning his gaze back to the small paper he had chosen. "Y/N could literally punch me in the face and I would just bow down and thank them for it." He laughed. "She has heavy hands, so I would rethink that choice."

"It takes strong hands to be a superheroine." You blinked gracefully, referring to your works as a Marvel actress. "I move around a lot during the night, so I'll take this lovely opportunity to say that twitter can dismiss all the malicious theories about Harry always show up with a new bruise all over his body."

"Please stop making indecent assumptions while Y/N is aggressive with me at night only unconsciously, her father has access to social media."

You laughed, clearing your throat before reading the next obscenity aloud.

"I would sell all my possessions to have Y/N sitting on my lap for ten seconds."

"Oh my God." Harry laughed out loud, throwing his head back. "I should have said that in our wedding vows."

You shook your head, laughing low as you set the tweet aside.

"That was pretty funny and cheeky, I approve."

"Okay, looks like we finally got to the last one." Harry announced, waving the paper in the air dramatically before opening it. "Harry could literally crush me with those boots while fuc- I need that glass of water." He said dumbfounded, hiding his face between his hands after throwing the tweet over his shoulder. You laughed out loud next to the organizers, and meanwhile Harry leaned his head on your bust, staring at you still with wide eyes. "Please promise that we will be careful with our future children on the internet."

[fromyourstrulyh]

such an actress.

A/N: A gift from me to you. Not proofread. Enjoy. 💕

— • — • — • —

“Y/N, love, thank you so much for coming over for dinner. I’m glad you had a wonderful time!” Anne exclaims.

You and Harry spent the night of your birthday at his mum’s in England, where she invited the two of you for dinner, a tradition the Styles family take very seriously. Anne insisted that you come too and, well, you simply couldn’t refuse an offer like that; meeting Anne and Gemma while feasting on foods that made your mouth water when you heard what was on the menu for the night. You were, quite frankly, more than satisfied and you couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend your birthday. Except you were feeling a bit homesick but you’re also grateful you spent some quality time with Harry and his family.

You were also craving for other things. Donned in his all black suit, a bit too formal for the occasion of having a simple dinner with his family on your birthday, formal casual was never his style. It was either formal or casual, there’s no in between. Seeing him all dressed up turned you on from the moment he showed up to your front door. Deep down, you wished you took him inside your place and let him have you the way he would see fit. But you knew he isn’t one to change plans so easily. So you thought to yourself that maybe you can get through the dinner without your thoughts becoming too spicy.

But then again, with him looking so deliciously handsome, you couldn’t help your thoughts. It was simple, really. Your mind went from thinking about how delicious the food Anne made was to how you want Harry to fuck you in the backseat of his car. More specifically, his white Mercedes convertible. You dreamt of it for so long but you could never admit it to Harry. But hey, one can dream, right?

“Of course! I enjoyed dinner. I really appreciate it.” You immediately reply.

“‘S not a problem, really! I appreciate your help in the kitchen too. Harry almost never helps me out which is a bummer.”

At that, you chuckle to yourself knowing damn well the reason he didn’t want to is because he didn’t want anything (and you mean, anything) to ruin his suit. You can’t blame him for wanting to look so good for the night.

But right now, you just want him to take you in the backseat of the convertible. It’s just a matter of using the right strategy to get there but, let’s be honest, it doesn’t take a lot.

The moment you and Harry enter the car, you gently tug on the sleeve of his blazer to get his attention before your mouth meets his. He softly sighs against your lips before he kisses you back. You almost melt at the softness. It doesn’t take long before things become steamy.

You tug onto the lapels of his blazer to pull you closer while Harry wraps an arm around your waist to get you as close to him as you can be. You shiver at the cool outside breeze and the contrasting heat from his skin. Even the smallest touches makes your skin heat up and Harry knows just how powerful of an effect his touch can have. You feel his growing smirk against your lips, knowing exactly what he’s thinking.

“H, please, let’s go home.” You mutter after pulling away from him slightly to get some air.

“Mm, sounds like a lovely idea. Can’t wait to absolutely ruin you behind closed doors.”

You gasp at his words and the feeling of his hand gripping your hip. You feel some dampness in the apex of your legs, the excitement of him giving into your needs growing.

Harry pulls away from you completely and you feel almost touch starved. You just want his hands on you already and you don’t know if you can really wait until you get home, now that you think of it.

You feel dizzy, the lightheadedness is likely to come from the alcohol you consumed or the kiss you just shared. Regardless, you have never felt more ready to see where the night takes you. Once the two of you buckle up, Harry starts the car.

“Ready?”

It was such a simple question but it has so much meaning. Not finding it in you to reply, you simply nod. “Mhmm.”

Minutes have passed and the car ride so far was nothing but silent. It was a comfortable silence. It was peaceful yet you also feel the adrenaline rush coursing through your veins. The ever growing tension could be cut with a knife.

You clear your throat to get Harry’s attention once again. “You know, you never got me a present.” You say.

“A present? Well, there anything in particular you want for your birthday?”

For you to pull over and fuck me in the backseat, please.

“Erm...no. Nothing I can think of.”

“Well, if you think of anything, just let me know. Yeah?” He mumbles as he takes a hand from the steering wheel to hold your thigh.

It probably didn’t mean much but you feel yourself becoming tense. His hand is close to feeling your wetness. You hope he can’t tell.

Harry looks over again at you before he speaks up. “Everything okay?”

You try to play it cool before you reply “Yeah, all good.”

Silence.

“Actually, do you think you can pull over? There’s something I need you to do.”

“Now? Sure it can’t wait?” Harry inquires.

You nod your head a little too eagerly. “Alright. I’ll find somewhere safe to pull over.”

Another few minutes pass and the next thing you knew, you’re parked in an almost empty parking lot to a store that’s just about to close. Harry parks the car in an empty corner of the lot for a bit of privacy and to avoid any paparazzi lurking around to expose his whereabouts for the night.

“Alright, what did you ne—“

You interrupt his question just to tug him to you, crashing your lips onto his once again. It takes a second but after the initial shock has passed, Harry kisses you back with just as much fervor. The air around you almost immediately heats up despite it being cold outside and you can’t help but moan at the contrast of the heat and coolness around you.

You pull away from his lips to get some air, far enough to get some air but close enough that your lips are just barely ghosting over his.

“Backseat.” You whisper.

In record time, Harry opens the driver seat door and runs around to the passenger side to open the door for you. He puts out his hand for you to take. You accept it and the two of you make your way to the backseat after you leave the front of the car. In the midst of it all, he is still a gentleman.

The moment the door closes and Harry gets settled in the backseat with you on his lap, your knees pressing on either side of his thighs, you resume with your previous activities. With him below you, you realize you have the upper hand having just a bit more control. And with that in mind, you grind your pelvis on his to test the waters and he groans at the sensation. Today is one of the few occasions you’re grateful for wearing a dress, particularly the black satin dress Harry has been begging you to wear since the day he bought it for you. You were always hesitant to wear it considering it was something outside your comfort zone. But you’re so glad you decided to wear it today.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so wet. Can feel ya on my trousers.” Harry moans.

You don’t say anything back. Instead, you grind on him once more and you feel both of his hands grip your hips so that they hold still. His hold on your hips is so hard you already feel the bruises forming the next morning.

“This what you wanted? Hm? This why you wanted me to pull over?”

Not being able to form words, you nod your head vigorously. You dip your head down to place kisses on his neck. Before you know it, you feel a tug on your hair (which is conveniently put up in a ponytail), forcing you to make eye contact with Harry. You moan at the slight dominance he established over you.

“I’m going to ask you again. Is this why you wanted me to pull over?” Harry asks, voice deep and rough.

“Y-yes.” You whine. You watch as another smirk forms on his face. You crash your lips onto his for the thousandth time that night at the same time grinding yourself on him, letting him know exactly what you want.

“Mmm if only everyone knew how fuckkng filthy you are for me. So sweet when really you’re just on your knees like this, begging for my cock to be inside your pussy. My pussy.” He groans.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you drag your hands to the belt buckle of his pants, quickly unbuckling his pants.

Harry watches you adoringly as you hurriedly remove his belt and pull his pants down just enough to tug him out.

You hear him groan at the relief of not being constricted by his pants. You stroke his hard-on with your hand once, then twice. Harry whines impatiently, lifting his hips up to meet your hand to get more.

Before he can ask, you pull your black lace underwear to the side (which is soaked at this point). You line up his tip to your entrance, slowly taking him in inch by inch. You both sigh at the pleasure. Once Harry is completely buried in you and you’re sat comfortably on his lap, you lift your hips until the tip is just barely inside of you before sitting back down again.

“Oh...fuck...” you say. “Shit, feels so good.”

“Yeah? Feel so snug and warm. I could stay inside of yeh forever if I could.”

The combination of him inside you and his words made you shiver. Nothing but moans, Harry’s name, and profanities tumble out of your mouth, as if they’re the only words you know. You throw head back in pleasure and Harry takes the opportunity to bury his face into your neck, kissing your sweet spot there.

“Oh my...fuck yes Harry. Just like that, please. Best birthday present I could ever ask for.

“Yeah? Having my cock inside yeh? Was going to surprise you with your present at home but someone got too excited.”

You moan at the thought. “Mmm...I’m sorry I—I just thought you looked so fucking good tonight. I can’t help it. I need you.”

At this, you feel Harry move faster, thrusting in and out of you. Harry wraps his arms around you to hold you still while he thrusts his hips up into you. The feeling makes you groan louder and louder, not giving any care in the world if any outsiders hear you. It’s the last thing on your mind: worrying if you could be heard.

You feel one of Harry’s hands makes its way up to your shoulder, tugging on the strap of your dress. You shiver when you realize he pulled down the top of dress enough for one of your bare breasts to be exposed to the outside cool air, making your nipple harden. You feel his mouth travel down to your collarbone, placing a kiss there, before finally reaching your chest, taking your exposed nipple in hi mouth.

Looking up at you, he tugs your hair once more, making your eyes once again meet his. The sensation of him inside you, thrusting in and out, and the intense eye contact is making your stomach coil, a telltale sign that you are close to coming. You gasp when you feel his fingers pinch your nipple.

“C-close. I’m so close. I’m going to cum, Harry. Please let me cum.”

Harry speeds up his thrusts, getting you closer and closer to crashing down from your release. You focus on getting yourself to your release but you just needed one more push.

As if he read your mind, Harry drags his hand that was on your chest down to the apex of your thighs, his slightly calloused fingertips meeting your clit. You jolt at the sensation of his fingers rubbing hard and fast circles on your clit, just where you need it.

“Cum.”

It was a simple command and it was all you needed to push yourself over the edge. Once you came down from your high, and you brought yourself back down to earth, the two of you just stayed there, in the backseat of the Mercedes. The white leather seats probably stained from the sex and sweat but neither of you caring. Just the two of you in each other’s arms, with your head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat rhythmically.

After a few moments, you remove your head from his chest to look up at him. You see him already looking down at you.

“Thank you.” You whisper, your voice coarse and dry.

“Mmm...you’re welcome,” he says as places a kiss on your forehead. “That was only a sneak peek. Your real present is waiting for you at home.”

[bigspoonstyles]

lesson learned

pairing: Harry x OC (unnamed)  challenge: @meetmeinfleetwood‘s to lovers fic challenge -> exes to lovers

warnings: the beginnings of maybe smut? 

In his near thirty years of life, Harry has admittedly fallen victim to many a fleeting lifestyle phase, and he’s decided the club scene is one he’s tired of. The music is loud, the drinks are weak, and even for a post pandemic world there are far too many people for his liking.

He’s sitting in what once was his usual booth in the corner of The Nice Guy and the ice in his tequila is melting quickly, the crystal tumbler too warm in his hands. Harry’s eyes fall to the far side of the makeshift dance floor once again and he willingly accepts that he could never tire of her.

He’s caught her eye only once but is more than happy to just watch, their last run-in awkward and stale and over a year ago. She’s been quiet the past year, having gone off the grid for most of quarantine citing in one of the few interviews she’d given, her choice to ‘live in the moment’.

And god, he’s missed her.

She, like Harry, would prefer to live without constant public scrutiny, but while they’ve both gone through great lengths to protect their privacy and relationships, he knows being sequestered has been hard on her. He recalls the last time she’d locked away with Harry in his LA home, accessible to only each other and the select few who were allowed through their phones’ Do Not Disturb feature, and his lips tip into a small smile. Their dishes littered his sink for days, her toothbrush leaned against his on his bathroom counter. There was a wet spot that adorned his right shoulder nearly every night after she’d fallen asleep mid-movie, freshly showered. But he knows the sore difference between waking up each morning wrapped around her with his face buried in her hair, and a yearlong forced isolation, very much alone.

He watches as she closes her eyes, arms above her head and face to the ceiling, laughing, dancing around the elite group with which she’d arrived. Judging by the way she moves carelessly through the crowds of people, he knows she’s feeling confident. She feels beautiful. She’s not worried that she’s laughing too loudly or taking up too much space, and he suddenly finds himself grateful for the few people who’ve kept her trust and privacy despite her climb to fame; even if they were the same friends he found quite insufferable to be around.

He downs the last of his drink before Jeff joins the table, phone in hand, answering his final email of the evening. “Ready to head out, man?” he calls out over the music. “Glenne’s home and I’m not inclined to keep her waiting too long.”

Harry grins knowing if he were in Jeff’s shoes, new bride waiting up into the early morning hours, he’d have already called the evening. But there’s no one waiting. So he shakes his head no and returns his gaze to the center floor; to his dismay, she’s gone.

Jeff follows his eye line and hides a smile. “She’s by the bar,” he points to the L shaped marbled counter top to their left.

Harry spots her right away, back to him, pulling her wavy locks into a mock ponytail and away from the back of her neck. Her friends lean in for hugs goodbye and she’s left alone waiting for the bartender to return with a drink – a fruit infused vodka soda no doubt. “I think I’m saying fo’ a bit,” he answers without breaking gaze. “Can call a car.”

Jeff returns attention to his phone, forwarding Harry the number of a newly contracted car service. “Ted’s on call tonight. Just call when you’re ready. They’re all vetted and they’ve signed the privacy agreements.”

Harry throws a quick final glance to the table and booth and makes his way to the bar with his empty glass.

He arrives just as the bartender slides her drink across the counter, adorned with a skewer of colorful fruit and a fuchsia blossom garnish. She accepts with a smile and her eyes close in appreciation as she sips from the side of the glass. Harry bites the inside of his cheek to stop from remarking when the bartender lingers longer than he deems acceptable. With a palm to the warm, exposed skin of her lower back, he gets his point across and the man disappears to the back with an armful of nearly empty liquor bottles.

She turns slowly and tilts her head as she faces him, clearly unsurprised by the hand lingering at her side or the man attached to it. “Hey,” she offers quietly with a half-smile. “Wondered how long it’d take you.”

Her cheeks are tinged pink and expression glassy, and he pulls out a chair gesturing for her to sit. She has rarely over-indulged in alcohol publicly for obvious reasons, but he’s always found it endearing when she’s had just one too many. He liked her happy and carefree. And honest.

“Left alone, eh?” his head bobs toward the front entrance.

“Yeah,” she sighs, sagging slightly into the seat. “They’re headed downtown,” her thumb juts toward the Fairfax District, “and I’m staying down by the Marina.” She pulls the dark petals from her garnish distractedly. “Headed back to New York tomorrow. It’s just easier.”

“’t’s a good half hour ride,” Harry glances at his watch. “Leaving soon? Someone comin’ for yeh?”  

She smiles into her drink at his concern. He’s genuine, and she gazes up fondly, finding his brows knit together awaiting an answer. “I’ll call a car in a few. Don’t worry about me, H.” She straightens and smooths out the creases in her cotton dress. “I’m sure I can get myself back to the apartment just fine.”

“But can you get up the stairs?” he asks, only half-jokingly. His arms reach easily out to steady her as she loses footing, his left hand returning to the small of her back, his right gently cupped under her elbow. He clears his throat to conceal his smile when she gazes up at him sheepishly. “What time is your flight?”

“Two, I think.” Her answer lacks conviction, eyes narrow in concentration. “Either two or two-thirty.”

“Could come home with me,” he shrugs. “Only a few minutes from here, ‘nd could get yeh back with plenty of time to catch your flight.” He ushers her closer as patrons abandon their stools and head for the exit. When he gazes down at her, she’s worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “Come on,” he urges, hands coming up quickly to her eye level, fingers outstretched to show a hands-off approach. “Can take the couch if you want.”

She laughs airily, smacking his chest with the back of her hand. “An empty offer from a man with two guest suites.” She finds it harder to keep balance in her heeled shoes and uses Harry’s left arm to steady herself. “If you could just get me into a car, I’ll be ok.”

Harry’s lips turn into a thin line, and he shakes his head in refusal. “Not shovin’ yeh in a car alone. ‘t’s up to you – my place or yours?”

She looks up at him through heavy lids and a slightly fuzzier mind than when she had embarked on this conversation. A part of her is instantly relieved by his straightened back and hardened features. He’s always been on the right side of overprotective and she knows she’s nothing but safe with him.

But there’s an innate fear that causes her chest to tighten and her eyes dart towards the door. “They can’t see, H,” she whispers, unease seeping through her tone.

He knows that the idea of walking with him through the throng of paparazzi just outside the entrance is enough to cause a breakdown and, even without seeing the panic set in her eyes, he’s already fishing his phone out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket. “’ll take care of it, pet,” he says slowly.

And she believes him.

Harry slips her through a rarely used back door, his jacket stripped from his back and used to shield her from prying eyes, just in case. He holds the back door of the black SUV open and guides her into the plush seat, relaxing only once fully shielded by the black tinted windows.

She tucks herself into his side, head lolled against his shoulder; his right arm stretches out behind her, hand gripping her would-he head rest. She accepts the water bottle he pushes on her but forgoes drinking from it, afraid the inevitable spill would give away how dizzy she truly feels.

Harry helps their driver navigate the back streets to ensure the fastest way to his place, silently checking on the girl curled into him, knees knocking with each pothole and turn.

“Look pretty tonight,” he murmurs in her direction. “Always liked this dress.” He musses the soft fabric of her skirt between his fingers. His right arm abandons the back seat to fall against her shoulders, pulling her in just close enough that he can smell her. He welcomes the scent, inhaling deeply, but it’s an unsolicited reminder that it���s been long washed from his sheets, and his life, for well over a year.

“I know,” she smiles, eyes still closed. “Took a shot.”

His chest vibrates with deep laughter, “Minx,” he accuses playfully. “Not quite playing fair, eh?”

She can feel his eyes on her, but she’s far too tired to even think about moving. “I’m sorry, H,” she whispers. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. Said we’d call.”

“Both did,” he answers gruffly. “Phone works both ways.”

She smiles dreamily. “I never said congratulations. The Grammys?” She wraps her arm around his waist and nuzzles in a bit closer. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’m so proud of you.”

His cheek rest atop her head, “I know.”

“If I’d called,” she asks into his chest, “would you have answered?”

His mouth falls open in shock. “Hey,” he tilts her head up to meet his gaze. “Of course I’d answer.”

He’s staring down at her in disbelief, and she feels so small, nerves getting the best of her; she’s afraid she’s started a conversation she’s not ready to have. At least - not in the backseat of a foreign SUV, plastered against him, her palms burning to feel his skin through his thin button down.

His lips are slightly parted into a pout and he looks determined to get something out of her, but she chooses instead to let her eyes fall to the two black swallows that peek out from behind his collar. “You can’t kiss me,” she says tiredly. Her head lolls back against him silently cursing herself.

She’s a coward.  

“Never said I wanted to, love.” His attention turns to the streetlights through the light-blocked window. His grip on her however, doesn’t falter.

“I wanted you to,” she sighs softly, her face burying back into his side.

But it’s just loud enough to make him feel like a proper dick.

___________________

She wakes up warm, the sun seeping through the thick open slats of the faux wood blinds, and in soft sheets that glide across her bare skin like silk. Her head doesn’t throb as she’d expected, but she imagines it’s because of the aspirin and nearly empty bottle of water she finds on the bedside table. No doubt Harry had coaxed her to take pre-emptive measures before putting her to bed. She can almost hear him softly begging, “For me?”

She takes in the room, her dress neatly hung on the back of the bedroom door, and takes stock of her current state. She’s dressed in a pair of her old boxer shorts, and a long-sleeved henley, both of which she recognizes as garb she’s long ago stolen from Harry. She smiles to herself as she picks at the small wear holes scattered around the checkered flannel fabric; she’d worn these boxers almost nightly for months.

After a full body stretch and check of the time, she begrudgingly abandons the sheets in search of her phone and hopefully a much-needed shower. She finds her phone charging on Harry’s bureau propped up against the small crystal dish that holds his most commonly worn rings. There are too many notifications on her lock screen to worry about, but the most recent one is a text from Harry.

Don’t leave. Getting coffee. Be back soon.

-          H

She rolls her eyes at his automatic signature, as if anyone he’s texting doesn’t have him programmed in their phone; she leaves the myriad of other messages unread. Her flight doesn’t board for hours, so she justifies taking advantage of Harry’s water pressure would be time well spent.

There’s a small pile of folded clothes on the bathroom sink counter, the shirt Harry’s, but the shorts hers. Clean towels are hung by the shower head.

His shower is as amazing as she remembers, the hot water beating out kinks in her neck that she swears have been there for months. His facewash and hair products are readily available for use at the corner of the tub basin and she revels in the smell. Everything he owns is luxurious, down to the lather of his shampoo. She had always been grateful that when her time was split between the east and west coasts she’d never worried about traveling with self-care products.

In truth, she’d never felt more cared for than when she was with Harry.

She hears the front door close and the faint beep of the perimeter alarm arm from the en suite, so she dries off and dresses quickly, joining him in the kitchen still squeezing her hair dry with a fluffy white towel. When she sees him dressed casually, bustling barefoot around the kitchen island with iced coffee and a to-go bag with what she assumes carries breakfast options, her breath hitches. His hair is still damp from a shower and a stubborn curl is threatening to spill into his face.

“Thank you,” she says reading the printed tag on her cup; the milk and sweetener options are right down to a t. She tosses her wet towel on the back of a tall kitchen chair, opting to hoist herself onto the bare counter space to the right of the sink, blessed coffee in hand.  

“Sleep ok?”, he asks, moving to wash his hands.

“Very,” she sighs, arching her back in search of that desired pop to relieve her lower back tension. “Miss that bed.” Her eyes widen the second the words leave her mouth, and she nearly chokes. “Sorry,” she mumbles, completely flush with embarrassment.

Harry shrugs it off with a chuckle, “It’s a good bed. Cost a small fortune.”

“Is that breakfast?” she asks, desperate for a subject change. “I’m starving. I completely skipped dinner,” she admits.

“It is,” he confirms. “Guess that explains a bit about last night then?”

“Too much pregaming and not enough carbs,” she groans. Her eyes follow his hands as he dries them on a white dish towel, paying close attention to the rings adorning his fingers. “Will I ever learn?” she feigns exasperation.

“And who’s gonna drag you home from your late nights back in New York, hmm?”

She breaks her gaze to roll her eyes, “I’ll be fine, H.” She takes to absently chewing her straw as he rests a hip against the counter to her left. “Been on my own for bit.”

He sees her face fall at the mention of her sole failed relationship since Harry. “I heard,” he discloses. “’M sorry. What happened?”

Her eyes narrow and she tries scrutinizing his motives, but she knows he’s never been insincere. “Didn’t want the same things, I guess,” she shrugs. “You know, marriage, kids. Important things.”

Harry’s jaw clenches, bitter, knowing he’d quite literally run to the altar if she’d let him. “He’s an idiot. He’ll figure it out soon enough.”

Her eyes fly up to his, mouth slightly open. “Wait no,” she denies. “Not him. Me – I didn’t want,” she pauses in search for the right words, but fails on an awkward huff. “I didn’t want those things.”

“Since when?” he challenges. “I distinctly remember agreeing to a ‘no bolo tie’ rule not that long ago.” He’s teasing, but she’s white knuckling the counter’s edge and completely ready to run. He moves to block her exit, unwilling to let her take an easy out, stance wide and demanding.

His head dips low enough to catch her eye and she looks defeated. “With him, I guess,” she whispers. “Didn’t want those things with him.”

Harry exhales loudly, but when she peers up at him his face is soft and searching. “What’s the plan in New York? Back to work?”

“No plans,” she concedes. Her legs uncross, a once silent invitation for Harry to join her, and she adjusts herself to sit straighter. Taller. “I’ve got a dinner planned next Wednesday with management. Just in time to get reamed for whatever pictures surface from last night, I’m sure.”

“No paps,” Harry shakes his head with confidence. “Called Jeff. Made sure there’s nothing comin’ down the line. ‘S all good.”

She stares at him with admiration, overwhelmed by the gesture. She slowly extends her hands, palms up, in a token of appreciation. He eagerly accepts, taking a single stride into her cautious embrace; she’d always fallen short with verbal expression, but Harry had never been one to deny her physical touch. “Thank you,” she smiles softly, her hands slowly inching up the tanned skin of his forearms, her glossy, pale nails stopping just short of his tattoos. “I think I should get going, though,” she stammers. “Still have to pack up my stuff, and my stuff is everywhere.” She nervously runs her fingers through her damp locks and clicks her tongue as she works out a knot. “I’ll take a bagel for the road though,” she winks.

“Could stay,” he offers lowly. Harry watches as her breathing goes shallow and he tenses. If she denies him now, it just might kill him. “Said you hadn’t any real plans, so, could stay…if you wanted.”

She’s acutely aware that his face is inching closer to hers, and she blinks slowly as his hands grip the counter on either side of her, taking the final step between her parted knees. “You want me to stay?” she asks quietly.

“Not really a fair question,” he counters. “Didn’t exactly want you to leave in the first place, now did I?”

She lets her gaze follow her hands to his chest with a sigh. “That’s not fair, H,” she argues gently. “It wasn’t working. It was too much.”

“Could be different now. Could be better.”

“You think?” she questions, her bottom lip tucked behind her front teeth. “How?”

“Been talking to Cass, have loads of ideas,” he beams proudly. His therapist had been his saving grace during the pandemic; he’d mostly done phone meetings with her, but they’d had a limited number of in person meets.

“You still talk to Cassie?”

“Not as much since things have gone back to normal, but I make time to call her a few times a month.” Harry had always been open about his self-help regimens, therapy included. “Like that wet towel on my chair,” he shrugs his shoulders coolly, “no big deal. Leave it there. See if I care.”

“Oh yeah? You like that?” she laughs as he nods excitedly. “If you like that, you should go look at the bed I didn’t make.” She throws her head back in laughter, wincing only slightly when it collides with the wooden cabinet door behind her.

Harry’s hand flies up to soothe the sting at her crown, callused fingers massaging away any hurt. “Could stay,” he repeats, fingers slowing. His other hand tucks the stray hair behind her ear and his fingers linger on the delicate skin above her collarbone. “Could stay with me.”

Every part of her is waiting to be kissed, her eyes closing slowly, and Harry drops his mouth to hers with the lightest of kisses. She accepts with a smile, making no moves to deepen it, but her hands reach up to clasp together at the nape of his neck, fingers playing with the baby curls he’s been growing out for months. He drops a final light peck to the corner of her mouth before slowly moving downwards, her head falling back further into his hand allowing him ample access to kiss the soft skin on the column of her throat.

She mewls and it encourages him further, and he finds the soft spot below her ear where he can feel her pulse quicken against his lips. “Shut up,” she gasps when he smiles against her, his day old stubble the dead giveaway.

When he kisses her again, she lets him into her mouth on a hum, but Harry pulls away suddenly with a quirked brow and a cheeky grin. “Did you use my toothbrush?”

She opens her mouth to counter, but just buries her face in her hands in embarrassment. “My teeth were filmy!” she whines.

He’s laughing wholeheartedly at her, utterly happy at her perceived level of comfort in his home. “What’s mine is yours, love,” he pulls at her hands to expose her and reattach his lips to her. He moves to pull her closer to the counter’s edge and bring her body flush with his before his hands travel to the exposed skin of her thighs.

“Keep going,” she pleads breathily.

Harry groans as he pushes the loose fabric of her shorts aside and finds the warmth awaiting his fingers. “Always good for me,” he breathes out, head falling to her shoulder. “Too good for me.”

“Please.” She bucks closer to him, her body aching for release.

“So you’ll stay,” he decides. He’s leaving open mouthed, wet kisses down her throat in between words, his fingers slick with her, curling easily into her core in the way he knows drives her crazy. “You’ll stay. Can take your drawer back if you like,” he bargains. “If you’re nice t’ me, might even get you your own toothbrush.”

Her hands tighten and grab at his curls as he continues his assault on her surely bruising skin. “If you didn’t have two fingers inside of me right now,” she stutters, “I’d kick you in the shins.” Her words are void of any real threat and he can feel her fighting for control, her legs tightening around his hips, breath ragged in his ear.

Harry withdraws his touch, smiling when she complains at the loss of contact. He straightens her shorts and extends a hand to help her off down from her perch. “Time to learn how to make a proper bed, pet.”

She jumps down on a huff and walks straight by him down the hall leaving Harry’s mouth agape. “I think,” she muses playfully, “we should start right at the very beginning, right? Gotta strip the sheets off and start from scratch?”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” he follows like a puppy at her heels. “Whatever you say.”

__________________

A/N: welcome to my initial venture in writing for this fandom. I haven’t written fiction in literal years, so this one was a feat. But I had fun, so thank you Sadie for the challenge! I made the deadline with literal seconds to spare. :)

-MK

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 41 - Promises

Title: Irreverent Pt. 41 - Promises Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: 5789

Irreverent Series Masterlist

It was only the second day of the New York case and the team was still building the profile on the unsub. You were all settled into the conference room and reviewing the case with fresh eyes. You were validating the geographic profile Reid had built and circled a potential centroid for the attacks. Looking back at him, he nods, agreeing with your addition. Everyone broke for lunch when Rossi came back carrying the sandwiches from your favorite Italian deli in the city.

"Okay, I need thirty minutes of talking about anything but the case," JJ says, leaning back in her chair and popping a potato chip into her mouth.

Hotch, Reid, and Rossi were already engaged in a discussion around unsubs who chose arson as their means of killing. You knew Rossi was collecting material for his next book and you'd made him promise to let you read a draft when he had more.

"Well, Eastwood has been blowing me off," Emily responds, fulfilling JJ's request for a case-free lunch.

"When was your last date?" Derek asks, swiping chips out of your bag. Apparently he didn't want his barbeque flavored ones anymore. You shake your head, exchanging chip bags with him.

"We hung out two weeks ago at his place. Netflix and chilled, as the kids say," she answers.

"Well that's your problem," you tell her, taking a large bite of your sandwich. It was perfect, just how you remembered it. You might love Georgetown, but food in New York would always be superior.

At her raised eyebrow, you continue. "You hang out with men you have romantic interest in. You're not supposed to just hang out with them. That makes them passive. You want them to plan a date, court you, put in some effort."

"Didn't you and Hotch hang out all the time before you got together?" JJ questions.

Aaron turns at the sound of his name to tune in to the other conversation at the table.

"That's different. We didn't start out romantically. I've never hung out with a man who I'm only interested in dating. You want to stay in the girlfriend box, not the friend and sexual partner box," you explain, sharing a look with Aaron. He knew your views on dating very well by now. You were old school when it came to things like that, which was good because so was he. Aaron always put in the time and effort to plan dates for the two of you, despite your busy work schedules and Jack. After you had moved in together, you'd told him he didn't have to do that, but he liked doing it. He enjoyed the process of planning something special, the two of you getting dressed up, and seeing your eyes light up when you figured out what he had in mind for the night. It might not happen as much as in the beginning, but that only made it more noteworthy when it did.

"Hmm, so you're saying I should stop hanging out with him? Blow him off?"

"Yes, let him put in the effort. You are a lady, you deserve to be treated as such. And if he doesn't try, then good riddance. You can do better than some middle aged man whose idea of a date is inviting you over to his couch. Regardless, you shouldn't be dating just one person anyways until he's your boyfriend."

Emily hums, taking a bite of her sandwich and thinking over what you said. You know she's going to realize the validity of it. Especially if Eastwood lets her down again.

Suddenly there's a loud commotion coming from outside the precinct and you all look around curiously. It sounds like a bunch of people arguing with one another. Derek gets up and peeks out through the blinds to see what's going on.

"Looks like a bunch of photographers," he says, moving to open the blinds entirely.

"No, don't." You stand to stop him and see the team look at you curiously.

"It's probably just reporters wanting details on the case," Aaron says, looking at you oddly. You've abandoned your sandwich entirely and you have a panicked look on your face that seems disparate with the situation.

"It's photographers, right? Not reporters and news cameras?" you ask.

Derek peeks out again and scans the crowd, before turning back and nodding.

"What's going on?" Aaron asks.

"It's not for the case," you tell him, a frown on your face. You'd been a little worried about this happening but hopeful that it had been long enough that it might not be an issue. With that, you walk out to speak with one of the uniformed officers in the precinct, leaving the entire team questioning what was happening.

Aaron and Derek left to join you, while the rest of them waited in the conference room and watched through the glass panes. However, before Aaron can ask you what's going on, the officer you'd spoken with is leading a man back in while holding a camera. Aaron appraises the man who is quite obviously one of the photographers from outside. He appears to be a run-of-the-mill paparazzi type and Aaron can see the Page Six credentials dangling on a lanyard around his neck.

"Y/N L/N, it's really you!"

"Hi Terry," you reply, kissing both of his cheeks.

"You summoned me?" he asks, an exasperated lilt in his tone, indicating to the officer dangling his camera by its strap.

" Some psychopath is running around the city setting fires. I can't do my job if there's going to be photographers hounding me the second I step outside. Help me out."

"The people are curious, Y/N. Mysterious enigma party girl turned federal agent. The public wants to know!"

Terry was a reasonable guy, you know you can reach some sort of compromise with him. You have before. He's the reason you were able to travel to New York back and forth undetected for the time you were in your training.

"Help me out here, Terry," you ask again.

"Well," he starts, and you can detect the scheming tone in his voice, "there is this club opening on Friday. I suppose I could get everyone to back off if you were guaranteed to make an appearance."

You know he'll be getting some sort of kick back from the club for securing you. You glance at Aaron from the side of your eye, wondering what he's thinking of all of this. You know you have to agree otherwise there's no way you or the team can get in and out of the precinct easily. It's a small price to pay in order to be able to do your job in peace.

You nod, agreeing to Terry's request. "You'll handle everything," you tell him.

"Of course," he agrees, throwing you his most dazzling smile. "I'll need a little something exclusive, but I'll make it work. Bring your friends too," he says, eyeing Aaron and Derek. "We could use some more yummy specimens in the background shots."

You let out a small laugh at that, seeing both Derek and Aaron look the slightest bit flustered. Terry takes his leave with a flirty wave. You turn to Derek who is looking at you in equal parts confusion and amusement. "Tell Penelope. We're going clubbing Friday." You know she won't want to miss this.

Finally, you turn to Aaron, apprehensive of his reaction. Aaron hadn't been around this sort of life before - the deals with paparazzi, being hounded and tracked - it had taken a lot for you to escape it before.

Aaron, for his part, knew that it took a lot out of you to agree to that deal and that you only did it for the team and the case. He didn't have to know how it was for you back then, in order to know that this wasn't you anymore. You were fiercely private with your life now, and having it exposed in this way had to be difficult. On your face, he can see the insecurity at having this part of your old life at play again. Sensing that you need a moment, he turns and sees Detective Lewis exiting his office and he asks to borrow it for a minute.

"Come on," he says, leading you inside and closing the door behind you. "Are you alright?"

You turn to him, glad to be away from everyone's prying eyes. Taking a deep breath, you start to explain to him that you're sorry that this happened but you're certain it was the easiest option, but he cuts you off.

"I didn't ask for an explanation. I asked if you're alright."

You look at him and note that he doesn't seem upset with you. Concerned and worried, yes. But not upset. That's somewhat of a relief. You nod, but can't resist walking up to him and burying your face into his chest. "I just thought this part of my life was over. I should've known better."

Aaron wraps his arms around you, resting his chin at the top of your head. "You don't have to do the club thing. We can figure out something else."

"No," you mumble. "This is easiest. It'll be more work figuring out something else."

He looks down at you as you're leaned against him, letting him support you. He knows that the team could figure out alternatives. Start leaving from the back door, having you stay behind, any number of things. But he knows you'd hate them all having to do workarounds the rest of the case simply because of your presence, which is the only reason he concedes. "Okay, if you're sure."

You nod, going up on you toes and pressing a light kiss to his lips. "Thank you for not freaking out."

He looks at you curiously. Sometimes you said things like this - thanking him for not overreacting to something or being surprised when he simply doesn't care about you flirting with other men.  He wagers Matthew had been like that - jealous and reactionary. Which was not to say that Aaron didn't get jealous. He knew the way most men behaved around you. You had an easy, effervescent quality that people gravitated towards. However, he knew where he stood with you and you weren't the kind of person who would ever betray him. There was no reason for him to get worked up about other men. Even this situation, he didn't understand why you were thanking him. It wasn't your fault.

"Nothing to freak out about," he tells you, his voice calm and reassuring.

The two of you stay like that for another moment before leaving to join the rest of the team.

*------------*

JJ and you are reviewing the victimology one more time, to make sure nothing was missed. You're restless because the team has been in New York for three whole days already and it doesn't feel like you're any closer to an answer. The profile exists but it doesn't point to anyone specific. In a city like New York, there really was no shortage of crazy people.

Your eyes are starting to glaze over as you read through the statements from the family members, your fingers toying absentmindedly with the pendant on your necklace. It had been a gift from Jack and Aaron on your birthday. A small vintage gold pendant with an emerald on a gold chain - unobtrusive and very much your style. You only took it off when you absolutely had to.

With a frustrated sigh, you look up to see JJ equally done with the files in front of her. She looks far away, one hand fidgeting with a lock of hair and the other resting on her still flat stomach. You'd been watching JJ ever since you found out she was pregnant. Some natural impulse to make sure she was alright and comfortable. You knew she'd hate the extra attention, so you tried to be discreet about it, but you couldn't help yourself. She'd seemed off ever since she'd told everyone that she was pregnant and you had this odd feeling that maybe it wasn't exactly what she wanted.

Glancing around to make sure no one else was in earshot, you whisper, "Hey Jayje."

JJ looks up at you as if drawn from deep thought. It definitely hadn't been about the case.

"Are you okay?" you ask. "You know, with everything?" You indicate towards her hand on her stomach.

She appears thrown by the question and you know she hadn't thought anyone could tell that something was wrong. Sighing, you watch as she shifts to sit up straighter and leans towards you more. "I'm supposed to be happy, right?"

"You're not supposed to be anything. Whatever you are is what you're supposed to be," you tell her, standing to move to the chair right next to her.

"I grew up in a small town. You're supposed to get married, pop out a few kids, make your home for your husband. Here I am, already in my late thirties, with only one kid, a husband who I've made into essentially a stay at home father, while I jet off and play hero." The conflict of subverting the expectations she's been told to adhere to is evident in her voice.

You know very well how difficult it is to go against what is expected of you. You nod, knowing she has more she wants to get out.

Prompted by you, she continues, "Another kid, when I'm already barely there for my first - while I feel like I'm falling behind at work because now I'll have to be off again, while I'll have another child that'll add to the stress and chaos of our lives - I don't know. It just feels - I'm not sure how I feel."

You sigh, reaching out and grabbing her hand. She squeezes yours tightly and you can feel the slight tremor she's battling as she spoke.

"Do you want another child?" you ask softly, looking into her eyes.

She closes her eyes for a moment, giving herself time to think over your question. "Yes, I do."

"Okay."

"But I'm an agent too - I like my job, I want to keep doing it and doing it well and I worry that this will make it harder."

You understand where she's coming from. It's hard to feel like you're enough - both at work and at home. You've hardly been there for Jack or Aaron lately since you've been away so much and the balancing act is extremely precarious. You want to move ahead and do well at your job. But you also want to be a good partner to Aaron - be there to support him and be there for Jack as well. There were days you sat in Paris and all you could think was that your relationship would simply slip out of your hands because you weren't around enough. That Jack would forget what you looked like and not want you around because you were so absent. It was a dark sort of mindset to be in and it only went away when you were back with them both and obviously they wanted you around and of course Jack hadn't forgotten you.

"You know we'll all help you in any way we can," you tell her, hoping to be somewhat reassuring. "If you're worried about anyone thinking any less of you for being a mom too - that's entirely untrue. I know I'm not a parent, but I know that being one and doing the job we do is probably the hardest thing in the world." She nods as you speak, so you continue, "And as far as people's expectations go - being submissive and giving in to what people expect of us isn't natural. If it was, they wouldn't need all the indoctrination around women being obedient to their husbands. Nature doesn't need reminders," you tell her, gripping her hands tightly. "Do what comes naturally to you. The rest will fall into place."

JJ lets out a small laugh and swipes at her eyes. A couple of stray tears had made their way out into the open. "You're good at this, you know."

"At what?"

"I don't know what kind of understanding you and Hotch have about Jack, but you're a mom, Y/N. Kids, they don't know the difference between biological parents and otherwise. All they care about is who they want to hold them when they're upset and the way Jack treats you is no different from the way Henry treats me."

Aaron can say whatever he wants about you and Jack, but hearing it from JJ means more. You sniffle back your own tears, and your voice catches ever so slightly. "Thanks JJ."

*------------*

In the past few days, you'd gotten a lot more comfortable with having everyone in your old city. The days were spent in the precinct and around town, running down leads. The nights were spent back in your living room, ordering takeout and discussing the case and next steps.

The third night, you and Aaron were the last ones still awake, when you decided to take him somewhere. Leading him out to the balcony attached to your bedroom, you show him to the roof of the building. It's where you used to end up whenever you hosted parties at the apartment, for a respite from all the people and noise.

It's hard to see stars in the city - the lights are too bright. So Aaron wrapped himself around you to keep you warm and the two of you stood on the rooftop and watched the city lights instead. "You know, you're the first guy to have spent the night with me here," you tell him, one hand playing with the pendant around your neck.

He was a little surprised at that. He knew you'd been involved with someone while in New York, though he'd never pursued the topic. Something told him - especially with how little you liked talking about your life before the FBI - that you didn't particularly want to talk about that relationship. If that's what it was. You'd only ever called that man a friend, but Aaron knew better than to think that to be the case. He knew you'd been involved for at least some of your time in New York and then the two years of training. He wasn't sure when it had ended exactly, but he'd known you were dating other people your first year with the team, from conversations he'd overheard between you and the girls. Regardless, you didn't really do casual and he knew that whoever that person had been, had to be someone you at least trusted greatly. Especially for him to have come after Matthew.

"I plan on being the last too," he responded, bending down to kiss you.

And in the chilly night air, wrapped up in the warm arms of Aaron Hotchner, with the lights of your favorite city twinkling around you, you believed him. You completely believed him.

*------------*

The team was four days into the case and had finally made a breakthrough. Hotch was coordinating everything from the precinct along with Detective Lewis, and the rest of the team had split up and scattered around the city to the potential new sites that Penelope had identified as the next targets.

You and Emily are paired together, parked outside the building for any sign of movement. You needed to catch this guy in the act, otherwise you didn't have much physical evidence to go on yet to tie him to the crimes.

You're both on high alert, listening to the comms units in your ears for any updates. As you look at the building you're staking out, you catch some movement in the upstairs window. It should be abandoned, so you instantly draw Emily's attention to it. Right as she turns, the upstairs window is blown out and you see flames.

"Hotch, we got fire at our location," she relays pressing on the button to communicate back to him, as the two of you quickly get out of the car and head towards the building. With any luck, the unsub will be inside still and the victim would be alive.

"If there's already fire, you should wait for backup and the fire department," you hear Aaron's voice instructing the two of you.

You and Emily look at one another as the fire appears to quickly accelerate. You both know you don't have that long to save the victim. You shake your head at her, and shift your eyes towards the building, indicating that you have to go in.

"We don't have time, Hotch. We're going in."

The two of you run towards the building and Emily swiftly kicks down the door, a cloud of smoke escaping as she does. The two of you ignore Hotch's instructions to stand down and wait. He wasn't there. He couldn't see how quickly it was spreading.

"Y/N, be careful," he says finally, after neither you nor Emily respond to his pleas to wait.

"Always am," you respond, as both you and Emily, guns drawn, walk through the bottom part of the building. It was a two story apartment complex in Uptown, built in the 1950s. The fire appeared to be isolated upstairs for the time being as the two of you quickly cleared the bottom portion and then you followed Emily upstairs.

You take turns clearing rooms down one hallway until you come to the final one. The doorknob is hot to the touch. Emily knocks down this door as well and the two of you walk inside a large room to see flames spread across curtains and a bound up girl in one corner, inching away as much as she could towards the door to escape the fire.

Emily manages to ungag and unbound her while you try to usher them both out the room. "He went down the other hallway, there's another set of stairs," the girl says as soon as she's able to speak. Emily is half supporting her weight and the growing smoke is getting to you all. There are more fires set down the other hallway.

"Go, get her out," you tell Emily, moving down towards the other hallway that the girl had indicated.

"Y/N, no, we need to get out," she says, starting to walk down the stairs.

"We only catch this guy in the act, Em. Go!"

Ignoring her, you race down the other hallway, trusting her to get the girl out first. The smoke is getting thicker and it's getting harder to breathe as you go through the other rooms, finally finding a second set of stairs leading to the back of the house that you'd already checked out earlier. You can feel your breathing getting harsher as the smoke infiltrates your lungs and you're starting to cough.

You quickly clear the staircase and race downstairs, opening the door into the kitchen. Your vision is already hazy from the thick cloud of smoke and you know your coughing is alerting anyone in the vicinity to your presence. Right before you're able to turn and check behind the door, you feel the barrel of a gun pointed to the back of your head. Crap.

"Fire is dangerous. You never know when it might burn you." The horrid, raspy voice of the man who is undoubtedly the unsub makes your stomach clench.

However, before you can do anything, you hear a gunshot. For a second you think it was him. You think he'd shot you. But then you hear a loud thud as he falls behind you and you turn to see Emily with her weapon drawn, fingers clenched on the trigger. She'd come back for you.

Emily reaches out and grabs your hand as the two of you quickly make your way towards the exit. The flames have spread downstairs and you're forced to maneuver around the edge of the main room, the flames nearly licking at you and the entire building feels like a furnace. The two of you move quickly, knowing that it can get worse any second. You both exit onto the courtyard and you feel like you're home clear. You can see blue police lights across the street and the fire truck has arrived as well. It's loud and chaotic but you're free and clear.

You walk quickly, trying to make it out of the courtyard and into the street, when the rest of the windows also give out, exploding behind you. The two of you move to escape the glass shards but you won't be fast enough. You both drop to the ground and you find yourself on top of her, shards of glass raining around you. You move your arm to cover your face, your body shielding most of Emily's.

"Are you okay?" she asks as the tremors from the explosion leave the air. You're still on top of her and neither one of you seems capable of movement quite yet. The smoke had really done on a number on you.

"Are you?" you manage.

"Yeah, think you took the brunt of it."

"Good," you manage out, breathing heavily. "Because you only get one funeral, and you already used yours up."

She knows you're trying to make light of it, but for a moment you'd both thought you were done for. Twice for you, as you'd also had a gun to your head in the last ten minutes.

You roll off of her and she helps you stand up, the two of you looking one another over for injuries. She seems alright besides a scrape or two but you'd felt some glass earlier and you're not sure how bad it is.

"That's going to need to get extracted," Emily says, pointing to your arm and leading you to an ambulance with a medic.

As you settle onto the foot of the ambulance and the EMT runs to get supplies, you see more cars pull up.

"Hotch is gonna kill me," she mutters, as the EMT returns and makes a cut in the sleeve of your shirt to open it up and get the glass shards out with a pair of tweezers. You wince as he begins to take the glass out. It hadn't hurt too much so far, but your adrenaline was also starting to crash and you knew it would hurt more than a light sting pretty soon.

You both see Aaron racing towards you, walking past the officers trying to get his attention. Seeing him approach, Emily nods at him and goes to give a statement of what happened to the uniformed officers.

Aaron could barely stomach the anxiety that had entered him from the second you and Prentiss had entered the building. He'd left the precinct immediately, leaving Detective Lewis to coordinate. As he'd driven up, he'd seen the windows explode and his entire body frozen up, heart in his stomach, and he felt clammy all over. He didn't know if you'd made it out yet.

He abandoned the car as soon as he was able and had to race through a dozen people trying to get his attention as he looked around for you. When he finally caught sight of you sitting at the foot of the ambulance, it was like he could finally breathe again. The air was smoke filled and his lungs burned as he took in a breath, watching you for a second. Prentiss towered over you and you sat by her, looking entirely small and vulnerable, cradling your arm.

You reached out for him the second you saw him and he grasped your hand in his, bringing your fingers to his lips to confirm what his eyes were telling him. You were alive.

He looks entirely frazzled in a way you've never seen him before. Panic, fear, a thousand emotions running across his face as he takes in the sight of you sitting next to the medic as he picks out glass from your skin. His hand clutches yours tightly and you feel awful for putting him through this. You try your best not to wince as the guy continues to pull glass out, knowing that would just compound Aaron's worry.

You pull on the hand he's holding you by, drawing him closer to sit where Emily had been a few moments ago. "I'm alright," you tell him, moving your hand to cup his face. He closes his eyes instinctively at your touch, just for a second.

He nods disbelievingly and you know he can't afford to be like this over one of his agents getting just the slightest bit injured. Derek had been shot and he'd still commanded a room. Emily was tortured and Aaron hadn't blinked, his steely gaze concentrated on bringing down the unsub. You know that you getting hurt is different. You're far too aware of how different it is. In his mind he's got to be going over the trauma of losing Haley all over again, and this is nothing remotely close to that, but you know that fear is ever present in his mind.

You draw him in and kiss his lips ever so lightly, ignoring the stabbing pain in your arm. "Go," you instruct him softly. "Go be Unit Chief. I'm fine."

He looks over at the medic again as the man pulls a large piece of glass out, and his face scrunches up in anguish at the obvious pain you must be in. He knows you're putting on a brave face right now but he's also seen you cry when you stub your toe so he knows this hurts more than you're letting him see.

He looks back to where a crowd of people are waiting for his instructions. You squeeze his hand again, assuring him that you're alright. He nods and stands up, reluctantly letting go of your hand.

"Hey," you call out to him, "Send Emily, would you?"

He turns and nods, walking over to Prentiss and instructing her to go with you in case you need to go to the hospital as well.

Once Emily arrives, you clench her hand tightly as the medic removes the final large piece. "Son of a bitch," you mumble, as she lets you tuck yourself into the crook of her neck.

Emily looks off into the crowd as Hotch figures out the next steps and coordinates extracting the unsub's body with the fire department. He'd looked scared to death when he'd seen you, and had only looked moderately better when he'd come to tell her to go with you to the hospital.

The medic tells you you're going to need stiches and you're simply grateful he hadn't said that while Aaron had been around to hear it. Emily escorts you to the hospital and holds your hand throughout, as you moan and groan about the pain finally since its just her.

*------------*

The team is settled into your living room later that night. You're all going to go clubbing tomorrow night, per your promise to Terry. Aaron had tried to tell you that you were no longer obligated to go after an injury, but you didn't want to back out of your promise and risk burning bridges. You never knew when someone would come in handy.

Penelope would be arriving tomorrow with outfits for JJ and Emily. You still had most of your party wardrobe in New York, conveniently enough. There hadn't been much need for clubbing attire the past few years.

You'd all eaten and Spencer and Derek had cleared up. Aaron and Rossi were settled into the armchairs and the rest of you were spread out across the room on the large couch. Spencer was gently playing the piano to a tune that you recognized but couldn't quite place.

You got up to get the pain killers the doctor had prescribed you and took them in the kitchen, before returning. As you walk by Aaron's chair, he reaches out and grabs your hand. You look at him in question, but he silently pulls you towards him, maneuvering you onto his lap. You're surprised, because the two of you might quickly peck in front of the team, but rarely do you outright show affection in this manner. However, you allow him to place you on top of him and he's careful to avoid touching the stitches as he makes sure you're comfortable.

You look back at the team but they all seem unbothered and absorbed in their separate conversations, so you tuck your face into the crook of his neck. "I'm fine," you whisper so only he can hear.

Aaron shifts his eyes to look at you and nods almost imperceptibly.

You're kind of glad he'd pulled you onto his lap, because you'd had this growing anxiety within you ever since you'd come back from the hospital. You knew Aaron couldn't handle someone he loved dying. You knew that. And yet today he'd been forced to confront the possibility of something happening to you. You knew that you could promise you'd be fine and that nothing would happen to you until you're blue in the face, but he'd never believe you. You can't promise that. You can't know that.

That crazy, anxious part of you had convinced itself that he would do anything possible to mitigate the possible hurt he would feel if something happened and you're almost waiting for the possibility of him pushing you away. But he'd promised he wouldn't do that to you ever, and it would appear he's good at keeping his promises too.

You allow yourself to become limp against him, the drowsiness from the pills and the exhaustion from the day catching up to you. His arm is wrapped around your waist, holding you securely against him. Aaron returns to his conversation with Dave and it's not long before you're asleep.

As its getting late, Aaron tucks an arm under your knees and stands, lifting you with him, careful not to wake you. You look entirely fragile in his arms and the team watches as he says good night to them all and carries you to your bedroom. They all watch as he goes, knowing one thing between them - if today was anything to go by, nothing could ever happen to you. Because if someone ever happened to you, Aaron Hotchner would not simply break. He would shatter. And there would not be a single thing any of them could do to piece him back together again.

[psalloacappella]

show me how

Pairings: SasuSaku Fandom:  Naruto Rating: M Genre/Tags: AU; in which Sasuke is a driver, Sakura plays no games; also has an underground fight club; sexual tension; dominant Sakura; Uchiha bros being bros Ao3 | twt

In which Sasuke is the new driver for the Haruno heiress — and therefore, prey.

[In the words of Rihanna, You look like you can handle what’s under my hood // you keep saying that you will, boy, I wish you would.]

❦

His mother would say he’s aiming a bit above his station, lip-chewing, worrisome; his father would disapprove, thinking the new client spoiled.

Itachi, greyish eyes twinkling with some genial but teasing expression, shifts to let his ponytail tumble down his back. Women adore the look; Sasuke likens it to a horsetail well within earshot every chance he gets. Brothers, you know.

Pinching the photo between thumb and forefinger with hesitancy, the lack of commitment stark as a first app-date gone sour and seeking escape, Sasuke knows he’s pouting and he knows Itachi’s amused.

“I’d have taken her,” he consoles softly — Sasuke hates that tone too, like he’s chivvying a hot-tempered horse into his stable, oh gods, fuck Itachi for this — “but out of the two she requested you. Very taken with your photo.”

“Itachi.” The given name comes through gritted teeth, and Itachi struggles not to smile. Sasuke hopes the effort’s absolutely killing him. “This is the Haruno heiress. Pink hair, red temper?”

“Funny, I do know. Almost as if she’s famous, dear brother.”

“Infamous. For killing her last driver.”

“Oh, come now.”

“Running him off. Driving him to insanity.” And here Sasuke jabs the finger of his free hand against the photographed face: smiling, with a sharp gleam in her jade eyes. He punctuates each syllable against her cheek, “Take—your—pick!”

Itachi’s tongue clicks continue to conjure pastoral images of horses and other farmish animals, and Sasuke thinks this unasked for, supernatural form of punishment is a right divine kick in the mouth.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sure the talk is mostly nonsense,” he soothes. Bending to behold the portrait shot further, he rests his fingers against his mouth. Pensive. People often adore that too. “After all, she’s cleaned up her image quite a bit.” Itachi extends his hand, counting off her improvements:  “Issued apologies for the yacht incident—”

“Pretty sure she’s banned from the piers now.”

“Recovered brilliantly from her very public and messy breakup with the Hyuuga heir—”

“A piece of shit, granted, but she still keyed his car, and then his face—”

“Even had a great photo-op of visiting Uzumaki Naruto in the hospital—”

“That she put him in.”

“She even disbanded her underground fight club,” Itachi added, plucking the photo and folder from his younger brother’s hands, a final that’s that!

“Her what?”

“Bad optics. Oh, and you start Monday.” He pats a stunned Sasuke gently on the shoulder; not one to easily manage particularly happy or buoyant expressions, he prays to whatever forces or deities exist that he’s been passed over for the coveted yet dangerous position of personal driver for Miss Sakura Haruno.

.

Driver — ah, the term is misleading. A position often including, but not limited to:  Chauffeur, personal assistant, event planner, bodyguard, bookkeeper, and occasionally dragging paparazzi out of the bushes by their lapels, testing meals for poison, and smuggling her short-term affairs in and out of back building doors.

A skittish attendant is the only witness to the moment in which he meets her in person.

Sunshowers, an unnatural brightness like daylight thunderstorms; a presence difficult to face head-on. Slender and swagger, something in the way she walks suggesting she’s aware of exactly who she is and what he’s probably heard, keen eyes plucking his thoughts from his soupy skull by slice and piece only to toss them aside, limp, discarded.

And she’s gorgeous. Beauty in lethality, the inherent quality pined for in mythological Olympian goddesses and well-crafted guns and dangerous and unwieldy luxury cars. The wreckage left in their wake easy to augur with plain eyes if anyone can resist the siren song.

Sasuke’s hands are clammy when they shake. She notices, with a gaze like whetted glass.

Fuck Itachi. Fuck this. Fuck me.

“How do you like to be addressed . . . Miss Haruno?”

A smirk plays on her lips. “Not like that, for damn sure. Sakura’s fine. Let’s go.”

She’s opening her own car door and about to lower herself in before he snaps to — the tyranny of her heels against the cobblestones twists him into impossible nautical knots.

“I don’t care if you get the door,” she says, “but Tsunade’ll have your head.” With a jerk of her chin, she indicates she’s ready to go.

“Won’t happen again,” he says, dipping his head in apology and settling into the driver’s seat. “Where to?”

“Oh, wherever.” Flicks a dainty wrist, yet he catches the brushrust scrapes smeared across her knuckles. “You’re a driver, after all; I want to see you drive.”

Easing the car into gear, they pull away from the curb in silence. Eyeing him caddy-corner from the back, she folds her arms and crosses her long, impossibly long legs at the ankles.

“So.” The word’s sharp as a blade, scratches him without warning. “What do you know about me?”

He makes a noncommittal noise, hoping to avoid riposte; when he catches the slight flare of her nostrils in the mirror, he settles on the bland and stupid, “I’m not sure what you mean, Mis— Sakura.”

“Don’t play coy,” she says. “Tell me what the quidnuncs on the street say, gossiping over their limp salads and lackluster lives.”

“I’ve heard you’ve run every driver out of town.”

“Yes, that’s fair. The last one quite literally; he was terrified, in the end.”

“I’ve heard you . . . play with your food.”

Another careful peripheral glance in the mirror:  He sees her uncross her arms, grip the edges of the seat. Leaning forward, eyes bright and something, essence or woven narrative or tangled web undulating, unraveling. She exposed; him, encroaching.

Voice low, lean, and throaty when she affirms,

“Yes, sometimes I do.”

The click! of a released seat belt latch, and she’s sliding over to the backseat behind him.

Sasuke’s mouth runs dry, parched as desert sand, sunbaked stone. There’s a first time for everything, including this unsettling feeling to which he has nothing to compare.

Leather moulding to her shape as she leans against the seat, her gaze seeking refuge and scraping at any weak spots in the back of his skull.

“If you were hoping for a shy one, you’re driving the wrong car for the wrong girl.”

He scoffs, but it sounds nervous, bad for business —

she’ll devour him.

“Of all the things I’ve heard,” he says, “shy was definitely not one of them.”

He doesn’t know when his voice decided to do that, slide into a low bass with the ease and thrum of rich regal rhythm; he doesn’t know when he even had a breath to release, the way it manifests as a pant in the hot shared air of the car.

“Lest you be misinformed,” and still her tone is grainy, the stret-scratch of extempore acoustic guitar, “I don’t act this way with all my drivers. Any, in fact.”

“Ah.”

“Don’t, with that aloof disbelief.” She presses her foot against his seat and he feels a jab right in the middle of his back, the equivalent of a flirtatious swat at the arm. A bit more intimidating than that, he supposes.

“Everything is so public for me,” she continues. Pauses. “I’m almost never alone. Drivers continue to disappoint me, pretending to be my confidant but in reality reporting my behavior to sleazy paparazzi. It’s never about the money; they love divulging. They can’t help themselves.”

He would be willing to debate the “drivers” label, but he now understands why the last one and many before have been dealt a particularly heavy hand in the method of released employment.

“So.”

This time the word’s triumphant, and Sasuke manages not to startle as her heel settles on the shoulder of the driver’s seat. Skin close enough to press his lips to, swirling floral scents of jasmine and others unidentified, salient sweet cherry. Glancing at the tempting slope of her calf, he keeps his eyes firmly on the road even as the dark corners of his mind lead his mouth marching up her pliant skin, bound by siren song, and into what surely is the most sacrosanct and calamitous temple of them all.

“You have this chance to quit,” she whispers. “Right now, no fuss.”

And he betrays himself a second time, scoffing as the suggestion of course is mirthful, ridiculous, knowing somehow he’ll never do so. He’s never been one to shirk duty, and untangling from this, whatever this is, already bids the trappings and fixation of an addiction too virulent and electric to leave.

“I’ll take that as acceptance,” Sakura says, now all joy and sparkle, wiggling her shoe near his handsome face.

Though his hands are clammy on the wheel, his words manage to gloss over the catch in his throat as he asks, “Ah, where to?”

In the mirror he watches:  Another layer of her falls again, as crêpe layers, as petals. It’s the first time he notices the lambent green of her nails, and she nibbles on one before responding, in a way so deliberate he’s distracted by the way her lips form the words:

“Show me how you drive.”

[xxrainbow-princessxx]

Firm Hand, Soft Heart - Leo x Isabella (N*FW, 🍋)

This fic is for Day 1 of the CFWC Kinktober Challenge

Day 1: Brat Taming | First Time | Aftercare

The words used in bold are included in this fanfic. Please only read if you are comfortable with the subject matter and also you are 18+. PSA completed.

TW: In this fic we will be discussing brat taming, punishment, sub drop and aftercare.

Tagging: @drakewalkerfantasy @itslaniquelove @kingliam2019 @kimmiedoo5 @mom2000aggie @lorirwritesfanfic @lorircreates @hopefulmoonobject @rafasgirl23415 @texaskitten30 @rainbowsinthestorm @desireepow-1986 @speedyoperarascalparty @liam-rhys @choicesficwriterscreations

All under the jump!! ❤️❤️

“You got this big guy...” Liam patted his brother’s shoulder, “I didn’t think she would show... But you’ve always had her wrapped around your little finger anyway...” Leo flashed a bright smile to his brother chuckling, “I’m not so sure about that... before, maybe...” Isabella and Leo hadn’t spoken in weeks after she saw him being snapped by the paparazzi with a statuesque blonde Swedish model draped around him in a nightclub in Monaco, “...but now, I’m not so sure...” Liam gave the Crown Prince a knowing look as he laughed heartily, “You can handle her... Isabella doesn’t listen to reason and seemingly... neither do you...” The brothers watched attentively as the Crown Princess’ thigh high louboutin boots clicked across the marble flooring, surrounded by guards and her father’s advisors in step. Leo winced slightly as his eyes followed her petite frame analysing every curve whilst she walked past in a short black bodycon dress. Isabella’s long chestnut brown hair had been straightened out, bouncing and flowing down her back only added to her polished look. Biting down on his lip, he knew he needed something to help him calm down; she looked good.

Leo’s brow raised as he threw back his measure of Cordonia’s finest apple brandy, warming his chest as the fiery liquid quelled his anxieties. He hated negotiations, he hated having to host anything but Constantine demanded it and knowing that Isabella being there would be difficult in more ways than one, knowing she would bust his balls when given the chance just to test him. Constantine insisted on the meetings, he wanted Cordonia to be put on the map, he wanted the neighbouring Kingdom’s to know that Cordonia was open for business. What Leo didn’t anticipate was the Laurentian Princess’ arrival, swearing blatantly after their last argument she would never step foot in Cordonia again. It didn’t matter that Leo apologised, sent flowers or jewellery, the Princess didn’t want to know returning everything with a delightful note telling him to ‘Fuck off...’ along with anything he sent. Watching the Princess storm through the Cordonian Palace glaring at anyone who looked in her direction, Leo turned to Liam, “Well brother...” barely managing a carefree smile, Leo ran his fingers through his sandy blonde hair, “Wish me luck!”

Leo wasn’t in the mood for any of this, let alone having to deal with the petite brunette’s wicked temper as an addition to his roster of duties. The Laurentian Crown Princess stepped in for her father as a last minute change to his schedule and no matter how much she protested, Isabella knew that she would have to bite the bullet. If it was going to be painful for her, she most certainly wasn’t going to make it easy for Leo. Isabella sat in the drawing room, her lips pursed as her dark chocolate brown eyes glared towards the clock, he was late and he was wasting her time once again. Her eyes narrowed, rolling across to the right as the door finally opened with Leo smiling as if nothing happened pulling on the sleeves of his crisp white shirt fixing his cufflinks, “Good afternoon...” he warmly greeted those in the room, almost chuckling noticing Isabella folding her arms remaining in her seat, “Good to see you Princess...” he teased, sitting opposite her, “The pleasure is not reciprocated...” huffed the brunette, “You’re late...” she bluntly added before pushing forward a list of considerations. Leo’s sea green eyes initially met hers. He tried not to notice the golden speckles of honey that glittered in her irises, accentuated by the sunshine coming through the windows flooding the drawing room with light. Isabella didn’t speak as Leo unfolded the page passed to him, the less she had to speak to him, the better.

Momentarily Leo broke eye contact with Isabella to read her demands. Leaning back on his chair, the Crown Prince bit down on his lower lip chuckling, “Are you trying to insult me? I’m afraid it’s not working...” Isabella rolled her eyes and with a heavy sigh she snapped, “The last time I checked... the world doesn’t revolve around you Señor Rys...” Leo laughed to himself, running his fingers through his sandy blonde hair before he glared at the petite Princess, his voice lowering, laced with authority, “I’ll remind you, that in my Kingdom - it does...” Isabella’s almond shaped eyes slowly narrowed with disgust, Snapping “Fuck you!” to the surprise of their advisors, “Your Royal Highness...” they began to panic, “You... you...” before turning to Leo, “We can only...” Leo stared at Isabella. As she raised her dark, arched brow, Leo knew this wasn’t playing politics for her, this was payback. She was acting up on purpose. The Crown Prince noticed a barely noticeable flicker of delinquency in her eyes, knowing that the petite brunette was getting off on the struggle of power. Sucking in his cheeks, Leo commanded “Can you give me a moment alone with the Crown Princess? Everyone else... out!” Their advisors looked at one another but as the tension grew in the room between the Royals, they finally agreed. “Yes... we’ll reconvene once you both are ready...”

Leo stood as she glared angrily at Isabella, walking across the desk towards her. Purposely Leo kicked the chair that Isabella was sat on, causing her to angrily rise to her feet. The Laurentian Princess raised her hand but Leo held onto her wrist. She watched as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, turning from a sea green to a sparkling emerald. Leo’s voice deepened to a guttural growl, “If you’re going to act like a brat... I’ll treat you like a fucking brat...” his index finger traced her jawline, titling her chin to face him, their eyes locked onto one another, “Or are you going to be a good little kitten and behave?” Isabella pulled her face away as Leo began to smile, “Not the answer I was looking for beautiful...” His fingers traced the side of her neck feeling her breathing hitch slightly, he knew he had her. No matter what he had done, Isabella couldn’t help herself; Leo knew the petite brunette acted out to fuck with men but would submit easily when the attention she wanted came at a price. Carefully, Leo placed his hand around her neck with a very slight pressure as Isabella barked back, “Make me...” She was pushing all of Leo’s buttons but she wasn’t going to win. Not today. He leaned down whispering into her ear, “You want to say that again?” His voice demanded an answer, “Look at me and say it...” the Blonde Cordonian grunted.

Isabella could feel a shiver go down her spine, as the Crown Prince of Cordonia spoke, she knew exactly what she was doing as she looked up into Leo’s eyes with a coy smile, repeating herself, slowly emphasising her words, “Make... me...” almost taunting him into disciplining her. Leo chuckled as his hand rested on her waist, “Kitten...” he began to smile, “You know I’ll fuck the brat out of you if you don’t behave...” Isabella raised her brow in defiance with a coy smile scoffing at the thought but Leo wasn’t in the mood for her bullshit. Spinning the petite Princess around, she let out a squeal as Leo bent her over the table, his hands caressed her back until his fingers entangled through her hair, twisting it as his strong, muscular frame lay against her back, pinning her against the oak table. Leo kissed her neck slowly, lips barely brushing against her skin, whispering so only she could hear, “You know I still love you kitten... don’t you?” Isabella whimpered as Leo’s hands followed the curve of her body, “Talk to me beautiful...” her core was yearning for the Crown Prince’s touch as Leo put Isabella in her place. Leo discovered quite early into their relationship that Isabella had a power play kink. The Princess found control a turn on - very few dared to ever challenge her authority and she tested most men’s patience to an inch of tolerability but Leo knew if he could tap into that want; that need - she would make a very willing little after all of the brattish behaviour was firmly dealt with.

Underneath it all, Leo knew that all Isabella wanted was to be loved for her, to feel safe and someone to take the burden of control away. “Sí...” she purred as Leo tightened his hold, “Yes... what?” Isabella turned her head to look at Leo and with a smile, she cooed, “Sí... por pavor...” with a flutter of her eyelashes, Leo bit down on his lower lip, the hand he used to caress her ass, he raised it, striking her with a sharp smack. “How many demands did you have?” Leo growled as he pulled the hem of her dress up, exposing her lower half and little black lace thong. “Seven...” The word barely passed her ruby red plump lips before Leo’s hand connected with her bare ass cheek, rolling her eyes as she purred. “Count!” Leo barked as Isabella’s chest heaved, “One...” “Two...” Leo’s fingers danced across her aching clit, “Kitten... you are so fucking wet...” “Three...” “Four...” Leo could only lick his lips with anticipation as Isabella was compiling, savouring her submissiveness as she stood there in her black thigh high boots with her red marked ass wiggling in the air. “Five...” Effortlessly he unbuckled his suit trousers, his erection throbbing, struggling to break free. As his trousers to his ankles, Leo pressed the tip of his cock against her wetness, pushing in deep on the first thrust. Isabella groaned as her pussy stretched, encapsulating and accommodating his full length. Gripping onto her hips, Leo wasted no time thrusting harder each time as the petite Princess gasped, reaching out aimlessly to hold onto the table, her ruby red manicured nails tried helplessly to dig into the table to hold onto something.

Leo clenched his teeth, he was nearly there. As his nostrils flared, he groaned loudly, immediately pulling out as he felt Isabella’s walls starting to contract around him, “Turn Around!” he barked with his deep voice, “Get on your knees beautiful...” Isabella pushed herself off of the table as her doe like chocolate brown eyes looked up at the Crown Prince. Hungrily, Leo pulled her close to him, roughly kissing Isabella until she felt almost breathless, tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth to allow the moment to linger. Just because he was dominating her didn’t mean that Leo didn’t show his romantic side. He did love her and wanted to fulfil her every need. It was important for him to show Isabella he cared, not all of this was one-sided. Stumbling, the Princess stepped back before lowing herself onto her knees still with her dress pulled up around her waist, not once breaking eye contact. Taking Leo���s thick, hard pulsating member into her hand, she opened her mouth allowing her tongue to taste and tease his length. Leo entangled his fingers through her hair as he bucked his hips back and forth pushing his cock further into her throat. “That’s it...” praising the petite brunette, “You feel so good...” as he encouraged her to take more.

Isabella began to choke but Leo held her in place so she could get used to the sensation. Pulling her head back slightly, Leo grinned as she fluttered her long dark eyelashes up towards him, taking him willingly in her mouth. With a groan, Leo’s eyes narrowed, he could no longer hold back as his warm cum flowed freely down the petite brunette’s throat. Isabella stayed in place as her tongue once again slowly licked up and down Leo’s thick shaft dutifully lapping up any excess. Reaching out to take her hand, Leo helped Isabella up to her feet, pulling her close to him. Picking her up like a doll, Leo pinned the Laurentian beauty to the closest wall he could find, his lips peppering kisses along her neck, “I’ve missed you kitten...” Isabella pressed her head against Leo’s as they kissed once another sensually. Her eyes burned with desire and with a coy smile she teased “So much for counting to Seven...” Leo with a smirk set the Princess back down onto her feet walking back to his desk. Sitting down he smiled to himself watching as Isabella pulled down her dress, “Not so fast beautiful... you gotta earn those last two...”

Pouting, Isabella sat down fixing her makeup wiping away her running mascara and smudged lipstick as if nothing ever happened whilst Leo called the advisors back in. With a smile he ripped up Isabella’s demands, sending the torn pieces into the air, “We’ve agreed on Cordonia using Laurentian ports to export our goods...” Isabella’s eyes widened in horror, their advisors stepping in, “But Your Royal Highness... we can’t allow...” Leo stared at Isabella as he picked up a pen handing it to her, “Well Princess... if you want the remainder, you need to sign...” her advisors looked at one another but the Laurentian Princess never spoke. Did she broker a deal? Isabella looked up towards Leo, his glare made her feel almost giddy as she reached out for the pen immediately doing as she was told. After signing the request, Leo winked at her, “Good...” he smiled, “Now if you’ll excuse me...” he pushed his chair out, “I have an evening engagement to prepare for...” walking off, he turned to face Isabella with a devilish smile, “I’ll see you at Seven Your Royal Highness, I think you’ll quite enjoy tonight’s festivities...” Isabella sat with her hands carefully on her lap watching as Leo disappeared into the hallway.

Taking a moment, Isabella’s cheeks blushed, relishing that she was going to be somehow rewarded and painfully wanted those two extra smacks so badly. The Crown Princess knew she had made a deal with the devil, her head screaming at her to stop but Isabella’s heart drowned out all logic; she was good, she did as she was told. Quietly, the petite brunette rose to her feet, mumbling to her guards as she began to wander off, “I... excuse me...” towards the designated room she was given in the Palace. Immediately, the Princess wasted no time removing all of her clothing as a rush of sadness lay heavy upon her chest. Turning the controls of the shower, Isabella blinked back unexplainable tears. She was scared, she had never felt so alone. The water above her began to trickle down her petite frame, stinging her skin with each red hot droplet. Isabella lowered herself down onto the floor, pulling her knees to her chest making herself as small as she could. She felt shameful, horrified at what just happened. Leo took her and then without a second thought brushed her off as if nothing really happened.

“Excuse me...” Leo turned, his conversation with a group of nobles interrupted, “Excuse me Your Royal Highness...” finding it strange that one of Isabella’s advisors would want to speak with him directly, “May I have a moment of your time?” Leo was ready to dismiss him, he’d had enough politics talk for a lifetime but the look of uncertainty and worry on the advisors face told him not to. “Yes...” he moved away from the group, so they were out of earshot, “Can I help you?” The advisor slowly sighed, “I know I am out of line to ask... but... did something happen when you spoke to the Crown Princess?” Leo’s brow raised in question. Fuck, did he hear something? Trying to hide his shock, he tried to laugh it off, “Whatever do you mean?” Shaking his head, the advisor sighed, “She just didn’t seem herself afterwards at all... Her Royal Highness didn’t really speak...” Leo’s sea green eyes narrowed as he looked around the crowd but he couldn’t see her anywhere, “Ok...” Leo nodded, patting him on the shoulder, “Thanks for letting me know...” with a gracious warm smile he continued, “Let me see if I can find her, I think she said she had a headache earlier... please...” he gestured towards the trays of champagne and canapés passing through, “Enjoy the rest of your stay...”

Leo knew what room Isabella was in, he chose it especially for her away from all of the other guests. He knocked on the door but there was no answer before trying the handle. Opening the door slowly and quietly, he heard the sound of the shower and Isabella whimpering. Leo’s eyes widened in horror, not knowing what he would find. “Isabella!” He shouted, scrambling to remove his dinner jacket before entering the bathroom. Squinting through the steam filled room, Leo could barely see her until he reached in to switch off the water allowing the dense haze dissipated. Isabella raised her head, her cheeks stained with black kohl liner and mascara. “Kitten...” Leo cooed, immediately reaching out for a towel, wrapping it around her as she sat motionless, “It’s ok...” Isabella didn’t speak as she averted her gaze from him, closing her eyes to hide from the humiliation. Leo began to remove his clothing before sitting down beside her with a towel wrapped around his waist. Leo coaxed the Princess into a cuddle and gently placed kisses on the top of her head “Beautiful...” he whispered as she sat behind her, holding the petite brunette tightly against his chest, “Just tell me what you need...” Isabella dug her nails into his strong arms, holding Leo as tightly as she could. His voice was always her favourite sound, she needed to be held, needed to be told everything was going to be ok.

“Wh... what’s happening?” she quietly stuttered, completely unsure of herself. Leo cleared his throat, his heart filled with guilt and remorse, “I’m so sorry kitten... This is my fault, I shouldn’t have left you alone, I should have stayed, I should have fucking noticed...” Leo intertwined his fingers with hers whilst carefully and strategically placing kisses on the side of Isabella’s shoulder. Leo mumbled as he pressed his lips against her olive, sun kissed skin, “You know how amazing you are? You know I won’t let anything bad ever happen... I promise” Isabella’s body shaking in his arms as she began to slowly come around. She tilted her head slightly to look up at Leo and under all the running mascara, her dark chocolate brown eyes exposed her exhaustion. Placing his lips against hers, Leo kissed the Laurentian Princess slowly, his thumb gently caressed her cheek as his fingers cradled her jaw. With his next breath, Leo whispered, “I love you so much...” with a caring smile, he began to chuckle, “Let’s get you ready for bed beautiful...” carefully he rose to his feet, bringing the petite brunette with him. Removing the towel he put around her, Isabella and Leo quickly washed themselves before drying off and getting under the covers of the Super King Size bed that immersed the Princess’ petite frame.

Leo held Isabella as close as he could, staring into her eyes he tenderly smiled. With his thumb, he removed the last smudge of mascara that stained her cheek, “No one should ever make you cry... especially not me...” he swallowed hard as Isabella bit down on her lip, “Can you ever forgive me?” Isabella nodded tiredly before placing her head against his chest and in moments, she finally relaxed, falling asleep. Leo lowered his voice as he placed a kiss onto the crown of her head, “I’m not going anywhere kitten...” and no matter how many times his cell phone buzzed, he hung up or ignored the call, this was more important. He would deal with the consequences later with Constantine but Isabella was his priority. She slept for around an hour and wakening to Leo’s strong, muscular arms around her. With a chuckle, Leo gave the Crown Princess a playful squeeze, “Welcome back sleepy head...” Isabella’s eyes widened, placing her hand on his ripped chest, “What time is it?! You shouldn’t be here... Your father...” Leaning down, Leo began to kiss her softly with a smile, “The only thing you needed to be concerned about was 7pm... Constantine will be fine...” Isabella raised her brow, “Ready for what? Did you not say earlier you have an evening engagement?” The confusion across her face made Leo laugh, “You are my evening engagement... I was planning to take you to dinner, then kiss you here... here and maybe here for dessert...” he teased, “...and depending on how gorgeous you look when we are going out later, I’ll tear up our little agreement we made earlier...” It didn’t matter whether she was dolled up from head to toe, or if she had been crying with most of her makeup running down her face, Leo always thought she was gorgeous - Isabella just had to believe what he saw.

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: The Rebellion of Adrien Agreste, ch. 15

Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Kagami Tsurugi, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Luka Couffaine, Lila Rossi/karma, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/aneurism, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Kagami Tsurugi, Plagg & Tikki

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Lila Rossi, Jagged Stone, Plagg, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine, Penny Rolling, Anarka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine, Kagami Tsurugi, Alya Césaire, Chloé Bourgeois, Wayhem, Nadja Chamack, Nathalie Sancoeur, Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain, Tikki, Fang, Principal Damocles, Caline Bustier, Ms. Mendeleiev, original minor character, Alec Cataldi, Lila Rossi’s Mother, Sabrina Raincomprix, Roger Raincomprix, Mylène Haprèle, Le Gorille | Adrien Agreste’s Bodyguard, Nino Lahiffe, Nooroo

Tags: Lila Rossi salt, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Teenage Rebellion, Swearing, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Crack Treated Seriously, Lila Rossi’s Lies Are Exposed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Luka Couffaine Needs a Hug, Paparazzi, Parentification, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Gabriel Agreste Needs an Aneurism, Uncle Jagged Stone, we’re all queer here, the spirit of punk is sometimes just being allowed to be yourself, Kagami Finds Her Groove, punk rock fashion, Savage Kagami, Marinette protection squad, Good Parent Sabine Cheng, Good Parent Tom Dupain, Protective Kagami Tsurugi, Protective Luka Couffaine, Bisexual Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Pansexual Luka Couffaine, Sharing a Bed, Pet Names, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Instagram, Bullying, Social Media, Anxiety, Makeover, Hugs, will cure your acne, Face Punching, Bad Ass Juleka Couffaine, Rumors, Protective Juleka Couffaine, Protective Adrien Agreste, Lawyers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holding Hands, accountability, mental health, Jagged Stone’s well-paid pet shark, How to Make the Evening News, Sexy eyeliner for days, one fish two fish Lila is a screwed fish, How to have fun and piss Gabriel off, Fuckery, sweet litigious karma, Alya sugar, lawyer shark doo doo doo doo doo doo, Schadenfreude, Bad Ass Alya Césaire, Gaslighting, abuse denormalization, Jagged likes his lawyers like he likes his pets: toothy af, Blood in the Water, Everything you didn’t know you wanted and some things you did, Gabriel Agreste is shark bait, Denial, Consequences, Principal Damocles salt, caline bustier salt, the impotence of Gabriel Agreste, snarky Nooroo, lies and the lying liars who tell them, Lila’s brain is a narcissistic hellscape, Lila’s mind is built like an Escher piece, Alec Cataldi salt, Adrien Sugar, wholesome salt, Fu Salt, Kwami Shenanigans, Nooroo is a little shit

Summary: The Impotence of Gabriel Agreste

Notes: I’ve received some amazing fanart for Rebellion. @redcoloredpanda drew Luka and Adrien snuggling, and @momo-oh-nono drew Marinette’s rocker outfit! So now chapter 17 is writing itself in my head, yay! Thank you for inspiring me!

AO3 link

Chapters 1-2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14

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Gabriel Agreste watched, fingers steepled, as the scene outside the school unfolded. He had, of course, realized quite quickly attempting to counter Adrien’s claims would be a foolish move. True or not, he would look like the villain if he were to try, accused of homophobia and perhaps classism given the way this Luka boy dressed. He had cancelled the story that was to appear, and hopefully nothing would leak.

On the bright side, he had a patsy. Lila was a loose cannon, currently proving so to the entire world, and he could easily claim she had mischaracterized her relationship with his son. She was currently trying to do the same thing, taking advantage of the fact that Adrien had not yet arrived to the mob of reporters.

“He told me he loved me. He told me we would go public, and he used me and then dumped me,” the girl was telling a reporter tearfully.

Gabriel was rather displeased with the implications of that accusation, which could impact the brand.

Fortunately, the reporter was more interested in the limo that had pulled up and deposited… was that the young designer?

The girl nearly fell, but someone rushed forward to embrace her. When the camera focused…

Kagami Tsurugi.

Nathalie shifted beside him, and he could feel through the miraculous that she was as startled as he was.

He could only assume Adrien was also in the limousine; from the “leaked” text messages the previous night and implications on social media, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was an accomplice. But this meant the scion of his business partner, someone he thought would be a good influence on his son, was likely also involved. Her presence was unlikely a coincidence.

Perhaps this was information he could use, but he filed it away for later as none other than Jagged Stone exited the limo next.

Despite the video the night before of the “jam session,” it was unexpected to see the rock star accompanying his son to school.

The announcement came as a surprise, as he didn’t follow the music world terribly closely, and certainly not a ruffian like Stone. Gabriel had been unaware that Marinette had been so prolific, that she had designed anything beyond the bowler hat.

“Please prepare a dossier on Mlle. Dupain-Cheng,” he ordered Nathalie. She immediately began to tap away on her tablet. “And perhaps her parents as well. We should know who we are dealing with.”

Next to leave the limo was Adrien and his… boyfriend. Clearly, the Gorilla had not been able to intercept them as ordered. Though he’d seen the disaster that Adrien had made of his hair in the photos and video the previous night, it still shocked him.

He studied the body language of his son and Luka Couffaine, frowning. They appeared to be close, the other boy looking at him in such a way as to make the “boyfriend” claim believable. For the life of him, Gabriel couldn’t figure out how they could have met—though from the dossier Nathalie had prepared it seemed the boy’s younger sister was in Adrien’s class.

When Mlle. Tsurugi caught Lila’s wrist, he found himself letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. From the angle of the camera he had been uncertain who she intended to hit.

The teens played for the cameras masterfully, and Gabriel couldn’t help but be a little impressed. If this was staged, they had organized a believable PR opportunity on extremely short notice. If they weren’t working against his interests, he’d consider giving them internships at Gabriel.

Beside him, Nathalie let out an involuntary incredulous snort at Lila’s ridiculous accusation of pederasty.

Luka Couffaine gave a remarkably level response, and barely had Lila spoken again than the cameras jostled, moving around in a way that made it difficult to see what was happening, though it sounded like Lila let out a little shriek.

The camera’s focused on a young woman with purple in her dark hair as she yelled, “How dare you talk about my brother that way! You’re not worthy of the bottom of his shoes!”

Rather creative, as far as insults went.

Jagged Stone saw fit to introduce the girl as Luka Couffaine’s younger sister, who had been mentioned on the dossier Nathalie had prepared on the “boyfriend.” And identified their mother as a former bandmate of his.

Gabriel let out a disgusted sigh. Of all the riff-raff Adrien could consort with, he chose someone close to a disaster of a man like Jagged Stone. That certainly explained why the rocker was involved.

Lila’s desperate claims that Luka Couffaine was courting Marinette Dupain-Cheng, though interesting, were quickly refuted.

And then Kagami Tsurugi spoke, a complete falsehood as Gabriel had not been aware of this supposed boyfriend before Adrien took his Instagram account rogue the previous evening. He would have to find out if she was being misled or intentionally lying to damage his image.

He frowned at Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s allegations of sexual impropriety toward Adrien by Lila, glancing toward Nathalie. “Have HR investigate that.”

The cameras jostled again as Lila childishly threw herself at the girl. When they focused, Lila was on the ground, a woman in a smart business skirt suit looking down at her with a bored look on her face.

Nathalie started typing notes on her tablet as the woman, apparently M. Stone’s lawyer, outlined a list of charges against Lila. Her fingers stopped at Lila’s accusation—which, while twisted, was technically not entirely a lie.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. He had miscalculated, using this girl. She was far too much a loose cannon, clearly, out only for herself. He had known that, of course, but thought her controllable, someone who would not bite the hand that fed her.

“Have HR fire her immediately. Gabriel social media should put out a statement announcing that, stating an investigation will be made into the sexual assault claims.”

More drama unfolded on the TV, the situation interrupted by the inept principal of the school. Lila’s attempts at getting Mlle. Couffaine in trouble were cut off by the lawyer, who announced further charges based on the defamation and attempted assault against M. Couffaine.

He watched, stewing, as a touching goodbye took place between his son and the other boy, as they exchanged pet names, even.

Truly, if this was a performance, much had gone into it in under 24 hours. It left him uneasy.

The paparazzi continued filming as Mlle. Tsurugi left, as Jagged Stone tried to coax his ridiculous crocodile out of the limo, as Adrien and Luka flirted further, as Lila shrieked and tried to interrupt through what would have likely been violence if not for the snapping crocodile taking offense to her.

Her ire turned to Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, whose large father stepped in front of her as a shield, before she was scolded by the principal and ordered into the school.

Lila’s last attempt to turn matters in her favor, claiming Marinette was a bully, was laughed off by Jagged Stone.

The press swarmed them, calling out questions that were largely inane at best, though the one questioning the relationship between Mlle. Dupain-Cheng and Mlle. Tsurugi caught Gabriel’s attention.

“I think a call to Mme. Tsurugi shortly will be in our best interests, perhaps,” he murmured.

“I’ll add it to your schedule, sir.”

He was impressed when his son shut down the reporters, asserting his right as a minor not to be filmed. The boy had jumped to defend Mlle. Dupain-Cheng from a question regarding the “leaked” text messages, confirming he released them himself.

Ending his association with Lila Rossi was necessary, particularly if she was foolish enough to leave such damning evidence to be released.

The drama moved into the school, where the cameras would not follow, and Gabriel stood.

“You will watch through a butterfly?” Nathalie asked.

He only nodded in response as he moved past.

Gabriel didn’t transform until he was safely in his lair, ignoring the reproachful look from Nooroo. He quickly sent an Akuma out toward the school, letting it hover so he could get a better picture.

What he found was… boring. The group including Adrien and Mlle. Dupain-Cheng were seated outside the principal’s office, waiting on something. The girl herself was half-asleep against her mother.

Movement and anger caught his attention. A woman was stalking across the courtyard, then up the stairs. She marched right to Mme. Bustier’s room and started yelling… in Italian.

He guessed this was Lila Rossi’s mother.

The argument spilled into the open-air hallway, the rage from both of them potent Akuma possibilities—though he preferred not to use the younger Rossi any longer.

The Akuma was noticed, he realized, when shock and horror assailed him from all around. The Akuma dipped lower, drawn by the tumult, only to be captured.

Lila Rossi’s mind was a dungeon of grudges and entitlement, filthy and haughty. It always had been, but the sheer narcissism of her inflated self-import was cloying in a sickening way.

Before he could even begin to speak to her, though, pain assailed his senses, and he was abruptly aware that his connection had been severed. When he had his senses back, he realized his Akuma had been captured in a jar. He didn’t know what had led to that, but the emotions he felt were even more promising than the Rossis’.

The guilt and horror and anger of Alya Césaire was so potent he sent the Akuma beating against the glass to try to reach her, to no avail—it was only as strong as a simple butterfly. He couldn’t Akumatize her, no matter how powerful she would be. He couldn’t send out another Akuma, not with one already out, and Nathalie wasn’t strong enough for another try at Scarlet Hawkmoth, though this was the perfect occasion for it.

Before long, the Akuma was shut in darkness, and was thus useless.

He snarled in frustration, letting his transformation fall. Nooroo only regarded him silently.

Useless.

Only the mundane was left to him���a call to Mme. Tsurugi, after he’d calmed.

It would be hours, the Akuma long since purified by Ladybug, before he’d realize he could have recalled the power and sent out another.

No amount of railing at Nooroo would give him that opportunity back—and the kwami only murmured cheekily, “You didn’t ask” when Gabriel demanded to know why he hadn’t recommended it.

--

Marinette felt her phone buzz on her lap and snuck a peek at it.

Kagami: Are we dating now, too?

She could feel the heat rush to her face. A coughing fit overtook her. She only vaguely aware of what was going on around her, until a cup of water was pushed in her hand and she found herself in the hallway with Adrien.

He looked concerned, so she silently showed him her phone.

Another text had come in, as it turned out.

Kagami: M. Agreste called my mother. She wishes to know the answer to the question from that reporter.

To her surprise, he quirked a cheeky grin, his eyes lighting up. “Oh, you should.”

He was going to be the death of her.

[stilloutofmyvulcanmind]

Insecurities

Prompt: A Plus Size Female Reader, who feels a bit insecure in their relationship because of their appearance

Fandom: Wonder Woman, DC

Relationships: Diana Prince x Gender Neutral!Reader

Characters: Diana Prince, Reader

Word Count: 2300

Warnings: Talk of negative body image, mentions of past bullying

It was drizzling outside. You could hear the patter of raindrops against the window from where you sat on the couch, flicking idly through TV channels. Usually, you didn’t find it that difficult to find something to occupy your time, but tonight you were restless, mind flicking from thing to thing, unable to stop thinking for longer than a couple of minutes.

Landing on a channel playing dumb infomercials, you glanced over to where your phone sat on the kitchen counter. You'd placed it there to avoid the pull to check it, but still, it called to you, saying that a brief scroll of the internet wouldn't hurt. 

No. It was late enough that photos would've started to appear by now, and looking at them would just hurt you more. 

You turned your attention back to the TV where a forcefully enthusiastic lady was trying to sell some fancy house ornament for way too much. Surprisingly, it was kind of tempting. 

The clock in the corner of the screen turned to 8 pm. Fuck it was still early. 

You wished you were with Diana. 

You could've been with her. The fact that you weren't was only your fault. She'd invited you to the fancy do, an event designed to get some more high-class benefactors to invest in the Louvre. You’d declined the offer, stating you had work deadlines that needed to be met. It wasn’t a lie, there were deadlines, but they weren’t the reason you decided to skip. The whole affair was going to be big, with enough famous guests to warrant paparazzi showing up outside to catch a snap of them arriving. And the very thought of getting caught in all those flashes made you almost throw up. 

By the time you realized what you were doing, your phone was in your hand and you were pulling up the photos that had come in so far. It wasn’t hard to find a site that had a whole slideshow of them. Several of the faces you knew through Diana, but most you had no knowledge of as you flicked through, taking in the expensive suits and glamorous dresses. And then there she was. Diana. She looked beautiful in the burgundy gown, hair pinned up with just a few strands free. One part of you wished you really were there, holding her hand as you smiled at the cameras. The other part of you was so very glad you were nowhere near the event.

An alert popped up at the top of the page, informing you of new updates from the party. A quick refresh and new photos popped up of what was going on inside. There were a bunch of publicity shots of different individuals smiling together and pretending to be the best of friends. You knew some well enough to know better. Most were boring, but then Diana appeared again. Standing next to Bruce Wayne himself. She’d told you he was coming, his appearance and support more than enough to easily secure investments from several others. You liked him well enough on the couple of occasions you’d met. A little broody when the public persona slipped, but you knew he valued Diana’s friendship and thoughts, and if Diana was happy he was there, you were happy too.

But that didn’t mean you could shake the thought of just how damned good they looked together. They both exuded a natural elegance and charisma that could win over anyone and looking at them standing next to each other, it was impossible not to think just how gorgeous they were. They’d be the ultimate power couple if they were to get together. Unstoppable, really.

You shook your head, all but tossing your phone away as you stalked over to the window. They were stupid thoughts. Diana didn’t want Bruce or anyone else. She wanted you. She loved you. She told you so every day. But you just couldn't shake the feeling that she could do so much better. She deserved someone of her caliber. Someone just as attractive and...and thin, your mind supplied. 

All the things you weren't. 

You stayed by the window, watching the droplets of rain hit the pane of glass and slide down into nothing. The perfect setting for your continued dwelling. You knew you shouldn't have looked at your phone. Knew full well the pictures would just play into every insecurity you had. You could text Diana, ask to meet after the party, tell her how you were feeling. She had some natural ability of always making you feel better no matter what was wrong. But this wasn't her issue to deal with either. She hadn't done anything to make you feel like this, it was all on you, and it seemed unfair to drag her into it. 

It was probably for the best to keep it yourself. 

Arms slipped around your waist from behind, startling you out of your dwelling with a fright. The fear didn’t last though when you felt soft lips kiss just below your ear, and you caught the familiar scent of the perfume Diana always wore. 

“I’m sorry I frightened you,” she whispered, thumbs rubbing small circles on you over the jumper you wore. “It wasn’t my intention.”

“My fault. Was too busy daydreaming again.” You leaned back into the embrace slightly, knowing that Diana could support all of your weight and so just a little now wouldn’t be an issue. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

“I tried calling you but there was no answer so I came to see if you were okay.”

An internal cringe shot its way through your body at that. You must’ve missed it ringing from wherever it had landed earlier, too busy feeling sorry for yourself, and now you’d made Diana worry about you. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to spoil your night.”

Diana’s lips dropped down to your neck, leaving a trail of gentle kisses along the sensitive skin. You could feel her smile against you. “Don’t be, my love. It was a good excuse to leave.”

“That bad, huh?”

Diana hummed in response, coaxing you to turn around in her arms, “I missed you,” she said, before kissing your lips.

It was easy, getting lost Diana’s kisses. She’d learned early on what you liked, what drove you wild, what melted you into her embrace and took full advantage of that knowledge often. Like now, she was set on turning your legs to jelly, forcing you to wrap your arms around her in return just to stay steady. Not that she’d ever let you fall. You could feel the skin of her bare back under your fingertips, a little chilly from being exposed in the backless dress all night, but not too bad. You traced random patterns over it as you kissed, the way she liked it, and you were rewarded with a quiet little moan that sent sparks down your spine.

She was the first to break the kiss, smiling at you as she took your hands in hers. It was the first time you’d seen her in the flesh all night, and God, she looked even more breathtaking than in the pictures. “Shower with me,” she said, the subtle shift in tone making it perfectly clear what she was thinking. You followed her, helpless to do anything else. She was captivating when she had that teasing smile on her face, and it was near impossible to resist her.

But then you caught a glimpse of you both in the mirror, and all the thoughts that had been temporarily forgotten came crashing back. The thought of being naked with Diana right then…

You faltered in your step, and Diana must’ve seen the change in you because she stopped, smile slipping into a frown instead. "What's wrong?" 

"I…" You didn't really know what to say. How to word what you were feeling or even if you should word it all. "I showered earlier. You should go ahead and I'll pour us some wine, yeah?" 

Diana looked far from convinced, keeping her hold on you when you tried to tug free. "Y/N, has something happened?" 

She looked so concerned. You hated making her feel like that, making her worry when the only thing wrong was you. "No, everything's fine, really. Don't worry about me," you said with a smile. 

"I can see that's not true," Diana stepped closer, a hand coming up to rest at the back of your neck, fingers playing with the fine hairs there. "You can talk to me." She was so earnest, and you knew she wouldn't judge you, it was just so hard to open up. 

"Di," you sighed, "it's dumb."

"If it's bothering you then it could never be dumb. Tell me." Before you knew it Diana was guiding you to the bedroom and sitting you both down on the bed. 

How were you even going to start? It wasn't something you'd ever talked about, even before meeting Diana. "I…I don't know where it came from. I mean I do, but…it's been worse recently and I don't know why. It's not like anything has changed." Wow, was it even possible to be even vaguer in your rambling? 

"What do you mean?" 

You took a breath, trying to organize your thoughts. "Us. Or me more specifically. It's...recently I've been thinking about why the hell you're with me. You could be with anyone…and you chose me of all people."

You weren't looking at her, but you could hear the frown, the confusion in her voice. "Why would I not choose you?" 

"Because you're you. You're beautiful."

"As are you."

"No. I'm not." You looked up at her at that. "I'm fat and flabby and have rolls and stretch marks. People like me don't get to be with people like you." There was no judgment in Diana's eyes when you met them for a brief moment, but she was still trying to understand. "All my life, I've been the person to get asked out as a joke or a bet or to embarrass a friend because that's the only thing the fat ones are for."

"You know what we have is no joke to me."

"I know. I do. And I've always known. I'm happier with you than I ever thought I could be. But after so many years of bullshit…"

"It's difficult to believe you're enough." 

You nodded, grateful that she understood now. "Yeah. And when the person you're dating is brave and strong and beautiful and quite literally a goddess it's even tougher sometimes."

Diana reached out towards you, cupping your cheek. "How long have you felt like this?" 

"It didn't really bother me at first. Crossed my mind, yeah, but I was having so much fun with you I decided to just go with it. And…I guess I wasn't expecting things to get serious or last all that long. But then you said you loved me and I fell hopelessly in love with you, and that's when they started creeping in...these insecurities."

She nodded, tucking her legs up on the bed so she could scoot in close to you, brushing away the tears you that you hadn't noticed start to fall. "Is this why you didn't want to come with me tonight?"

"Yeah. I saw some of the photos and I was right not too. You...you looked exquisite, and when you were standing next to Bruce, you looked so good together. And I just couldn't help but think how you should always have someone that good next to you at every event, or date, or walk down the street."

"I already do. You say these things about me but don't realize they're the same things I see when I look at you. You are beautiful, Y/N. The first time I saw you I thought you'd been created by the Gods themselves because they could not make anyone fairer. Every day you amaze me with your kindness and wit and goodness. I've been told that I inspire people to be their best selves, but they don't realize that you inspire me to be better. You are everything I could ever want, and I love you." If the words weren't enough to make you cry even harder, the look in her eyes would've been. The open honesty that said she meant every word, the adoration, and love that made your heart swell. 

"Thank you," you whispered. With someone else you may have questioned it, but not with Diana, and while not all of your thoughts vanished, knowing how Diana saw you helped. "I love you too, Di. I never knew I could be so happy until I met you."

"Nor I before you." Diana moved you both so you were lying on the bed, no doubt rumpling and creasing the expensive dress, not that she seemed to mind, and pulled you to her until you were wrapped in each other's arms. "When you feel this way, tell me. I want to help you."

You nodded, leaning in for a kiss. "I will. I promise."

Diana smiled and the two of you fell quiet as you just enjoyed holding the other. It was nice, one of your favorite things about Diana was how tactile she was. She loved to touch and hold and show affection just as much as you did, and it was always relaxing. 

After a few minutes, Diana pulled back slightly. "Bruce invited me to Gotham tonight. He's hosting an event for the museum. A small, private thing for him. Will you come with me?" 

"You want me to?" 

"Of course."

You bit your lip, thinking a moment. Just the thought made you nervous but with Diana next to you…You nodded and smiled, "I'd like that."

She returned the smile and kissed you, "Thank you."

You kissed her back, getting lost in the sensations of it to the point you almost missed Diana's hands, slipping under your jumper and running over your back. You broke the kiss and chuckled softly. "How about we take that shower now?" 

"I could think of nothing better, my love."

Like what you read? Consider buying me a coffee! (I’ll love you forever)

Tagging: @lifeaccordingtojenna​ @amachnowski @highwayunicornroadtoluv​ 

[albyfm]

˙✫*ﾟ YUNGBLUD  ,  DEMIBOY  ,  HE/THEY  :･ did  you  hear  alby miller  is  joining  the  cast  of  exposed  after  their habit of facilitating drugs at events, festivals & awards shows  was  revealed  ?  the  twenty-three  year  old  bass guitarist  with 500k followers is  trying  to  clear  their  name  .  they've  become  known  as  the  resident  juvenile  in  the  mansion  ,  and  it's  clear  that's  spot  on  because  they're  quite -  recalcitrant & -  stuck in their ways ,  but  also +  charismatic &  +  outspoken .  you  know  they're  heading  to  the  confession  booth  if  you  hear  lonely boy  by  the black keys  blasting  ,  most  likely  talking  about  how  they're  more  than disheveled outfits of black leather & denim, talking way too candidly to the press, smashed lenses of paparazzi cameras that got too close, an unmistakable mischievous grin & an inability to express real feelings.

hey !! finally getting around to posting this. you can call me aries, i’m 23 and in the bst ( uk ) timezone. my pronouns are she / her. i’m a little lost art school grad with a lot of student debt, a taste for red wine and an unhealthy obsession with arctic monkeys. not gonna lie, i whipped this kiddo up specifically for this rp so i’m still getting used to them, but hopefully with this intro you’ll get a feel for what they’re about. without further ado, here’s alby—

trigger warnings & disclaimer: mentions of hard drugs, alcohol, anger issues, destructive tendencies. my intention writing this intro was not to glamorize or romanticize these things in any way but if anything i have written comes across that way, please lmk!

smash that ♡ to plot or hit me up on discord @ chaotic aries#5793 !!

‘and this is how it starts...’ ( the basics )

name: alby fox miller age: twenty-three gender: non-binary ( demi-boy ) pronouns: he / him & they / them date of birth: may 24th 1997 zodiac: gemini sun, pisces moon, aries rising orientation: pansexual occupation: bassist for drive like i do career claim: ross macdonald ( the 1975 ) genre: alt-pop, pop-rock

‘it’s the way we are, we were smoking by eleven & knocking ‘round town...’ ( background )

you’re born in 1997, in the north west of england. wilmslow, to be exact. a quaint and affluent town, just south of manchester. the family you’re born into is a comfortable one. not quite living lavishly, but not at all struggling, either. your parents both work in business out in the city. you go to a good school. but... all is not how you exactly want it to be.

see, your parents are quite pushy. they expect you to live how they want, rather than how you do. at the all boy’s academy they enroll you in as a teenager, they expect you to pick what they deem as intellectual subjects, such as foreign languages, further mathematics and computer science. there’s a focus on you becoming someone that makes a lot of money, rather than someone who is happy.

but you’re... not the kind of person that can be molded so easily. you’re a fairly happy-go-lucky kid, but also a rebellious one. your parents’ strict ways of trying to force you down their chosen path, only encourages you more heavily to choose your own. 

at fourteen, you meet the guys. lennox, jovi & jasper. they’re some of the only kids at school who can be bothered to be around you, with your high energy and bolshy attitude. really, they’re the only people who embrace you for who you are. they encourage your weirdness and outspokenness. it’s not long before you find yourself wanting to do everything together. it’s not long before the four of you are inseparable.

from there, you fully detach from everything your parents want you to be. you embrace your individuality. you also find the courage and bravery to come out to your parents as non-binary at the age of sixteen. there’s not a single person’s opinion that you’re afraid of, or even care about. 

it’s not all rainbows & sunshine, though. you struggle somewhat with anger issues, and a bit of depression. you’re also practically addicted to getting into trouble: picking fights with bullies at school, selling weed & pills to your friends around town, underaged drinking... you get the gist. though you keep your fears internal, you sometimes worry you’ll get nowhere in life.

so of course, the second the boys are talking about starting a band, you’re all in. imagine if you made it big someday? wouldn’t that be sick? you’re immediately drawn to bass guitar, and use a month’s worth of saved up pocket money to pick one up from the big music store in the city. thankfully, you pick it up quite quickly, because before you can even realize it, things are getting so... real. by sixteen, you don’t feel you have the option to stick around at school for sixth form, because drive like i do is already playing local venues and working on its first album.

you’re just seventeen when the album is released. somehow, the climb to fame is faster than you could have ever imagined. it seems like yesterday you were still watching bass tutorials on youtube in your bedroom and practicing in your friend’s garage after school. first is some notoriety across the uk, but before you know it — boom! global stardom. the fame is a heavy weight for someone so young to carry... but fuck it, it’s gonna be fun, and you know it.

you’re twenty-three now, and days are gone of pipedreams formed in your parent’s shoebox room. you split your time between manchester, london, and LA — and that’s just during rare moments of downtime from your world tours. your band is 4 albums in, and whoever hasn’t heard of you might as well have been living under a rock. is it narcissistic to think like that? maybe, but you don’t care. this is rock n’ roll, baby. this is the life.

naturally, all eyes are mostly on your very outspoken frontman. he’s controversial, but the media can’t get enough of him. as for you? to them, you’re... the band’s problem child. while you argue that your behavior is no different than that of your friend, he’s got the lead singer charm. they don’t seem to like you as much. why? well...

‘drink, fall, spew...’ ( troublesome tendencies & exposed secret )

you never really coped as well as you acted like you did, did you? while you were grateful for the fame, everything was... a lot, and it was all at once. you didn’t even get the chance to process it. 

take four twenty-somethings and add constant prying journalists, paparazzi, and constantly full schedules into the mix. and why not pepper in some typical rockstar vices, too? alcohol, drugs, parties, throwaway sex. things are destined to get a little rocky. though you tried at first not to show it to your fans, your destructive behavior soon got the better of you, and you became known to drunkenly lash out at paps, smash cameras and storm out of interviews when the questions got too personal. 

this all came to a head when you were caught on camera several times distributing acid tabs, cocaine and mdma at events, music festivals & awards shows. the press gave the band a pretty bad time over this, and given the other members’ controversies and lennon’s similar link to drugs, it wasn’t a good look for any of you. 

it didn’t matter that you had a side to you that was good, pure. that you were always kind and loving and down-to-earth towards your fans and friends. you were a bad seed, and you wound up on exposed with the rest of your bandmates. hopefully you can prove there’s more to you than what the media shows...

‘oh & you say, i’m such a cliche...’ ( personality )

immm gonna rush thru this section & write less formally bc those other parts too me WAY too long

basically a literal toddler. loves a laugh, loves a good time, but get on his bad side and he WILL throw a tantrum

it’s mainly people like press & paps he lets his anger out on. the band’s fans and people he’s close with on a personal level know he’s a good person underneath it all

loves a bit of mischief / rebellion / drama

king of hiding insecurities....

literal softie.... like... who allowed this binch to be so soft. he’s so open about how much he loves his friends (particularly his bandmates) and will platonically kiss and hug and love people all the time, particularly on the show bc he’s trying to show the cameras his softer side dfjghdfdfg

so excitable like WHERE does this kid get all his energy...

( tw drugs ) will probably struggle a bit on the show without access to drugs, but ( tw addiction mention ) he has never really been addicted or dependent on them, just a frequent user.

outspoken as fuck, has no filter sometimes oops

very flamboyant, in line with the general aesthetic of his band but also on a personal level. sports a kind of soft gothic/punk/early 2000s emo look. always paints his nails and wears makeup etc

sleeps around a lot but has never really been able to find a lasting relationship, has just had a bunch of short-lived flings???? but lowkey develops crushes at the drop of a hat and would love to properly fall in love with someone who could be with him forever & accept him for all his flaws, but he highly doubts that will ever happen fgjdhsfg

‘why don’t you figure my heart out?...’ ( wanted connections )

exes on good terms

exes on bad terms ( maybe someone who actually really wanted to stay with him but couldnt deal with his bullshit and now resents him? )

 someone who loves the band’s music & inflates his ego ab it

 someone he hasn’t seen for years that he’s reunited on the show & maybe they’re revisiting old feelings for each other??? and he wants it to be DIFFERENT this time but also theres shit tons of fucking cameras and shit which... makes things difficult...

first friend he made in LA or in the states in general, someone who showed him the ropes

someone who hates him / hates the band like PLEASE

and also just a straight up enemy maybe?? someone who finds him annoying as fuck??

FRIENDS!!!

literally anything just hmu and lay an idea on me and theres 90% chance ill be down

[calteahood]

A Good Time {Calum Hood}

Rating: M — Please be 18+ to read!

Requested: Yes! “limo sex btw y/n and calum and the condom breaks ?!”

Warnings: Smut! Includes unprotected sex & a lil bit of dirty talk.

Word Count: 2.8k

Author's Note: Here it is! I changed the ask a little bit, but it's basically limo sex with Cal. Definitely used Shawn Mendes's Lost in Japan performance from the VS fashion show in this, by the way. Possible angsty part 2 dealing with the fact that there was no condom used. Anyway, enjoy! 

The event had been a blast. It's not every day you got to go to red carpets, seeing as your name had just gotten out there in the modeling industry. One lucky shoot for a famous magazine had spiked not only your Instagram following but also the amount of work you had been offered. Just a few months ago you were dreaming of being a big name in the industry, and now you're becoming one. Making a name for yourself meant event after event, even if you weren't on the catwalk that night. This night, in particular, you were there purely because it would be a good appearance, wearing a designer dress that your stylist perfectly picked out for you. The event, which was televised on networks at is MTV, consisted of a red carpet, two performances, and three different collections being worn down the catwalk. The fashion was amazing, but the musical intermissions had been even better. Shawn Mendes performed Lost In Japan, which was amazing. Then, later on, the stage was quickly set up for the band 5 Seconds of Summer. While you knew they had dropped a great album recently, you had never seen them live. You never really had a good look at the boys. The bassist caught your eye quick, being on your side of the stage. His muscles flexed as he played their hit song Youngblood, the tight button up fitting over his torso deliciously, showing off his arms. If it wasn't for your team sitting right next to you, forcing you to behave, you would have sent the man a wink when he looked over to you. Throughout the show, you sat with your manager on the right and your publicist on the left. Being a newer face also meant your every move was being watched. Your team was surrounding you all the time, making sure no bad paparazzi photos could appear, you never misspoke in interviews, and no scandals would arise. It was a blessing to have such a great team, and of course you were thankful, but having a group of people surrounding you constantly meant making it harder to sneak around. Being alone was a rarity unless it was in your own home and no paparazzi happened to be stalking us out of your house. Having such a strong team meant having a weak sex life. Staying out of trouble simply meant don't be caught by the paps either going home with a boy to hook up or leaving his house the next morning. You had been good about that, really, but the event showed you that it would be impossible to stay single forever, not with men looking that good playing bass right in front of you. You had no scandals and had been quite sweet throughout the quick boom of your modeling career. You were seen as kind, a natural beauty and a face for all women who don't have the average "model" body you'd see on Victoria's Secret ads, and you were proud that you had created such a good name for yourself. You were genuinely happy that you are making other people feel better about themselves, so what would be the issue if you finally started dating? Of course, you could understand one night stands might be scandalous, but you were craving another man's touch and, despite what your team said, being seen with a man was not going to ruin your image. Which is why at the after party you made a bit of a bold move. While your manager was looking away, speaking to one of their friends from the industry, you walked over to the bar on the other side of the room. Both the band and Shawn had the opportunity to bring plus one's along with them, so when you saw the handsome bassist without a plus one, just hanging out with the drummer while the others had their arms slung around their girlfriends, you knew you had to pounce. The drummer noticed you first as he walked up to the group, but he could easily tell your eyes were glued to the Maori man sat beside him. You walked up, faking confidence as the group made you a bit nervous, but you couldn't let them know. Confidence is sexy, and if you could fake it till you make it then maybe you wouldn't go home alone tonight. "Hey," you greeted loud enough to be heard over the music. You saw the handsome man's eyes quickly look you up and down, eyeing the tight cocktail dress you put on for the after party specifically. Hook. "You guys did great on your performance!" You turned your attention to the basis, seeing that your compliment had made him smile. Line. With your attention on the rockstar in front of you, you smoothly added on, "I especially loved the bass. You played so well tonight. Totally blew me away." At that, he smirked. Sinker. "Well thank you," he said. That damn smirk was going to be the end of you. The way his lips curved up, so inviting. He was attractive beyond belief. Keeping your attention on him, you spoke up again. "I was actually wondering if you wanted to dance." You hastily followed that with your name, hoping he'd tell you his in return. He looked you over once more. Of course he wanted to dance! He couldn't take his eyes off of you throughout the entire performance. After his first gaze at you, he quickly decided that you could be wearing the couture dress or just one of his t-shirts, and you'd still be the prettiest person in the room just like how he thought you were tonight. Standing from his seat at the bar, he held his hand out for you to gently set your own on to before bringing the back of your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against the back of your hand. "'M Calum. I'd like to dance." He brought you to the dance floor, which was filled with other models, men and women. He spun you around, pressing your back against his front. Your hands easily found their way into his hair, holding him close to you. While his own hands held onto your hips, his head ducked a bit so he could whisper to you. "What about me caught your eye, pretty girl?" Fuck. The way his lips brushed against your ear. If it wasn't completely inappropriate to take him right then and there you'd be on your knees in seconds. Turning your head to the side, your own lips so close to his, you said, "You looked amazing on stage, like you know how to have a good time." He chuckled, his hips swaying with yours. "I can show you one if you'd like?" The surge of confidence took over. A beautiful model, a woman so unique and powerful, wanted him? He had heard of you before, recently seeing your face on magazines and all over social media. He knew you're one hell of a woman, but he could also see right through your confidence tonight. He made you nervous. But then again, you made him nervous too, so you were both faking confidence for each other. Though, it seemed to be working considering how your ass was willing pushing against the forming bulge in his pants. "That is if you're interested." You smirked. This was it. And hey, if he showed you a good enough time you definitely wouldn't mind meeting up again for seconds. "I'd love that. Let's go." And with that, you grabbed his hand and hurried out of the dark room. Hopefully, everyone was too busy partying to notice. You took him around the back, to where all the limos were waiting. Calum kept his head down as you approached yours, knocking on the driver's window. When the window rolled down you gave a sweet smile to your driver. "Think you can get us out of here? I'm ready to go home." You gave her a look, basically begging to not ask why you were in a hurry or if you wanted to wait for your manager. "Get in, you guys. Tell me your address, I'll have you there as soon as I can," she said. You quickly told her where you live, and when she told you that it'd be about a forty-minute drive, you rushed to the back. The limo's partition was already up when you two slid in. It seemed as if the forty-minute drive wouldn't be too bad. Once comfortable, Calum turned towards you. "So," he started, "I'm guessing you don't get too many opportunities to get around and meet guys. Be honest, what made me special?" You grinned. You could read him a whole damn list if he wanted you to. Plus, looks aside, he seemed very interesting. What did his tattoos mean? Why did he have a little blonde streak in his hair? Why was he wearing such a fancy jacket to the after party? Every little thing about him made you curious. "You're very handsome, very talented, and if I'm being honest here, I couldn't keep my eyes off of you while you were on stage. Thank goodness you were on the side of the stage I was sitting at; I had the best seat in the house." You flirted a bit, teasing each other. His hand went to rest on your exposed thigh. "You're definitely right, I don't get to meet men often, but when they look as good as you I absolutely have to shoot my shot." With a smug look on his face, Calum asked, "And how many men have you approached who look as handsome as me?" His hand began to slide up, toying with the end of your dress. You giggled. "Would I get extra brownie points if I say that you're my first?" He gently squeezed your thigh before moving his free hand to lightly grip your chin. "Good answer, pretty girl." He pulled you to him, finally locking your lips together. If you thought this could ever be a one-time thing, you were wrong. His mouth on yours, biting your bottom lip and moving your tongues together felt way too good. You moved to straddle his lap, his hands moving to push up your tight dress. He pulled away from your mouth to travel down to your neck, leaving light, soft kisses. "If we're gonna do this we gotta make it quick. Only got a half hour before we're at yours." With your dress hiked up to your waist, he moved one of his hands to your panties, easily pushing the lacey fabric aside. You gasped when he grazed his finger over your clit. As he played with you, you pushed his sparkling jacket off his shoulders and undid the buttons of his shirt. You knew you weren't going to be able to get him naked in the limo, but at least his chest was exposed a bit. You moved down to undo his belt and pants, feeling over his hard-on. You couldn't wait to get him out of those pants. He slid his finger down to your entrance, thumb still rubbing your clit, and gently pushed in. You gasped, finally feeling something inside you. Calum turned your head to face him, leaning your foreheads together. He slowly worked his finger in and out of you. "Can't believe how wet you are for me," he mumbled against your lips, pushing in another finger. He started to speed up his movements, brushing that sweet spot inside you, making you moan out. The way you sounded moaning and whimpering his name only egged him on. Taking back a bit of control you finish undoing his pants, pulling them down a bit. You palmed him through his boxers before pulling those down too, allowing his cock to spring up. He was hard, pre-cum covering his tip, ready for you. You wrapped your hand around him, giving a few good pumps before you heard him hiss and grab your ass. He pulled out his fingers, bringing them between you two. You stuck out your tongue, giving his fingers a small lick, tasting yourself. He grinned at this and stuck the fingers in his mouth. He loved the way you tasted and couldn't wait to get back to your house where he could lay you down and eat you out for hours. During this, he pulled you closer to him, placing your cunt directly over his length. You pressed down a bit, feeling the head of his cock against your wet hole. "No more teasing, pretty girl." With that, he held your hips and pushed you down, sinking his cock into your tight pussy. You both moaned out, loving the feeling. Once you adjusted to the way his cock felt inside you, you pulled away the tiniest bit only to move back down again. His hands traveled to your ass, one hand squeezing while the other helped hold your panties to the side. You bounced a couple more times, groaning at the way he stretched you until you found your rhythm. You began to bounce at a pace that had both of you begging for more. The limo was filled with the sounds of your ass slapping against his thighs and the naughty, slippery sounds your pussy made each time you took his cock in. "Fuck Cal, I'm close," you whined out. At this, he attached his fingers to your clit, rubbing quickly to help you reach your orgasm. In no time he had you moaning. "Cal— fuck! I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum!" You both were loud messes as you came all over his cock. You stopped bouncing, so he took it upon himself to thrust up, never giving you a break, chasing his orgasm. "Look so good cumming on my cock, fuck. Gonna take my load? Gonna let me cum in your tight little cunt?" He groaned against your lips. You eagerly nodded. Fuck, how you wanted everything he had to offer. You felt him speed up his thrusts, grabbing at you so tight that you knew you'd have bruises tomorrow. You could moan just thinking about it. Right before he was about to cum he pressed his lips against yours. You immediately opened your mouth, allowing your tongues to move against one another. With a couple rough thrusts, he stilled in you, releasing into your warm, wet pussy. You pulled away from each other, grabbing at the closest phone you could find to check the time. You were about five minutes from when your driver said you'd be home. Glancing back at him, you noticed his smile. He had the prettiest post orgasm face, heart eyes for days as he looked at you. You giggled. How could a man be so sexy and so cute at the same time? Carefully, you pulled off of him. Both of you hissed at the loss of contact. You sat down, pulled your panties off, and used that as your impromptu cum rag. It wasn't the best option, but it was the only one you had. After cleaning up Calum's cum that dripped onto your thighs, you cleaned his cock. You made sure to be gentle, knowing he was just as sensitive as you after a fucking like that. You each fixed your outfits, preparing for the drive to end. Once ready, you finally faced each other. Suddenly, you both broke out laughing. "Fuck, I can't believe we just did that!" Calum nodded, wrapping his arm around you. "It was amazing pretty girl. Took me so well. Did I live up to my word? Did I show you a good time?" he asked. You pretended to contemplate his question as the limo came to a stop outside your home. "I don't know… I think you'll need to show me more before I can make a final decision." Calum grinned. He saw through your little act, and there was no way in hell he would decline your offer of letting him fuck you more. You shook up his whole night, and now he didn't want to let go of you. "I think I can do that." He opened the door, getting out and reaching a hand out to you to pull you along with him. You thanked your driver before leading him to your door. As soon as you two made it inside you were pressed against the door, his lips on yours. You pushed him back, leading the way to your bedroom, in hopes he'd continue showing you all he had to offer. You were thankful you had such a great team, and a job that empowered you and other women as well. You were thankful for the car you drove, the house you had, and the life you got to live. But most of all, you were thankful for Calum, for that night, and for the best time of your life so far.

--

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[lenavonschweetz]

Agent Insert

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Synopsis: You really didn’t mean to, but somehow you’d stumbled upon something called Tumblr - and in turn fanfiction.  You may or may not get addicted to reader inserts featuring your favorite teammate.  You may or may not get caught.

Warnings:  Smut, second-hand embarrassment, adorable Bucky, fanfiction cliches, fanfiction cliches turned on their heads, fluffy smut.  It’s ok (and quite adorable, honestly) to laugh during sexytimes.

A/N:  I’m literally writing this smut at the kitchen table inches away from my aunt and mom with a poker face and they have no idea.  If that doesn’t describe my life as an author, idk what does lol

You’d had a thing for Bucky longer than you could remember.

It probably all started when Steve joined up and created this little ragtag team and took to you immediately. Your calming presence and warm smile lured him in and you became fast friends, giving Steve a bond he hadn’t felt in a long time. You were the only one he trusted enough to tell about Bucky. He spoke of his suave friend with bucket loads of admiration and when he told stories of their shenanigans back in the day, his eyes would light up. You fell in love with the idea of a man glorious enough to make even displaced, war-scarred old Steve smile like a kid in Brooklyn again.

They say reality never lives up to the stories, but lord almighty were they wrong.

You first met Bucky when the business of the accords was in full swing, at the airport parking lot where you introduced Scott to the rest of the team. He hung back in Steve and Sam’s tiny car, head hanging quietly as Scott got acquainted with everyone. You remember your eyes had wandered to his dark figure, head reeling as you realized this was the man who haunted your dreams. The infamous ladies man and fearsome soldier, James Buchanan Barnes.

The soldier of your dreams sat right until an announcement over the loudspeaker in another language rang through the parking garage and stumped all of you.

“They’re evacuating the airport.” He offered, no doubt picking up on the confusion on everyone’s faces at the foreign words. At the sound of his voice, your eyes snapped up and immediately found his.

You hadn’t believed in love at first sight, but the way his impossibly blue eyes made you heart clench… Well, there was no denying this is exactly what was happening.

Months passed and the super-soldier stayed in Wakanda, as did you. Steve stayed by your side as you both awaited Bucky’s ‘defrost’ and when it finally happened, the first person Bucky smiled at was you.

Just like when you met Steve, the two of you became fast friends. He trusted you with his recovery enough to confide in you and try to make new memories with you. You even led him on his first several field missions and, as senior officer, had the final say in whether he belonged in the Avengers or not.

Of course, you said yes.

Over the months, your team became a symbol of hope and even unlikely celebrities. The attention was foreign, but not entirely unwelcome. You could get used to being stopped on the street, though you would never let your guard down, constantly aware of the fact that enemies could use this newfound fame to corner you and the team. Luckily though, you were almost always with Bucky when out and about and the large bear of a man effectively scared off any would-be assailants.

Kids adored you, constantly asking for your autographs, while adults asked for selfies and thanked you for your service. Although perhaps your favorite attention to come from the fame was from Tumblr.

Folks from all over the world posted about the team, of their love for specific members. Paparazzi photos of you would pop up from time to time, but yours were pretty scarce. The only ones that were taken almost always had Bucky glaring right at the camera as you smiled at him. You’d have been embarrassed that you’d been caught on film so many times staring at him, but who could blame you? He was an Adonis! 

People picked up on the stares though. 

Some users sided with you “she’s only human! And he is just so…well, look at him!” Other’s condemned you. “Seriously? How could he ever notice someone like her? #BuckDeservesBetter”

Those stung. But if growing up in the 21st century taught you anything, it’s that fans were only jealous and no one was safe. You could ignore the hate though.

What you couldn’t ignore was the fanfiction. 

Oh goodness, the fanfiction.

What seemed to be most popular were the reader inserts with your gorgeous teammate, and you didn’t mind indulging in them one little bit. Some were sweet and cute, others left you dashing for a cold shower after. It stunned you that these writers were able to capture Bucky’s mannerisms and personality so well! And these works were just so addicting!

It became a daily thing, finding a new fic, and reading it in the safety of your room where no one could see or judge. You read reader inserts, stories with original characters, and may or may not have found a guilty pleasure in a teensy bit of Stucky (who could deny the two perfect specimens would be hot as hell together??).  You steered clear of the Nat x Bucky fics, though, like your life depended on it. 

That was one torture you just couldn’t expose yourself to.

Then you stumbled over the one that changed everything. A new fic by one of your favorite authors that featured Bucky (of course) and…you. It was a prompt you hadn’t read before, one where the two of you had to share a hotel room with only one bed and things got hot and heavy. Your heart raced as you indulged in this fantasy, thinking of all the times you had to share a room with your teammates, though there was always more than one bed. You had never shared with Bucky, as he usually bunked with Steve while you bunked with Nat, but a girl can dream can’t she?

And dream you did.

The story became a constant thought in the back of your mind and when you and Buck were assigned to a duet mission together, you felt your heart stop. At the hotel when checking in, you were given one room and your mind ran ramped.  Had he read your phone’s history? Did he find your Tumblr? What if he had read the sinful story you’d found and wanted to live out the fantasy with you (another of your favorite prompts). The thoughts had you following silently behind your partner, heart racing as he smiled at you while his deft fingers unlocked the door. Steeling yourself as you walked inside behind him, you dropped your bags and spun around to find… 2 beds.

Oh.

Well, you supposed your dirty fantasies were just that; Fantasies.

The night crawled on with no notable incidents -unfortunately-, and when it was finally time to call it a night, you both fell into your own beds.

Sleep evaded you for hours. The thought of that perfect body lying just feet away from you swam in the back of your mind. You could easily get up, crawl into bed with him, and make all your dreams come true. The fantasies that filled your head made you anything but tired.

Well, that, and the fact that Bucky was snoring like a mother fucking buzz saw.

Your wide, dry eyes stared up at the ceiling as the loud rumbles filled the room. Bucky had come a long way - with your help - and no longer had nightly terrors. Of course, they still happened on occasion, but they were a rare occurrence now.  The super soldier often found himself sleeping soundly through most nights, including this one.

He was the only one who would, it seemed, as you tossed and turned, doing your best to tune out the irritating sound. You put earplugs in, then headphones playing music, then even a track of the white noise of New York: taxi’s, people talking shouting on the streets, and so many different sounds overlapping that you could barely differentiate it all. It usually knocked you right out on a mission.

But Bucky snored over it.

You did your best to ignore it, you really did, but when he rolled over onto his back and started with a newfound volume, you’d decided you’d had enough.

“Bucky.”  You say lowly, hoping that he’ll sleep through the disturbance, but that his subconscious will hear his name and disturb his sleep just enough that he’ll shut the hell up.

The resounding snort proves that theory wrong.

“Bucky!”  You snap, louder now.  Nothing.  “James!”

A few moments pass…

Nothing…

Maybe it worked!  Maybe-

Yeah, no,  there he goes again.

Groaning loudly, you sit up and reach for your phone.  Fine, if his hard-sleeping-ass can sleep through all that, then he could sleep with the light from your phone filling the room as well.

You open your favorite app, the blue screen greeting your tired eyes.  Switching over from the homepage feed, you type ‘Bucky x reader’ into the app’s search bar and your screen is immediately flooded with fic after fic.  Pursing your lips, you decide to narrow your search.  It doesn’t seem like you’ll be falling asleep any time soon, so what would the harm be?  You let your thumbs fly over the screen’s keyboard.

Bucky x reader smut.

Happy with your amendment, you hit ‘search’ once more and decide to take a walk on the wild side.

Immediately, your screen is flooded with sin and you bite back a smile.  With your screen’s light as low as it’ll go, you click on the first story and settle into a comfortable position, facing away from Bucky and the window as you immerse yourself in the fic.

----------

You’ve probably been reading for about an hour or so when your bladder decides it’s time for you to get up.  Sighing quietly, you leave your phone on your pillow, creeping through the silent room.  As soon as you’ve taken care of business and washed up, you tiptoe back to bed.  As you all but fall into the sheets, feeling like you can finally sleep, you realize your phone is not where you left it.

Hell, it’s not even in the bed.

Sitting up in fright, your eyes dart across the room and the sleeping man in the bed opposite yours.  When you see the dimly glowing screen on the bedside table, you sigh in relief, telling yourself that your sleep-deprived brain probably just didn’t register you putting it away.  Locking the screen with sleepy eyes, you drift off to sleep with visions of Bucky trailing kisses down your neck flitting behind your eyes.

----------

The morning comes much too quickly for your taste, but you push yourself out of bed to face the day ahead.

You grab your bag quickly, packing up all your belongings as you and Bucky prepare for your mission.  He’s oddly quiet this morning, barely meeting your eyes as you two embark the hotel room.  Shrugging it off, you follow behind him and before you know it, the two of you are standing before the doors to a known Hydra sympathizer’s office building.  It’s far too early for anyone to be there, so breaking in is easier than you’d expected and the two of you don’t run into any trouble as you make your way to the top floor.

Once there, you put your plan into motion, Bucky taking a defensive position as you sneak into the agent’s office.  You plug in your hard drive like you’ve done a million times before, eyes scanning across the screen at breakneck speed as you hack your way around firewalls and numerous alarms.  It’s almost too quiet as you do your work, but by the way Bucky hasn’t even flinched in his spot is a good indicator that things are - miraculously - still going as planned.

Finally, your work is done - your flash drive holding multiple plans and the computer scrambled so badly that it’ll take days before the agent can access it once more.

----------

You don’t allow yourself to breathe until you and Bucky walk into yet another hotel, this one only a few towns over from your rendezvous point with Steve and Natasha.  You’d spend the night here before making the remainder of the journey in the morning.  Exhaustion hits you like a freight train as you trudge to the room, and you find yourself hoping against hope once more that your favorite fics may come to life.  But when your eyes fall on two beds once more those hopes are dashed.

“You can take the king,”  Bucky says, and you suddenly realize those are the first words he’s spoken to you all day aside from the firefight earlier.  “I’ll take the queen.”

You raise your eyebrow at that but don’t argue, even though you know damn well that the man who is almost twice your size probably needs the larger bed more than you do.

No more words are passed between the two of you as you prepare for bed, each taking their turn in the bathroom and shower before turning the lights out and settling down to sleep.  It doesn’t take long for sleep to tickle at your eyelids, but it’s chased away almost instantly when Bucky’s buzz saw snores kick to life again.

Groaning quietly, you toss a pillow at the super-soldier before rolling over to grab your phone and headphones from the bedside table.  He continues, of course, and you go to your favorite app once more.  Using your phone this late at night and right before you sleep is bad, you know, but how the hell are you supposed to sleep with that man rumbling only several feet from you.

You open a new fanfic, this one’s warnings staring you down as you read “smut, language, NSFW gifs” and you can’t fight back the smirk that plays on your lips.  Again, you roll onto your side, back towards Bucky, as you get to reading.

You know your breathing has picked up pace as you get past the fic’s casual banter between friends and the sexual tension sets in.  Your legs squeeze together of their own accord, your chest warming in arousal as you envision Bucky speaking to you the way he’s speaking to y/n in this fic.

Within a few minutes - and a few lines - the sexual tension explodes into a full-on kiss, the smut slowly building as a result.  You scroll quickly, devouring every detail before your fingers slow as the top of a gif comes into view.  It’s sinful, to say the least.  You watch the way the man’s hips swivel into his lover’s, her head thrown back as he buries his head against her throat and himself deep into her.

Your lip is back between your teeth and you can’t bring yourself to scroll on just yet.  Instead, you let yourself take every detail in as the image loops, again and again, your arousal growing with every second.  Oh, what you wouldn’t give to have Bucky moving against you that way.  His heavy breath fanning over your collarbone as he grinds against your most sensitive skin.  You have to bite your tongue to not moan into the silent room.

Wait…

Silent.

You realize at that moment that the violent snores from the other side of the room have died completely, silence overtaking their absence.  A silence that has you tentatively glancing over your shoulder and only to immediately regret it.

Even in the dark, your eyes find the blue ones that are only inches away.  Blue eyes that are damn near swallowed with lust.

Oh.  

Oh, Jesus.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, doll?”  His deep voice rumbles in the quiet room, sending your heart galloping as you jump up to sitting, desperately burying your phone against your breast to hide its contents from him.

“Nothing.”  You say, your voice scarcely above a whisper.  You don’t miss the smirk on his face and frantically reevaluate the past several minutes in your brain.  When had he woken up?  When had he snuck up behind you?  How much had he read over your shoulder?  Where the hell had all your training gone?

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me.”  He says, teeth dragging over his lower lip and it seems for a moment that he’s debating on whether or not he wants to take this any further.  When he speaks again though, he makes his choice very clear.  “Looks like you’re being a very bad girl.”

The room is so fucking quiet that the lump that you gulp down is painfully audible.

He didn’t just say that…did he?  You chuckle humorlessly, trying desperately to break the obvious tension and play off of the joke he is so obviously playing on you.

But then he doesn’t laugh with you.  Just stares as he scoots closer on his knees until his frame is right against the bed, pulling you by your thighs until he’s encasing you - palms on either side of your legs that are now thrown over the side of the bed.

You’reDreamingYou’reDreamingYou’reDreaming…

“That…that was too far, wasn’t it?”  He suddenly asks, rocking his weight back on his heels.  Bless him, he looks so shy and you must look completely dumbfounded.  He waits with bated breath as you open and close your mouth uselessly, desperately searching for words.

Finally, you spit out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Did you just quote the fanfiction I read last night?”  OH MY GOD, you mentally scream.  Why the fuck would you expose yourself like that?? What if he just thought of that himself??

But then what if he didn’t?  Because that line had definitely stuck out to you when reading the night before…and suddenly, you remember why it had.  That was the last line before you left your phone to go to the bathroom.  The last line you’d read with tired eyes before you set your phone down, unlocked, on your pillow and - ohmygod!

“You read that!?”  You screech, gripping your phone tighter.  You gasp so hard you damn near swallow your tongue.  “You put my phone on the bedside table!  Bucky, you totally snooped while I was peeing!”  Alright, you could’ve kept that bit to yourself.

He’s biting that damn lip again, and you know he can tell that’s exactly where your eyes are zeroed in on.

“Maybe?”  He says, voice small as he admits his secret to you.  “I didn’t mean to!  I just…I woke up when you shut the bathroom door, and the screen was shining right in my face - I just-I got up to lock it so it wouldn’t bother me, but then I saw what you were looking at and…”  He clears his throat.  “Doll, I…were you reading porn…about me?”

Your face is no doubt a thousand degrees of embarrassment.

“It’s not porn!! it’s fanfiction, and-”

“It literally talks about me fucking you.”  He deadpans, eyebrows raised.  “In explicit detail.  It’s porn.”

You’re silent for a few moments, staring him down as you wait for him to back down.

Of course, he doesn’t.

“Ok, fine!  It’s porn, are you happy?”  You huff, crossing your arms and finally ditching your phone to the pillow beside you.  A sudden terrifying thought causes you to freeze. “So…are you going to tell the team?”

“Why the fuck would I tell them?!”

“I don’t know!”

“Do you honestly think I’d tell them something so personal?!  That’s Stark’s territory!”

“I don’t know!”  You repeat, floundering as you toss your hands up before crossing them again in a pout.  “It’s embarrassing.  You know I tend to jump to the worst-case scenarios…”

“Doll, I would never out you like that.”  You would have to be blind to miss the way his eyes drag over you in your nightclothes, and you are suddenly very aware of your lack of bra and just how cold it is in the room.

He seems to notice too, his eyes zeroing in on your breasts and the way your nipples are pressing against the soft fabric encasing them.

“Do you…do you want me like that?”  He asks, his voice dropping back into the husky tone it had been before his awkward detour.

“No, Bucky, I was just reading porn of you for the fuck of it.”  He chuckles at that, his palms coming to rest on your thighs as the embarrassment between you two eases - making way for a choking tension.

“Really?  Ah, well, then I guess I can just go back to bed, then.”

“Don’t you dare!”  The words are out before you can stop them, but at this point, you don’t much care.

“Oh?  Then what should I do, Doll?”  His blue eyes are dark, gazing at you from below thick lashes as his hands creep higher up your thighs, pushing your oversized t-shirt up to expose the soft cotton covering you from his gaze.  “Should I do this?”

Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening as he leans forward, lips pressing against the soft skin on the inside of your thigh.

“Oh, please.”  You beg, arms falling at your sides to support you as his mouth grows closer to where you really want him.  Only he doesn’t quite reach, his eyes twinkling playfully at you.

“Words, Doll.”  He grumbles lowly, splayed hands pushing your legs wider to give himself better access to your heat.

“Bucky, please-”  A squeal escapes you when his teeth drag across your hip bone.  “Put your mouth on me.”

Nothing you’ve ever read could’ve prepared you for the way Bucky touches you.

He moves slowly, his palms running from your inner thighs to behind your knees to pull your legs over his shoulders.  The movement has your stomach flipping, eyes never leaving his as he drags his tongue up the material hiding your core from him.

He chuckles at your moan, eyes batting as he presses the point of his tongue against your clit beneath your panties.  To be honest, you’re not sure which one of you is enjoying this more what with the way his fingers tighten against your legs, his eyes closing in concentration as he laps at you.

In your wildest dreams, you never thought Bucky would be touching you like this - at least not outside of the fiction you were reading.  But, oh, is he touching you - playing you, more like it, plucking your strings until you’re practically singing for him.

You could cum just like this, light pets of his tongue teasing your sensitive skin, but then he’s tugging the panties from your form, diving right back into your bare skin and you’re keening at the contact, your fingers knotting in his long hair.  He groans in response to your moans, forearm flung lazily across your hips to keep you still as he wreaks havoc on you.

You open your mouth, ready to chastise him but the words instantly make way for cries as he finally swipes his tongue through your folds - fucking you with his mouth as he watches your form writhe.

“God, you taste amazing.”  He moans, and you have to hold back a giggle.  “What’s so funny, Doll?”  Do you admit that you’d read him saying those very words far too many times to keep count?

But then he’s pulling away, leaving you whimpering at the precipice of release and the sight of his strong torso being revealed to your ends any thoughts you may have had.  Especially when he reaches down and rids you of your own shirt, kissing across your collar bones once they’re exposed.

“You got any protection?”  He asks suddenly, teeth scraping at your throat and you are suddenly aware of the fact that this is real life, not a fic, and wow you’d lost count of how many bareback smuts you’d read.

Not that the thought of Bucky cumming inside you wasn’t the hottest thing ever, but the idea of pregnancy was something you didn’t even want to entertain at the moment.

So, begrudgingly, you pushed Bucky off gently, bending down to rifle through your bag - hey, it never hurts to be prepared.  You roll your eyes at his chuckle as you bend over, shaking your exposed backside at him -where he has taken your seat on the mattress - before rising to hand him the small, metallic square.

He toys with it for a few seconds, watching as you stand with a lip tugged gently between your teeth and your eyes flicker to the semi-hard shaft against his thighs.  Silver fingers enter your line of sight, coming to cup himself, stroking a few times as you watch him.

“See something you like, Doll?”  He asks, free hand coming up to run his thumb against your lips.  You nod slowly, eyes never tearing from where he teases his cock.  You flick your tongue out to wet your lips, Bucky’s thumb accidentally catching where it had been against your lips and then he’s growling and pulling you to him.

Your lips crash together, a flash of pain as your teeth clack momentarily, but you’re far too lost in Bucky’s intoxicating proximity to care.  He seems to share the sentiment as your hands weave through his hair, pulling him closer as he moans and strokes himself faster before you straddle his strong thighs.

 You consider grinding down against the taut muscle momentarily, but then Bucky’s rolling the condom down his shaft, his knuckles brushing your folds as he does and all you want is for him to fill you up to the brim.

The desperation is clear on your face, wrapped in hooded eyes and a deep flush as you inhale deeply every time Bucky’s knuckles brush you.

“Oh, my god!”  You huff, getting ever so impatient.  He chuckles at your tone, tugging you higher on his lap so that - finally - you’re aligned.  A brief moment passes as you two eye each other hesitantly, your nerves on fire as you consider what it is you’re about to do.  

You’re about to fuck your partner, your best friend…the man you’ve been fantasizing about for years.

“Ready, Doll?”  He asks softly, testing the waters as he runs the head of his cock through your lips.  Any hesitation you may have had melts with the shiver that travels your spine, and then some when Bucky growls as you bare your nails into his shoulder blades.

“Bucky, I swear to god, if you don’t fu-ck me!”  You squeal the tail end of your sentence, Bucky’s own groan disappearing into the skin of your shoulder as he slides home in one thrust.  Pain and pleasure flood your senses and suddenly you are highly aware of just how long it’s been.

“Shiiit,” Bucky sighs at the tight fight, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips and holding you still as he struggles to hold himself off.

It’s been a while for him, too.

“Jesus, you’re tight.”  He hisses between his teeth, his brow as scrunched as yours no doubt is at the moment.

“And you’re huge.”  He laughs then, the movement of his abs against your sensitive skin enough to have you sighing.  “I, uh, think you’re good to move.”  You say quietly, testing this theory with a slight brush forward of your hips.  When a delicious friction reaches your clit at the action you moan lowly.  “Oh, yeah.  Very good to move.”

And move he does, giving you a few moments as he slowly builds up the pace before falling back and letting you take the reigns.  Your hands find his strong pecs as you fall forward at the sudden shift, and a shit-eating grin crosses your face.  Bucky misses this, however, as his eyes are screwed shut with pleasure.

“Fuck!”  He groans when you begin to rut against him, dragging your clit against his adonis belt as his cock head catches against your insides perfectly.  He doesn’t seem to mind this change, panting openly and quite vocally.  Well, that is until his hands find your thighs and hold on tight.  “Shit, slow down, Doll…I don’t know how long I can last if you keep that up.”

You’re about to apologize, a flush very evident on your skin before Bucky is manhandling you onto your back, your legs cast wide in his grasp.

“Let’s slow things down a little.”  He teases, kissing your nose as you giggle and let him set the pace.

When he does, it’s dizzyingly slow, his teeth dragging against your skin as do his fingertips and after a few minutes of sinfully slow rocks of his hips, he is very quickly stringing you towards the edge.

“Bu-Bucky,”  You whimper, your walls beginning to flutter around him.  The groan that milks from his chest is nothing short of sexy and you return one of your own.  His name becomes a chant on your lips as pleasure rushes through your bloodstream, your nails digging into his taut back and after a few more thrusts of his own, he’s emptying inside the condom.

The high fades slowly, your skin buzzing in sated pleasure as a lazy smile takes place on your face.  Bucky is quiet, almost shy as he retreats to the restroom to clean himself and dispose of the condom.  You snicker quietly to yourself at the thought that this detail is often left out of the fics you read, but the pleasant ache between your legs certainly isn’t.

“Well,”  He says as he returns, slipping under the covers with you.  As you shift, something digs into your side and when you bring the offending object above the covers do you realize that your phone had remained in the sheets that whole time.  You hand it off to Bucky as he tugs you closer, waving him to put it on the bedside table.  “Aren’t you glad I decided to snoop?”  He teases as he takes the contraption from you.

“Yeah, Yeah, Barnes.  But probably not as glad as S.H.I.E.L.D. will be when they realize they can save on rooms by just booking us one bed from now on!”

You both chuckle at the jest, your giggles soon dying into labored breathing as your energy drains quickly against the warmth of Bucky’s body wrapped around yours.  Your eyes drift shut of their own accord, not noticing how Bucky hesitates at placing your phone on the charger…again.

“Hey, Doll?”  He asks hesitantly, his eyes widening as he scrolls through your Tumblr feed and exposed to all sorts of sin.

“Hmm?”  You hum, sleep tickling at your mind.   That is until your eyes fly open wide at his following question.

“What’s Stucky?”

----------

Shall we have a sequel?  Perhaps where she gives him a hands-on explanation of what “Stucky” is?

TAGS

struck out means I couldn’t tag you

TRUE LOVE TAGS:

@bxtchybrie , @sergeantjamesbarnes107th , @itsanotheravengersimaginesblog, @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme , @james-bionic-barnes , @mickeyl322 , @stank-tower , @lostinspace33 , @thecrownedrose , @nikkitia7 , @redroomproperty , @magpiegirl80 , @fifi1433 , @knittingknerdy , @specs15 , @justareader , @metalarmandredstar , @agentsofcap , @marvel-lucy , @pickylittlebitch , @shamvictoria11 , @twistedfate108 , @tori-medusa-belongs-to-bucky ,  @allinhishands , @hellomissmabel , @mizzzpink , @smexy-bucky-waifu , @annwhojumps , @avengerofyourheart , @saffreelove , @palaiasaurus64 , @flowercrownsandmetallicarms , @sexyvixen7 , @armenian-nerd, @thiddlestoff, @callingmrsbarnes , @avengebuckybarnes , @splaine-to-me , @to-be-a-sunshine , @heismyhunter , @miladycollie , @4theluvofall , @sebastianbarnesandchrisrogers , @writingourwildestemodreams , @imadandelion-yourearose, @sebbymylove16, @harrysbbby, @italyand5soslover283, @sebastianbarnesandchrisrogers,@httpbarnes, @subtletynotwithstanding, @panickingwiththefalloutboys, @hardcorehippos, @ryverpenrad, @stellarfairie, @nativesebby, @violentlyfarts, @dianelogan, @mrtinslydia , @ladylizzieofdarbyshire, @unidentifiedanonfics, @microscopicmonsters, @elohunnie, @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x, @paprika0437, @asphalt-cocktail , @ronnie-rebel, @dormousse @tinyfistwarrior , @veamcast93 , @theromaniansoldier , @belovedbittersea @disagreetoagree @cloverrover ,@estxfanyy

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[allfandomxreader]

The Interview pt. 4

Pairings: Joe Keery x Reader Words: 1,790 Summary: Joe takes you on your first date but it doesn’t go quite as planned. Warnings: Swearing A/N: The end is near!! I’m so excited for the next part. After this I’ll be starting a new Joe series I think you all will like but I’ll go into more detail about that later! Part: 4/5

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 5

I stand in front of the mirror combing ferociously through my hair with my fingers. Nerves bounce my leg as I run more product through the long locks. My heart pounds for unknown reasons thinking about the day ahead. I slowly take deep breaths, I haven’t been this nervous since I was standing outside Y/N’s door pouring my heart out. I will never understand how she has this much of an effect on me.

I remove the new suit from the small closet and slip into it, slightly rolling up the cuffs at the bottom of the dress shirt. I check my appearance one last time before exiting the cramped hotel room and down the hall towards Y/N’s. I rap my knuckles against the cool wood door, I can hear her shuffling in her room as she scurries to answer. When the door slowly opens Y/N finally comes into view, instantly putting the jitters at ease. She offers me a warm smile opening the door more, exposing her gorgeous dress that nearly touched the floor. I’m too in awe to speak as I take her all in.

“Earth to Joe,” She giggles, pulling my head out of the clouds. I clear my throat offering the beautiful lady my hand, hers is warm as she slips it into mine. I lean forward, gently pressing my lips to hers, the sweet kiss ends after a few moments with her hands softly pushing me out the door.

The summer air is warm as we make our way towards the parked car. I open Y/N’s door, beating the chauffeur to it. I pass him a scribbled piece of paper with the location, not wanting to give any hints to where I was taking Y/N on our first legitimate date.

Throughout the ride, Y/N begs me to tell her what I had in store for the night. It almost broke me not to tell her, it was hard enough not to tell her for the past couple of weeks, now that the night is here it’s almost impossible to keep my lips sealed. She gives up after the seventh time, content with the element of surprise.

We step out onto the sidewalk as the car speeds away, back into the late-night traffic. Her heels click against the cement as we make our way towards the grand doors of the most elite restaurant in the city. She glances over to me, eyebrows raised, impressed that I was able to pull such a thing off without her knowing.

Laughter from strangers fill the building, everyone holds quiet conversations while waiters chat between tables offering champagne to the customers. Everyone is in tuxes and long dresses, even though the two of us fit the dress code, we still feel out of place. “Reservation for Keery, eight o’clock,” I say to the old man hosting. He peers over his nose at the book in front of him before glancing back up at me.

“Sorry, Mr. Keery, but it seems like your reservation has been given away,” The man waves his wrinkly hand towards the filled tables in the restaurant, making it clear that were no available seats.

“Excuse me?” I sputter in disbelief, my fingers curl into fists as anger wells inside me.

“Sir, you’re supposed to be here fifteen minutes before your reservation time,” He glances at the elegant watch wrapped around his wrist, “It is eight ten.”

“Please, there must be something you can do. I booked this reservation weeks ago!” The man offers a disinterested wave.

“I’ve heard it all before. If you can’t comply with our regulations, don’t come!” His voice raises, looking past me to greet new guests.

“Look, you don’t understand. I really need this night to be perfect, is there something we can work out?” I fish the wallet from my suit jacket, flicking through bills to offer him.

“Sir! Do you think I can be bribed?” His tone is baffled as he stares at me in horror. Soft hands wrap around my arm pulling me away from the situation.

“Joe, it’s okay, we can go somewhere else,” She whispers defusing the situation, “To hell with this place, we’ll go somewhere better.” She tugs me away from the front table and back towards the door.

“That’s highly unlikely,” The old man mumbles under his breath, just loud enough for us to hear.

“Oh fuck off,” Y/N throws the insult over her shoulder earning gasps from the uppity people.

We stand just outside the exquisite doors of the restaurant, I groan in frustration, harshly running my fingers through my hair pulling a few strands out of their follicles. “Joe, really, it’s okay. Why are you so upset?” She rests her palm on my shoulder, slowly running her finger over the fabric of my suit.

“I just wanted this night to be perfect,” I admit in defeat, “Tonight was supposed to be about us, about going public with our relationship. I picked the best restaurant in the city -there was even going to be live music- and now it’s just all ruined.”

“Tonight is about us. We don’t need a posh restaurant to have a great night, I’m sorry your plans got ruined but that doesn't mean our night has to be. The place doesn’t matter, the food doesn’t matter,” She pauses, a light shade of pink blossoms onto her cheeks, “To be honest, we could have dinner at McDonald’s and the night would still be amazing and that’s because I’m with you, Joe Keery, the man I fell in love with months ago. No snobby host is going to change that our how we spend our night. Don’t give him that satisfaction.”

My hands grasp her cheeks and pull her into me, she kisses me back immediately, her arms wrap around my neck as we share the passionate moment. Never in my life have I experienced a love like the one she gives me. I often forget how lucky I really am to call her mine, moments like these are what remind me how fortunate I truly am.

Several minutes later she sits across from me in the grimy booth, a twenty piece nugget box sits in the middle of us on a tray full of fries. She tries to tell me what silly thing happened between Natalia during their filming today, she could barely get through the first four sentences before bursting into laughter. I can’t help smile at the cheerful woman before me. Tears slowly leak from her eyes as she continues with the story, I can’t make out half the words she says but I laugh along anyway.

“You had to be there, it was just really funny,” She sighs wiping the last of her tears away before shoving a handful of fries into her mouth. Our hands reach to grab more nuggets, our greasy fingers bump into each other, both of us reaching for the last nugget. The boyfriend in me wanted to tell her to take it, however, the best friend Joe wasn’t giving up that easily.

“Rock, paper, scissors?” I propose already getting my hands ready for the game. Y/N’s eyes squint together, eyeballing me as she brings her own hands close to mine. We slap our fists against our palms in an intense stare-off. Just as I slam my final position -rock- she slams down paper. She triumphantly plucks the nugget from the cardboard and plops it into her mouth with a grin. “Let’s get out of there, the nights still young.”

We stroll in the darkness of the night. The sun went down hours ago but our date lives on. Y/N pulls me by the hand towards a vendor selling ice cream, she pleads with her eyes for a moment before I pull out my wallet. She cheers picking out her desired flavor as I do the same.

We find ourselves sitting on a park bench finishing off the sweet dessert after the long stroll. Her head leans lazily on my shoulder as she watches geese frolic in the pond. “I told you tonight would be amazing.” She sighs, snuggling closer into the crook of my neck.

“Yeah,” I chuckle quietly, “You did.” I kiss her temple before she quickly pops her head up from our relaxed position.

“Bet I can race you to that tree,” She stands abruptly, offering me her hand to take.

“What?” I say, placing my hand in hers before she yanks me up.

“That tree,” She points to the large oak that stands at the bottom of the hill, “I bet I can race you there and back,” She brings her feet up to her hands as she disregards her heels under the park bench, I open my mouth to protest but she beats me to the words. “Come on it’ll be fun!”

Without saying a word, I turn from her to face the tree. Bending my legs to try to build momentum. She wads the red fabric into a fist as she follows my lead. She screams “Go!” so loud the geese flutter a few feet away. The two of us bolt down the hill as fast as our legs could carry us. She rounds the tree first but as she makes her way up the hill she loses speed rapidly. I quickly pass her, my shoes slide in the mud as I come to the top of the hill in first place. I raise my fists into the air, doing the cliche Rocky pose. She appears moments later, panting. Her hair is a mess, a few strands cling to her forehead due to the light sweat. She grins when she locks eyes with me, laughing at our childish ways.

“Oh, your dress,” I say, motioning to the very bottom of her dress that’s now tattered and covered in mud, Y/N seems as if she could care less.

“Worth it,” She shrugs, slowly walking into my arms. We hold each other in a warm embrace as our heartbeats return to their normal speeds. Somewhere in the distance, camera clicking can be heard --no doubt by the paparazzi. She peers up at me, beaming. Inch by inch our lips get closer until I close the distance. Gradually, more cameras begin to click and flash, it feels as if the world has been lifted off my shoulders. Neither of us had to hide such a big part of our lives anymore, who would’ve thought the relief that would bring.

Tags:  @acciohermionejg @empatheric-vibrations @artisticales @uncle-jjezzy @superfrankie111 @brunetteinblack @keely-ansell @moonlightbae14  @stevieboyharrington @thechandlerbingdance @pls-makeupyourmind  @leonieandellie  @messybl0g @itsluzymeh

[secret-rendezvous1d]

A Christmas Blessing

DECEMBER 2ND, 2017.

Omg please do more Persephone and jack for blogmas!! I am in love with them. Maybe something where jack and P are out shopping and they split up in a department store and Jack starts walking around and looking at engagement rings and H and the missus go over and have a little chit chat with him?

The second addition to Blogmas 2017 is here! I haven’t written a lot of stuff to do with Persephone as an adult, nor have I done much including her significant other, Jack, so it was nice to give you an little insight into their life and the sweet relationship bond that they have. So this one was really lovely to have a play with and write about. Thank you for sending it in!

Feedback is welcomed, as always.

Enjoy. xx

Jack was up before his phone blared out his alarming wake-up call. An alarm that Persephone hated to hear, filling their small Southampton flat, at six o’clock in the morning on a week-day. Because, to her, no one should ever be up before seven. Never falling short in pushing herself away from his comfortably warm side and tugging the duvet with her as she rolled onto her side, burying her face, deep, into her pillow and grumbling heavy goodbyes to him as he left for his morning classes. Reaching across to the bedside table on his side of the bed and switching his alarm off to save them from being rudely interrupted by an obnoxious horn. The bright, and rather unusual, December sunlight peeking in through the slits of the cream-coloured blinds hanging down her childhood bedroom window, an upgrade from the striped pink curtains that used to hang down to the floor, casting a yellow haze around the room. His eyes blink open, slow and lazy, removing the cloudy vision creating a sheen over his brown orbs.

Throughout the night, after sleep had been induced by drinking too much of your popular mulled wine and feasting a meal that could have fed everyone in Hampstead, Persephone had managed to cosy herself closer to him. A leg swung over his hips as she cuddled further into him, trapping him in her hold. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder, tucked against his warm chest as it rose and fell. She’s snoring, rather comfortably, because she’s always had the fear of him finding it the least bit attractive, with her buttoned nose pushed against the stubble that sprouted his flesh.

Reaching a hand up from where it was perched on her hip, his t-shirt no longer covering up her torso and having risen up through the night from her tossing and turning, the duvet sliding down his arm and exposing it to the cold air, his fingers delicately moving strands of her hair back from her lips, tucking them behind her ear in order to not have a hairy kiss. He licks across her top lip, feeling a blush crawling up his neck as his body instinctively reacts to her touch, squeaks and little hums filtering to his ears from her slightly pursed lips, pasting several wet pecks on her mouth before drifting down across her chin and up and over the supple mounds of her cheeks, brushing his damp lips across the tip of her nose. Up the bridge and on a path across her creasing forehead.

“Mm, good morning,” she murmured sleepily, cracking an eye open and sending him a warm smile, “mum and dad are in the next room, you know? As much as I love some morning love before our days begin, I don’t want to risk them walking in and seeing you hitting home base. That happened once and, well, we both know how that turned out. We had a day-long lecture on safe sex which was awkward for every single one of us,” she pushed his face away from her and grumbled, “your morning breath doesn’t smell so good either. Is it possible to have a hangover from mulled wine?”

“By the way you were knocking those glasses back, I’m pretty sure it’s a possibility,” he chortled, nudging his nose into the base of her throat and peppering kisses to the space between both of her collarbones, “think your dad was a bit worried. Kept glancing at me through the night. He’s quite, uh, he’s quite scary when he does that, isn’t he? I think he was telepathically scolding me for not looking after you.”

“You get used to it after a while,” Persephone grinned, lopsided and toothy and much too similar to her father’s, “he’s a big softie really, my dad. He’s very protective, thought, and you’ll probably hear him scold us more than ever because we’re all old enough to have a glass of wine with our Christmas dinner this year,” she cackled, head rolling back against her pillow. And he ceased it as an opportunity to attack her neck with rougher pecks. Sucking on the skin below her ear and eliciting a string of soft moans from her throat. Fingers raking through his pillow-messed hair, “it’s your first Christmas here. Dad gets really festive. Especially during the week building up to the twenty-fifth. I can guarantee you that he’ll have Christmas music playing when we go down for breakfast, wearing a hideous jumper that he wears every year, making gingerbread pancakes and cutting them into tree shapes, even though we’re not kids anymore.”

Christmas tree-shaped pancakes, flavoured with gingerbread and cinnamon, became a Christmas tradition, every Sunday throughout the month of December, when Darcy and Rose were old enough to consume solids. Filling the house with a delicious aroma of pancake batter and gingerbread that always made the house feel warm and toasty. A rather tall pile of awfully cut out tree-shaped pancakes, that Harry had slaved away making throughout the hour of waking up, sat in the middle of the empty dining table, surrounded by bowls of strawberries and blueberries and bananas as well as bottles of syrup and a can of whipped cream that has become Alfie’s favourite.

“Think we’ll have traditions like that when we’re married and have kids of our own? I’ll make the pancakes, I think, because you can barely make scrambled eggs,” he teased, his cheeks flushing pink as she grinned, “we’re got some right gruelling stares from the neighbours when the smokes alarm went off. I still don’t think we’re their favourites.”

“Of course not. I’ll buy us the best house. One close to London so we’re near your parents but also close to Southampton so we’re near my parents and they can commute easily to see us. One that has a lot of bedrooms and has the best scenery and a back garden for our kids to play in. And I’ll let you take over the interior because you’ve a decorative eye,” he said softly, sitting up and twisting himself around to face her, crossing his legs into a pretzel shape, leaning back on his palms, “heck, I’ll even build us a house, if you want me to. Your dream house. That you have full control in decorating. As big as you want it. Wherever you want it. Whatever you want, I’ll be satisfied with. A happy wife means a happy life.”

“You’re the best boyfriend ever, do you know that? An absolute treasure,” Persephone tittered, reaching over and squeezing his knee before hauling herself up to her feet, stepping off the mattress and stretching her back, arms pushed into the air as the t-shirt on her body rose up and showed a little stomach. A delighted groan mewling from her lips. “We should probably start getting ready if we’re going to hit the shops before it gets busy.”

By the time they’d made their way out of the busy tube stations, said hello to the few people who had recognised them in the street, dodged a few paparazzi and hid themselves from those who were eager for pictures - just to claim they’d met and seen Harry Styles’ daughter and her boyfriend and were able to make headline news in the following morning’s papers - and eaten a delicious breakfast in a café just outside the front of the rather large shopping centre, she was already insisting they split up for the 3 hours before lunch. Bouncing on her heels and rocking on her feet as she took in the surrounding shops; from a large, and brightly lit, Gucci store to a retail Debenhams store to a cookery school under the name of Jamie Oliver to a store that Jack knew had Persephone written all over it - Lush. An excited grin on her face, making two dimples pop on her cheeks, just above the corners of her lips, because she felt at home. This was where she spent her youth. Her teenager years. This was where she spent her pocket money and her birthday money from her grandparents and this is where she came with her dad when it was close to your birthday. This was where Harry took her as a young girl to spoil her rotten, just like he would do with her siblings. It was full of her favourite stores and she was sure, if it was even possible, she’d move in and claim the centre as her property.

She disappeared, into the crowd of bustling shoppers, in the blink of an eye.

The touch of her lips still lingered on his from the delicate kiss she’d pressed to his flesh. The sound of her sweet voice that, only just, bid him a “see you soon” still fresh to his ears. The weight of her bag, that hung on his shoulder throughout the journey on the tube, was no longer weighing him down once she’d whipped it from him to check she had her purse within her possession. He tried to search for her, to look for the top of her head, to see her brightly coloured, and frilly, knitted jumper amongst the crowd of coats and bobble hats and jackets, but to no avail. Clueless to where she’d gone, he stumbled around and tried his hardest to buy some more gifts for her, despite the already large gift-bag full of wrapped goodies he’d found and ordered offline. He popped into shops that had a few trinkets that he knew she would love to see on Christmas day morning. Brought more than enough bath bombs and a basket full of her favourite bath-fizzers and face creams and masks from Lush, that he knew he’d be ruled into using with her; which, he couldn’t ever deny, felt amazing after an early start, a stressful lecture and a cheeky study period that he took to finish off his essays, back in Southampton, come the new year.

He’s not entirely sure how he ended up in a jewellers.

More specifically, he’s not entirely sure how he ended up in the engagement ring section of a rather quiet jewellers in the middle of Westfield.

He was only just window-shopping and looking at a pair of white trainers, under the specific brand that his girlfriend wore, as he scuffed passed... but a glisten of a diamond, encrusted onto a ring, caught his eye as he shuffled passed the shop and, well, what harm could one look cause?

Proposing to Persephone had been on his mind for a while now. Passing thoughts at night, when he was tucked up in their too-big bed with her, his warm feet keeping her cold feet warm, legs tangled up beneath the duvet, in a cuddling position that made him think that a single bed would have still had plenty of room either side of them. Early morning thoughts that usually peeked when he took one glance at her whilst he was getting himself dressed and ready for the day, when she was sprawled out on her front, with one foot hanging over the edge of the bed and the other bent up, and dressed in one of his thick hoodies because their tiny home got cold through the nights, and, she just liked to smell him as she laid cosy. He usually found his mind wandering when he was midway through his classes, head lulled to the side and resting upon his palm, thinking about how he would pop the question and where he would pop the question and what he would say for the build-up. Where they would get married, when they would get married, who they would get married surrounded by.

He loved her. He really did.

“We have many a boyfriend come in and take a look at our engagements rings around Christmas time. Is there anything I can help you with, sir?”

Jack spun on his heels and smiled softly at the elderly lady, dressed in a maroon coloured shirt with the store’s name printed on the breast, with glasses on her face and a motherly feel to her. Shaking his head softly.

“I’m just looking, thank you,”

... for now.

Jack had always thought that taking his end-of-year exams, entering essays and  and partaking in large presentations in a full lecture hall would be the most nerve-wracking events that he’d accomplish in his life. He wasn’t the most outgoing guy and he was never the most memorable face in a crowd full of people. He was never surprised when his peers, sitting around him in his university lectures, forgot his name and he was never surprised when they looked at him with pure shock because he'd said more than two words to them. He was shy and reserved and kept himself to himself, most of the time, and never spoke up unless he really needed to. Only ever letting loose in front of those he felt comfortable with and that never ranged further than his group of friends and his girlfriend, who had lovingly stayed by his side, regardless.

He never thought, any time soon, that he’d be asking for her hand in marriage. Agreeing, internally, that asking for a marriage blessing was up there, on his list of things that made him feel anxious, with presenting a presentation, by himself, in front of a lecture hall and turning over the first page of his exams.

He took the opportunity whilst Persephone was out with Alfie; he’d been insistent on needing help to buy a present for his girlfriend and he felt his sister was the most trusting, with a keen eye on what teenage girls would love to get as a present for Christmas. Worrying his bottom lip, between his teeth, nibbling and chewing on the already bright pink flesh, before he’d even left the comforting confinements of the bedrooms four walls. Appearing in the kitchen entryway with shaky legs and knocking knees, a nervous smile sitting upon his lips.

“Is there anything I can help you with, YN?” He pondered in the kitchen entryway, as you looked over your shoulder, “I’m a little unoccupied without Persephone here. Thought I’d come and offer some helping hands.”

“Oh, thank you. I think we’ve got things under control, for now, sweetheart. There’s not much needing to be done. I’ve just put some cakes in the oven, Harry’s out in the garden getting a little more firewood for the fire, the twins are both out with friends. There’s a new film out in the cinema that they wanted to go and see. And Alfie and Persephone are going to stop off and get a chippy tea for dinner tonight, if that’s okay with you?” You informed him, his head nodding up and down, “how was your day?”

“Busy. I never thought London got as busy as it was today,” he chuckled, taking a seat at the dining table and crossing his ankles over, “but, it ended up being rather successful, too. We got some last minute gifts for everyone. I think I’ve done alright getting presents for Persephone. She’s really hard to buy for.”

The back door creaked open behind him, being nudged open by a booted foot, before he heard a deep puff of breath, as Harry made his way into the warm house. Fingers pale and cheeks chill-bitten and bright pink, eyes watering from the sudden pick-up of wind that howled around the trees blew leaves across the patio. A hefty pile of firewood in his arms that Jack took to helping him with. Standing to his feet, rapidly, and reaching for a couple of logs that were soon to fall from Harry’s cradle, carrying them in his own arms. A wordless thank-you being given in the form of a curt nod and a tight smile.

“Oh, goodness, tell me about it. When she was a teenager, she would always shrug when we asked her what she wanted,” you laughed, spinning on your socked heels to point him in the direction of where to place the logs for later that evening, a finger direction him through the conservatory door, “she has Harry, here, going crazy in the middle of the shops because he has no idea what she would like.”

“She’s loved every present I’ve brought for her, though. She still uses that old film camera I gave her, too. It was a present from a dear friend of mine who died a while back. Matt, his name was,” Harry explained, clearing his throat with a grunt as he bent down to drop the logs into a metal basket beside the log burner, “took it everywhere with him. When I toured with the band I was in, when we went out sightseeing together, when we had photoshoots done and such. She’s used it every opportunity she can and I think he would have been glad, maybe proud, to know his equipment was going to people who loved taking photos as much as he did.”

“She’s got a true talent for photography. We’ve got loads of photo albums, back in Southampton, of photos she’s taken from when we go out. Whether it’s nights out or when we go for a walk or when we spend time at the beach and stuff. I never know why she didn’t pursue it into something more,” Jack said, siding up to you once he reentered the kitchen and reached for the coffee mug he’d been using throughout his stay, “would you like a hot drink? Let me make them.”

The kitchen fell quiet.

All except the ticking of the timer on the cooker, as it counted down from twenty minutes, and the whistle of the kettle that he’d flicked on, seconds ago. Clinking the mugs together as he brought them down from the cupboard, dropping two teabags into two and adding a spoonful to the third. Trying everything, and anything, he could to keep his mind away from the nerves that ate away at his insides. But, no matter what he did, the both of you could easily see something that was bothering him. Sharing glances to one another before looking back at him as he stood with his back towards you, every so often adjusting his own tracksuit bottoms or rolling up the sleeves of the jumper that hung down his torso, his attention focused on the back garden.

“What’s on your mind, lad?”

Jack swung around, eyes wide, like a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

“Uhm, I,” he stuttered, “is it that obvious?”

“Sweetheart, if there’s anything we can help you with, you can tell us. Yeah? We’re all family. Okay, we’re not properly related but, you’re our daughter’s boyfriend and we like to think of you as another one of our little clan,” you smile warmly in his direction before taking a couple of steps to stand beside him, squeezing his hand softly, “whatever it is, we’re all ears for when you want to tell us.”

He gave you a soft smile and nodded. The kettle coming to a boil as he lifted it from it’s dock.

“Uh, there is something I want to, hum, that I want to talk to you about, actually. Now that Persephone isn’t here,” Jack stated, focusing his mind on his shaky hand as he poured hot water into the three mugs on the counter. Harry’s eyes furrowing as you stood to the side and wracked your mind. “It’s nothing bad, I promise you. Nothing. Everything has been going so well between us. It’s just, there’s been something on my mind for the last few days, made clearer today, and I just need to talk to you about it as soon as possible.”

The spoon tinkles in each mug as he stirred the water. A rather strong aroma of coffee wafting up, in a thick puff of steam, as he stirred Harry’s drink up. You took strides across the kitchen, stepping in front of the fridge to pull out the milk from its slot in the door, sliding it across the counter and watching him, curiously, as he unscrewed the red cap and poured a little in your mug and a little into his.

“Sweetheart, sit yourself down. You’re shaking. What are you so nervous about?” You reach for the spoon to take over, bumping him to the side and insisting, with your eyebrows, that he took a seat beside Harry, who had kicked off his boots and slipped his socked feet into his old and worn-out grey slippers that he’d been wearing since the morning. You finished off the teas, adding a couple of spoonfuls of sugar to the caramel-coloured warm drink, giving them a final stir before rummaging through the cupboards for a tray to carry them on. “What’s the matter? Come on now.”

“What’s going on between the two of you?”

“I love her,” Jack whispered, looking at his hands, that sat upon the grey material of his tracksuit bottoms, as he picked at the hang-nails and cuticles of his thumbs, “God, I love her so much and I don’t have a ring yet, because I wanted to do that after I received your blessing, your permission, but I have one in mind because I’ve been looking in shops and such but, yeah, I don’t have it physically. Your permission and your blessing means a lot to me. I found an engagement ring today, when we split off to buy presents for each other, and I knew it was what I wanted to propose to her with. It’s gorgeous. Just like her. And, God, I love her. I love her so, so much. I didn’t think it was ever possible to love someone as much as I love her. She makes everything worth it. She makes me feel like I can do absolutely anything. That I can conquer the obstacles because she’s by my side and helping me out. And I promise you,” his voice shook with the nerves that ran havoc through his veins, lifting his head up from staring at his hands and forming eye contact with Harry before sending a shy smile to you, “I promise you that I’ll take care of her. I’ll try my hardest to make sure she never feels alone. That she never cries because of me. That she never has a reason to feel heartbroken or like she isn’t loved That we always make each other happy. She’s my best friend and I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I want to grow old with her and I want to have kids with her and I want to be able to give the both of you grandchildren. I want to find us the biggest house, the house of her dreams, that she can decorate and make it her own, to live in and I want the rest of our lives to start as soon as possible because I’m so excited at the thought of her being the one that I get to wake up to everyday. That I get to- that we get to be there for each other, properly. Persephone is it for me. She’s the one for me. And I just wanted to ask, for your permission, or your blessing, if I could, you know, if I could have her hand in ma-”

“Do you even have to ask us, mate?” Harry laughed, the booming cackle interrupting and cutting Jack off from finishing his speech. Because Harry already knew how it was going to end. He’d been through the exact same process. Thinking through everything that he was going to say to prove he was worthy of your hand in marriage. Feeling nervous as he sat before the parents of the woman he wanted to, so desperately, marry. Gushing his heart and soul to them to show, just how much, he really wanted it. Reaching a flexed hand, decorated with his signature rings, across the dining table and smiling brightly when Jack took it. A flush of relief washing over the 22-year old as he puffed out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “She’s had a fair share of bad relationships in the past. And it hurt to see her come home, upset and broken, because she’d had her heart torn to pieces by a boy that she really liked. You came along and we haven’t had to worry about that. She’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her,” he tore his hand away and brought it back to wrap around his coffee mug, bringing it to his lips and taking a sip before placing it back down on the coaster, “and that’s what any parent wants, well, what every parent wants for their kids is for them to be happy. For them to be comfortable with themselves. For them to know what they’re doing and for them to take risks. For them to enjoy life without worrying about all the little things.”

Harry’s heart thumped and thumped and thumped behind his ribs. A smile on his face that came as a result of the happiness and the touch sadness that succumbed him. His daughter had found her man. She found her future in a man who she’d met, not so long ago. She found the person who made her smile, who made her heart triple in size whenever she looked at him, who made her radiate love and glow with ethereal beauty that Harry, and yourself, hadn’t seen from her before. He looked across to you, his smile spreading wider as he bumped his knee to yours, his free hand wrapping around yours and squeezing it tightly.

“You’ve truly made her the happiest we’ve ever seen her, sweetheart. It feels lovely to not have her come home heartbroken, carrying the pieces of her shattered heart in the palms of her hands, and in need of a cuddle with one of us, because a boy took advantage of her,” you admitted, reaching across the table, in a similar fashion to Harry, and squeezing his hand softly. Fingers wrapping around his as he smiled warmly in your direction. “We couldn’t think of a better person to have her, Jack. We can’t think of a better person to say yes to. To give our blessing to. You’re such a determined and motivated young man and you’ve been nothing but incredible with Persephone over the last few months. With her graduation happening, officially moving into your first home, struggling with her troubles in leaving home.”

“Not to mention, you’ve been an absolute treasure to her over the last few months, as well. Helping her with her own problems and getting her started with her first website and getting her started with her career, regardless of going back to finish your final year at university. I know it’s hard because we’re so far away from you both and can’t help her as much as she may need, but,” Harry nodded to himself, “you’ve been so great with her. You’ve had our blessing from the moment we first met you, Jack.”

A face splitting and cheek aching grin spread across his face, “really?”

“Really, really,” Harry smiled.

“When do you plan on doing it?”

“I was thinking in the new year. Maybe on New Years Eve or something like that. It’s cliché, I know, but we’ve always been into that. She's never said anything but I think it’s the perfect time to pop it. Start the new year, engaged. I still need to buy the ring or put a deposit down for it, so, that’ll take it’s time,” Jack admitted, “it’s beautiful though. It really is. I wish I took a photo to show you.”

“Let me buy it for you,” Harry offered, abrupt and sudden, “the shops shut in an hour. I’m sure Persephone and Alfie are on the tube home and getting dinner. We can-”

“No, no. Harry, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Jack shook his head, “thank you for the offer, but, I couldn’t ask for you to do that. It’s too much. You’ve welcomed me into your family, your home, you’ve allowed me the privilege of being with your daughter and you’ve given me a blessing that I feel honoured to have. I couldn’t ask of this.”

“Then at least let me help you get started? Just a small deposit to help get you on your way,” Harry hummed, “I have money going to waste, Jack. I don't know what to do with it anymore. Let me help you.”

“God, Harry, thank you. Thank you so much.”

“We should be thanking you, lad,” Harry stood to his feet and reached over, clapping Jack on the shoulder with a gentle hand, “thank you for making her the happiest she’s ever been. Thank you for making her feel as supported as she could ever feel. Thank you for loving her as much as we do.”

[gotstory]

My 20 Year Old Idol Husband - Day 14 - OPPA

20 yr old Jungkook, at the top of his idol boyband career, has a secret only he & his bandmates know – An underground relationship, with you, a girl he met at a fanmeeting. Things get a little out of hand and you find out you’re pregnant.

Read: Day 1 / Day 2 / Day 3 / Day 4 / Day 5 / Day 6 / Day 7 / Day 8 / Day 9 / Day 10 / Day 11 / Day 12 / Day 13 / Day 14

Jimin led the way back to the dorm and stood at the door, waiting after he buzzed the door bell.

Jungkook got to it first, with the rest of them following suit.

At once, the door swung open and just like the day you saw them in the waiting room, they were all staring back at you, only that they greeted you in all smiles this time.

"NOONA!!!" Tae broke through the bodies of his hyungs and launched himself to hug you, only to be pulled back by Jungkook and easily blocked by Jimin, as he stepped forward like a bodyguard.

You made a discreet wave, knowing they weren't expecting your sudden arrival. "Hi... guys..."

Jhope slapped Tae's head, and muttered under his breath "don't be a fool, you're gonna scare the baby."

Embarrassed, you quickly looked away.

"Yah! let her in already!" Suga bellowed, pushing the rest of them away, letting Jungkook guide you in by the hand.

Jimin and Namjoon disappeared into the room and Jin into the kitchen.

Jungkook smiled proudly, "so... this is the dorm you've always heard about... what do you think?"

You spun around, looking at every corner of the utilised space, and recognised pieces of furniture you saw in your video calls.

"It .... looks just the same as I imagined."

They gave you a light chuckle, still a little amazed that you were really here, standing in the middle of their 7-men dorm.

Tae bellowed in his low and husky voice, one that you never grew tired of hearing. "Noona, you're the first girl who's ever step foot inside here other than the cleaning aunt."

"And you're also going to be the first and last one to stay here." Jimin said as he emerged from the room, holding an arm full of pillows and his blanket.

Jungkook realised Jimin had taken his set of bedding to let you rest in his space of their room while he took the lounge chair in the living room.

At the same time Jin came out, holding a cup of milk in a clear glass.

"Here, you're gonna have to take one cup of this every single night from now on okay?"

You took it from his warm hand, speechless with gratitude.

Jungkook watched you, overwhelmed.

"See? I told you right, these are my hyungs - and now, your oppas." It was a little cringey but true.

Jimin was nearly done setting up his new cosy corner. "Hey Chae-rin, you've had a long day and you must be tired... why don't you go wash up and unpack inside the room? Jungkook will show you the way around."

You took a sip before Jin took the cup away from you, "I'll keep it warm and you can have it later." He smiled, ever SO gentlemanly that it was making you fuzzy inside.

Once you were safely out of sight, Namjoon gathered everyone else, Jungkook included, and they had one Jimin would call - 'The meeting'.

It went by in quick, hushed tones and Namjoon sorted the things that needed to be done tomorrow.

"So Jin and Jungkook, you've got to go grab groceries first since you've got the car. Take Chae-rin with you early before the crowd starts coming out and don't take more than 2 hours. We'll be eating in a lot more now so make sure you buy enough." Jin and Jungkook nodded, quick to make a mental note of what they needed. "Tae, you're the actor so you go to the company first thing tomorrow and get our pass codes changed. Tell them you feel unsafe with your bursting popularity or something... The bottom line is to make sure no one else can come in here, except us."

Jhope turned to his best partner in crime, "Hyung-nim, we've got to clean the house then!"

Suga moaned in dread that he would finally need to pack his mountain of stuff. "Arraseo... we'll clean the toilet too."

Namjoon smiled at them all. "And I'll just -"

At once they said in unison, "JUST DON'T DO ANYTHING."

Jimin looked up at Jungkook, "did you check if you have a schedule tomorrow?"

"Ah." Jungkook dug out his phone and started scrolling - something he'd not done since he touched down.

Of late, Jungkook, Jin and Jimin had gotten more individual schedules while Suga, Jhope and Rapmon declined most of them to focus on the production of their next album. Taehyung on the other hand had already been casted for another drama.

"There's a filming tomorrow afternoon, but why is it just me alone? Hyung, aren't you coming?" he asked, looking to Jin and Jimin.

For the bulk of Jungkook's schedules, the managers never let him out alone unless it was something solely related to singing or dancing. Even then, he was always accompanied by either one of their agency artistes. They were still unable to trust him to fully manage interviews and talkshows.

"Oh, your first individual schedule? Congrats Jungkook!" they patted him warmly with smiles, encouraging him and reassuring him that he'd be fine.

With their longstanding teamwork, it hardly took much to get roles and responsibilities in order.

"Doesn't this feel like when we were in Europe?" Jimin laughed, reminiscing the time they toured together and had to buy groceries while dodging from fans who recognized them.

"Yea, I miss those times." Jhope smiled fondly.

Tae sounded excited at the plans that now had you in mind, referring to it as a 'staycation' in the dorm. "I've got so many movies lined up to watch with noona." He revealed a dreamy smile.

It earned him stares all around.

Jimin attempted to set things straight, "Taehyung-ah, I'd think she would prefer to spend more time with Jungkook than with us, don't you agree?"

But in all seriousness, Tae had assumed the role of being a caregiver and was more than eager about it. "There are gonna be times he's not around too and baby Mozart is good for fetal development if you want your child to be a music genius, Jungkook." he said in pure zealousness towards the newfound object of his affection.

Jungkook seemed somewhat speechless, "Uh- yyyeah sure V-hyung!"

The first night went by quietly, with the boys leaving you and Jungkook on your own. As a gesture of decency, you suggested to keep the door of the room open. Not only was it more convenient but it was sending a subtle message to everyone that you honestly had nothing to hide and wanted to be as open as possible, being the one to 'intrude' into their space. You wanted them to know they could come in anytime and need not keep you at arms length with Jungkook.

Early next morning, Jin was the first to rise as he walked passed your room, surprised to see it wide open.

"Ah... this kid." He sauntered in, and crouched next to the bed where Jungkook slept. "Yah. Wake up." He nudged his sides.

Instead of stirring awake, Jungkook only smiled with his eyes closed, obviously dreaming.

"You crazy or something, JK? It's me HYUNG, quit smiling and get up! You need to get going!" He half-whispered in a tone of mild urgency.

At once Jungkook's eyes sprang open, his first instinct to check on you.

There you were, sleeping soundly without a care in the world.

Jin's eyes traveled to the bed where you were, "H-How do we wake her up? When she's sleeping so peacefully?"

"I don't know, Hyung..." Jungkook sat up from the pull out bed that was below yours, where Jimin usually slept, and reached out gingerly to tap on your exposed hand.

"Noona..." He called out softly.

Jin laughed, "do you always call her that?"

"No," he replied with a slightly bashful smile, "It's just... Cos Hyung, you're here... "

The murmurs stirred you awake as you figeted under the sheets, gradually coming to your senses that it was a new day in a new place with new people.

Jungkook stared in surreal amazement, still in wonder that you were finally here with him and now waking up in his bed.

"Morning love," he whispered, inching nearer to caress your cheek. "It's time for some shopping with Jin Hyung and I."

At the mention of 'shopping', your eyes seemed to be able to open naturally and you found yourself completely awake.

"Wow." Jin watched on from where he stood, "it must be the effect of my name."

You didn't know he was standing there till you heard him.

"Jin oppa?"

It was the first time hearing you call him that and it was a pleasant surprise that made him smile.

"Yes it's your worldwide handsome Jinnie oppa, now hurry wash up before the milk gets cold!" with that, he blew a dramatic hand kiss and made his exit.

Laughing at his adorable nature, you got up to a great start for the busy day ahead and went about the plans Jungkook had for you.

Am I really going to be safe here? Will I get any of the boys in trouble? So... Is this my new life from now on?

There were a multitude of questions running through your head even though you were enjoying every minute of being in Seoul.

As you were preparing to pay up with Jungkook, Jin's sharp ears picked up the familiar sound of a high speed camera shutter.

With ease, he identified the source to be a paparazzi hiding behind a low planter.

Quickly, he whisked Jungkook aside flinging him to another payment counter, away from you.

"What - -?? Hyung?? " his wide open eyes didn't catch on.

"We're being followed." Jin said between gritted teeth, slotting his credit card in between your fingers. "We got to go, meet us at the carpark."

With that, he dragged a confused Jungkook away, not letting him look back once. There you were holding his shiny card, left with a trolley full of groceries in tow.

Great, this is how it's gonna be, huh.?