#Civic Apartment

[kojiarakiartworks]

December 2003 PDX Portland Oregon U.S.A. 

© KOJI ARAKI Art Works

Daily life and every small thing is the gate to the universe ：）

[vampyretaemin]

there is a 6 foot tall wooden halloween coffin prop being sold for $25 on fb marketplace near me i am trying to be so normal about this

[unalivenote]

Vote vote vote go go go

https://twitter.com/YaoiPoll/status/1568738509371867138?s=20&t=HvB2fzjCvCWcfA_x_IjTOA

[tittyinfinity]

Oh poor baby😥

[charlietheepicwriter7]

“Psst! Old Geezer!”

“The fuck did you just call me–!” Dick Grayson was a lot of things–cop, detective, vigilante, handsome beyond mortal comprehension–but he wasn’t old! Twenty-three was not old! When he got his hands on that brat– “Oh, it’s you. You need to knock it off, kid.”

The kid in question had become something of a legend to the Central Bloodhaven Police Department. Detective O’Mallery had dubbed the kid “Stalky,” but Dick thought Lurky was a more accurate name; the kid lurked outside murder scenes, often showing up before the press… and sometimes, before the cops. Lurky was a short kid, easily half Dick’s height, and pale. He practically glowed, lighting up the alley Dick was guarding. He wore a black overcoat that swamped his tiny body, with the sleeves and hem cut to fit the child’s frame and a stiff gothic collar that reached his ears. Lurky’s black hair and blue eyes uncomfortably reminded Dick of—

“Nah, i don’t think i will,” the kid dismissed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “‘Sides, you can’t do anything to stop me.”

“I can arrest you,” Dick said, completely serious. “You’re interfering with a crime scene, again. I’d be well within my rights to do so.” The kid looked unimpressed. 

“Okay, boomer.”

Dick resisted the urge to murder a child. Barely. 

“Besides,” Lurky continued, “I just wanted to do my civic duty and inform you of the bloody knife three alleys over. Pretty sure it could help solve the crime scene there.” He gestured towards the apartment building behind Dick. “Andrew Grant-Williams, age 36, apartment 214. Right?”

“How the hell did you know that?”

“What, that thing with the knife? I looked for it, obviously.”

“No, about the suspect!” Dick glared at Lurky. “There’s no way you could have pinpointed who in the apartment died; did you steal a police radio!?” If he did, then Dick would actually have to arrest the kid. 

“No, I didn’t steal a police radio. Yet.” Dick tried really hard to ignore that last part. He’d done far worse things as Robin, after all. “His wife told me.”

Andrew Grant’s wife, Patrisa, died four years ago in a mugging gone wrong. Before Dick could question Lurky further, Dick blinked and Lurky vanished just like Batman. 

Even worse? Dick bothered checking the dumpster three alleys over and found, underneath a bag of kitchen scraps, a hunting knife, still bloody. 

[moondirti]

cws: creepy behaviour that leads into future dubcon. you’re not enthusiastic but don’t hate it either? idk how to tag this

a home loaning system where civilians (who pass a thorough vetting by the military) can sublet their home as a safe house for any soldier who might need it.

you’re no patriot. when you sign up, you aren’t doing it to serve those who serve your country like the website suggests. in fact, it’s a last ditch attempt to keep yourself afloat after your roommate moves out and leaves you with a rent you can’t feasibly afford yourself. sacrifice your space in exchange for your housing fully paid for and a headache gone – it’s appealing, certainly, a little too good to be true. you’d suspect it a scam if the url didn’t end in .gov.

they ask for a lot, of course. a photo. your national insurance number, passport details and travel history from the past 10 years. occupation (student, which prompts a second question asking for your school and university ID). a ‘robust’ paragraph about your living habits. family history, health details. you must black out at one point, as you find yourself hitting submit hours later with no knowledge of what to expect.

that is, if you should expect anything. a confirmation email arrives moments later, and that’s the last you hear of it.

until 4 months later. a hefty sum hits your account, set to the exact amount you specified your rent + utilities to cost. the sender is the only indication you get that you’ve been accepted: the royal army pay corps. on their dime now, and expected to act with the utmost discretion – for your sake as much as theirs. you spend that night fighting sleep on the couch, waiting for a knock by some zealot in fatigues.

no one shows up.

not immediately, at least. gratefully – and a tad surprising given your infamously cheap government – you’re paid regardless of whether anyone requires your service or not. for weeks you treat it as passive income, gauze against bleeding finances, tamping your stress so you can focus on your studies instead. life begins to look up. the air smells a little crisper every morning. you sleep deep and well.

but the knock comes. belatedly, but it comes.

at 12 am, no less. you had resolved to pull an all-nighter to study for your midterm, so you don’t miss the low rap of knuckles against your door. though at this point, you’ve long forgotten of the expectation that can be delegated to you at any time. your apartment’s a mess: laundry unfolded, dishes stacked in the sink. what’s more, your spontaneous guest scares you out of your right mind. a quick look through the peephole is enough to tell you that he is not the pizza delivery man, but a figure towering over two metres, dressed in a balaclava and plain hoodie.

“who is it?” you call out, scrambling for an offensive weapon of any sort. you end up with a broom from the nearby cleaning cupboard.

“lieutenant riley.”

oh.

you crack open the door, poking your head out to give him a thorough once over. “you don’t look very military-like.”

“wha’ a shame.”

lieutenant riley then gives you no choice but to step aside, driving himself through the entryway through brute force. your instinct is to react with pure terror, tripping backward until the broomstick crosses firmly over your chest. yet flight rapidly switches to fight as he dumps his duffel bag by your shoe rack and rummages through your fridge.

“hey! don’t they teach you manners in basic?”

“wouldn’ last a day if they did, pet.” he tucks three water bottles under his arm, then picks his stuff off the ground once more. amidst the warmer light of your home, he stands as a herculean anomaly. shoulders that fill the foyer, each hand as large as your skull. his eyes – shadowed, framed in isolation from the rest of his face. and when he stares, unease bleeds into you. as black and void as his civic garb, forming a tightening grip over your heart.

this strange man is in your home.

this strange, large, dangerous man is here to stay for however long he needs.

he lacks all propriety and unabashedly ogles at your bare legs, adjusting himself in plain sight – and to make things exponentially worse, he isn’t uninvited. you brought this man here.

(which means you’ll have to put up with the strange violation already settling in your chest.)

“your… your room is on the left.”

he says nothing, disappearing to where you point him.

so, the lieutenant is a fucking nightmare.

whatever benefits came with having your rent paid for are immediately negated by the amount of food he consumes. groceries that last you a fortnight are gone in a matter of days, which is perplexing given that you never see him cook. you imagine he slips whatever he can down his throat before going back into hibernation, like some beast too primal for preference.

you call it hibernation because that’s what it is. he knocks out for hours, door locked, no sound or light coming from the gap underneath. you once spent half an hour just listening in after he hadn’t shown face all day, wondering whether you’d be making a call to corpse control for the dead body in your guest room. the effort had been purely motivated by concern, you swear it, however hard that was to explain when he stepped out a few minutes later to find you on your knees, cheek pressed against the floor.

the look he gave you is impossible to forget. hungry, amusement palpable behind the eyes that immediately fix onto your raised behind. you stopped wearing pyjama shorts that day. partly due to your discomfort, but mostly because the pair goes inexplicably missing from your laundry basket. a voice tells you to check under his pillow when he steps out, but the possibility is far too upsetting to seriously consider.

not like he’s above it, though. he crosses so many boundaries, you’d think they weren’t common courtesy.

of such instances: in the months since your roommate moved out, you’d gotten into the bad habit of keeping the bathroom door unlocked. while that is your fault, the terror himself isn’t blameless given his address of the situation. he should be able to hear the water running as you brush your teeth or wash your face, and yet he walks in anyway, pulling his heavy cock out to piss as you try to ignore the way it heaves between his legs, even when completely soft.

“doyewmind?” you hiss one morning, mouth still full of foam. it looms in your periphery, fat and ruddy. a trail of wild hair leading down to–

riley shoots you a blank look. “no’ at all.”

then tucks himself back into his pants, hand smoothing across your lower back as he slips out. it occurs to you to be grateful that he keeps away when you shower, up until the absolute absurdity of your standards hit you like a killing blow.

the bar is in hell.

(yet you sneak a finger between your legs sometimes, only when you’re absolutely sure you’ve locked the door, and imagine how things would unfold if he were to infringe on your most basic of rights.)

it doesn’t take long before your quiet fantasy is realised. all it takes is for you to come home particularly late one night – heels in hand and makeup a mess after letting yourself loose at the end-of-term party – to find riley waiting on you, unmasked.

[007reid]

So, still in the au of “secrets: Spencer Reid”..

I wanna see the teams reactions to reader and how cute Spencer is with her and how protective she is of him. Maybe Spence gets a little drunk and reader has an arm locked around him with a possessive scowl on their face. Pleeaasee??

you ask and you shall receive! i’m glad you enjoyed secrets, anon<3 sorry this is so late :(

secrets p. 2. spencer reid

spencer reid x fem!reader

part 1 | part 2 ♡ this can be read as a stand-alone though!

summary: everyone expected spencer’s plus one to be his grandma or a close friend visiting. to see him show up with you hanging off his arm, clad in a black dress and rubbing your blood red lips together, you become the talk of the night.

warnings: fluff fluff just straight fluff!! spencer introducing his gf to the fam, teasing, drinking, flirting , nothing out of da norm. r is tough and possessive and spencer is basically her girlfriend.

a/n: someone take pinterest away from me because i’m getting too good at scouring for mgg stills and staring at them for hours. tell me you didn’t stare at that picture too.

spencer texted morgan that night, telling him that he’s bringing a plus one. morgan responded with a curt “yea bring ur ma on over why not.”

it appears that morgan did not take spencer that seriously. so he texted garcia, and she responded with “which member of the family havent we met? ❤️” spencer was just midst of falling on to his knees.

the day rolls around and spencer dreads it, plots a plan to make you watch a star wars movie marathon so that you’d fall asleep by the time of the event. he’s not a social recluse, by any means (okay so sometimes he is) but he prefers an evening staying in over going out. and it’s sunday evening, too, and he just wants an early night and to kiss you lazily until he’s sleepy. he doesn’t want to start the car, doesn’t want to get dressed up and get tidy for the bar. doesn’t wanna go anywhere.

the marathon plan backfired on him. just as you’re halfway through the third movie, you start pushing the throw blanket off your bodies, nudging spencer’s arms off of you. spencer whines, and he tries to make himself look extra pathetic (which didn’t take much, considering how he’s already desperate to get out of meeting the team) so that you’d pity him.

you don’t fall for his act one bit, which is extremely humbling to spencer. his puppy eyes used to work on you, but he suppose you’ve grown an immunity to them. “lazy boy,” you chides. he hides his face in the crook of your neck and you laugh. “come on, we’ll be late.”

“fashionably late,” spencer quips. you laugh again, detangling your bodies and press a kiss on his cheek before leaving the living room. spencer sits on the couch for a while and contemplates.

he does end up dragging his ass off the couch and freshen himself up. you have decided to use the guest bathroom for some reason, and he gets ready by himself, shaving before throwing on a simple burgundy sweater with all kind of patterns on it and some black pants, smoothing his hair out a bit and tucking them neatly behind his ears.

he rubs at his chin, looking at himself in the mirror. he looks like a middle school civics teacher, but he couldn’t careless.

he grabs his phone and slides it in his back pocket, going to the closed guest bathroom door. he knocks softly, leaning in close to not miss your voice.

“yn?”

“almost there,” you respond through the door.

“can i come in?”

“uhh,” spencer frowns. it’s unusual you’re doing this. you guys have shared an apartment for five months now, and he’s basically learned to lived around your life, to always have you wherever. getting ready apart is definitely unusual, and you’re being hesitant about letting him in, even.

maybe you’re still mad about the lila thing. he should apologize the moment he gets the chance.

“sure honey,” you say finally. spencer cautiously opens the door, and you’re sitting on the bed, pulling up your black pantyhose. he melts and perks up simultaneously at the sight of you.

you’re wearing a shiny, black silk dress that goes halfway down your thighs, the material pooling on the white sheets as you adjusts the pantyhose, reaching for your matching black leather mary janes. spencer looks down at himself, feeling timidly underdressed. you look up and smile at him so easily as if you're not the most beautiful woman in the world.

spencer feels his throat clog up. he clears it but when he speaks his voice is still blurry. "hi."

"hi," you buckle up your mary janes, gold necklace hovering above your knee. spencer stands awkwardly at the door, too entranced to move. you look up when he doesn't answer immediately, and breathe out a laugh when you see the dumb, starstruck look on his face. "gonna stand there all night baby?"

"mhm," spencer says absentmindedly. he finally bounces off the door frame and carefully sits himself on the bed next to you, cautious with every move. he immediately gets a faceful of the scent of your perfume and you look like an angel, smell like one too. "new dress?"

"mhm, thrifted it the other night," you respond. you stand up from the bed and do a small twirl, the thin fabric forming the shape of a flower, flying. you remind him of a black cherry blossom, if those even existed. "you like it? found it for four dollars. can you believe that? deal of a lifetime. if i had gotten to the thrift later someone would've snatched it right up."

to be honest, spencer isn't listening to a single word you're saying. he stares at you, and your silver hoops and crinkling eyes and the silver necklace he gifted you for your birthday five months ago and gets dizzy with the thought of how lucky he is.

"crazy deal," he says. then blurts. "you look beautiful."

you smile playfully. "you're just saying that," you laugh, smoothing out your hair in the mirror installed in the wardrobe. spencer stares at your reflection. "looking dapper yourself, doctor."

"do you think i should change?" he asks. because right now, it looks like you're both dressing up for different events. him to a school-based textbook debate conference and you to a high class art museum. neither events are the actual event you are both going to.

"you look handsome, spence," you reassure him. "that sweater. it suits you."

"it doesn't suit the bar," spencer grumbles quietly, still upset that he has to show up. he's not a bar man. more of a picnic or joinery kind of guy.

"you weren't born to suit whenever you're going," you say and then grab his hand. "we're gonna be late."

***

spencer gets even more grumbly when you both enters the bar, but you know in his heart he's extremely happy. he practically lights up when he sees his team crowding at a booth, dragging you along by the arm. he says hi to everyone, immediately comfortable just from the presence of his team except his excitement isn't mutual. the team isn't looking at him, but at you.

goggling like an eagle, some might say. you elbow spencer in the ribs. spencer looks at you questioningly, as if he doesn't know what to do.

"introduce me," you urge, feeling more awkward by the second. a man staring at you with his jaw on the table, beer frozen halfway to his lips you assume is morgan has a terrified look on his face. everyone does, actually.

"oh yeah. sorry," spencer says, ears turning slightly red but his beam is still bright. "everyone, this is yn. she's my girlfriend!"

"sweet mary jesus," morgan finally says. he breaks the ice, and the entire booth corrupts in excitement.

"reid, what are you doing? sit the lady down," jj scowl, scooting over and making space, squishing emily against her. spencer lets you slide in first, next to jj and he sits down after you, hand gentle at your waist. "why didn't you tell us?"

"well i tried to--"

"i really thought we had nothing to hide from each other. you know you could've trusted me with it!" garcia quips, her thick neon red earrings moving back and forth.

"i didn't do anything deliberate to hide it!" spencer defends himself snarkily.

"i couldn't deduce you had a girlfriend. i just thought someone who made you really happy started crashing at your place," hotch says, thoughtfully.

"let the girl talk," rossi rolls his eyes. spencer definitely captures their personalities well when he tells you stories about the bau, you recognize everyone just from a sentence. the table quiets and you can feel the warmness of eyes all on you.

"hi everyone," you could feel your cheeks getting warm from the attention. you wanted to make an impression, but it's hard. you go for the standard, "i've heard a lot about everybody."

"we would've loved to hear about you," garcia chirps. "but spencer is a very private soul. how long have you been together?"

the evening dissolves into small talk and teasing, and out of everyone in the bau, perhaps the one who's most shocked and proud of spencer is morgan. he sits back, arm tossed around garcia, admiring spencer like a pleased older brother seeing his baby brother ask for his car keys to take his new girlfriend out on a date. hotch has the same expression on his face, one of a proud dad.

he knew that something had been keeping spencer extra upbeat than usual, the lack of eye bags and how he's always energized and better put together. hotch couldn't place a figure on what it was, but now he realizes it was you. spencer almost glows, basking in the shower of your presence and hotch knows that under the table you and spencer are probably doing something cringy like rubbing circle-eights into each other's knees or holding hands under the table. the same thing he did when he was hopelessly in honeymoon love.

the entire table are happy for the both of you, but there's probably isn't anyone in the club more happy than spencer. he is lovesick and you're so beautiful, he can't help it. he feels more comfortable than he ever had been in a club, and that encourage him to knock more drinks down, have a little more fun.

"i'll grab the next round," you say, noticing that the beers in everyone's hands are getting lukewarm. you press a hand against spencer's thigh as you get up. spencer looks up at you, eyes wide and sweet. "i'll be right back."

as soon as you absorb into the crowd, the entire table startles in cheers and whistles. spencer glows red, partly from the alcohol. mostly from the attention. "my man!" morgan praises, knocking a punch into spencer's shoulder.

"ow!"

"she's beautiful," jj says approvingly. "she knows how to dress."

"i'm sayin'!" despite how much he denies it, derek is a horrible lightweight. he slurs. "how the hell did you bag her? tell us your secrets."

spencer blushes like a newly courted bride, going magenta all over.

"okay stop bullying the kid," emily says, but she's grinning wide.

"he definitely likes it," garcia giggles, pressed flat against morgan.

when you return, beers in your hand, the entire booth are giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls and your boyfriend is rambling, on and on. "sorry i took a while," you say, and within a flash everyone's grabbed beers for themselves, knocking the caps over. it's reached that point of the night when everyone's breath smells of beer, and the music is extra loud and everyone's extra dizzy. spencer latches onto you immediately the moment you sit down, staring at you with fucking moons in his eyes.

"i was just talking about you," he says, pupils wide. you know your boy is beyond drunk.

"yeah?" spencer nods. "what about?"

spencer hiccups and forgets the question. "wanna dance?"

a small smile creep on your face. it's unusual for spencer to ask, usually he doesn't even want to witness the act of people dancing together at all. "you sure?" you lock an arm around him. no one pays attention to the two of you, lost in their own conservations. spencer nods again.

"can we dance? let's go," he makes to move, pouting his lips but you slither your arms all over him, trapping him into you. "y/nnn," he whines.

"stay put for a bit for me okay?” you murmur, trying to distract him from the dancefloor.

it’s not like you oppose to dancing. hell, you love dancing, but ever since you stood up to grab the table drinks, you notice unwanted eyes across the bar glued on your boy, women with sharp eyebrows and pointy chins and short dresses, and you can never help the awful feeling that coils in your stomach.

jealousy is an irritating feeling to feel, and it’s telling you to dig your teeth into his neck and mark him all over for everyone to see and look away. but you won’t do that, because you have a slightest drops of decency you have saved up, and the least you can do is pamper spencer with kisses and grab onto his hand so tight he’d think of you instead of the inviting dancefloor.

spencer falls for it immediately, returning your kisses and whining pathetically against your lips, the alcohol making his head spin. spencer ‘s never been a fan of pda but he couldn’t careless now, hanging on you like a cat, dancefloor forgotten. you smile against his lips.

victory.

[oldmannapping]

HC: Everyone in Crime Alley knows who Red Hood is.

They don’t know he’s Jason Todd but

-Norma Marshall knows that the young man who sporadically stays in the apartment across the hall from her, who fixed the building’s heating for free, is the Red Hood. She’s heard him coming back at all hours. She leaves him care packages with homemade chutney and Bandaids because she doesn’t have much but she knows his work is dangerous. Some loud angry men were banging on his door one day and she hid behind her door throwing eggs at them until they left.

-Brent Taylor knows that the guy who installed the security system for the youth LGBTQIA+ safe space centre is the Red Hood. He just showed up one day after they’d had their fifth vandalised window in three weeks, and set it up for nothing. Called it a civic duty. That same night, known Red Hood crew members started loitering purposefully in the area, escorting kids to the centre if they were too shy or scared to come alone.

Brent saw the guy about a month later, leaving a grocery store and ducking into an apartment building nearby. He’s pretty sure he knows where the Red Hood lives, but he’s not saying a fucking word.

-Angela Walters knows that the man who donates to the homeless shelter twice a month is the Red Hood. She knows that the Hood has a connection to the streets and his donations are always thoughtful and practical - not the generic canned corn most people throw into a box. His donations started at the same time as the anti-homeless bus shelters were dismantled by the Red Hood gang and replaced with traditional long benches.

She’s had police sniffing around asking questions before. She sent them on a wild goose chase on the other side of the city and actually got a little bit of a thrill out of it.

-Carla Moreno (street name Liza) knows that Red Hood is a guy with a hard jaw and white streak in his hair. Hood had been running off a John who’d been rough with Miley and the guy had gotten a lucky shot at the helmet with a brick. The girls pulled a dazed Hood into a nearby alley while the John ran off, and he’d taken off the broken helmet.

It was dark and he was wearing a domino mask, but pair the hair with his build and it was a pretty distinctive look. Carla knows that if she tried, she could find him. She doesn’t; she just compliments him on his upgraded helmet when she sees him a few weeks later.

-Ernesto Reyes knows that he’s the Red Hood’s mechanic. The guy calls himself Jay, is chill, and chats to Ernesto in easy Spanish when he comes to pick up his bike, but come on. Everyone in Crime Alley knows that bike. Ernesto’s had to fix bullet holes. Jay’s bike helmet is fucking red. The guy’s either dumb as fuck, cocky as fuck, or a dramatic shithead but either way he pays well and Ernesto’s had worse customers. He’s not telling anybody anything.

Meanwhile Jason’s just like “DOOP DI DOO sure is good to be a super sneaky crime lord ha Ha I’m so much better than Batman”

[mmurderhousewrites]

Rich Baby Daddy pt. one (sukuna x reader)

Summary: You're invited to a party by a close friend and end up bumping into someone from your past.

Warnings: none.

The mornings used to be your favorite. Waking up next to your hunk of a man. The sun shining through your bedroom windows. Oh how you missed those lovely mornings.

Now however, your mornings consisted of you waking up at the crack of dawn due to your crying 4 year old. bathing and clothing not only yourself but your child as well, making breakfast, and somehow managing to get to work on time.

Now on your days off, if you were lucky, Yuji, your son, would sleep in. And if god was somehow on your side that day, your baby daddy might even come pick up his son for awhile, giving you some free time. But those days were rare considering Sukuna is a business man.

Sukuna is the CEO of jujutsu tech, a huge electronic corporation. you had met him through your close friend getou and hit it off. Eventually you two moved in with each other and not long after that he got you pregnant.

Times have changed though unfortunatley. Sukuna is a very hard working man, so hardworking that he put his job before his own family. About a year after yuji was born you decided to leave after getting into a big argument with sukuna, taking yuji with you.

At first you stayed with your parents for a while before finding yourself a cute apartment in the city, it was a two bedroom 1 and a half bathroom. That's where you and yuji have been ever since.

You and your baby dad have had a neutral relationship ever since, sukuna of course always trying to get you to go back but times have changed and you are a new woman.

As of now it was about 1:00pm. You worked as a journalist in the new station in the city, not to far from your apartment. sitting at your desk, going through old news feed, your phone dings.

Looking over you see youve gotten a message. It was from Getou.

Geto: hey, theres some kind of party later a friend of mine is hosting. Wanted to know if u were interested in being my plus 1 ;p

You giggle to yourself. What a flirt. You could always drop yuji off to your parents for the night, after all they loved your little pink haired baby. And on top of that you could use a night out.

Quickly typing back to geto you respond,

Me: Sounds interesting.. Whats the dresscode?

geto: formal. I figure you might get a good story out of one of these rich folks huh?

Me: hmmm i think im sold suguru.

geto: great! ill pick you up at 8.

"L/N! I'm not paying you to text on your phone! I need a story!" You hear your boss, Mark yell from his office behind you.

You roll your eyes before collecting your things, standing up you head over to marks office. "The Richardsons are hosting a party tonight, i'm gonna see what tea i can find. I know the juliani"s are hiding something." You say leaning against the door frame.

"yeah well the Juliani's have a mind of their own."

"im gonna leave to go get ready." you say turning around, heading to the exit.

"L/N!" Mark calls out to you making you stop and turn to face him. "be careful. I don't need another Journalist coming up missing." You nod your head before leaving the building and heading to the parking lot.

It was true, the last journalist who went to investage the Juliani family, they turned up missing. In fact it was your coworker Nobara Kugisaki. Police reports were made out by her family about a week ago and nothing has come up.

you shivered as you walked to your car, the cold making it so you can see your breathe. Once you reached your car, a small 2020 Honda civic, you opened your door and put your bags in.

"Y/n" you freeze, hearing that oh so sexy voice say your name for the first time in what? months?

Turning around you find yourself face to face with the man you once loved, oh who are you kidding still love. He was wearing a long black coat and black jeans, his pink hair ruffled as usual and his tattoos just added to his handsome features.

"ryo- what are you doing here?" You ask, crossing your arms.

He walks closer to you, making you take a step back, leaning against your cars back door.

"i just wanted to see you." He says quietly, swiping a piece of your hair out of your face and behind your ear. You can't help but blush.

Pushing his hand away, you roll your eyes. "What are you really here for" you werent an idiot. Sukuna is a powerful man and busy one at that, there was no way he got out of work just to come see you.. especially considering he barely seen your son. But you couldn't be mad after all he was sending you checks every few weeks with at least 3,000$ on them.. so he was still providing for you and yuji in a way.

He chuckles, "I heard youre going to that party later with Getou.."

Was he serious right now? "What about it?" You question, eyebrow perking up.

"Don't go." He says darkly.

"Are you kidding me? What are you jealous? I'm a grown woman i deserve a night out once in a while!" You say before turning away and hoping in your car.

Sukuna leans against your window, so you roll it down. "Look kitten, if i were you i'd actually listen to your baby dad for once. It's not gonna be pretty" he smiles before backing away from your car.

You take this opportunity to pull out of the parking lot, making your way to yuji's daycare.

When you arrive at the daycare. You are first greeted by gojo, one of the daycare teachers and also getou's best friend.

"Well hello there Y/N! Here for yuuji?" Gojo asks, leaning towards you. "Its nap time right now so the children are asleep."

"Well unfortunately i'm going to have ti disturb his sleep because we have a pretty busy schedule for tonight" you laugh. "How have you been?" You havent really had a conversation with gojo in a while, you and him werent close, maybe because of how much of an extrovert he is.

"Im alriiight! I got a new apartment on 37th its a real beautyy." He drags on.

"Nice! Thats good to here" gojo pulls out his walky talky and yells loudly, "yuji has an early dismissal!!"

Next thing you know, theres a bunch of crying children in the next room over. What an idiot. You mentally facepalm.

Shoko, another daycare teacher comes out with yuji in her arms. He looks over to you and smiles.

After you get yuji and yourself situated in the car, you guys make your way over to your parents house. You had called them on your way to get yuji and of course they were more then thrilled to take yuji for the night.

Your parents lived anout 25 minutes away from the city so the drive wasnt too bad. Yuji was in his carseat playing on his ipad and minding his business.

"Mommy can i have 100$" your four year old says randomly. You cant help but laugh loudly.

"What do you need $100 for butt?" You ask, looking back at your som through the rear view mirror.

"I want a trampoline" he says, looking at you.

"You already have a trampoline at Nana's house and youre going there right now."

"But thats at nana's i want my own! My friend megumi has one at his house" he says, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah yeah."

After dropping your sin off to your parents, and making your way make home, you look through your closet trying to find a decent formal dress. You did have quit a few dresses considering you and sukuna would attend parties and other get togethers for business reasons.

Coming across a long black velvet dress you stop your search. This dress is skin tight and strapless, but has small diamonds adorned around the dress, making it sparkle just right.

Once you got dressed and finished your makeup, you put your hair up into a slick back ponytail, and added a little star charm clip to go with it. You looked absolutely gorgeous. Though your choice in heels would definitely make your feet sore after a night of dancing, looking good is what truly mattered. After all you were really only going to collect some dirt on any of the business men doing work with the Juliani's.

Tonight sure was going to be interesting.

[hrtsdevils]

dog-eared. | jh86

summary reader and jack broke up before he was drafted to the nhl. after years of watching from afar, jack finally sees y/n in person. past feelings are brought up to the surface.

pairing jack hughes x fem!reader

wc 2.6k

an my lovers… also another gracie fc sorry idk what to tell you! also for the sake of the plot pretend that the devils play the ducks on tuesday instead of vancouver thanks!!! loosely based off of everywhere everything by noah kahan ft gracie abrams

It had been years since you’d seen Jack. You broke up right before he started his NHL career as it seemed like your plans didn’t align. You’d be going to college in California, as USC had been your dream school your whole life. You dreamed of living somewhere where it was sunny and it was never freezing, unlike the weather in your hometown of Toronto. He dreamed of making it big in the professional league, which he was so close to achieving already.

The breakup between you two was mostly mutual. It happened in your 2005 Honda Civic, in the parking lot of a gas station after you had gone to buy soft drinks. The two of you could feel the breakup impending, and it felt as if the weather channel told you a meteor would be hitting Earth within minutes. As if the sun was about to collapse. The silence was deafening as you started your car, putting your drink in the cup holder. He followed suit.

“I..” He started before you cut him off.

“You think we need to break up?” You asked, giving him a soft smile. It wasn’t genuine, it was quite the opposite. You just didn’t want him to feel guilty, you thought it was the right thing as well.

He nodded softly, “I just think we’re on two separate paths… you know?”

“Yeah, I get it.” Your hands tensed under your thighs, as you were using them as hand warmers. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Buttons.” That had been his nickname for you since the 8th grade. You had a perfect little button nose, and it quickly caught on and everybody would use it for you as well.

The drive back to his parents’ house was in silence, as neither of you had much to say to each other. In about ten minutes, you were parked in front of his house. “You’re still going to come to my birthday party, right?” You asked. You were turning eighteen in a few weeks, June 7th.

“Yeah, I will.” He smiled sadly, “It’s not over. We’re just separating until we get brought back together.”

You huffed, “When’s that? Whenever fate decides?”

“Precisely. Call it a dog ear.. you like to read, right?”

“Yeah, I would never doggy ear my books though.” You giggled, “Bye, Jacky.”

That was the last you talked formally. He never did come to your party, texting you an excuse about how he had a training camp that day. You didn’t believe it, but you never said anything about it. It had been years, you watched him succeed from your dorm room and then to your small apartment couch. Your roommates never understood your love for the sport, but you always attributed it to being from up north.

That was a reason, but not the only one.

Every year you anticipated the Devils coming down to Anaheim to play the Ducks. That was practically the only time you watched Jack in person. You were particularly excited this year, as his little brother Luke would be playing too. You adored Luke, he was so sweet and well-mannered, especially to you. Trevor would also be there. He wouldn’t be playing as he was injured, but you’d caught him after a few games to catch up and he was your little piece of Michigan in California.

It was a Friday game, which met that the tickets were slightly higher and there were fewer of them. You finally got your good friend, Cecilia, to agree to go with you. She was familiar with your love of hockey, and she knew you went to a lot of games. She didn’t know you knew two players on the ice, and two players up in the press box. As you were buying your tickets with her, you got a text from Trevor.

trevor zegras 🐣 : hey buttons r u coming to the game? idk cause jacks playing

You hastily replied, trying to shield your phone from Cece in the most subtle way possible.

y/n buttons : yeahhhh i was jst about to buy my tickets bahaha

trevor zegras 🐣 : don’t buy them ❌❌ i have a club ticket right above the benches if u want it

y/n buttons : usually yes i’d love to but i’m bringing my friend cece

trevor zegras 🐣 : i have 2! i’ll send em to u later

y/n buttons : thanks trev i appreciate u ☺️

You put your phone down and closed your laptop. Cece was a couple feet away on hers, but looked at you when your laptop snapped shut. “Did you buy them?” She questioned, scooting closer to you. You shook your head.

“Kind of? Well, one of my friends is on the team and he’s injured, he offered us seats right behind the bench.”

Her jaw fell slightly, “You never told me you had connections!”

You smiled, “I don’t really, I usually buy my tickets. This was a first time thing, I think he might be drunk.” You tried to explain it in the least suspicious way possible. You didn’t want to seem boastful, but an explaination had to come from somewhere.

You two discussed the arrangements for a couple minutes longer. From outfits to hair to transportation, you were more excited for this game than you had been for any others. Maybe it was because it was Jack’s team, or maybe it was because someone finally seemed to share your admiration for the sport.

Who knows, it was probably the latter.

The day came quick, as it was only a day or two out from your initial conversation. The tickets usually dropped in price right before the game, but luckily you didn’t have to spend the money on it regardless. You lended Cece a Zegras jersey that he got you, while you chose to wear an unnamed 30th anniversary jersey. You still had a few hoodies with Jack’s last name on the back, from his time with USNDTP, but you wouldn’t be wearing those tonight.

You arrived shortly before warm-ups, but when you looked at your section and seat numbers you realized Trevor wasn’t lying about you being right behind the bench. He just never mentioned that it was the away bench. You watched from your seat as the boys entered from the tunnel. They weren’t facing you, but you watched to make sure they didn’t turn around at least not now.

You managed to go a little while without being seen by Luke or Jack, that was until Cecelia got extremely into the game. The Devils had a goal in the late first period, opening up the scoring. Luke was sitting on the bench about a foot to the left of Cece, and once they scored she started banging on the glass.

As he stood up to cheer, he turned around due to the banging. The first thing he did was make eye contact with you. His eyebrows raised, and he blinked as if you’d disappear when his eyes opened. He didn’t say anything as you tried to avoid his gaze, and simply turned back around.

The game continued on, and you didn’t see him say anything to Jack. Soon enough, it was intermission and you felt safer. Like eyes weren’t on you anymore, even though they never were. It went by fairly quickly as the two of you watched the silly halftime games that usually were played by young children. As soon as the Devils came back through the tunnel, Jack turned around and looked at you. He kept sneaking glances as they warmed up again before the start of the second.

The rest of the game wasn’t as fun, as the brunette kept staring at you. As if you couldn’t go to hockey games, his hockey games. As if he couldn’t help looking at you. As if he missed you.

It didn’t help that Cece kept shouting at you, telling you that the cute one kept staring at you and that he wanted you. You knew her best interest was at heart, but she had no idea the magnitude of your situation with said cute one. You entertained her teasing of you, and how she kept pointing at you everytime Jack glanced your way.

By the end of the game you were over it. You wanted to escape and go home before the off chance that you ran into Jack actually happened. It was relieving when you got into the car, but startling when your phone lit up with a single message from Jack. Cece was giggling to herself, looking up one of the cute guys she saw on Instagram. She was oblivious to the situation

jack hughes : hi why were u there

You tried to think of an excuse, but eventually you realized it wouldn’t matter if you told the truth or not.

buttons 🩷 : because i was given tix my trevor.. and i go to a lot of ducks games

jack hughes : oh no other reason?

buttons 🩷 : u think i went for u?

jack hughes : maybe a little. sorry for bothering u buttons.

buttons 🩷 : don’t be sorry. how long are you in anaheim?

jack hughes : tonight n then flying up to seattle

buttons 🩷 : where r u staying?

It was a twenty minute drive back up to your apartment, but with your speeding it was around seventeen. Cece didn’t question your urgency as you dropped her off at your shared apartment, and left immediately after. She was a little bit tipsy. As you drove to the Marriott in Anaheim, you thought about what you were doing.

Throwing away years of peace for the same boy who disrupted it all those years ago. If you started to have feelings for him again, who knows how much you life could be uprooted? Everything could be ruined. All the progress and the getting over Jack. Your Jack. You knew you were risking your own personal journey by going to see him, but at this point you didn’t care.

The hotel receptionist was reluctant to let you up, as she knew who was staying there. The skepticism on her face was present from the very moment you walked in.

“Look, I know him and I know his room number, so can you just let me go up?” You pleaded with hed. Going to a room usually wasn’t necessarily an issue, the issue here was that a sports team was staying. She might’ve thought you were a crazy stalker fan.

As she was about to answer, Jack exited the elevator and spotted you talking to the receptionist. “She’s with me.” He told her, as he walked up to the desk. “Thanks, though.” You had texted him a minute prior about the receptionist, but you didn’t expect him to rush down.

“Hi.” You breathed as you made your way toward the elevator, “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been good.” He stopped before the elevator, “Would you rather go for a drive? I’m sharing a room with Luke.”

Your story paused in a car, so you were unsure how this would turn out. Maybe it will be different this time. “Sure.” You replied softly.

You two walked to your car in silence. You were about to get in the driver’s seat, but he insisted on driving. “You should drive slow around here, there’s a bunch of cops at night because of drunk college students.” You chuckled, “I’ll tell you when you can speed.”

You buckled up, and he started your car. It was an upgrade from your Honda, being a more recent model of a Nissan. “So, why’d you come to the game?” He asked as he pulled out of the hotel’s parking lot.

“I go to a lot of Duck’s games. Trevor plays, of course I go watch him.” You started, “He offered me club tickets, and I figured they were behind his bench. They weren’t, obviously.”

“So you didn’t go for me?” He questioned once again, “I don’t believe that, Buttons.”

You rolled your eyes, “I kind of did. I’ve been while you were playing for the last three years, but I still like hockey in general.”

“I’ll believe that.” The silence sat for a little while as he drove 25 down the city roads, the radio wasn’t even playing. “Do you think we could’ve done long distance?”

You shook your head, “No, not then at least. That’s why we broke it off. Maybe now.” You said the last part quieter, just enough so that if he wasn’t paying attention he wouldn’t have heard it.

But of course he was paying attention. You were his everything before, and possibly even now.

“Now?” He questioned, “What do you mean by that?”

“When we broke up, you said our page was dog-eared. Bookmarked. It was more like a pause until we were ready and mature, or at least that’s how I took it.”

He smiled, “I remember that. Do you think we’re ready and mature?”

You shrugged, looking at him. “Maybe, just this semester and then I’m done. I chose to graduate a semester early. I could move back east, we could be closer. Even without I think we’d be mature enough for long distance.”

The chances of this moment happening just weeks before you graduated was an alignment of the stars in itself. This could be everything you wanted, without disrupting your peace.

“If you need a place to stay, you can always stay with me and Luke.” He offered, “To get on your feet, if you come back.”

“Maybe.” You hummed. His hand was resting on the gear shift, even though it was an automatic. You made a move to lay your hand on top of his, squeezing it gently.

It was a soft step in the right direction. A step to getting the love of your life back, which is what you’d wanted since the minute you broke it off. It’s been a long three years without him, he was your best friend and you intended to make up for the lost time soon enough. You wouldn’t bring up how he never contacted you either, because it was far in the past. You were both kids at the time and you can’t hold a grudge about that.

As he re-entered the hotel parking lot, you smiled at him. Your hands were now intertwined on top of the cup holder region, and you never wanted to let go. His hand was more rugged than before, matured and weathered, but it was still a comfort you had missed. He dropped it to shift the car into park.

“So, I’ll see you soon then?” He asked, as you got ready to get out. 45 minutes had passed between getting into the car and now. You conversed about your current life and your future. Your future together.

You nodded, “Yeah, hopefully. Keep in touch, okay? No ghosting me.” You stepped out of the car and walked around to the driver's side as he got out as well.

The two of you shared a hug, but exchanged little words. You could hear the cars around you, and the sounds of the city were still alive. “Bye, Jack.” You released him from your embrace.

“Bye, Buttons.” He smiled, “I’ll text you.” He turned around and walked back to the hotel as you watched, a smile gracing your features as well.

You’d love him forever, whether you got back together or not. You believed he felt the same. You were glad that Trevor had known about the seating on the tickets, and made sure they got to you. You were also glad Luke saw and recognized you. You were excited to see him. The end was over, and the new start was just beginning.

[kojiarakiartworks]

December 2003 PDX Portland Oregon U.S.A. 

© KOJI ARAKI Art Works

Daily life and every small thing is the gate to the universe ：）

[wilwheaton]

Eight years ago Will Saletan said “The GOP is a failed state. Donald Trump is its warlord.” There’s probably no short summary, phrase or aphorism I’ve repeated more times on TPM. Because it’s that good. Today we’re seeing another permutation and illustration of that enduring reality. This is more basic than a fractured caucus or any of the personalities involved. It is the logical end result of a party and political movement based on rule-breaking, as a central value and mode of operation. When rule-breaking becomes the norm organizations and polities fall apart … without a strongman. For eight years Donald Trump has been that strongman. It’s Trump’s general indifference to the House Speaker debacle and perhaps focus on his unfolding legal woes that has allowed the chaos to drag on. This is always the relationship between civic democracies and the broken states where strongmen thrive and dominate. Civic democracy operates through an organized competition between different stakeholders in society. It requires a consensus to litigate disagreements through a prescribed set of rules. The breakdown of those rules creates an opening for strongmen who traffic in raw power and sell their ability to impose order. It is both the cause and result of the species of civic and moral degeneracy we see as the mother’s milk of Trumpism.

The Party of Rule-Breaking Trundles Toward Its Inevitable End Point - TPM – Talking Points Memo

[snixkers]

Pen on Paper

Pairing: Spencer Reid × GN!Reader

Fluff

Content Warnings: None, literal pure fluff

Summary: You and your boyfriend have a study date in a coffee shop, but your methods differ.

Author's Note: My inbox has tumbleweeds blowing through it atm, so I'm digging this out of my drafts!

Feedback is always welcome!

Requests are OPEN

I quickly gathered up my laptop and textbooks when I checked the time, checking my appearance in the mirror as I made my way to my car. The Civic was ancient, but it still got me where I needed to be. Unfortunately, my boyfriend did not share the same sentiment, preferring to use public transportation.

I rolled my eyes at the thought of a germaphobe so adverse to driving he’d get on a train with complete strangers, but I decided to let it go. After all, he was the one who had offered to take me out on a study date. As a grad student, I would take any opportunity to get ahead. Who better than a man with an eidetic memory and 3 PhDs?

Snapping myself out of my thoughts, I weaved through the streets of downtown DC to meet him where he had requested, a small local cafe that was able to satiate his sweet tooth. I parked and hopped out of my car, materials in hand for a long night of memorization.

He smiled when he saw me, the corners of his eyes crinkling softly as he opened the door.

Despite his awkward behavior, manners were not lost on him. We entered the shop hand in hand, scanning over the menu (although he got through it much faster) and stepping up to order. He got a black coffee with 6 teaspoons of sugar, and I decided on something a little less nauseating.

We chose a booth in the back corner, somewhere we could have some privacy in our own little academic bubble. I set my bags on the floor beside me, taking a sip of my drink and pulling out my laptop. I noticed the wrinkle of his nose, smirking as I realized he was likely judging me.

“What?”

He shook his head innocently, pulling out some papers for his own work at the BAU.

“Nothing, I just think you’d do better with physical materials.”

You smiled, picking up his pen and clicking it a couple of times.

“We don’t all work at lightning speed.”

He bit his lip, and I could practically see the wheels in his head turning as he plucked a new fact from the depths of his memory.

“Actually, although it’s faster to type, writing allows you to tap into tactile information recall.”

You snorted in acknowledgement. Of course he had something to back his opinions up with.

As any genius would.

“You’d use a typewriter if you could.”

He pulled out some files, looking them over.

“I have one at my apartment, but I ran out of ink a while ago.”

You just sighed, conceding defeat and moving back to your work, typing rapidly as you worked on your essay. He sat across from you, doing the same thing with his notes, although he occasionally switched his papers to shield you from anything too messy.

He thought of everything.

After a while, you felt a tap on your shoulder, and a note dropped onto your keyboard. You unfolded it, reading the messy chicken scratch.

‘You can’t pass notes on a laptop.’

You narrowed your eyes, stealing his pen to come up with a response.

‘it’s called an email’

He shook his head, his hand flying across the paper before he held it out for you.

‘Emails can always be tracked. Notes have to be destroyed.’

You smiled softly at the sentiment, slipping the note into your pocket before turning back to your work.

“You’re distracting me.”

He sighed, returning to his seat and fiddling with his pen.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

You nodded, determined to make this paper your own. But after a few minutes of typing, the rhythmic tapping was dragging your eyelids down. The words were sliding off the page, and the backlight did nothing for your eyestrain. After you failed to stifle a yawn, he looked back up at you with a look that screamed ‘I told you so’.

“Come on, it’s late. You can’t perform as well academically if you stay up all night to finish it.”

You tried to protest, but your own body betrayed you with another yawn. With your acceptance, he gathered up your things and stored them neatly in your bag.

You were half asleep as you left the cafe, but you pretended not to notice as he slipped a notebook and his pen into the tote for future study dates.

[poeghoul]

hard times iii.

in which they're far too drawn to each other.

word count: 7,852 warnings: mentions of drug usage and abuse, unwanted advances, angst, possessiveness authors note: not proofread. only a few parts left to this series </3 im far too attached to them.

masterlist

part one part two

Y/n made her way out of the diner, the new waiter, Ross, following close behind her. “It’s not too bad, I promise. You’ll get the hang of it soon,” she turned to face him, smiling to try and relieve his anxiety. The poor boy had spilled orange juice all over his black sweater, the thick fabric sticking to his chest, and still slightly damp. “Plus you’ll be taking the night shift and barely anyone comes in.”

He exhaled through his mouth, raising his eyebrows at her, “so that means shit tips, huh?” he joked at her. She pulled her lips into her mouth, hesitant to answer, and when she went to challenge his assumption, he cut her off. “Fuck, really? Shit, I’m fucked,” running a hand through his hair, he shook his head. She pursed her lips at him.

“It’s not awful, I swear. And you’re new, so,” she trailed off, not entirely knowing what to say to the blue eyed boy. “They always start the newbies off at night,” the end of her sentence sounded more like a question, and he just smirked at her and tilted his head to the side. 

“You’re shit at making people feel better, you know that?” he grinned at her, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth, shaking his head at her. She grinned at him, exhaling a laugh through her nose. “Ya need a ride or anything?”

“Mm, no I have a ride already, thank you though,” she gestured to the man standing next to the black SUV behind her. A ‘shit’ coming from the boy in front of her. “Yeah,” she pursed her lips. Ever since the first night Jax had picked her up, everyone who worked at the diner bombarded her with a million questions anytime the ‘mystery’ man stood in front of the building; how’d you score that, who is he, how do you know him, etc. 

“No offense, but how the fuck are you able to drive that? Or have someone drive you in that,” he stared at her, a befuddled look graced his face. 

She tucked her bottom lip in between her teeth for a second, his gaze switching from her eyes to her lips and back once the flesh was released, “um, a friend of mine kinda owes me a favor and this is how he’s paying me back,” she shrugged, her right arm coming up to rub her left, an anxious habit.

A humorless laugh escaped him, “I will never ask for a favor if this is what you’re expecting in return,” he gestured to the car. “I’ll see you in the morning, y/n,” he patted her shoulder before running his hand down her arm, barely even touching the jacket covered skin, and grazed her hand for a moment longer than he should’ve. She blushed from the action, taking in a sharp breath before nodding and bidding him goodbye. 

They parted ways; Ross walking to a beat up ‘99 Honda Civic hatchback, and y/n to her (Harry’s) personal chauffeur’s car. She sent a smile to Jax before wrapping her arms around his torso, squishing her face into his chest (he was significantly taller than her, but not as tall as Harry). 

“Hey, sweetpea,” he greeted her, she felt the vibrations rumble through his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, a hand coming up to caress the back of her head and a gentle kiss was placed on the crown of her head. “Wanna tell me who that was?” he pulled back to wink at her, she just rolled her eyes unwrapping her arms and crossing them over her chest and he opened the door for her, 

“That was Ross, he’s the new waiter I told you about. Not very good though,” she stepped up into the backseat and sat her bag down on the seat next to her. A few weeks ago, she’d be getting in the backseat hoping Harry would greet her with an apology or an explanation. Now, she’d be surprised to even smell Harry’s lingering cologne. He’s been avoiding her since the last time he came to her apartment. No calls, no texts, no interactions whatsoever. 

Jax laughed, closing the door before running around the back of the car and hopping in the front seat. His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror, “that bad, huh?” Her eyes widened and she nodded, her mouth agape. 

“I’ve never met anyone that uncoordinated, I swear. He’s great with the customers, he really is, he just can’t balance a tray to save his life,” she sighed, “Dan put a lot of faith in me, too, which makes it worse. Like, I can’t just magically make someone a great waiter, especially if this is their first waiting job.”

“That’s rough, sweetpea, I’m sorry.” 

“Is it bad I don’t think he’ll last long?” sympathy laced her tone. 

“Not at all, and from the sounds of it, that seems likely,” he shrugged one shoulder and started the car. Pushing the parking brake down, he shifted into reverse before pulling out of the parking lot and on to the main street leading to her studio. 

“Yeah,” she pulled her lips into her mouth, looking out the window. She had switched to the morning shift, paranoia suffocating her every night making her shifts much harder to get through without choking on her anxiety. And because no one else was willing to take the night shift, they had to hire another waiter. And apparently, for god knows why, they just had to hire one with no experience. And just had to make y/n train him. A form of punishment, she’s sure. “How was your day?” she looked back to him, eyes trained on his side profile. 

“Mm, fine. Uneventful as normal. Just waited around for,” he met her eyes in the rearview, “Mr. Styles,” she looked down at her hands, picking at her over bitten cuticles, dried blood staining her nail beds. “He had another meeting with Mr. Horan,” she nodded slowly. Niall hadn’t even come into the diner. They both had disappeared. 

The drive was short, it always was. Soon enough, she was thanking him, like usual, and running up the stairs to her apartment. Unlocking the door, she could hear the bells she had attached to the door handle on the inside sing loudly. It was annoying, but with where her mind had been the past month, she deemed it necessary. Kicking her shoes off, she plopped on her chair, rolling her neck from side to side trying to alleviate the tension. 

After her third morning shift, she had started to regret asking to be taken off nights, she had no clue what to do in the middle of the afternoon. When she’d get off around ten, she would come home and get ready for bed and watch a show or scroll through tiktok until she’d be half asleep with the phone slipping from her grasp. It was a routine she’d been used to for about eight months, but developing new routines and sticking to them was not her strong suit. 

Getting off this early highlighted how alone she felt. It got dark around 4:30 and winter was creeping in. Her seasonal depression started to settle in, making a home in the cavity of her chest. 

+++

Harry sat across from Niall in his home office, sitting back in his expensive Italian leather chair with his leg crossed over his knee. He rarely ever hosted meetings in his home, never trusting anyone enough to invite them in, but Niall was entirely different. He managed to snake his way into Harry’s life; calling and texting him at all hours of the day, inviting him to attend church with his wife and two daughters or out to play a game of golf. Harry was suspicious about the amount of communication and invitations, but learned that Niall was one of the friendliest men he’d ever come across, and eventually accepted an invitation to a game of golf. That was entirely a bad idea, however, since Niall was practically glued to Harry’s side ever since. 

He had even told him about what happened with y/n, to which Niall prompted him to just come clean to her about how he felt. But of course, it wasn’t that simple. If it was, Harry would’ve done that the moment he saw his sweet girl shed a tear. They never spoke about it after Harry yelled at Niall to stop meddling. 

“Who do you think did it?” Harry asked the blue eyed brunette, referring to a shootout that happened at a Motel 6 twentyseven miles from where they were meeting. Motel 6’s were notorious for drug dealings, though Harry never dared to step foot near one. 

Niall shrugged, “could’ve been anyone, really. But I’m sure it had something to do with Justus. He’s always down there, creepin’ around,” a scowl graced his gentle face. 

Harry brought his fingers to rest on his mouth, tapping a finger on the skin above his lip and raising an eyebrow at the man's theory, “Hm, Justus, aye?” Niall nodded. “ ‘S a possibility, he loves his motels. Who else could’ve been down there, though? Couldn’t have just been a deal gone wrong, he had to have stepped on someone’s toes.”

“Well, it-” Niall cut himself off, perking up as he put the pieces together in his head, “Payne. It was fucking Payne, god that prickhead.”

“Niall, that name holds no significance with me, who is that?” 

“Liam Payne,” Niall answered, leaning forward, “terrible prices, terrible stock, always lacing whatever he’s able to get his hands on to sell for less,” Harry scoffed, shaking his head. “Laced a batch of coke with fent and killed twelve people but of course, being who he is, no one ever ratted him out. Hells gonna swallow him whole rightfully so.”

“Hm,” Harry hummed out, “let’s hope he makes his way up here,” a grin took over his features. Niall stared at him in confusion. 

“Why’s that? Don’t want him anywhere near me, if ‘m bein honest.”

“Well, you won’t have to deal with him. I’ll happily take care of him.” 

Niall gulped, “I don’t know Harry, he’s shitty but,” he paused, trying to think of the right phrasing, “powerful. Very powerful.”

Harry’s grin widened, the skin around his eyes wrinkling, “and I’m not?” he retorted. Niall shook his head, chuckling, knowing where Harry was headed. “Like I said, I’ll happily take care of him.”

“Devious bastard.”

Niall and Harry said their goodbyes, one of Harry’s men walking him out. Harry sat in his office, alone again. He sat back in his chair, messing with the H and S rings on his left hand, his mind wandering to his little lamb, whom he hadn’t seen in far too long. He wondered if she thought of him, wondered if her thumb ever hovered over the call button under his name in her contacts like he had done with her. She consumed his thoughts daily. He’d ask Jax about how her day went and why she switched to the morning shift, to which Jax couldn’t answer truthfully as he didn’t even know. 

Papers scattered the desk in front of him, numbers, dollar signs and crossed out names on nearly every page. The amount of clutter on the desk made him restless, unable to think straight, but he couldn’t bring himself to organize it in any way. He’d begin to put things away but would quickly get overwhelmed with the amount of shit he had to file away. So, he just stared at the piles, his mind occupied by the girl he didn’t get a chance to know, by his own fault. 

He reached into his jacket pocket, reading the time, 4:37 pm, and his notifications, looking for one in particular. 

Jax D.

She’s home safe, area secured.

A small smile graced his lips, happy she was home safe and unharmed. He wished she would’ve told him instead, however. Wishing to hear the words fall from her pretty pink lips. He tapped at the screen to respond. 

Harry:

Good. Thank you. 

He set his phone down, his heart aching in his chest, missing his sweet little lamb. 

+++

“What are you doing tonight?” Ross asked y/n as she unlocked the front doors for the pair, she looked at him over her shoulder as she pulled the door open.

“Mm, probably nothing, I work tomorrow morning so I don’t really wanna do much,” she let him walk in before her, following him inside before locking the door behind them. “Why, what’s up?” she quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Just curious, damn,” he held his hands up in surrender, she rolled her eyes and laughed at him. 

“Well, why are you curious?” The two made their way into the back room, setting their stuff in their designated lockers. She sat down on the bench, retying the shoelace that had come undone. He sat in front of her, legs on either side of the bench. 

“Well, I was gonna see if you wanted to do something cause I’m off tomorrow and I assumed you were too so,” he shrugged, staring at her as she sat across from him.

She looked up at him, mouth slightly agape. “Oh,” she nodded slowly. “What were you thinking?”

“What?”

She rolled her eyes at him, “what did you wanna do?”

“Oh, I’m dumb, I thought you meant, like, what are you thinking,” he said in a scolding tone, she laughed. “But whatever you wanna do, we can see a movie or something.”

She nodded her head slowly, contemplating the idea. It wouldn’t be bad, she could get a blue and red icee, but she didn’t want to give up her daily alone time (with working in the service industry, she looked forward to that very much needed time). But with how melancholy she’d been feeling lately, the alone time became very depressing after an hour. 

“I’m down,” she smiled at him, a dimple cutting into her cheek. “What do you wanna see? The new Priscilla movie is out, I really wanna see that but we don’t have to watch that if you don’t want to,” she rambled. 

“That’s Elvis’ wife right?” She nodded, “I love Elvis,” she cringed. She had a deep hatred for him and his stupid voice and stupid hair. She vowed to never step foot in Vegas because of him. “Let’s do it. Check the times, do you wanna go after work so you’re not staying out too late?” 

“Oh yeah that’s actually perfect.”

He grinned back at her, “perfect. It’s a date.”

He got up before she had the chance to correct him; it was absolutely not a date. 

+++

Harry sat on the edge of his bed, buttoning up a crisp white shirt. He had returned home from his morning jog and worked out for a little over two hours before getting in the shower and readying himself for the day. No meetings planned, which he was thankful for. He just had to foresee a shipment coming in from Arizona, some of the finest coke he had ever seen was set to come in today and he didn’t trust anyone enough to not tamper with the sweet white powder. Jax, Daniel and Lee met him in the hallway, ready to take him to the warehouse, while the rest of his men were already on their way. 

“Morning, Mr. Styles,” one of the burly men greeted him, Harry didn’t bother to respond to the greeting, instead looking to Jax to inquire about his angel. 

“She was dropped off at 5:45 this morning, I watched her go inside with the new waiter. She texted me she doesn’t need a ride home but I’ll still check the area out when she’s set to be off,” Harry’s neck almost snapped with the way he turned so quickly.

“What? Did she say why she doesn’t need a ride home?”

Jax shook his head, “She didn’t, sir.”

“Show me the texts,” he stopped in his tracks, his hand reaching out, waiting for the phone to be placed in his palm. Jax hesitated. Harry narrowed his eyes at him becoming impatient. “Show me the texts, now.” Jax reached into his jacket pocket to pull out his phone and tapped on the screen before handing it over to Harry. 

Y/n 🐇☁️

Ross said he can give me a ride today:) love u see u in the morning

Harry reread the message four times over, his heart caught in his throat. He turned the screen off and gave the phone back to Jax, turning on his heel to walk out to the car. He settled in the backseat, Lee next to him, while Jax and Daniel sat in the front. 

He sat staring out the window, the car not even moving yet. His breathing rapid, his heartbeat similar to one of a rabbit getting caught in the grip of a hawk. 

He broke the uncomfortable silence, “Is Ross the new waiter?” Jax nodded, nonverbal. “He seems interested in her?” Again, the man nodded, not daring to say anything more thinking it would just piss him off further. But Harry wasn’t angry, he was more hurt than anything. He knew he had no right to be upset in any way, afterall he walked out on her, but it still didn’t sit well with him. “What time is she set to be off today?” He turned, looking at the man in the passenger seat. 

“Scheduled off at 2:30, but depends on if she’s finished with her tables. She's still training the new waiter so it could be longer than that. She said he’s not very good,” Jax threw the last bit in there to appease Harry. It worked. 

“You’ll switch cars for the day, you can take the beemer, I want to see her make it home safe.”

“Yes, Mr. Styles.”

+++

Y/n and Ross made their way out of the diner, headed to his beat up little car (he swore it was the coolest “ride” and that the ladies “loved” it). He would take y/n home so she could change and lend him one of her oversized shirts, offering him that after they made the plan to go right after work thinking he’d be uncomfortable in a food stained sweater. He declined the offer at first but after he spilled a copious amount of coffee and syrup on him, he asked if it was still on the table.

Harry and Jax sat in the heavily tinted Beemer watching the pair as they walked out of the double doors and into the piece of shit, as Harry put it. He was fuming, his foot tapping against the carpeted mats of the car as he clenched his jaw, Jax thought he was closing to breaking a few teeth or the mandible all together. The two men followed them as they made their way to y/n’s. 

Harry hadn’t been in this area in a week's time; he had been following Jax in that very car, watching to make sure she was actually making it safe to her little home.

He watched as he parked his car on the street, and watched as they walked up the stairs and stood at the door for him to unlock it. That made him even more angry, how was she so comfortable with a man she barely knew to allow him in her apartment? 

The chiming of bells rang through her apartment as she pushed open the door. 

“Bells?”

She nodded, “I’m a girl living alone, kinda a necessity,” she shrugged, setting her keys down. “Thirsty?” He shook his head. 

“Ya know something’s really gotta be done about that.” She looked at him, a confounded look on her face. 

“What?”

“Like women are scared to live alone, that’s, like, really shitty. And pads and tampons should be free.” She stared at him, her head cocked to the side before shaking her head and approaching her dresser. 

“I have a few sweaters you can borrow too if you’re cold,” she reached into her pajama drawer and pulled out an old Jimi Hendrix shirt she had purchased at a record store from her hometown years ago. The neckline was fraying and the graphic design was barely dark enough to where it was easy to make out.  

“Yeah, I’ll take one if that's alright,” he smiled at her, holding the t-shirt up in front of him. “Do you actually like Hendrix or is this just like a hand-me-down?” 

She rolled her eyes, going through the bin of sweaters she had, trying to find one that would actually fit his lanky, but tall, frame. “Yes, I actually like him, asshat. I have Are You Experienced on vinyl,” she nodded her head to the turntable that sat in the corner, near her bathroom door. A collection of vinyl growing dust sat on the bottom shelf of the stand it sat on. 

“Damn my bad, cupcake.” She hated that. She hated how he called her ‘cupcake’ or ‘sweetie’. She hated how it sounded, hated how it made her feel, hated how degrading it was. She handed him a plain gray sweater, saying nothing, not making eye contact. “Thanks,” he took it from her, his hand grazing hers in an unnecessary manner. Without warning, he pulled his shirt over his head and fumbled with the t-shirt she had handed him. He was just standing in her room basically half naked. 

“Oh,” she said, turning around and facing the opposite of him. He laughed from behind her. She wished she had chosen her alone time. Or at least asked to see the movie later in the day as she was going on nine hours of being with the boy. 

“I’m decent now.” She turned to face her dresser again, filing through her shirt drawer looking for a long sleeve to wear under her sweater. Even with the chilly fall weather, movie theaters cranked their ac all the way up. “I’m gonna change in the bathroom,” she shut the door after getting the last word of her sentence out, thankful to have a moment to herself. 

While she was undressing her upper half, she heard a pounding on the door, the bells clanking against the wood. “Hey are you okay?” she shouted.

“Yeah,” he yelled back to her, “there’s some guy at your door, should I open it?”

Some guy? She couldn’t think of anyone who would drop by randomly on a Tuesday afternoon, other than Jax but he knew she didn’t need a ride so it couldn’t have been him, right? 

“Gimme a sec,” she tugged her long sleeve over her head and opened the bathroom door, pulling her hair out of the neckline. 

She covered the eyehole for a moment before briefly looking into it, but someone was covering the other side of it. She glanced back at Ross, shrugging her shoulders, silently asking what she should do. 

“Here, I got it,” he approached her and she stepped back to give him some space. He cracked the door open slightly, just enough space for his head to be visible from the other side. “Hey can I help you?” 

The door was pushed open, Ross groaning at the force from the man on the other side. Harry stomped his way in the apartment, looking around the space before his eyes landed on her. His gaze softened. He didn’t say anything. Neither did she. 

“Dude, you can just fucking come into someones house man,” Ross said from behind him. Harry rolled his eyes, turning to face the significantly smaller boy. 

“Don’t fucking call me dude, who the fuck are you?” Harry yelled as he approached him, towering over him and backing him into the wall.

Ross swallowed, his back hitting the brick wall. “I-uh, who are you?” he retorted, Harry chuckled. 

“What are you doing here?” y/n spoke up, taking a step closer to him. Harry turned, locking eyes with her again. 

He didn’t have an explanation that didn’t make him sound insanely jealous and possessive of someone who wasn’t even his. “I, y/n, I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I’m sorry.”

“Can we go outside for a second?” Harry nodded, his hand on the doorknob waiting for her to come with him. He closed the door behind him. She didn’t say anything, a sad look on her face.

Harry’s hand twitched beside him, wanting so desperately to pull her into him to hold her or even to touch her cheek again. She poked at the chipped nail polish on her nails. 

“I still haven’t made any banana bread,” she broke the silence. A smile made a home on Harry's lips. 

“Hmm, that’s exactly why I came, how’d you know?” she smiled up at him, a gleam in her eyes. Harry’s smile wavered. His hands twitched again, his subconscious begging him to run, begging him to stay far away from the sweet angel that stood in front of him. 

“ ‘S just a guess,” her head dipped down again, her arms coming to wrap around her torso as the autumn air nipped away at her. 

They stood in silence for a moment, none of the two knowing what to say after weeks of no contact. Harry felt he couldn’t ask her about the morning shift or about the things Jax has told him about her life recently; he wasn’t invited into that part. Rather, he uninvited himself to that part of her life when he sent he Jaxs information then proceeded to go back and forth with blocking and unblocking her number. 

“We’re going to see Priscilla, it starts pretty soon.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” 

“Didn’t know you were an Elvis fan.”

“I’m not,” she was quick to disprove the claim, “it’s not about him, it’s about his child bride.” Harry chuckled. 

“Hm, I’m not too fond of the ‘Viva Las Vegas’ bastard either,” she smiled, wryly. “I’ll head out then, I hope you enjoy your night,” he turned on his heel, she followed behind him, meeting him at the stairs.

“Harry,” he turned, surprised with how close she was. “If you’d like, um, you can come over after I get home.”

“I’d love to,” he grinned at her. 

“Harry?” They were so close to each other. 

“Yes?”

“You promise you’ll come back?” His heart broke, practically shattered at that. He shook his head fervently. 

“Yes. Yes, y/n, I’ll come back once you tell me to.”

“I’ll see you soon, Harry.”

“I’ll see you soon, y/n.”

Harry descended down the stairs, she stayed in her spot, peering over the railing to watch him walk away. She hoped he’d keep his promise. The front door to her apartment creaked, Ross peeking his head out, warily. 

“He gone?” she nodded, heading back into her space. “Who was that? He’s scary as shit, cupcake. How do you know him?” he asked, bewildered by the mysterious man who practically burst into her home. 

“Ya know that friend who owes me a favor?” He nodded. “That’s him. He’s kinda temperamental, I’m sorry,” a pursed smile was sent to him as an apologetic gesture. 

“Kinda is an understatement, sweetheart.” There it was again. A nickname coated in degradation. One she hated coming from him, but if Harry or Jax had said it, it would absolutely be and feel different. 

“Are you ready to go, I’m sure we’re gonna miss all the trailers and you know what’ll happen if I don’t get my blue and red Icee.” she joked. 

“First, I truly doubt something bad is going to happen to the county of Placerville and second its blue raspberry and cherry. Not blue, not red.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. 

“Yeah whatever, let’s go dipshit.” His laugh boomed through the room as she picked her keys off the counter. 

+++

Y/n was sobbing. Her heart caught in her throat as Elvis was forcing Priscilla to pack a bag to take to her parents after she confronted him about finding a love note in his jacket pocket. He was terrifying and the movie just reinforced how poorly she thought of the beloved singer. 

A hand grazed her knee, finding a place on her thigh. She was stunned, not daring to move her leg in any way. The thumb moving from side to side, a reassuring gesture, sure, but coming from someone she didn’t think of in any way other than a coworker; it was unwanted, unjustified. She swallowed back the acid building in her throat and reached for her watered down Icee, sipping on the cool liquid. She still hadn’t moved the hand and she wouldn’t for the remainder of the film, far too scared of potential consequences.  

A flood of relief washed over her when the movie ended and the lights returned. A halo of light above their heads woke the sleeping boy next to her.

He stretched out, “ ‘s over?” she nodded. 

“I take it you weren’t a fan?”

He shook his head, “I don’t think I was the target audience,” he shrugged, “you liked it?”

She nodded, “I loved it.”

They stood from their seats and headed for the exit, she tossed her melted Icee remnants and popcorn before they exited the building entirely. It was completely dark out and pouring. They ran to his car, trying to outrun the downpour embracing them. 

Silence covered them as they sat in the car, the heater spat out cold air before finally heating the space to a more comfortable temperature. He put the car into reverse and sped out of the parking lot. Soft indie music played through the speakers, no artists y/n had particularly liked but she wouldn’t complain as she wasn’t the one driving. 

His hand found a home on her thigh again, higher than the previous unwanted gesture was. She glared down at it for a moment before grabbing his hand in between her thumb and pointer finger, moving it so it sat on the gear shift instead. He chuckled. 

“Sorry, thought it was fine since,” he turned to glance at her before looking back out the windshield, “you didn’t move it earlier.” 

She stared at her hands in her lap, swallowing the saliva building up in her mouth. “I, um,” she pulled her lips into her mouth for a moment, “I’m not really interested in you like that. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” he took a sharp breath, before laughing. “I’m really bad at reading people. I’m sorry, I got the wrong idea.” Relief washed over her. 

“No don’t worry, I’m also extremely passive and I can’t really express myself like I should, I don't know.” 

“Well, it's both our faults then,” he smiled at her and she sent one right back. 

Harry watched as he put his car into park, having made it back to her apartment complex before them as his car went much faster than his beat up civic. He watched as y/n reached over the middle console to hug the boy and watched as she got out to ascend the stairs. Now he would simply wait to get a text to invite him up. 

Y/n opened the door, greeted by her bells, and flicked on the lights. She ran around her studio, trying to tidy up quickly, and lit a pumpkin spice candle before running into the bathroom to take a quick shower, desperate to wash the rain scent off her (and Ross’ lingering touch).

Harry sat in his car, his fingers dancing along the dashboard impatiently as he wondered what was taking her so long. Naturally, his mind went to the worst case scenario; someone broke in and is holding her hostage or she fell and twisted her ankle and is screaming on the floor from the debilitating pain or-.

His phone chimed, her message casting a glow onto his face.

Y/n:

i’m home now you can head over whenever:)

His anxiety was alleviated from her text message, a confirmation of her safety and wellbeing. He immediately got out of his car, the warmth from the heated seats almost disappeared instantly with how cold and wet it was. And like her, he ascended the stairs to knock on the door.

On the inside, y/n was confused by the knocking, not realizing it was Harry with how quickly the knocking happened after she sent the text. She peered through the peephole and immediately opened the door, not wanting him to stay in the cold much longer. The bells on the handle sang.

“Bells?” She nodded. “Hm.”

“It’s a safety thing, I guess.”

“You don’t feel safe?” He stepped closed to her as she shut the door behind him.

“Well, it’s not that I don’t feel safe, I just wanted extra precaution,” she shrugged.

“If you don’t feel safe I’ll have Jax stay in the area and have hourly check ins or we can relocate you or-”

“Relocate? Harry, no it’s not that big of a deal I just wanted to be able to hear the door from the shower.” Harry glared at her. 

“Not that big of a deal? Y/n, your safety is a huge deal.” 

“Can we drop it? Please, I don’t want to talk about it,” she approached her bed and sat down, picking up a decorative pillow to mess with the trim. 

Harry sighed and sat next to her on the bed, moving her hair from her face. She looked at him, the glimmer in her eyes returning. The little voice in Harry’s head returned, even louder, shouting at him to leave her alone; to get out of there and never look back.

“We can drop it, but you need to tell me if you ever feel unsafe, little lamb, understood?” She nodded. “Y/n,” he said in a warning tone, “tell me you understand, please. 

She rolled her eyes, smiling. “Yes, Harry, I understand.”

“Thank you.”

“How’d you get here so fast?” Harry froze, trying to come up with an excuse but blanking, just staring at her for a minute while his mind went a million miles an hour. “Harry?”

“I, I kinda just stayed in the parking lot while you were gone.”

She laughed. “No way, you waited more than two hours? Just sitting in your car?” he hesitantly nodded, a blatant lie.

He absolutely did not wait in his car outside of her apartment. He followed them to the theater, bought himself a ticket to the same movie, and sat at the very top with his head low, and watched them the entire time. He watched as her shoulders shook from crying, watched as she ate her candy and drank her Icee, watched when the boy she was with, whose name he never bothered learning, placed his hand on her lap. He watched them leave the theater with anger coursing through him. 

“You didn’t have to do that, Harry.” He shrugged, not caring to continue this conversation. 

“Why are you on mornings now?” 

She sighed, “I got scared,” her tongue was thick in her mouth, scared to cry again if it resulted in him leaving once more and ending contact for another month. His hand met her back, lightly rubbing the tender flesh beneath his rough hand. Her hands fumbled with the zipper on the pillow. “The night we met really freaked me out.  Like when you left, I swore someone was still here watching me. It was freaky. And the next morning I was so drained, I think that's why I forgot Jax was coming to get me. And then the time changed and I got even more scared cause I would just basically be working in the dark the entire shift and I don’t know I just psych myself out sometimes,” she ended her tangent, partially forgetting to breathe throughout it. 

Harry’s hand moved to tangle in her hair, slightly gripping the strands between his fingers, before removing his touch from her all together. 

“And you forgot your phone,” he joked, a soft smile on his lips. 

She pulled her lips in her mouth, exhaling a laugh through her nose, “and I forgot my phone.”

Silence dawned on them once more. A comfortable one, neither needing to speak as they basked in each other's presence. 

She scooted closer to Harry, her head making contact with his shoulder. Harry gulped at the contact, unsure of what to do with himself. His hand raised, touching her cheek gently. They sat there, in silence, for what felt like an eternity. A comfortable, blissful eternity. 

She had fallen asleep on his shoulder, her breathing became evenly paced and softer. Harry laid her down under her sheets, and saw himself out after kissing her forehead and blowing out her candle. 

+++

Y/n was having an okay day, nothing bad had happened at work, so far. No rude customers, no shitty tips and best of all, no training needed to be done. So, yes her day was going well. Until she received a message from Harry saying they needed to have a talk and that he’ll be picking her up. He was consistent with punctuation, but the period at the end of his sentence horrified her. She was a sweaty, anxious mess her entire shift. 

She reread the message every ten minutes. Time was moving so slow. Her anxiety was eating away at her, like it had been starving for months and had finally found a body to ravage to satiate the hunger. She had four cigarettes during her shift. 

Harry leaned against the passenger door of his car, waiting for y/n’s shift to end. She could feel his eyes on her every time she passed by the window at the front to attend to her last table, she knew he was watching her; he was so attentive. It made her sick. 

When her shift finally ended, after what felt like an eternity and a half, y/n pushed the doors open and made her way to Harry. He looked down at her with a smirk. She hoped he couldn’t see her throat bobbing while she swallowed down the excess saliva building in her mouth. 

“Ya kept me waiting, little lamb.” he opened the car door for her and she could feel her coworkers staring out the window at the pair. 

“‘M sorry.” She sat on the heated seat, placing her bag on the floor between her feet. Harry leaned over her to connect her seatbelt. “Thank you,” she muttered before Harry closed the door. 

“How was your shift?” he asked as he buckled himself in. 

“S’fine.” she mumbled. 

“Angel,” her heart pounded against her sternum, you could practically hear her heartbeat in the silence. “What have I told you about mumbling?”

She bit her lip, gnawing on it before answering. “You don’t understand it.” she practically whispered.

“That’s right, little lamb. Now, why do you keep doing it?”

She could cry, sob and dry heave even. Fall to her knees and beg for forgiveness as if she had angered a god. “I don’t know, I’m sorry.” she fiddled with her fingers. Harry’s hand grabbed her own and pinched the inside of her palm, a squeal escaping her lips. He laughed. 

“Don’t apologize, ‘m just messing with you,” he smiled at her as he parked his car, already at her complex. He was quick to undo his seatbelt and get out, running to her side to open the door for her. “After you.” he gestured to the stairs, allowing her to go in front of him. 

She opened the door, her bells greeting the two. She stood by the door as Harry took a seat in her chair (it finally was free of clean clothing).

“Can you tell me what you want to talk to me about? Please?”

“Eager?” she nodded. 

“More scared than anything.” her breathing was heavy. 

“Oh, my sweet lamb.” remorse covered his face, so sorry and upset he had made a literal angel wait in apprehension. He stood from his spot on the chair and moved to stand before her. Without hesitation, he held her face in the palm of his hand, her nuzzling into the warmth of his touch. “I’m sorry I scared you, didn’t mean to, angel.” 

“S’okay, Harry, I know.” 

“Sit with me,” he removed his hand from her face, instead reaching for her hand to sit with him on the chair. He sat and patted his lap, an invitation for her. 

“There’s not enough space for the both of us.”

He tugged on her arm, “s’fine, just sit.”

“Harry, that chair is 100 years old, I’m not breaking my favorite antique piece.” 

“Y/n,” his tone laced with warning. 

“Harry,” she whined back. “Just sit on the bed with me please.” she pouted. 

And, of course, Harry would give in, standing up with her hand still in his and sitting on the bed to please her. Their thighs were touching with the proximity of their bodies, y/n hoped he couldn’t hear her heartbeat or feel the sweat coating her palm. 

“Can you tell me now, please.” she rested her head on his shoulder, Harry could hear her pouting as she spoke. 

He sighed, squeezing her hand in his. “I feel very,” he paused, trying to gather his thoughts so as to not scare her with how he truly felt. “I feel very protective of you, y/n.” 

“Wow that’s a shocker,” she interrupted, sarcastically. 

“Y/n” he warned, again. 

“Sorry. Go ‘head.” 

“No interruptions, please.” she nodded, “Good girl.” she grinned, “I feel very protective of you and I thought leaving you alone would make it not as intense but it definitely only made it worse, angel. I just, I need to know you’re safe and okay and I have no idea why but I just need to know. Your safety means so much to me, your wellbeing.” he swallowed, taking in a shaky breath. “I need to tell you, or warn you, about what I do.” 

She lifted her head, making eye contact with him, a puzzled look replacing her previously smitten expression. 

“I kinda sell drugs.” Still, she maintained eye contact. He looked at her, waiting for a response. 

“Is that it?” 

“What?” Harry asked, confused. 

“You sell drugs?” he nodded. “Oh okay.”

Still, Harry stared at her, bewildered by her nonchalant response. “You’re okay with that?” 

“Harry, there’s like ten people in this town with nothing to do, literally everyone deals or buys. Not a big deal.” she shrugged a shoulder, her fingers messing with his rings. 

Still, he stared at her, his expression growing concerned. “It’s not just weed, y/n.” She laughed, his eyes were bulging, his jaw slack and a furrow in his brow. 

“I can assume it’s not just weed, you won’t be making much with just weed here.”

“Your casualness with what I’m telling you is concerning.”

Her smile faded, “I'm sorry, what do you want me to say?”

He ran his hand through his hair, dropping his gaze to their hands entwined. “I don’t know. I just didn’t expect you to be so calm.” 

“I used to do coke,” she shrugged. Harry’s eyes snap to hers, squeezing her hand a little more. “I had really bad issues maybe, like, last September. It was really bad, the withdrawals were insane but one of my friends' brothers had, um,” she swallowed down the acid building in her throat. "He got some laced with fent and he passed. My friend only got worse because of it and the guy who sold him it didn’t even care, he was just like ‘well that happens sometimes’, such a fucking asshole like he had just killed someone and that didnt even spark anything in him! I stopped after that cause I was so scared,” she admitted. “My friend never got better, he had to move in with his parents and they forced him to go to rehab but that didn’t even help.” 

“I’m sorry.” was all Harry could offer. 

She looked up at him through her lashes, “I trust you, Harry. I do. But if you’re selling anything laced,” she shook her head, her breathing picking up. 

“I’m not, angel I promise I’m not, I’d never.” he let go of her hand, placing both hands on the sides of her face, forcing her to look at him.

“If you ever work with Liam Payne I’ll kill you.” He laughed at her threat, the name going over his head at the idea of a girl her size trying to cause harm to a man of his stature. “Don’t laugh at me! I’m being serious, Harry. If you ever work with him I’ll never wanna see you again. Liam is a terrible person. I don’t want you to get involved in that too.” 

He deadpanned, “Liam Payne?” she nodded. “How do you know him?” 

“Who do you think sold the laced batch?” Harry was furious. He removed his hands from her face, standing up and letting out a frustrated groan. “What’s wrong? Do you know him?” 

“No,” he responded immediately. “Never met him, Niall was telling me about him. There was a shootout the other day and we think it was him, probably was that stupid fuck. He could be the reason we fucking get caught! Fuck!” he shouted, the girl flinched, her gaze returning to her hands. 

“I'm sorry I brought it up, I didn't mean to make you mad at me.” 

He stared at her, his breathing heavy. She couldn’t look at him, wouldn’t dare to make eye contact with him out of fear of him taking it out on her. She knew deep down, however, he would never lay a finger on her; never cause any harm to her whatsoever. But the thought was still prevalent. 

“ M'not mad at you, never at you, little one. Look at me,” she looked up at him, her eyes meeting the green ones she adored. He sat back on the bed, taking her face in his hands one more. “not at you at all. Promise.” she nodded, grabbed his hands from her face and nuzzled her face into his neck, her hands gripping his jacket. “I’m sorry for scaring you, won't do it again.” he apologized as he rubbed her back. 

“Thank you.” she kissed the side of his neck, momentarily feeling his pulse with her lips. Harry’s heart fluttered in his chest. 

Harry wished he could stay like that forever, with her warmth against his, her face nestled in his neck. Peace was finally in his grasp, holding onto it so delicately like a fine piece of china, far too scared to drop it and destroy the delicate art, but it was never in his nature to be deft. He’d take what he could get, and if this was all he would be offered, he would accept it with open arms and a half empty heart. He longed to be full again.

and know that one day, you and I could be okay.

tags: @tiaamberxx @jerseygirlinca @n0vaj3an @tpwk-mia @indierockgirrl @buckybarnessimpp @hannah9921 @love-letters-to-uranus @ribbonknives @annesauriol @moneybaby07

if your @ is in red the tag doesn’t work. thanks for reading and supporting ₊˚⊹♡

[jiminscockr1ng]

✩｡°𝄞🚨D-TOWN BABY 𝄞✨°｡✩

╝ •part one | part two ╔

╰₊𓂂➢ pairing: gang affiliated!yoongi x fem!reader

╰₊𓂂➢ genre: hood au, bother’s best friend au, smut, angst

╰₊𓂂➢ warn!ngs: use of the n-word, aave, [mentions of drugs, drug dealing, death, smoking and drinking], negligence due to use of drugs (reader’s mother), reader is heavily black coded, cat-calling, riding, oral (reader receiving), swallowing semen. (let me know if there’s more please!)

╰₊𓂂➢ summary: yoongi is apart of a gang called d-town, the gang your brother just so happens to be apart of.

╰₊𓂂➢ word count: 5,625 words

╰₊𓂂➢ author’s note: the inspiration came from me shouting “D-TOWN NIGGA!” at my sister while watching the Daechwita music video. lmao, i hope y’all enjoy it.

The headlights of your black honda civic shines on the group of men huddled together on the steps of the project building.

Smoking, drinking, talking and laughing loud as hell, and hitting licks.

You huff while turning your car off. Stepping out, your long, fern green skirt flows with the wind. Cleavage hanging out of your bohemian patterned shirt. As you approach the ran down project building you can hear the men on the stairs whistling at you.

You roll your eyes at the gang members who are shouting and cat-calling loud as hell— the whole block could hear.

“Damn Ma, can I get a 360?!” One of them call out. Before you could even flip him off, two familiar voices chime in.

“Chill, nigga.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

They say at the same time. The two voices could easily be distinguished as Trey (your brother) and Yoongi (your brother’s best friend).

Or their street names: Tre D and Agust D. The ‘D’ standing for D-Town. To which you find corny as hell because you all literally live downtown. All these corny ass niggas’ names end with D.

Once you’re right in front of the group of men your brother nods his head at you. That’s just him acknowledging your existence. The two of you have a complicated relationship. It’s only complicated because you don’t like his lifestyle (respectfully) but he won’t stop gang banging.

Nonetheless, you’d still take a bullet for that man. Vice versa.

“Yo, _______.” Yoongi speaks. From the looks of it, you can already tell he’s about to say some stupid shit. He has that sorry ass smirk on his face and keeps glancing around at his little posse. Leaning your weight on to one leg, you simply arch your brow at him.

“You gon’ let me tuck you in?” Your stoic expression remains the same. A few giggles are heard and your brother shakes his head. Trey is more than used to Yoongi making advances at you— he’s been fiend out for damn there 8 years.

Yoongi looks you up and down, adjusting his duffel bag on his shoulder. You smack your teeth and harshly brush past the men blocking your way up the stairs. Prior to entering the building you yell back at the long haired, pale man.

“Tuck your dick!”

SLAM! You slam the door shut, you can hear the distant instigating behind the door as you walk up the stairs to the shared apartment. Mumbling curse words on your way up.

Yoongi’s smirk never leaves, despite the instigation his crew nagged on about. He likes that shit. He loves it. Your hot temper and all of it. He knows that if he wanted to he could shut you right up. But you being mad at him kind of turns him on… so he’ll let you have it.

You’d prefer a nice and quiet, empty pathway to your home when you get off from work. You go through enough stress as it is. Another headache is exactly not what you needed.

Stepping foot into the dark apartment, you set your purse down and walk to your room, ready to get in the shower after a long day. The apartment is fairly big compared to the other units. More than enough space for you and your brother. Although, for the past year it’s really just been you occupying the space.

Trey is never home. He’s out and about being Tre D. He stopped coming home about a little over a year ago. It’s just gang related activities after the other, selling drugs, hanging out with D-Town and fucking random girls. Repeat.

It’s reasonable that you gave up on trying to stop him. He’s a grown man now and you can’t sit around all day to inspect your little brother’s everyday life to make sure he’s doing ‘the right thing’. He’s only 2 years younger than you but you always acted as a mother figure. Taking over that role after your mother got sprung out on crack and left you both.

Working your ass off everyday, feeding him and yourself, trying to make sure he’s doing well in school— all a waste of time. Now look. He’s outside of your shared apartment, probably not even going to come up stairs and is making way more money than you.

You regret the day he met those guys. And you regret even more when he dragged Yoongi along with him.

The thought of Yoongi makes you sigh. You pick up your towel to get in the shower, blasting Lauryn Hill as you lather your brown skin with smell-good soap. You manage to decompress in the shower. Tracking wet footprints to your bedroom as you approach the window, you look outside to see if they’re still there.

Yes. Yes they are. Your brother seems to be leaving and you can’t help but notice someone is missing from the gang.

And almost on queue— as if the devil himself set it up… you hear the front door opening. Letting out a groan, you go and peak out of your bedroom door.

“No need to hide, babygirl. Come on out.” Yoongi calls.

You roll your eyes before slamming your door. But like you figured, the door opens right back up and in comes Yoongi. He silently stands in front of the door after he closes it behind him, observing your figure that is semi-hidden behind the white towel you have on. Yoongi already has a little stiffy just by looking at you.

“Stop calling me babygirl you freak, I’m older than you.” You say, responding to the comment he made. He chuckles, walking over to sit on your bed while you apply lotion on your legs. He drops his duffel bag on the ground next to him.

“Yeah, by like a few months.” Looking down at him, you noticed that he’s man spreading, leaning on his arms that are propped up behind him on the bed. Refraining from gulping, you look away.

You don’t respond to him. Instead, you continue on with your nightly routine, pretending that the fine man is not sitting on your bed ready to pounce on you the second you say go. You can hear shuffling behind you as you fix your locs, putting them in the ponytail.

“_______, I got you something.” He says and you reluctantly turn around. This man really doesn’t learn or care to catch a hint. In his hand is a book. A book that you’ve been searching for everywhere and is sold out.

“How…” is all you can mutter out. Out of all of Yoongi’s highly prestigious and unusual gifts he attempts to give you, this has got to be the best one yet. Best, because you actually wanted it. Not that that Birkin Bag was easy to donate— that was a struggle.

“Uh— I saw you were looking for this shit everywhere on your spam.” You furrow your eyebrows.

“Why the hell are you on my spam page?!”

“So I had drove damn there 2 fucking hours to get this shit.” He says, ignoring the previous question.

You love it. You want to snatch the book out of his long slender fingers, throw your bonnet on and start reading immediately. But—

“I can’t take that Yoongi.” The sentence isn’t something that he hasn’t heard before. You tell him every single time he comes up to your apartment trying to hand you something he bought for you. You never take shit from him and if you do, it gets donated almost immediately.

He scoffs. Honestly looking a little pissed off— fed up to be exact. “What do you mean you can’t take it? Didn’t you hear me, _______?” He stands up, book still in hand. “I drove 2 hours for a fucking book!” He exclaims.

It’s not like you’re meaning to be a bitch. You’d just rather not take anything that was bought with drug money. Even the book you’ve been dying to read for months.

“Listen Yoongi—”

“Agust D.” He corrects.

“I’m not calling you that shit!” A smile cracks onto his face. Just a small one. Because, as mentioned before, he loves that shit. But he’s still fed up.

“I can’t take that. It’ll be donated just like the other gifts you attempt to bribe me with.” You say and he sets the book on the bed, stepping closer to you. “I’m not bribing you _______. I just wanna spoil you, just let me do that.”

“No! I don’t want anything you or my brother buy with your fucking D-Town money. You can keep all of that shit!” You roar while waving your arms around. He sighs, running his fingers through his long black hair, letting it fall back in place. “Money is money, _______.”

“I’m not doing this with you, Yoongi.” Arguing with him back and forth is like arguing with a wall. You two could go on and on about the lifestyle he and Trey are choosing to live.

Yoongi walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You don’t pull away. Despite how stubborn you are, you’d never deny Yoongi’s touch whenever you feel him. It’s instant stress relief.

“I’m trying, _______.” He calmly says in your ear. The disembodied voice— so husky yet smooth. It sends shivers down your back and all of the hair on your arms stand tall.

“Try harder then.”

“Why are you like this?” You scrunch your face up. “Like what?!” You can feel him shrug his shoulders behind you.

“Like… stubborn and petty.” Offended, you scoff.

“Stubborn and petty like your mama?” It was a quick little insult— a joke! Everyone says it. Plus, you had to think of a come back quick or else you know Yoongi would’ve known that you knew what he said was partially accurate. But when you feel the tight hold Yoongi had around your waist loosen… you knew you fucked up.

“You know my moms’ is dead.” You immediately twist your body around to face him, your towel nearly unraveling. You quickly catch it. “Omg, I did not mean it like that, for real. I was just saying shit!” You ramble on and on about how you don’t think before speaking and how sorry you are.

Then he laughs. Like actually laugh. Not a corny little smirk or the low chuckle he does when he’s around his boys— not even a light smile. He gave you his infamous, gummy smile, shoulder bouncing laugh. He even threw his head back for a second.

You really couldn’t help but smile. You missed that laugh. Having been reunited with it after so long makes you forget everything said and done. Because that’s the Yoongi you know, the Yoongi you grew up with, the Yoongi you loved. You smile at the taller man still looking at you with that cute gummy smile even after the laughter died down.

“Stop apologizing _______, I was just fucking with you.” You scoff but the smile never fades, even when you playfully punch his shoulder. “That’s not funny!” He nods his head in agreement as if he wasn’t just literally laughing his ass off.

“It was just funny seeing you speak like that. First time in mad long you didn’t have that stick that you love so much up your ass.” Looking up at him, you can’t even be mad at what he just said. Not when all the old feelings were suddenly rushing back in. The ones you fought off years ago.

“Yeah,” you switch your focus onto the ground. “It was nice seeing you laugh like that.” His fingers lightly grip your chin to lift your head back up to look him in the eyes. Your heart is doing backflips but in your head there are a million different alarms going off, screaming ‘abort!’.

“You always make me laugh. Whether I’m laughing around you or at home in my bed, laughing about something that you said. You make me…” He trails off making you furrow your eyebrows a bit.

“Make you what?” He sighs, scratching the back of his head, looking out of the window. You shove his shoulder to get his attention again. “Make you what?!” He looks down at his shoes as if the answer was written on them. They weren’t. You checked.

“You make me… hmmph.” He mumbles and you slap your hands on your naked thighs in frustration. You grip his face in your whole hand to get him to stop looking around the room helplessly, like a mother trying to force feed their child.

“What!” You scream.

“Happy!” He reciprocates the volume, eyes going wide when he finally lets the shit flow free. Your hand slowly drops from his face. “Damn— satisfied?” He sassily asks, rolling his eyes. Too in shock to even say anything, you just stand there with your eyebrows high, looking like a dumbass.

“_______,” he starts, earning you attention. So many thoughts sprint through your mind as you stare up into his sharp brown eyes. It’s really hard to believe that after everything, he still found happiness in you. You can’t recall the last time you felt happy in Yoongi’s presence. The man that you once loved. You and Yoongi never dated, never slept together, never really announced any feelings for each other either. The relationship the two of you had was unspoken. You knew the love was there— he did too, and that was enough.

“I need you to know, that I want you.” He says seriously. Your heart drops at the words. No.

No, not now. Why now?

“I want us, _______.” You could melt underneath his gaze. You feel yourself slowly folding. Ready to submit and give into him— give into your heart that’s been begging to be his for 7 years now. “Tell me you want this too.”

Yes, tell him you want this. Want all of him. Because you do… but you can’t. It’s not the same. This is not the same as it was 7 years ago. Yoongi isn’t the same. You can’t do it.

“I can’t— I don’t… want this.” You try to stand strong but you’re weak. Yoongi always did that to you. “You don’t or you can’t— which one is it?” He says, already knowing the answer. He needs to hear it from you though. You sigh, closing your eyes. “Yoongi—”

“No _______ tell me right now why you can’t just let us be happy?” Yoongi’s frustration is valid. But so is yours. You try to walk away from him, to get away, like those alarms that kept going off in your head a few minutes ago told you to do. But Yoongi isn’t having it. He already laid his heart out there, he just wanted you to take it— for it to be yours. So he grabs your arm. “Don’t walk away from me.” You yank your arm back immediately.

“I fucking can’t Yoongi! You want me to stand here, laugh, ‘kee-kee’ in your face. Tell you I want you and that I want this just for you to go back to the streets the next second someone calls you.” You’re out of breath from all of the screaming, no doubt the neighbors were gonna report. But you aren’t done.

“D-Town tells you to jump, you ask how high. I ask you to get your life together, to get off of the streets and I’m left with the same answer. I’m not gonna be one of those bitches that hold you down when you decide to get into some dumb shit and I’m damn sure not gonna be the person people have to get in touch with because their fucking boyfriend died doing some fuck shit.” The undertone of your face is red and your hands are shaking. “It’s bad enough my brother is in to deep. I’m not trying to have to worry about someone else.”

Yoongi’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he takes in everything you said. You’ve never been this vulnerable. With anyone. You’ve never said any of this to anyone but you don’t want to keep having the same interactions over and over with him.

“I understand.” Is all he says. And it’s all he has to say. You know he’s not gonna quit the streets until the streets quit him. After all, that’s how it works. But he really did understand and if that’s how you feel he won’t push it.

“Can I just lay with you?” Before you can even protest he raises his hands to clarify. “Just for tonight. Can you please… just do this for me? Let me lay with you.” You sigh, over analyzing the possibility. In the end you conclude it was fine. So you grab your pajamas and change in the bathroom. When you come back in, Yoongi is already laying in the bed. Shirtless and wearing nothing else but the pair of basketball shorts he had in his bag. The book resting on your nightstand.

Your pajamas includes a sage green tank top and a beige pair of cotton shorts. You lie next to him in your bed after cutting the lights off. His body instantly cuddles into yours.

“Yoongi,” you call out. “Your head is on my boobs.” He chuckles into the pair before raising his head to look at you. “You used to always let me lay on your boobs. They’re comfortable.” He says with a faint pout, poking your plushy boobs with his finger, making you flinch.

“Yoo— will you stop poking me!” You say frustratedly. “It tickles.” Yoongi perks up at that. “It tickles, huh?” He sings, continuing to poke you. His fingers pokes at your chest, your sides, your neck. You try to fight him off but your laughter is making you weak. “Stu— stop!” You cry out and he just giggles at your plea. It’s really over once he hovers his body over yours, locking yours in place underneath him.

Your face hurts from laughing so hard, can’t even manage to fight it anymore. The poking eventually stops but the soft giggles and toothy smile on your face doesn’t falter. Yoongi’s eyes sparkle as they bore into yours. He carefully places his hand on your cheek, thumb caressing your lifted cheekbone.

“You’re so pretty, _______.” He observes your features from above and his heart pounds against his chest. The pace aligned with yours. “Sometimes,” he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. “I forget just how pretty you are. So I come to bother you— just to see you. But when I have you this close… you make me want to leave everything else behind just so I can be with you.”

That’s all you really wanted. For Yoongi to leave all the bullshit alone. Maybe then you two could work.

But you know that all of this is just pillow talk. Yoongi would never do that. Not for you. Not for anyone. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Yoongi.” You speak mellowly. He lifts his head out of your neck to look at you again. “I can’t tell you how I feel now?” You roll your eyes. “You can but don’t sit here and lead me on to believing in a lie.”

He doesn’t respond. You feel his lips on your cheek. Eyes widening, you look at him in confusion. “What are you—”

“I’m not lying to you, _______.” He kisses your forehead. “Even with everything that happened, no matter what you say to me— I never told you a lie and I don’t plan to.” He leans in to give you another kiss but pauses. His face just an inch away. Your breath hitches at the close proximity, growing nervous when his eyes focus on your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers softly against your lips. Your mind isn’t working. There’s no alarms blaring, no weird gut feeling, just you. Underneath him. Without much thought, you mutter a breathy “yes.”

He leans in, his lips molding perfectly with yours. It’s soft and passionate and you’re worried that you just might have a heart attack the way your heart is pacing. Your fingers travel their way through his long strands of hair as you happily taste the minty flavor of his mouth— covering up the taste of cigarettes. When he pulls away to catch his breath, you immediately pull him back down. Now that you got a taste of him, you don’t want to let it go.

The kiss starts getting heated when Yoongi rolls off of you and pulls you on top of him. His hands roam the surface of your back, letting them slip under your tank top. You bite on his bottom lip once you pull away, letting your soft brown hands travel up his abdomen to his solid chest. Your back arches as you leave open mouth kisses against his chest. He takes the opportunity to cup your ass into his hands, occasionally squeezing the fleshy rump.

You slightly shift your hips up against him to lift up. “Fuck,” Yoongi lets out a shaky breath. “Don’t move like that.” You furrow your brows in confusion but you quickly understand when you feel something poking your thigh. In shock, you shift again. A low groan leaves Yoongi’s mouth and he places his hands on both sides of your waist.

You watch as his eyes squeeze shut, the action and the sound he let slip gave you that tingling feeling in your stomach, that familiar sensation fluttering in between your legs. You do it again. Wanting to hear that sound from him again.

“Seriously, you don’t want this to go further than it already has.” True. You don’t, but you’re a little too lust filled to think straight. And the fact that Yoongi is hard as a rock underneath you has you wet. Grinding your clothed sex onto his bulge.

“Yo, I—”

“Shut up.” You say, placing your hands on his chest to support yourself as you grind against him. The lewd sounds that escape from both of your mouths flood the room. Yoongi’s basketball shorts get bunched up in the process, the repeated action dragging the band down, exposing his boxer briefs underneath.

You lift your hips up to pull the shorts down but Yoongi stops you. He sends you a warning look that reads, ‘don’t do this.’

Regardless, you enthusiastically yank them and his boxer briefs down his thighs, letting his dick stand tall against his lower stomach. “_______, you’re confusing me.” He says while you’re busy scrapping to get the clothing from around his ankles, satisfied when they hit the floor. You turn around, looking down at him once again.

“You’re confused? Hm, I thought you were hard.” Speaking sarcastically, you turn your focus onto Yoongi’s member. You grip his length in your hand, brushing your thumb over his sensitive tip making Yoongi twitch.

“A little bit of both honestly. I mean, mostly hard but— woah woah woah, stop!” Yoongi panics once you put your mouth on his dick. He immediately sits up, his back resting against the head board. “I’m not doing this with you.” He says, to which one of your eyebrows flick up.

“Why not?” You scoff. “You don’t seem to have any problem fucking all these other bitches.” Yoongi lets out an unamused laugh, wiping his hands over his face. “You’re not other bitches. You don’t throw yourself on my dick.”

“I just did!” Technically, you did.

Yoongi scoffs, mumbling something under his breath. “It’s not the same thing. You’re invested in this _______ and you know it.” You turn your head away from him, not wanting to hear the truth. “I don’t need you to have another reason to hate me.” Rolling your eyes—

“I don’t hate you.”

“You’re just saying that.” You shake your head, scooting closer to him. “I’m not. I don’t hate you, Yoongi.” You repeat, your fingers go to his hair and you focus on the way his dark hair fall on your skin before looking at him again. “And right now… I’m horny, so.” You sit in front of him, anticipating his response.

“Okay.” He shrugs.

“Okay, what?” He grabs your waist gently, pulling you closer to him. Your lips lock onto his again and this time, the pace quickens. Yoongi’s hands reach for your tank top to pull it over your chest, you lift your arms as he pulls it off, slinging it across the room. Like clockwork, you drag your shorts down as well, tossing them in the corner without a care in the world.

Yoongi’s hands roam all over your body. Taking in the feel of your body being close to his. He retracts from the kiss to drool over your body. His pale hands over your brown skin, the only source of light coming from the window. “What do you want me to do, _______?” He asks, palming your breast in both hands. You bite your lip as you look down at him touching you.

“Can I ride you?” You ask in a whisper and you could’ve swore you felt Yoongi’s dick twitch on your thigh right after the words fell off your tongue. He felt like doing a backflip. An ability he doesn’t have but that’s how you make him feel. It’s just like you to want to ride him— it being your first time even having sex with each other.

“Fuck yes.” You let out a giggle at Yoongi’s expression before leaning over to open the top drawer of your nightstand. His eyes travel with your every movement. “What are you doing?”

“Grabbing a condom.” You popped out. He purses his lips at that. “Guess I’m not the only one you’ve been wrestling in the sheets with.” Looking back at the man with the condom in your hand, the jealous look on his face makes you want to run over to your phone to take a picture. Instead you laugh.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You say, ripping open the packet. “I bought them because they’re a necessity. I’m not fucking anyone— but i’m glad I did buy them.” Yoongi raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “I’d rather not have the neighborhood’s dick in me raw.”

It’s almost comedic the way his jaw drop. “Neighborhood’s dick is cuh-razy!” Slipping the condom on his length, you let out a giggle. Once you’ve got it on all the way you grip his shoulders, lifting your cunt over it. “It’s okay,” you jokingly reassure. “I’ll make sure to give you a good rating.”

“Oh, you got jokes— oh shit.” His demeanor changes once you rub his tip against your wet slit. “Are you—,” He reaches out to drag a finger through your folds. “You’re mad wet.” He states the obvious and when he pulls his finger away, your arousal drags with it. Without a second thought, he lifts his finger to his mouth, sucking on it to taste you. A low moan leaves his mouth. His eyes never leaving yours.

“You ready or did you change your mind?” You shake your head slowly, feeling more aroused than ever. “I’m ready.”

Once again, you maneuver his length through your folds before aligning it at your entrance. You take a deep breath and Yoongi’s hands rub your back. You slowly lower yourself down his length, feeling the pressure of him stretching you out. Your mouth falls agape when his full length is inside of your cunt.

After a few more rounds you get used to it. Yoongi stares at the action of your pussy swallowing his length. Your pussy is so tight around him, he’s afraid he might cum too fast.

He curse in your ear as you begin to ride him faster. “Fuck— you’ve been holding back on me for all these years.” Yoongi moves his hips, helping thrust into you. Your tits jump along with you as you bounce on his cock. So deep, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoes throughout the quiet apartment.

“Ah, Yoongi!” You moan out and Yoongi feels himself growing light headed. “You’re making me go crazy, _______.” He slams into your pussy faster— harder. At this point you weren’t even moving. Yoongi was the one in control of your body.

Especially when he moves you off of him, switching positions to take full control. You lie on your back, abandoned pussy and all. “Yoongi, put it back in.” You beg.

He shushes you before bending down, face in between your legs. His mouth attacks your wet cunt. He flatten his tongue to fully taste your sex. Licking and sucking all of you. His mouth sucks on your clit making you scream out in pleasure while his three fingers abuse your hole. “Yoongi, fuck that feels so good.” He slightly smirks up at you.

“Tell me whose pussy this is.” He says lowly. You could’ve came right then and there just from how sexy he said it. All dominant and territorial. The way he looks— his long dark hair sticking to his face and neck.

“Yuh— oh my god!” You moan out as your legs begin to shake at the overwhelming stimulation of his mouth and fingers.

“Tell me.” He demanded a bit louder.

“Yours Yoongi! It all yours, mm.” His fingers moves faster and you grip the sheets for moral support. “F- Fuck me Yoongi. I want your dick inside me.” It doesn’t take long before he obeys. He lifts up, just before you could orgasm and slides his hard dick inside of you. With Yoongi in control now, the pace is much faster. He lifts one of your legs up, putting it over his shoulder for better access.

Going deeper inside of you, hitting all of the right spots. You pull him down towards your body, your nails digging into his back, creating little crescent moon shaped marks. Chest to chest, Yoongi penetrates your pussy as the two of you share a feverish kiss.

“I’m gonna cum, Yoongi.” You say against his lips, out of breath. He rapidly nods his head. “Cum, mm.” His thrusts slow down, instead he makes sure to go deeper, hitting your spot repeatedly, making your legs shake around him. “Cum for me, _______.”

A few thrusts later and you cream on his dick. He pulls out, slips off the condom and starts stroking his dick. You place your hands over his, moving your mouth towards his tip. When the long drags of warm semen pour out you catch every drop of it. Mouth wide open, tongue out— you swallow his cum. Licking the tip afterwards for good measure.

Yoongi’s heavy breathing fills the room as he collapses on the bed. You get up to throw the used condom out and to collect your pajamas off the floor, walking with a bit of a limp. You toss Yoongi his basketball shorts before cleaning yourself up in the bathroom and changing.

When you come back, you find Yoongi already in his basketball shorts lying on the bed still. “Not gonna dip?” You ask, trying to sound nonchalant. You don’t want him to go but you don’t need him to know that. You were just awfully vulnerable and something similar to regret is already creeping up on you.

“Naw, why would I?” You shrug before laying in bed next to him. Not even being able to position yourself, he makes sure he cuddles into you, your face close as hell to his. “So how was the neighborhood’s dick?” He jokingly asks, laughing after. You lightly punch his chest.

“I’m not finna play with you Yoongi.” Yoongi serves you a feigned pout. “Awe, you regretting it already?” You don’t say anything because you really don’t know if you are. You don’t regret the sex because— fuck that was amazing. Best dick you ever had and you really will give him a good rating. However, the things that were said could’ve stayed unsaid. You shared too much vulnerability and that’s not something you’re comfortable with. The last thing you need is Yoongi to throw any of that shit back up in your face.

“I don’t regret it.” You conclude. His arms wrap around your waist tighter, grabbing one of your legs to wrap it around him. “But it won’t happen again. This was a one time thing.”

“But you swallowed my cum.” He pouts again and for some reason you don’t think it’s feigned this time. So you lightly smack his lips. Too much of a distraction.

“Because I didn’t want to get my covers dirty, you freak.” He dramatically raises his eyebrows. “So now I’m back to being a freak.” You sigh because it seems like he’s purposely not paying attention to what you’re actually trying to say.

“Yoongi.” You say seriously making him nod his head. “Okay, I got it. it was a one time thing.” Despite his display of understanding, you can’t help but hear the underlying disappointment in his voice.

You lay in his arms for hours. Neither of you fall asleep, replaying the previous events in your head. You debate with yourself whether or not you’re being in denial, too petty, stubborn, unreasonable. Whether or not you should give Yoongi a chance. Because right now you feel safe. Right now, everything is okay while your head rests against his beating chest. Right now…

“AGUST D GET YO’ ASS DOWN HERE NIGGA!”

You jump. You and Yoongi both lift up— your face of shock is a bit different from his. He knows what it is and you think you do too. That’s why you’re shook as fuck. The shouting and calling through the window doesn’t stop. And when Yoongi arms unravels from your waist, your heart sinks.

“What is that?” You ask.

And when that same, familiar, sorry ass, corny ass smirk that you hate so damn badly form onto Yoongi’s face… you knew.

“That’s D-TOWN BABY.”

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[me-loving-woso]

Your Hot Neighbor

Prompt: You just moved to Manchester because of your job and you meet your neighbour. 

OR: 5 times you see your neighbor, 1 time you actually talk to her (or at least, she talks to you)

Prompt 9 (Miscellaneous) :"Abort mission, I repeat abort mission.” “What? Abort what mission? All you were doing was introducing yourself to your neighbor?” “Yeah, and they’re too attractive. I can never speak to them again.”

You recently moved to Manchester after being in London for your entire life. You were a civic lawyer who had just landed her dream job in Manchester as a partner for one of the biggest companies in the whole UK, Smith & Wesson. You were ecstatic, to say the least. Even though you had to move four hours away from your home, you were looking forward to starting the next step of your life. The fact that your best friend lived there was an advantage; now you could finally spend time with her instead of having endless hours of video calls and unlimited texts with each other.  

They called you ‘the fox’; you seldomly worked with other people, but you would demolish your opponents on the court because of your wittiness and aggressiveness. You established yourself quickly in the world of law. Everybody wanted to work with you because of how professional and available you were to everybody. 

Everybody who knew you and went to see one of your cases would tease you because you would become different when you had to represent your client. You were aggressive, never smiled, and always very serious, which was the complete opposite of what you were in real life. You were shy, funny, and a little bit of a people-pleaser, but you would never acknowledge it. 

As soon as you arrive at your new apartment in Manchester, you plop on your new sofa and have a nap. You hated driving, and after a four-hour long drive alone with your dog, you were barely standing up from the tiredness. 

The house was chosen by the company you were working for. You didn’t want anything big, as you knew you would be living there alone, but you specifically asked for a garden to let out your dog when you couldn’t take her for a walk. The company was more than willing to give you anything you wanted with the hope that ‘The Fox’ would bring new clients to them. The house was attached to another house, so you would probably at least have a neighbor. Your balcony and garden were shared; only a railing would divide your terrace, while a bush wall divided your garden.

Your dog was a year-old German Shepherd; her name was Leika. Your four-year-old niece gave her that name when she was still a puppy, and you called her that ever since. 

As you were already sleeping for an hour, you heard a knock on the door. You slowly move from the couch, scratching your eyes, going to the door. As you open it and recognize who the person is, you immediately throw your arms at her. You finally saw your best friend after months.

“Oh my god, I’m so happy to see you, Ellie!” You say as you finally break the hug.

“It has been too long; how have you been, Nick Wilde?” 

“Don’t call me that.” You chuckle. 

She began calling you that after you started working for your first job as a lawyer, you went out together for drinks when she still lived in London. You told her that people called you The Fox. She replied, asking if you were like the fox in Zootopia, and from then on, she would occasionally call you Nick Wilde, mainly when you were being irrational, trying to be funny, or just when you embarrassed yourself. 

She entered the house, and as soon as she walked in, Leika ran to her and asked for cuddles. She kneeled down and began petting the dog. 

“Oh my god! She is so beautiful. I already love her so much!” She awed, never looking away from the dog.

“Okay, that’s enough. I don’t want you to steal away my dog.” I chuckled as I sat down once again on the couch. 

For the rest of the night, you stayed in your living room catching up on each other’s life. Leika was peacefully sleeping near your feet. You were already at your second bottle of wine opened when you saw a car parked near your house. 

“Were you expecting somebody?” Ellie asked.

“Nah, I think it’s just my new neighbor.” 

You both stand up and look out the window, trying to be sneaky, peaking at who your new neighbor would be. You couldn’t see much from outside, only from her car's lights and the street. She was wearing some sort of tracksuit, with her handbag around her shoulders. It looked like she just came back from a run. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and you could see only part of her face, but as she turned around, you had to blink twice.

“Damn, she is beautiful,” Ellie says. She found the keys to her house and entered inside. 

You turned around, returning to your couch, mumbling, “She really is.”

After a while, Ellie decided not to return to her place to sleep as she was already very tipsy. She took the couch, having Leika at her feet, while you went upstairs to your room. Tomorrow would be your first day at your new job.

-

The second time you see her, you are taking Leika for a walk. You stop at a Coffee shop nearby your house for some coffee, yes, you are British, and yes, you prefer coffee to tea. As soon as you get your coffee, you exit the shop and head home; as you are walking, you see a woman running towards you with a Manchester United shirt on. She was your neighbor. With the daylight, you look at her, trying not to seem creepy, and  she seems even more beautiful than the other night. The sunlight perfectly hit her face, revealing all her freckles and amber eyes. You couldn’t function properly; she was hot, appeared to be athletic, and on top of that, had freckles. You were fucked. 

As she moved past you, you gave her a last look and then went home.

-

The third time you saw her, it was a Saturday morning. You just finished one of your most tedious cases since you came here to Manchester, so all you wanted to do was relax in your house with Leika and maybe watch some tv, or, if you were really up to something social, go out for a coffee with Ellie.

 It was 2 pm, and you were just finishing changing your bed sheets when you heard Spanish music playing outside. Unable to mind your business, you look out the window from your bedroom to see where the music came from. What you didn’t expect was your neighbor in soccer shorts and a sports bra working out and doing abs exercises. 

“So she really is fit,” you think to yourself. You didn’t want to look creepy, so you continued your day, trying to ignore your very hot neighbor once again.

-

You are in your house with Leika and Ellie, the fourth time you see her. It was a scorching day in April, so when you heard that you finally had a free day, you invited Ellie to sunbathe outside with you. About an hour passed when you heard reggaeton music from your neighbor’s house. Ellie suddenly looks at you, giving you a puzzled look. 

“It’s just my neighbor working out.” You explain.

“The really hot neighbor?”

“I only have one neighbor, so yes, I suppose.” 

“Just admit it; you like her.”

“How can I like her if I didn’t even talk to her.”

“You still haven’t introduced yourself?” 

“Nope.”

“Well then, find an excuse and do it.”

“What excuse?”

“Umm, you could say Leika lost a toy in the bushes, and you wondered if it got stuck in her garden.” She suggests.

“You will not stop until I introduce myself to her, right?”

“We are very insightful today, aren’t we, Nick Wilde?” Ellie says sarcastically.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Then introduce yourself to her; the worst that could happen is that she is mean and sends you away.”

“Thank you for the encouragement.” You stand up from your sun lounger and put on a shirt and some shorts. You slowly pet Leika as if she would transmit some braveness, and you walk to her house. 

You couldn’t recognize yourself. You were a great lawyer who wasn’t afraid of being confident and skillful, but you couldn't help but feel nervous right now. 

You inhaled and exhaled the air quickly, preparing yourself. You were about to ring the doorbell when you saw her. She was opening a small bottle of water and drinking it, then she poured it all over her head, and you could see the tiny droplets of water slowly going down her body. You were so entranced by her movements that you nearly forgot why you were there. 

So you focused again on your mission and were about to make your presence known when she let down her hair from her ponytail and combed her hair while moving her head from side to side. She looked as if she were in slow motion. Nope. You couldn’t do this; you wouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of her. So you speed walked to your house and were soon met with Ellie’s waiting eyes.

"Abort mission, I repeat, abort mission.” You walk into your garden, sitting down on your sun lounger.

 “What? Abort what mission? All you were doing was introducing yourself to your neighbor?” Ellie replies, looking confused, following you.

 “Yeah, and they’re too attractive. I can never speak to them again.” You put your sunglasses on and continue to sunbathe like nothing happened. Ellie was still confused. At the same time, Leika looked at you, asking herself what just happened to her owner; Ellie just sighed and chuckled, following your lead and lying down too.

-

The fifth time you see her, you see her friend first.

When your boss came inside, you were in your office, “So there’s a new client. Someone recommended you to her, and she wanted you as her lawyer. This is a high-profile case; she is a professional footballer and needs the maximum discretion. I know you don’t need a reminder, but I must insist you do your best in this case.” Your boss advises you.

“I will do my best, Mr. Wesson, I don’t think I ever had celebrities as my clients, but I will treat her like any other client.”

“I know you will, y/n; you are one of our best lawyers. As for celebrities as clients, from my experience, you have to treat them as any other client; they might be more dramatic and a tad bit egocentric, but deep down, they are normal people.”

“So, who’s my new client?”

“Her name is Alessia Russo. She has been having problems with her property.” Your boss hands you the case. “I’ll send her in right now.”

You didn’t know much about football; when you were younger, you would watch some games with your dad, but when you moved out to college, you stopped caring about the sport. 

As soon as she entered the room, your first thought was, “Damn, she is tall.” You stand up from your desk and give out your hand so she can shake it. “Good morning, my name is Y/n Y/ln, but you can call me Y/n. You must be Ms. Russo.” She shakes your hand, “Please call me Alessia; you make me sound like I’m old.” You both chuckle. 

“Sure! Alessia. Please sit down. I couldn’t review your case, as I got it thirty seconds before you entered. Please tell me your issue, and I’ll assure you I will try my best to fix it.” You gave her an assuring smile, and she began talking.

Over the following weeks, you worked very closely with each other, trying to win the case. Sometimes, she would try to make small talk with you, to get to know you better, but you would always reply with short answers. This case could open many job opportunities for you, and you didn’t want to mess it up and be unprofessional, even though you were just going to be friendly. 

One day she came late for one of your meetings with her,

“Sorry, I know I’m late, but our coach made us do an extra hour of training, and I forgot the time.” She apologizes.

“No worries, yours was my last meeting for the day, so you are good. I heard you have the derby in a few days, so you must prepare.” You add.

“Oh my god, finally, my lawyer is giving in to small talk?! Who are you, and what have you done with my her?” She jokes.

“Oh. Sorry.” You say shyly, bringing up again your 'The Fox' persona. “I didn’t mean to act unprofessional.”

“And now she is back.” She chuckled exasperatedly. “You know, I don’t care if we talk about other stuff besides property, right?” 

“What about this, if we win the case AND I’m in the mood for it. We can go out for drinks.” You concede. Even though you tried to be professional and a lit aloof, her clumsy and outgoing demeanor reminded you of Ellie and how the two of you would get along together. 

After a week, when you won the case, Alessia hugged you and gave you a gift.

“I don’t know if you like football, but if you are free, I brought you two tickets for the derby tomorrow.” She says happily.

“I couldn’t possibly accept.” You gave them back.

“Come on.”

“Okay, only because my best friend is obsessed with Manchester United.”

So that is how you went to the stadium to see the derby. You and Ellie were in a great spot; Alessia found great sits for you. 

As you saw the girls running up to the field, you recognize her.

“Is that-“ Ellie questions

“Yep, that’s my neighbor.” You were shocked. Now you finally understood why she was very fit and why you saw her with a Manchester United jersey.

“How could I have not recognized her before?” Ellie wandered.

“Maybe you didn’t see her properly, it was dark outside, and you were very tipsy.”

“I was not.”

“Yes, you were.”

“Well, at least I know who Ona Batlle is.”

“Is that her name?”

“Yes. She’s Spanish.”

“Ohhhh.”

“Did you still not introduce yourself to her?”

“Nope.”

“Are you going to?”

“Nope.”

As you continue to see the game, finally, Alessia got subbed in. You point at her. “That’s my client, right there.”

“Your client is Alessia Russo?”

“Yep.” 

Your best friend was deadpanned. “You definitely need to introduce me to her. She’s like my favorite player.” 

“And not to mention, she is also your type. Am I wrong?” You remark knowingly.

“Don’t use your voodoo lawyer tricks on me, Nick Wilde.”

“Excuse me?! I would never.” You say faking being offended. 

She rolls her eyes at you while you give her a dumb smile then you both continue to focus on the game.

At the end of the gave you put yourself near the stands to say hi to her.

“Hey, Alessia, nice goal out there!” You say, making her turn her head towards you.

“My favorite lawyer.” She ran to you happily.

“This is Ellie, my best friend.” 

“The one obsessed with Manchester United?” She says, looking at your best friend.

“Yep, that’s me. I’m Ellie.” She says, giggling, trying to contain her excitement. 

Alessia was handing out her hand so that she could shake it. Still, Ellie was too caught up in meeting her favorite player that she didn’t even realize, so you gently nudged her arm so she could focus. 

“Oops, sorry.” She giggles and shakes her hand. 

In the meantime, Ella Toone was approaching the stands.

“You must be y/n, the best lawyer in the world.” She says, looking at you. 

“Don’t give me too much credit.” You say humbly, slightly blushing.

“Nope, she is. They call her The Fox for a reason.” Ellie backs you up. You blush even more; Alessia is shocked at your change in personality from when you were in court to how you are usually.

“I don’t think I would ever see the day my lawyer would blush at a compliment.” Alessia chuckles.

“Okay, stop it.” You say, turning your eyes to another figure by the stands; she put an arm on Alessia’s shoulders as she went to the changing rooms. Ona was walking by, and you made eye contact for a moment. This time was Ellie’s turn to nudge you.

“Yeah, sorry, what were you saying?” Focusing on your former client.

“If I remember correctly, you owe me a drink.”

“Tomorrow I have work, so I can’t tonight. But maybe tomorrow night?”

“I’m good with that. I’ll bring a couple of friends. Is it okay with you?”

“Only if I can come!” Ellie interjects.

“Oh, definitely,” Alessia says. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You say, waving at her while dragging Ellie to the exit.

- 

When you exited the stadium, you went to Ellie’s house and dropped her off, finally going home after a long day. You didn’t expect your neighbor to sit on the steps of your door. You looked at her confused; she saw you and then stood up. 

“Hi.” She said awkwardly. You gave her a small wave, incapable of pronouncing words. “So, you are probably asking yourself why I am here.” She says with a very strong Spanish accent. 

“You are my neighbor.” You say, deadpanning a little too quickly, genuinely hoping you didn’t sound too harsh.

“Yes, I am. I’m Ona.” She says, giving you a small smile, reaching out with her hand. Your mind was short-circuiting; you internally hoped that from the outside, it wouldn’t seem like it. Spoiler alert, it seemed like it, but Ona was too nice to say something.

“Oh yeah! My name is Y/n Y/ln. But you can call me y/n.” You took her hand and shook it a little too eagerly. 

In the future, you will definitely cringe thinking about this first encounter.

“I don’t think you just sat on my stairs just to introduce yourself to me, right?”

“Nope.” She says as she shyly rubs the back of her neck. “I forgot the keys to my house today, and I hoped you could let me use your balcony to let myself in.” She says, pleading. 

You hesitated a minute, trying to get your mind around the fact that the woman next to you, whom you had a slight crush, and whom you were too scared and embarrassed to talk to, just asked you to come into your own house to get into hers. 

“Or I could totally ask the landlord for a spare key. A stranger asking you to get inside your house might make you feel uncomfortable right now. I’m really sorry for asking.” She rambled, getting her stuff from the floor, wanting to leave, slightly embarrassed. 

She is cute when she rambles, you think. “Wait. Come inside; let me help you. We are neighbors, after all.” You gave her a shy smile.

“Thank you, you literally saved my life!”

“That’s a tad bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Nope.” She stood behind you as you opened the door. 

“I hope you like dogs because you will definitely see one, no-.” You don’t have the time to finish the sentence that Leika ran towards you and Ona to get her cuddles. You put your bag down and kneeled to pet her. Then you stood up and let Ona in.

“Can I pet her?” She asked shyly.

“Of course, you can. This is Leika, my dog.”

She took off her bag and sat on the floor while Leika jumped on her and started kissing her. Ona just laughed and began petting her.

 Her laugh was so cute and heartwarming, you never wanted to stop hearing her giggles, and you didn’t even want to get started on her voice. She had this deep voice that she asked something, you would just comply with her, and she could make you do-. You definitely had to get your out of the gutter immediately. 

You blinked once, shaking away your thoughts, while you put your bag on your desk chair.

“Busy with work?” She asks, looking at the pile of papers on your desk. “Yeah. I’m a lawyer, so I usually get many piles of paper daily.” You chuckle nervously.

“Wait. You are y/n? Lessi’s lawyer?” 

“I can’t either confirm or deny.” 

“You were the girl talking to her after today's match, weren’t you?” She says, recognizing you.

“Yes, it was me.” 

“So it is you then!” She says happily.

“Maybe…” You say, giving her a small smile. “You played well today, Ona; you definitely carried the team.” 

She blushes a little. “It’s really a team effort.”

“Yeah, but you definitely shined more than other players. Don’t tell Alessia that I said that.” You chuckled nervously.

“I won’t. But as I said before it-“

“It was a team effort.” You roll your eyes jokingly. “Just take the compliment, Ona.”

“Okay, only if you take my compliment.” She says shyly, slowly rocking herself from one leg to the other, “You looked cute when you tried to deny you are Lessi’s lawyer.” You were taken aback by her words. You definitely weren’t expecting that. Try to act cool. 

“I-, “you stutter. 

“I’ll take yours if you take mine.” She smiles innocently, kneeling back down to Leika and petting her.

“ I- thank you?” You blush, “I’m not really used to taking compliments.” You chuckle.

“You’re welcome.” She smiles. “So, where’s the balcony?” 

“Oh yeah, right.” You nearly forgot why she was in your house in the first place. You bring her upstairs. 

She would have to pass through your bedroom, and you hated that. A, because you just met her, and B, you couldn’t help wondering if the room was tidy or messy.

“I’ve recently moved in, so it might be messy there.”

“Don’t worry. I get it. I thought lawyers would be tidy and organized, but I guess everyone makes mistakes.” She teases.

“Ha ha, very funny. I feel very offended right now.” You joke.

“Oh, poor you; how will I make it up to you now?” She smirked. 

“Oh, I know some ways you can.” You mumble lowly. 

“What did you say?”

“Uhm, nothing!” You say, snapping out of your thoughts. 

She definitely heard you. You definitely are still in denial about that.

You open the door to your room, and you let her in; you don’t let her have time to wander with her eyes into your bedroom and bring her outside. You were both out now; she threw her bag into her balcony.

“Let me help you; I don’t want a dead person in my conscience.” You grinned, holding out your arms for her. 

“Oh, I get it, you wanna be, what you English people say, my knight in shining armor?” She smirked once again. 

You slightly blush, “You know what, legally, I can say you are an intruder, so go on without me, I won’t help you, nor will I be your knight in shining armor, as we English people say.” You remark, trying to mock her accent.

“Hey, I don’t speak like that!” She gently smacks your shoulder.

“Yes, you do.” Mimicking once again her accent, lowering your voice, then you chuckle. 

She sighs, frustrated, and then she looks where she has to climb over and then at the ground outside. You see her hesitation, and you jump into action. 

“Just let me help you.” You plead, once again offering your hands to her. This time she takes them without blinking twice. Her hands were so soft, but you could feel the hesitation as she wouldn’t move. 

“Are you scared of heights?” You ask. 

“What?” She replies, still looking at the ground. 

“Are you scared of heights, Ona?” You gently tighten the hold on her hands, trying to ground her. 

“Nope, I am not!”

“Okay, say that while looking at me and keeping a straight face.” You chuckled.

“Okay.” She gave up. And for the first time in a while, she looked at you, “I may be slightly scared of heights, happy?”

“Definitely. Let’s do this. Why don’t you stay here while I open the balcony door for you?” You reassured her. 

“Can you take the house keys for me? They are on the nightstand near the bed.” 

“Okay,” You reply. You climb over the railing; as you are about to put your feet on her balcony, you act like you tripped. She gasped. Trying to reach for your hand. While you just laugh at her concern. 

“You asshole.” She smacks your hand. “I hate you.”

“How can you hate me? We just met.” You say dumbly, reaching for the door and opening it. 

As you open the door to her room, you look at it, then go back and look at her, “So you gave me shit about me being messy while you are the one talking.” You say, shaking your head in awe.

“I recently moved in?” Using the same excuse that I said before.

“Nah, our landlord told me you’ve been here way longer than me.” You laugh. “Just admit it.”

“Okay, I’m a little messy.” She sighs, “I’ve been really busy lately, and I haven’t been able to clean up; I’m sor-“

“I was just messing with you.” Cutting off her ramble. “You look very cute when you ramble, though.” She blushes and then shakes her head. 

“So, the keys?” She giggled. 

“Oh yes, right!” 

You come out of her room and hand her the keys for her railing.

“Now, can you please help me return to my house?” You smile. 

“Yeah, sure.” She offers her hands to you and slowly pushes you towards her.

“Wait!” You scream, losing your balance and falling to the floor of your balcony on top of her. You stay there for a moment, flabbergasted, and then you quickly get up to your feet. “I’m really sorry! Did I hurt you?” You ask her, helping her up. 

“You are asking me that? I nearly got you killed; I’m so sorry!” 

“Hey, I’m good, see?” You show her, making weird movements with your arms, making her laugh. “Plus, you did a pretty good job muffling the fall.” Winking. 

She hesitates for a moment and then quickly hugs you. “Thank you, really.” You hold her a little tighter, “You are a lifesaver.” 

She shyly takes two steps from you, “So I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Well, I don’t know. Are you planning on blasting your reggaeton music?”

“Probably.” She grins. “But I meant if you were coming to have a drink with us with Lessi.”

“She invited you too?” You ask her, and she nods. “Then I’m definitely not coming.” You joke, smiling to show her. 

“I’ll see you there then.” She starts to walk away. 

“I’ll count the minutes.” You tease. 

“Asshole” She screams as she exits your house.

Bonus

You were back to work the next day but still didn’t tell Ellie that you had finally talked to Ona. You knew you had to say to her before going out for drinks with Alessia and her friends. So when you picked her up during the evening to go to the bar where you would meet the others, you told her,

“So, about yesterday.” You begin.

“Oh my god, yes! It was so cool meeting Ella Toone and Alessia Russo! God, I am actually going out for drinks with them! I am so excited!” 

“Yeah, I wasn’t going to say that, but yes, also that.”

“Oh, sorry, got a little excited for a moment. Please tell me what you were trying to say.”

Suddenly, you don’t know why; your nerves caught up to you, and you can’t pronounce the words; luckily, you just got to the bar.

“I-I. We are here.” You say, releasing your seat belt and exciting the car.

You get inside the bar and are soon greeted by Alessia, who runs up to you to hug you. “I genuinely thought you would bail on me.” She laughs.

“I thought about it.” You joke. “But Ellie here really wanted to come.” You tease your best friend. 

“Okay, Nick Wilde, don’t get too cocky now.”

You approach the table. Ella and Ona were already there. You and your neighbor smile when Ella asks, “Nick Wilde?”

“Yeah, I usually call her that when she’s trying to be funny or gets on my nerves. So always.” She grinned; you gasped and gave her a smack on the shoulder. You begin to talk to Ella, ignoring Ona; of course, you were doing it on purpose as you didn’t know if she wanted to talk to you after yesterday or if she was just being nice because she had to get in her house.

“Aren’t you going to say hi to your neighbor, y/n?” You slightly blush.

“Hey, Ona, did you remember your keys today?” You joke, making Ellie look at you strangely while Alessia and Ella look confused.

“Wait. Are you guys neighbors?”

“Yeah, we only actually met yesterday.” 

“Wow, what a small world,” Alessia says.

“Excuse me, but I have to go to the bathroom, y/n can you come with me?” Ellie says, dragging you away hurriedly to the bathroom. “Sure. I’ll be right back!” You say the last part to the girls.

You enter the bathroom, and your best friend quickly shuts the door with a waiting expression.

“You talked to her?”

“Yeah. Well, she talked to me?”

“Fucking finally!”

“It’s nothing; she locked herself inside the house and used my balcony to get in.” 

“So, did you talk or did more than that?” She smirked.

“Oh my god Ellie! I’ve just met her; get your mind out of the gutter.”

“So nothing happened?” 

“Nope. We just talked, and that’s it.”

“Okay.”

After a while, you leave the bathroom, and Ona tells the two English girls about yesterday night. They were all laughing, and you only heard, “So I tried to help her, but I just made her lose the balance, and she tripped and fell on top of me.” She laughs.

“Nothing happened, my ass,” Ellie whispers, sitting at the table.

“Y/n Y/ln parkour sensation, everyone.” Alessia jokes.

“You are the one talking, Alessia. Do I have to remind you why I had to make another copy of all your case documents?” You grin wittingly.

“Ohhh. Nick Wilde has some character!” Ella replies.

“Not you too, with the nickname.” You sigh, holding your head in your hands. “I need a drink.” 

“Let me buy it for you.” Ona offers; you look at her dumbly.

“You don’t have to.” You shrug.

“I insist; you helped me out yesterday. I owe you one.”

“You won’t let it go, won’t you?” You both smile without taking your eyes off each other  

“Nope.”

“I’ll come with you then.” 

Your interaction didn’t go unnoticed by the table as they shared questioning looks while you headed to get drinks.

The night progressed really enjoyably. You and the girls got along very well, and you thought that you could actually be friends with them. Ellie was having a blast and, honestly, was a tad bit drunk. It was midnight when you decided it was best to get her home. 

“I think it's better if I take her home.” You say to the girls. You hug each one of them quickly, making the one with Ona extra uncomfortable, then you drag Ellie outside. 

You call a cab, and soon you leave the bar. Ellie was already asleep in the car. So when you get to her house, you slowly wake her up, and with your help, she is sleeping safely and soundly in her bedroom. You decide to walk home, which would take only five minutes. Ona’s car was already there, so you were glad she came back home safely. 

When you reach your door, you rummage through your pockets to find your keys, but you can’t. Fuck. You left them on your coffee table. 

So you decide to do what your neighbor did yesterday, hoping she would still be awake.

You knock twice at her door, really hoping that she will answer. After a few seconds, you see the light turned on in her living room, and she opens the door. She was already ready for bed, with no make-up, some shorts, and an oversized T-shirt on. 

“Don’t tell me that you forgot your keys.” She chuckled tiredly.

“I-I’m sorry. I think I left them on my coffee table. Can I get in through your balcony? Then I’ll get out of your way.”

“Of course, you can! As you said yesterday, we are neighbors after all, and friends?” She asked. 

The thing is that you didn’t want to be friends with her at all. You wanted more, but you knew you had to wait for that.

“Yep, friends!” You say a little too forcefully. She, fortunately, ignores your tone and lets you in.

The house is the same as yours, only the furniture is slightly different. 

You get into her balcony and carefully climb over it into your property; she just looks at you.

“Ha Ha.” You open the door leading to your bedroom and finally look at her.

“What?” You ask, a little embarrassed.

“We should stop losing our keys; what if you fall off that railing?”

“Oh, you care about me!” You tease.

“You are an asshole, Nick Wilde!” She grins, rolling her eyes.

“Only for you.” You wink suggestively. “And don’t call me that.”

“Asshole?”

“Nick Wilde.” She says. “I hate it.”

“Another reason to call you that, then.” She chuckles.

You wave at her as you are about to go to your bedroom when you hear.

“Wait! Y/n” She hesitates; you can see some doubt in her expression; you move next to her; she is leaning on the railing on your side. You move beside her, and she whispers, “May I kiss you?”

You definitely weren’t expecting her to say that. You couldn’t speak. 

“What happened? The cat got your tongue?” She chuckles nervously.

You just react by reaching out for her, touching her cheeks, and simply kissing her. Your first kiss with her was shy and tentative. But it was all that you hoped for, a confirmation that you weren’t delusional and that she liked you back for some strange reason. You couldn’t fuck this up.

You break away from the kiss and put your foreheads together while you gently stroke her cheek. You both smile at each other, and after a few instances, you break off the moment by talking.

“I am so glad that I came to your door tonight.” You laugh, still breathless.

She gives you a small peck, “I am glad too.”

You step back, defying all of your self-control to just jump to her side of the house, fully make out with her.

You gently wave at her, giving her one of your biggest smiles.

“Good night, neighbor.”

“Good night, Nick Wilde.”