#and everyone else that’s not is probably not spending their thursday night watching bottoms

[roseworth]

i’ve never gone to the movies alone but i have nothing to do tonight and i really want to see bottoms….. give me the courage and strength i need to see rachel sennott on the big screen

[01zfan]

stress relief | o. sh

boyfriend!shotaro x reader | 6k words

this fic was fueled by a request and a compilation i saw of him using his hands…shotaro we freaking love you. listened to too sweet by hozier while writing this. not proofread.

contains: using toys

shotaro woke up before the sun did. he dreaded hearing his alarm so much that he often found himself waking up before it had the chance to go off. every week thursday’s loomed over him like a dark cloud. 

each thursday was shotaro’s dedicated day of the week that he would be in the office from sunrise to sunset. he never considered himself to be an early bird, the exact opposite actually. most days it wouldn’t be until ten in the morning before he could speak, but every thursday he was forced to arrive before everyone else got there. 

shotaro would drink his black coffee while walking around the office, assigning roles for next projects. he would be desperately trying to get himself awake while getting clerical things in order before the teams arrived. during the day, shotaro was in charge of checking that the projects he managed were on track to be completed by the deadline. after everyone left, he would spend an hour or so taking notes on current problems in the projects and how to fix them. 

shotaro always thought that as he moved up the corporate ladder he’d have less responsibilities, or atleast more people to pawn them off to. but when he became lead project manager he suddenly had more things he was in charge of and his allotment of errors in his work greatly depreciated. sometimes he couldn’t believe he went from being the assistant that was on his phone all day to the leader of multiple teams, and how important it was for him to always be right. shotaro shook his head and rubbed his eyes to refocus on the computer screen. he believed that if he thought about his obligations too much, that nasty habit he had of biting his bottom lip would return.

the sun had gone down when shotaro was able to finally leave. he was the last one out, turning the lights off behind him locking the doors. he sighed heavily, letting his shoulders sag in relief as he made his way down the sterile office hallways. at first he was scared to be in the office by himself at such late hours, but now he couldn’t care less. on thursday nights the only thing on shotaro’s mind was getting home.

on his way home he turned the music up a little higher than usual, drumming along to the beat on the steering wheel and singing loudly. at each stoplight he got impatient, waiting for the light to turn green. shotaro looked to his phone in the empty passenger seat, waiting for his lockscreen to light up from a notification. it wasn’t fair that after the long day he had at work red lights were stopping him from coming home. he drove safe, resisting the urge to floor the pedal to get home faster.

shotaro’s patience was already dwindling when he exited the office. by the time he made it to the apartment building he was almost a completely different person. when the elevators were taking shotaro up to your shared apartment, he impatiently checked his watch each time it stopped on a floor that wasn’t his. something was eating away at him. the something started in his mind when he thought of you. once shotaro got started he couldn’t stop. he spent all day letting the thoughts of you marinate. he thought about you working from home, taking naps, and meandering around the apartment in between breaks. you probably haven’t left the apartment once. you probably hadn’t eaten either. shotaro thought about your routine all day, if you were still sleeping when you had set so many alarms the night before. 

shotaro knew you had spent the day sleeping and the night working when he walked through the front door. the apartment was the exact same as when he left it in the morning. the day passed by in the apartment without a single thing changing. everything was still off, the low glow of a computer screen coming from the bedroom being the only light. shotaro shook his head and smiled while setting down his things. all those alarms were useless—shotaro knew you had hit the snooze a thousand times before finally getting up. 

he broke your concentration when he opened the bedroom door. your eyes that was focused on the computer screen snapped up, almost embarrassed that shotaro caught you so stressed over work. 

when shotaro got promoted in his job, you became the carefree one in the relationship. the one that had the luxury of going to bed at a reasonable time and the one that would wake up for the sunrise. the role you had was easy, funded by your boyfriend who worked a corporate job and bought you whatever you wanted. you still had your own job, one that was remote and you could choose your own hours. 

your role in the relationship was something you were very dedicated to. you made the point to give shotaro health tips, to help him destress after a long day. you had been so relaxed you forgot what it was like to be stressed. to have your jaw clenched so hard it felt sore, or to have that feeling of failure loom over you like a dark cloud. 

when shotaro came through the door you had forgotten what time it was. you looked back quickly to your phone, where a reply to your boyfriend was unsent in your messages. both of you knew it was locked away to limit distractions. shotaro knew it was necessary but he hated it so much. without your get home safe text he had to be extra safe on the road, and without seeing your face shotaro almost forgot why he was working so hard at his job.

“you don’t have to be so quiet when you come in, ya know.” you said.

shotaro smiled, a hand going underneath your chin to squeeze gently. he knew he was dramatic, but he had almost forgotten what it felt like to touch you. feeling you underneath his fingertips eased the stressed of the day and seeing you smile only made him smile harder. he was always so quiet when coming home late, careful to not wake you. each time he did it you had to remind him it was unnecessary, and each time he shrugged his shoulders before saying it’s a habit. 

“it’s late.” shotaro made his way past you to sit on the bed. he plugged in his phone as he sat on the edge, setting it on the bedside table. “i thought you would be asleep by now.” he said.

you didn’t look up from your screen, resting your head on your propped up knee while you continued to type. shotaro watched the back of your head move while you reread lines, trying to make sure you weren’t rambling due to exhaustion.

“got a late start today.” you said.

shotaro hummed, knowing he was right that you got up late. you probably haven’t even eaten, only getting up for a quick snack that burned right through you. shotaro continues to look at your back as he gets himself undressed. he starts with his socks, a checkered colorful pair you got him for his birthday. he went with his dress shirt next, undoing each button slowly and take it off. shotaro got his pants last, making a point to be a little louder taking off his belt and letting the pants fall to the floor. 

he was only a little embarrassed to admit how badly he needed your attention. usually it was shotaro coming home to you already in bed, all he had to do was get undressed before sliding into the sheets next to you. it was almost primitive how shotaro instantly felt happy, how the stress from the day melted off of him just by being on the receiving end of your affection. he would slide into the sheets and you would pull him in close, before murmuring that you missed him.

shotaro working at an office and you working from home caused a chasm in your perception of workplaces. when shotaro was in the office, he was professional. he was the leader his company needed, and was serious about his work. in the bedroom, he was needy. he needed to always be touching you, or talking to you. so seeing you treat the bedroom like an office space still through shotaro for a loop. if you had turned around, or stopped typing for a moment just to look back he could’ve been sated. but you stayed focused on the screen, only taking a break to stiffly straighten your back.

when you went back to your hunched position, shotaro felt his fingers start to move. he got up from his side of the bed, walking over to you. he put his hands on your shoulders before pressing gently. you stiffened for a moment before relaxing slightly. shotaro tried not to think about the possibility of you forgetting he was even in the room still when he started gently prodding your back. when shotaro felt the knots beneath your skin, he wasted no time driving his fingers deep until you tried to move out of his hold.

“shotaro that hurts.” you complained.

you didn’t even throw a glance over your back before going back to your terrible posture. shotaro looked at the digital clock. it was too late in the night for both of you to be awake—or atleast too late for both of you to not be in bed.

”you are going to destroy your back doing that.” shotaro said.

he went back to the knots on your back, gently until you eased underneath his touch. shotaro almost wanted to laugh, now it was him giving you tips on your health and him trying to help you ease your stress. 

he almost thought you would laugh at it too, but you only continued to focus on the screen in front of you. 

“i have to finish this.” you said.

shotaro tried to focus his bleary eyes on whatever work you were doing. nothing could be comprehended by his tired mind. he leaned forward acting like he understood what was on your computer until his face was beside yours.

“you know it’s scientifically proven that your mind won’t retain information past a certain time?” shotaro said.

you scoffed, moving your face closer to shotaro’s until your cheeks touched. you relaxed further as shotaro found a stubborn knot. you stayed in place, letting your head hang forward as shotaro pressed deeper into the knot.

“i need to get this done.” you said still with your head hanging low.

“you have all weekend.” shotaro said quietly.

he continued to work on massaging your back, actively feeling your inhibitions crumble as his fingers continued to do their work. he reached up further, wondering if you could feel the thin bands of his rings press into the bare skin of your neck.

“so tense.” shotaro chided. you sighed, taking your hands away from your keyboard to let them fall at your side. “let me give you a massage.”

shotaro knew he was being too presumptuous when you snapped your head to look at him. he tried to give you the most innocent smile he could muster. shotaro tried his best, but it was hard to feign innocence after hearing your tiny sighs of relief. shotaro felt himself wanting to help you relax the same way you always helped him.

“aren’t you tired?” your eyes were low and bleary as you looked at him. “i’ll be in bed soon.” you said.

shotaro shook his head slowly while he continued to massage your back.

“just for a little bit,” shotaro drove his fingers into your skin a little more, smiling to himself when your sighs of relief got a little louder. “i’ll set an alarm and everything so you can get back to work.” he reasoned.

you looked at the words on your screen, how they stopped making sense a long time ago. you still feel shotaro’s fingers continue their ministrations on your back. the bed behind you looks inviting, and so is the smile on shotaro’s face. 

you get up from your seat to look at shotaro. his smile is big, reaching up to his eyes before he goes in for a kiss. 

he’s gentle at first, thumb stroking your hand gently. when shotaro tries to deepen the kiss, you pull away.

“only thirty minutes,” you walk over to the bed and shotaro follows behind you closely. when you sit down on the edge shotaro stands in front of you. the smile on his face didn’t falter when you pointed your finger at him menacingly. “and no funny business.” you say.

“what do you mean?” he asks.

shotaro plays dumb, tilting his head while you tilt your head sideways and give him a hard stare. shotaro folds, putting his hands up in defeat as you lay down on the bed. 

you lay facedown on the bed, trying to urge your body to relax. you haven’t been this stressed in so long you forgot how to manage it. it wasn’t until shotaro’s hands moved your limbs to the perfect place you felt your body begin to loosen. when you felt him straddled your lower back you had to repeat the motion to get yourself to relax again.

shotaro started high, a little below the space he had been working at since he got home. every part of you felt rigid, brought on by the mental strain of work. shotaro sympathized with you silently—he knew what it was like to have an unbelievable workload that seemed unbearable at times. he also had the luxury to leave everything at work. you had no choice but to be reminded of your unfinished projects each time you looked up from the bed to stare at your computer. when shotaro saw your eyes stay on the screen of your computer he started to become brash. his hands that were over your shirt was suddenly underneath the fabric, running his hands so far down your sides his hand was wedged between your stomach and the mattress. you didn’t stop his hand, or remind him about no funny business. you only let out a content sigh and turned your head back to face the pillow.

“don’t think about work right now.” shotaro said.

his voice was gentle but stern. you gave in quickly, saying an ”okay” muffled by the pillow. you tried to sound even with your voice, but the end of your words had an airy lift. the near whimper in your voice went straight to shotaro’s pants. usually he was better at controlling himself, but the view of you under him going slack and the feeling of his crotch pressing against your ass made him lightheaded. it didn’t help that you had been on shotaro’s mind all day, or that he was able to bring you relief from your stress.

he tried to remain professional, he tried so hard. he tried to not partake in the funny business, but when he pushed your shirt all the way up to your neck you didn’t stop him. when shotaro got up from the bed to grab lotion you let out a pretty whine from loss of contact. when shotaro returned and let the cold lotion spurt on your back you only shivered and made the feeble attempt to reach back and undo your bra strap knowing shotaro would do it for you. 

excitement creeped over shotaro’s body, and he wondered if you could tell. he tried his best to not let the tent in his underwear poke you, but shotaro knew that you knew what drove him insane. 

he kept part of his promise though, working his way up your back rubbing out the tension until your skin was damp from the lotion.

“so tense.” shotaro says above you.

you only groan in response, letting one of your arms go limp over the side of the bed. it is so relaxing, you think that if shotaro keeps going you’ll fall asleep. 

if he listened to what you said, he would’ve just given you a massage until your alarm went off to let you go back to work. but your sighs of relief were so blissful to his ears and the skin of your back was so soft. your moisturized skin had started to glow from the light of your computer skin. shotaro couldn’t stop his mind from thinking about your body glistening in sweat and the toys you two kept in the bedside table called out to him like a devil on his shoulder.

“babe?” shotaro said, still looking at the drawer of his bedside table.

you were nearly asleep, only being able to hum lightly to let shotaro know you heard him. shotaro was silent for a moment, letting his hand drift all the way down your until he rested above your ass.

“can i go lower?” he asked.

you only hesitated a second before mumbling a yes. 

shotaro didn’t hesitate moving his legs further down your body, until he could comfortably lean his crotch against your ass. shotaro felt you perk up and preen your ass slightly backwards to really feel all of him. his hands kept you down, kneading your ass over your pajama pants. he wished you were wearing those thin shorts to bed, the ones that were too short to cover all of you. but he would settle for the thin material of your pants. 

he kept kneading the skin, until your body started working against his force to put your ass further in the air. both you and shotaro got quiet, driven by the feeling of your bodies touching. shotaro fully delved into the funny business he promised not to do and you were no better. 

your ass was grinding against his dick when the alarm on your phone went off. it was blaring and it was loud, overtaking the sounds of quiet pants and breaking through the fog in your brain. your monitor screen had timed out, leaving you and shotaro only in the light of your screensaver. 

shotaro quickly grabbed his phone from the bedside table, turning it off while cursing it in his mind. he purposely pressed his dick into you as he moved, dragging it back and forth slowly as he went back to his previous position behind you. if you wanted to get back to work he would not stop you. deadlines were deadlines, and shotaro would always be here. but that did not stop him from leaning forward, so close to you that his breath fanned against the shell of your ear.

“thirty more minutes?” he asked with a smile.

you laughed into the pillow. shotaro felt the bed shift as you pressed your ass flush against his hips. shotaro’s hand gripped your hips and travelled to your stomach, pressing against your skin to perfect your form.

“when has sex with you ever been thirty minutes?” you asked.

shotaro pulled back from your ear, using his other hand to open the drawer of the bedside table. he could see you snap your head to the drawer, laser-focused on his hand as shotaro shuffled his hand around. he knew exactly what he was looking for, but he wanted to see you squirm as he obnoxiously rummaged through, making the metal cuffs clang around. 

when shotaro finally pulled out the matching set of pink toys, he could feel you draw in your breath. he was having trouble breathing on his own, the anticipation that was building stacking exponentially. your body stiffened and shotaro could feel the energy in the room change as he purposely took his time dragging the tip of the dildo down your smooth back. you shivered again and shotaro gave you the space to perk your ass up in the air as you took off your shirt and bra the rest of the way. your face was still down and shotaro grabbed a handful of your clothed ass, reveling in your whine.

“this isn’t sex.” shotaro said.

he rested on his haunches and leaned down, so close until he could press his face into your bottom half. when you rubbed your ass against his cheek shotaro put both hands on your ass spreading them. he breathed in the scent of you, something he spent all day thinking about.

“just stress relief,” he reached behind him, putting the tip of the vibrating dildo over your clothed clit. “so you can get back to work, yeah?”

“yeah.” you said meekly.

shotaro laughed and cooed, pressing a gentle kiss to your ass before straightening his back. from his space above you he could see how you turned your head, one side pressing against the pillow. shotaro wished he could see your whole face, but he got what he needed seeing your eyebrows stitch together as he turned on the dildo. 

the initial vibration made you jolt. shotaro anticipated it, holding your body in place by a hand on your hip. your hands instantly fisted the sheets, letting out a weak whimper.

“so jumpy.” shotaro tsked. 

he pressed the button on the dildo before putting it to the side. he knew the instructions to the dildo better than you. when shotaro initially bought the toys, you were too embarrassed to even look at them. you brought the covers up to your eyes while shotaro diligently read the instructions, pressing the buttons over and over to figure out how to use it. you made him keep the toys on his side of the bed at first too, and almost always looked nervous when you had to reach in his drawer for something. 

but now you loved the toys almost as much as shotaro did. he would come home from work on occasion and find them missing, hidden on your side of the bed. those were always the best days. shotaro got to show you how to properly use your own toys, and he got to tease you relentlessly when your eyes would go wide after finding out a new function. he would tease you until you wer a crying mess, talking about how you don’t even know how to get yourself off properly with your own toys.

his favorite function on the vibrating pink dildo was it’s ability to warm up. it took a second, but when it was ready it would emulate the warmth of his own dick. shotaro was a modern man and he loved innovation. so while he waited for the pink dildo to warm up he brought the reliable vibrator. it had one setting, and barely worked but it always got the job done. 

shotaro slotted himself between your legs, forcing them further apart with his own. you let yourself become malleable underneath his touch, moving to the exact position he placed you in.

“just relax for me.” shotaro said.

he peered over your body to look at your face. when your hand quickly reached back he held it tightly, pressing it against your back. he only needed one hand now to turn on the vibrator, causing you to instantly fidget. you pushed your ass in whatever direction shotaro would pull the vibrator to. shotaro was fascinated seeing you chase stimulation so desperately. when he pulled it away you wiggled your ass, and when shotaro dragged it down your slit you pushed your hips backwards so desperately it made the vibrator prod your entrance. you were whimpering chasing the feeling, only pulling away when shotaro would place it on your clit.

“need you.” you whimpered pathetically into your pillow. 

shotaro hummed sympathetically, still dragging the vibrator along your bottom half. he felt himself straining in his underwear, so hard that the precum started seeping through the fabric. 

shotaro had the habit of taking out his stress on you in the bedroom. something about seeing you come undone at his hands eased the weight on his shoulders. for some twisted reason, seeing you cum from anything else but his dick helped ease his stress even more. deductive reasoning told shotaro it was probably about control, maybe projection, or maybe taking care of you first made shotaro feel like he was taking care of himself. there were multiple times that shotaro had finished without touching himself, only touching you. he had heard the horror stories from his friends about cumming too early, but once again shotaro was a modern man. he was ready to go again quickly, and was resourceful enough to keep you going long after he was done.

“i’m right here, baby.” shotaro cooed. 

he let go of your hand briefly to reach and touch your cheeks. it made your eyes open, and shotaro saw you try to look for him behind you. he moved his body to enter your lined of sight, still playfully prodding his vibrator at your entrance. when your features softened shotaro went back to pressing it into your clit. your high pitched whine went right to shotaro’s dick, bringing him forward to grind it on your ass. the precum that seeped through his underwear got on your pajama pants. shotaro looked up at the ceiling, going back to pressing your hand against your ass. he pressed the vibrator further into your clit, until you turned your head forward and your hand pressed against the headboard. 

shotaro watched your body rock against nothing, and he saw your thighs shake. he started gripping your ass again, pulling you back to press against his dick against your ass. shotaro got distracted, feeling you wiggle against his ass. he almost missed your whine talking about how close you were, and how your hand started pushing at the waistband of your pajama pants. shotaro used the last of his self control to bring your waistband down calmly. he couldn’t stop himself from sucking on the swell of your ass, biting with a force that caused you to jolt. 

with your pants halfway down your legs you became more sensitive. there was one less layer separating your body from the vibrations of the toy. you couldn’t hide behind the extra layer, turning your head to whine in the pillow when shotaro pressed into your clit. he could see the splotch over your underwear, and when he pressed his finger into your panties the fabric stuck to your folds. 

“i’m going to cum.” you whimpered.

shotaro went back to kissing your ass, alternating between sucks and love bites. he used his free hand to bunch your underwear, until the fabric pulled between your ass. he lifted slightly, applying just enough friction to your cunt. you were moaning now, failing to muffle your sounds in the pillow.

“let it out.” shotaro encouraged.

with your bunched panties in his hand he brought it back to your ass, only freeing his thumb from his fist. when shotaro lightly pressed his finger against your asshole your body tensed for a split second before melting underneath his touch. your first orgasm was never loud, only high-pitched whimpers and repeating his name over and over. you almost always relaxed after the first one, losing all force to keep yourself up causing you to slide on the soft sheets.

shotaro could’ve taken you from the back like this for the rest of the night. he resisted the urge to hold your body in this position with his strength while he spent the night relaxing every tense muscle in your body. part of him wanted to fuck you with the dildo then give you his dick until the back of your thighs were glossy from slick and you had to press your legs together pathetically to save yourself from overstimulation—but the way you kept puckering your lips and clutching at the bottom of his shirt made his tunnel vision disperse. so when shotaro guided your wobbly legs out of your pants he let you lay on your back. 

you pulled him down to you quickly, wrapping your legs around his waist and peppering kisses all along his face. shotaro smiled from the quick kisses, thinking about how you must’ve stored all your affection up the whole day. 

shotaro reached behind him in the middle of your kisses, bringing the dildo to rest beside your head. when your kisses ceased, shotaro brought you in for a big kiss, one that still connected your lips with a string of spit. shotaro broke the string with the dildo, letting it rest on your bottom lip while you looked up to him with blown out eyes. shotaro gave you a simple head nod and you poked your tongue out, laving the tip until it was glossy with your spit. shotaro licked a line down it himself, making you widen your eyes. 

he barely gave you time to register the lewd act before he brought the dildo down between your two bodies. he pressed the tip to your clit before dragging it down to collect your slick. you brought shotaro down closer to put your head in the crook of his neck as the wet sounds filled the room. shotaro liked playing with you this way, making you hear how wet you always get. he was almost able to imagine it being his own dick spreading your arousal around and teasing your entrance. your legs that were wrapped around his waist spread apart and you let your hips thrust upwards, desperate to have something inside of you.

shotaro pulled his body away from you until you were forced to look at him. he could see the bleary look in your eyes were wet now with tears threatening to break your water line. shotaro used his free hand to stroke the skin underneath your eye. he watched your big eyes stare at him desperately, flickering down quickly to his consoling smile.

“just relaxxxxx.” shotaro prolonged his words as he slid the warm dildo into your heat.

your mouth was agape taking it all. you almost immediately began squeezing around the toy, your walls still sensitive from your first orgasm. it slid in and out of your with ease, both you and shotaro’s foreheads pressed against eachother to watch the scene unfold together. you swallowed it up each time, and if you looked further past you could see shotaro’s dick twitching in his underwear. there was a wet patch, one that you would have to teasingly bring up later. 

you were pulled from your thoughts when you felt shotaro’s eyes look at you. with your foreheads still pressed together you maintained eye contact, biting on your bottom lip when shotaro turned the vibrator on to it’s lowest setting.

you started whimpering immediately and found yourself in the same position of desperately looking for things to hold onto. shotaro found your hand first, squeezing it tight and pressing it into the sheets next to your head.

“so wet and tight,” shotaro increased the speed of pumping the toy inside of you. “i can feel you sucking it back in.” he cooed.

you didn’t know how to respond. any words you could’ve formed turned into quick motions of your heads and whimpers. when shotaro increased the speed of the vibration your whimpers turned into moans and cries of his name.

“you pretending it’s me?” shotaro teased.

you looked down again while shotaro lifted one of your legs to rest on his shoulder. you shook your head, muttering something about how it’s not as good as the real thing. 

shotaro felt a pulse in his pants again as he pulled his body up, getting a full view of your entire body. he settled back on his legs to get a better angle and view. from here he could see your chest shudder as your breaths became more broken, and how your leg tensed from the pleasure. you were going through a full body experience, and shotaro got to witness it all. how could he be stressed about anything after seeing this? how could you be stressed after going through it? he was unrelenting and could stop himself from sighing in content. shotaro was coming towards his own climax, just from watching your squirms become more intense.

he wrapped a hand around your leg and pulled you closer. shotaro licked his hand and brought it to your chest. he rolled your sensitive nipples between his wet fingers, pinching harder until you brought your own hands to your chest. you placed your hand over his, guiding how you needed him to hold you. shotaro felt his mouth go agape slightly watching you touch yourself. he knew he told himself that he would be doing all the work, but something about both of you coming together to bring yourself pleasure drove him insane. shotaro had to let out a deep breath, he had to save whatever he had left for you. he turned up the speed and went faster, until your hand clutched onto his bicep. 

your eyes were fixed on shotaro as his expression got serious. he kept going, letting a glob of spit land on your cunt to add more lubrication. your nails dug into shotaro’s arm and he bit his lip.

“you close?” shotaro said, already knowing the answer.

“yeah.” you moaned.

shotaro smiled and continued the same speed.

“give it to me.” he said.

for a moment you were silent. it was only the sound of your computer fans whirring, the low sound of the vibrator, and the squelching that filled the room. it was you arching your back of the bed and shotaro egging you on, coaxing you to the edge. when you felt the tension snap again your whimpers came out in pants before a cry came from your throat. it got louder as shotaro didn’t stop, still thrusting the vibrator in and out of your heat. your nails didn’t let up in his bicep, gripping him so hard your body shook. your legs closed around shotaro’s hand, causing the leg on shotaro’s shoulder to pull him in. didn’t separate them, instead watching your body react with enchantment fueled by lust. 

shotaro didn’t stop until after your frantic head shakes turned weak, and your grip on his bicep went limp. shotaro pulled out the dildo quickly, letting it vibrate on your stomach before turning it off. your full body twitched from the situation, and continued to twitch as shotaro ran soothing hands across your body. he let you lay there limp as you caught your breath and gathered your composure.

“you okay?” he asked innocently.

shotaro asked the question like your twitching body wasn’t his fault. the smile on his face was small, pressing heart shaped kissing on your hot cheeks. your world was still spinning when your snoozed alarm went off again. thirty minutes slipped through your fingers, you weren’t sure if you could even get up anymore to make your way to the computer. your full body went slack, so loose you were almost limp. if it wasn’t for shotaro, you don’t think you could’ve turned the alarm off.

he set his phone back down on the bedside table, hovering over you as he continued to touch you gently. this time it was shotaro giving you a flurry of slow kisses, each one wetter than the last. shotaro helped you come back to earth quicker, silently letting your body gain it’s strength again. 

when you were ready, you propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him. you saw his full body, still in his undershirt and briefs. before you could reach for his waistband he spoke.

“i came.” shotaro said.

his confidence in the statement almost made you bashful. you only nodded, swallowing whatever spit you had in your mouth to try and wet your throat. 

you words inevitably came out hoarse and quiet, asking shotaro to cuddle with you. he got up from the bed quickly, taking the toys into the bathroom to be cleaned and coming back with a cold bottle of water. you downed it quickly, but not as fast as shotaro was coming back to bed. he didn’t bother to get changed and you didn’t bother to get dressed as you cuddled together above the sheets. 

you both knew it was useless getting dressed, you were going to go for another round when the snooze alarm sounded off again.

[seriouslysam8]

Brumous Sneak Peek

Okay! Only a day late. This is unedited, just forwarded.

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Vidya Patil

Remus stood outside of Sirius’ Hogsmeade house, a sigh on his lips. He rose his knuckles to the wood and waited patiently for Sirius to answer. On Thursday night, pacing the waiting room of St. Mungo’s for news about Sirius’ condition, he vowed he would be a better friend. Because honestly, Remus was a shit friend just as much as Sirius was a shit friend. They never needed to truly step up before because that had always been the role bestowed upon James in their friendship group. James had watched out for everyone, he had been the one to listen and help with their problems, he had been the most compassionate one. Remus and Sirius had their fair share of problems, and James had been there at even the smallest whiff of one.

But James was dead. There was only Remus and Sirius left – probably the two least social members of the Marauders. They didn’t talk about feelings or emotions. That had been James. All James. Always James. Remus knew for months that he needed to emulate James with Sirius but he never truly had. It wasn’t a role that came easily to him, to either of them.

The door opened and Sirius looked absolutely exhausted. With a nod in greeting, Sirius stepped aside and allowed Remus to enter his house. Shoving his hands into his Macintosh coat, Remus turned around to face his oldest friend.

“How are you, Sirius?” Remus asked.

Sirius rubbed the back of his neck, his head cocking to the side. “Bloody exhausted. Everyone says how freeing therapy is, but nobody tells you how mentally tired you feel afterwards.”

Remus nodded. “It was good then?”

Sirius shrugged. “I don’t know. I wanted to drink after it, so… there’s that, I guess.”

Remus sucked in a breath, observing his friend. “Did you drink?”

“No, Remus, I didn’t fucking drink,” Sirius snapped, his eyes rolling towards the ceiling. “You did clean out the place over the weekend, did you not?”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, and I also told Aberforth not to serve you.”

Sirius let out a half laugh, half scoff. “I want to say fuck you but I suppose I should be grateful,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Remus let out a low chuckle, not being able to help the soft smile the spread across his face. He stared at Sirius, soaking in the dark bags under his eyes and the lines that creased in his forehead. He looked thinner than normal, like he had been wasting away for the past couple of months without anyone the wiser. Remus was very acutely aware that his problems had probably started around the time Harry went back to Hogwarts. Without the teenager to care for and fret over, Sirius didn’t know what to do with his time. Remus knew how cruel one’s mind could be when left to its own devices.

“I’m sorry I didn’t spend Halloween with you,” Remus said, because the guilt had been eating away at him all weekend. “I just didn’t want to spend another Halloween depressed. Dora is so full of life and always so happy that I thought it would… I don’t even know. Just thought it’d be a nice change for once not to want to drink until I passed out on Halloween.”

Sirius nodded. “You don’t have to apologize for treating it like a normal day. It’s what James and Lily would want.”

“You’re my best friend, Sirius,” Remus explained, his eyebrows tugging down. “I should have been there for you.”

Sirius’ tongue peeked out to lick his bottom lip, his gaze dropping to the floor. “If it wasn’t Halloween, it would have been another day. It wasn’t just Halloween that had me drinking so heavily.”

Remus didn’t know what that meant. Surely, they were both just trying to survive October as best they could. If there was something else that was going on with Sirius, Remus hadn’t the foggiest idea as to what. But Andromeda had dropped a hint that something else was going on once he and Harry had gotten back from France a few weeks ago. Sirius hadn’t even been willing to talk to her until one day when she apparently had ambushed him at his house. Maybe Sirius would tell him so he could help as well.

“Did something else happen?” Remus inquired. 

[smol-and-grumpy]

What I Want Most - Six (FIN)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean’s life has been all work and no play lately. When Gabe, his friend, coerced him into tagging along to a club, he couldn’t say no as Gabe has been pestering him for a while now. What Dean didn’t expect was that he’d meet his match in that club in the form of a stunning woman with underlying daddy issues.

Warnings: Daddy kink, butt plug, public sex, office sex, FEELINGS

Word Count: 2837

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons​​​​​ <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

The week went by so fast and the execs said that there would be another week of competition since they were both doing so well, making it hard for them to make up their minds.

Dean didn’t know right then if he should be happy or sad about it.

There were more pranks being pulled, more inappropriateness shared in their office. 

One time he woke up with her sucking him off, making him come right into her throat and he rewarded her with letting her sit on his face. He absolutely loved to be smothered by her pussy. He also totally forgot about the time or what day it was so he turned up late to his meeting only because he wanted to give her more orgasm than the last time he let her mount his face.

He once fingered her right in a meeting, had her gush and come around his fingers and when everyone was making an exit, she had to stay back and clean her chair. Dean couldn’t stop laughing once she got back into the office, which earned him another round of the silent treatment for the rest of the work day. 

The next day, she did the same to him, rubbed over his clothed dick so good that she made him cum right in his pants while Garth was babbling about fucking stock markets. Dean had to go home to fucking change his pants and since then, he took some more pants and underwear with him, stashed them in his desk drawer in case of emergencies like these.

Y/N had spent the weekend with him, though. So there’s that. And they didn’t just fuck and that’s progress. They went on walks, went out for dinner, did some shopping for naughty things and he really bought her a butt plug. She said that she wants to try it, but he shouldn’t push her. He didn’t. Instead, he let her take it home but he asked her if she could send him a picture when she uses it. She just laughed it off, even though he wasn’t even joking and was dead serious about it.

Spending time with her felt good. It was familiar, it was like he had known her for so long already and not just a little more than a week. And the sex, Jesus, the sex was incredible. But aside of that fucking mindblowing sex, he really enjoyed her company. 

 *

 The working week after their weekend together started just like the previous one ended. With some office rivalry to warm up. 

Monday, she brought him coffee and poured salt in it. Dean spat it out all over his screen and keyboard, and it was ten minutes after that he finished, she finally stopped giggling like a goddamn idiot.

They still tried to keep the other one from showing up for work on time, but it didn’t really end well, and on Wednesday, they were both late. 

Somehow, Dean really hoped that it’ll be over and done with by the end of the week because he doesn’t think that he can keep this up any longer. 

It’s now Thursday and he’s fucking exhausted by the tension, but it’s also now that he realizes something.

He came back from a lunch meeting to see her standing by the shelf, holding a binder in her hand and reading through it. He doesn’t know what it is but he’s mesmerized by the level of her concentration and she’s wearing her glasses and absolutely looks like a naughty librarian with her pencil skirt and high heels. Definitely looks delicious enough to be devoured.

And Dean can’t stop himself from standing behind her, pressing his body to her backside,  feeling her soft and warm in front of him. His dick grows uncomfortably fast, swells up with lust and the rest of the blood goes to his heart as it starts to pump faster.

He dips his face down, nuzzles his nose along her neck. It’s like the first night they met. His hand skims along her body down to her thighs and she fucking lets him, like the good girl she is. 

“Dean,” She says, “We shouldn’t,” 

“Why?” He mumbles against her skin, “You look so good, baby, want you so bad,”

It’s the truth. He’s so hard he could pound nails and she hasn’t done anything yet. He’s whipped. Dean knows that too.

“Because I don’t think you can be quiet,” She pushes the binder back onto the shelf and turns around. Her hands play with his tie, wraps it around in her hand to pull him down for a kiss.

“Why?” He asks again, breathing hot air against her lips and she chuckles. 

It wouldn’t be the first time they fuck in the office and he’s been holding himself up pretty good when they do it.

“Because of this,” Her hands leave his chest to skim down the side of her body. She turns back to face the shelf and lifts up her skirt past her round ass. 

And then he sees it and it’s like someone had punched the air out of his lungs. Dean’s not able to breathe right. Jesus, even his cock starts to twitch violently at the sight. She bends forward and spreads her ass with her hands, granting him a better view and possible access.

“Fucking hell, baby,” He mumbles, still can’t believe what he’s seeing. There’s a black diamond looking out of her asshole. She has used the butt plug he bought her. Dean swallows, “How long have you been wearing it?”

Y/N shrugs, “Since this morning,”

“My fucking god, Y/N, fuck,” 

“You like it?”

“Like it?” He asks and he runs over to the door, locks it just to be fucking safe. When Dean’s back behind her, he gets down on his knees, using his hands to help her keep her ass spread as he dives into her cunt, licking and sucking at it. She hasn’t worn any panties, and has stopped wearing them to work for a couple of days now because she said that there’s no point if she’s going to ruin them every day anyway.

He trails his tongue back over her rim to her ass, the tip of his tongue tickles around the plug and she moans as she presses her body closer against the shelf.

“I fucking love it. That’s fucking beautiful, baby,” Dean coos, and he pulls at the plug just a little, sees her asshole widening before he pushes it in only to repeat it again. God, he could just spend his day doing this because it also elicits the sweetest fucking moans out of her, “You did that for me, huh?”

“Only for you, daddy,” She says sweetly, almost too sweet. His heart aches as much as his cock.

Dean's hands leave her ass to open up his belt and feels relief when he pulls down his zipper and releases his throbbing dick. He spits into his palm, jerks himself off to the sight in front of him. He bites into that ass too, can’t stop himself from doing it and she lets out a squeal, accompanied by a chuckle.

“Baby girl, I wanna fuck you bad, and I know that we should probably move this to the bed but fuck, I need a taste,” He jerks himself faster, is already leaking profoundly, “Can I, please?”

He looks up to see her nodding and Dean stands back up, leans over to her to kiss her properly. His tongue goes in deep, swirls around her own tongue in her mouth. 

“I’ll be gentle,” He promises and there’s another nod of approval, “Spread your cheeks for me, baby,”

Her hand goes back to her ass, grips at her flesh and spreads it out for him. He groans at the sight and tries to hold himself together, tries not to lose himself before he even gets to be inside.

Dean spits into his hand, slathers his cock with his own spit before he guides the tip to her pussy, letting the head catch the rim and pushes in just a little. 

“Fuck,” He groans, “It’s already so fucking tight,”

His hand goes to her head, making her tilt it to the side and he leans forward as he pushes in further, watching the reaction on her face before he presses a kiss on her temple and along her cheek. 

“So good, baby, such a good girl for me,” He whispers low and has to stall when he bottoms out, “You feel fucking amazing. You were tight before, but fuck!” He moves out of her slowly, moves in again, “How does it feel for you? Are you okay?”

“God,” Y/N breathes out, “Full, feels so full… but it feels good,”

Dean chuckles as he noses along her temple, “That’s good, want it to be good for you too,” He whispers as he moves in and out of her unbearably tight cunt in a slow pace.

“Daddy?”

“Huh? What’s wrong, baby?”

“Can you fuck me harder and faster?” She arches her back for emphasis, drives her ass against his dick, making him go in deeper than before.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean growls, “I don’t know if I can last long if I fuck you harder, baby,”

“Please? For me? You can fuck me again later, but I want it hard now, daddy,”

“Goddammit,” Dean grits his teeth and he pushes his body away from her, smacks her ass before he digs his fingers into her hips and begins to fuck her harder, “You know I can’t say no to you, right? You fucking know it and you always use it to your advantage,” He pants and keeps fucking her hard, “Gonna spread you out tonight, baby, spank you for thinking that you’ll always get your way,”

He can feel her pussy clenching at the mention of the spanking. She is definitely something else and Dean would be damned if he’d let her go.

“You love it when I’m bratty,”

“Damn right, I do,” 

Yeah, he does. Very much. 

He spanks down on her ass again, making her yelp up and then he feels it, the tight squeeze, the wetness that surrounds his cock. She just fucking came from his cock and the buttplug alone. It’s the best fucking thing.

With a groan, Dean comes too. It’s impossible to hold out longer, not when her pussy’s so fucking tight. He might try that ass tonight if she’ll let him. His hands are on her ass, kneading it as he comes down from his high. 

Dean chuckles when he pulls out of her and Y/N lets out a soft whine. His dick comes out with a blotch of his cum. They will need to clean the floor. Again. It’s not the first time.

He quickly walks over to his desk and pulls out tissues from the drawer, walks back with them to clean her up and himself before he cleans the cum from the floor. Dean places a kiss on each of her ass cheeks and one square on that black diamond head of the butt plug before he pulls her skirt back over her ass where it belongs. 

When he tucks himself back too, he grabs her by the waist and turns her around, kisses her soft and long, “I have to be somewhere but you’ve gotta wait for me before you go home, okay?”

“‘K,” She says and Dean leaves a kiss on her forehead before he makes his way out.

  Dean’s been gone for a long time, and it’s already past 6.00 PM. She’s finished with her task for today and is sitting at her desk, trying to sort emails and go over the tasks for tomorrow just to occupy her time. He said she should wait, but he’s taking so long.

After he left she had already opened the windows to get the sex stink out. She has also gone to the bathroom and cleaned herself thoroughly down there and pulled out her panties from her drawer, and even wears a pad. She hates to soil her skirt with his cum when she’s not wearing underwear

It’s 6.34 PM when Dean comes back. 

“Uh,” He says, with his hands in his pockets, and he looks somber. Clearly, something’s wrong, “They are expecting you in the boardroom.”

“What?” She frowns, “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Dean shrugs as he walks back behind his desk, “I wouldn’t keep them waiting,”

“Okay?” Her heart starts to race and she wants to ask Dean more, but apparently, she’s wanted now and it seems to be important so she gets up, and before she closes the door, she sends him a glance, Dean nods with only the smallest of a smirk on his face.

The offices are mostly empty at this time of the night. Occasionally people would stay longer, but the majority already went home. Her heels click against the stone floor and her heart almost jumps out of her chest the closer to the boardroom she gets. 

Mrs. Mills and Mr. Turner are already waiting. 

“Please, take a seat,” Mrs. Mills says and points to the chair. 

She takes a seat and notices that the chair’s still warm. Dean must have been in here. She can still smell the traces of his cologne. What just happened? Did he rat her out? Will they tell her now that he got the job and not her?

“Miss Y/L/N, let’s cut to the chase because we all would like to go home now. The reason we asked you to come in here is that we would like to offer you the job.”

Her eyes widen.

“I- uh, really?”

“Yeah, congratulations,” Mr. Turner chimes in, “You’ve done remarkably well for someone who just started two weeks ago. You were determined, you did your research well and you always had good arguments to prove your point. We are sure that you’ll be a great addition to the partner team.”

“Wow,” She huffs out, “But what about Mr. Winchester?”

“He was actually the one who told us to choose you and brought good points to the table,” It was Mrs. Mills who spoke, “He’ll be keeping his job, but you’ll move into your new office on Monday. We’ll get the contract on your desk by tomorrow,”

Dean did what?

Why?

Oh my god. And then it dawns on her. She got the job! She really got the job! 

“Okay, thank you so much,”

“It’s our pleasure,” Mrs. Mills stands up from her seat and she does too. The two of them shake her hand before they disappear and she waits until they are gone but she’s too giddy and barely can contain herself. 

When both of them were out of earshot, she runs towards the office she shares with Dean, hopes so fucking much that he’s still here. 

Y/N’s out of breath when she opens the door. Dean looks up from his screen, but he knows because he’s grinning. He rolls his chair back, beckons her over with a hand gesture. 

And she goes in willingly, takes off her shoes and sits into his lap, curls herself against his body as he holds her. 

She feels safe with his arms wrapped around her. And as independent and strong as she may be, she enjoys that he’s taking care of her. Absolutely loves how he cares beyond the incredible sex they have.

“Why?”

“What?” Dean asks. The bass of his voice rumbles in his chest.

“Why did you tell them to choose me? They would have chosen you.”

He chuckles, “I don’t think they would have. You’re clearly the better candidate. You’ve shown that you can do anything when you set your mind to it and even though you didn’t know the company, you still did better than me,”

“Why did you give up the promotion? You didn’t want it?” She nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck, smelling the scent she’s grown to love. 

“Not really, to be honest. My brother is moving into the city soon. We are going to try and open our own business one day so it isn’t bad if I have some money on the side until our business takes off. So, you know, I wanted the job, at least a part of me wanted it,” He pauses to place a kiss on her forehead, “But then I realized that I shouldn’t risk what I want most for something I want now,” 

Pulling her head back she looks at him, sees him smiling. 

“What do you want most?” She asks with a beating heart because she thinks she knows. She would just love to hear him say it.

“You,” He says, pulls her close by the back of her neck. He kisses her soft and gentle, “I want you so much,”

She can’t say she doesn’t want him either, because she does. So fucking much.

FIN

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I appreciated every comments, likes and reblogs. You are incredible! <3

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

[imagines-r-s]

a little reminder

requested: yes by @lokiqueenofasgard​

taglist: @drewsephsmiles​

[Can someone write me a JJ x read where he’s just gassing up everything she does and he’s like “yo, you need a hype man? Cause I’ll be your hype man.” And it’s just really fluffy and cute? Cause I need that rn.]

i hope you like it, i kinda switched it up just a little

a/n: in case no one has told you today, you are beautiful and you are loved. hope you all enjoy

warnings: talk of insecurity, i think that’s it?

There were moments in the day where you felt absolutely gorgeous and on top of the world not in a cocky sort of way-but just in general. Then, there were other days where you felt at the bottom of it all, the negative thoughts running through your head bringing you down. Sometimes it was after someone made a comment about you and other times it came without warning. 

You had a bad habit of comparing yourself to your friends. Kiara and Sarah, who both were as beautiful as they came, perfect hair, perfect skin, and perfect body. You were sure they had their own insecurities, as everyone did, but they never made it seem like it. 

As you were getting ready for the plans you had with the pogues, you couldn’t help but look at yourself in the mirror, focusing on the way the bikini looked on your body. Noticing all the small imperfections, more seemed to pop up the more you looked at yourself. Everything was so noticeable and it hurt to look at yourself, but you couldn’t peel your eyes away from the mirror. 

Being too focused on the mirror, you hadn’t even realized that JJ Maybank, your best friend, had come through your front door and was on his way towards your room. You and JJ had known each other all your lives, having lived right next to each other your whole life, it was normal for him to just waltz into your house, especially considering how Luke was. 

“Look at you, babes, looking as beautiful as ever,” JJ’s voice echoed through your room breaking you from your thoughts, “I feel like you only ever wear that bikini because it’s my favorite color.”

You tried to ignore the blush that spread across your face at his statement, “yes, of course. I make all of my decisions based on what you’ll think.” You said, your arms unintentionally wrapping around your torso to hide whatever you could. “Why do you always do that?” 

“Do what?”

“Like, wrap your arms around your body and like-like try to hide it, I don’t know.”

“Oh, uh,” you stared down at the ground, letting out an uneasy laugh, “I don’t know, just habit, I guess.” JJ stayed silent for a while as you went to your dresser and pulled out your denim shorts and oversized shirt to put on over your bikini. 

“Are we going to start walking to the chateau or are you going to sit there all day, Maybank?” you looked at him waiting for his answer. “Oh shit, sorry I was thinking.”

“What about?”

“Do you think you’re beautiful? Like genuinely, if someone asked your opinion on yourself, would you force out what response they want to hear, or are you going to be honest?”

“I mean, in all honesty, I think I am, but only every once in a while. And, I’d probably bullshit an answer, you know.”

“Why don’t you think you’re beautiful? You’re literally so beautiful, you do realize that right?” JJ furrowed his brow, waiting for your answer. “I mean I guess so, but have you seen other girls? Literally, I-”

“Yes, I’ve seen those other girls, but have you looked in a mirror?” JJ’s heart broke when he heard you comparing yourself to other girls and denying what he was saying, “Here’s what I’ll do, you need a hype man, and I’m here. I’m going to tell you your beautiful as many times as you need me to until you believe it.” 

Before you could respond, you were already close to the chateau, “well, look who finally decided to show up,” John B said from the patio. “Someone just took forever to get ready, that’s all,” JJ replied without missing a beat, causing you to hit him upside the head. 

Eventually, everyone made it onto the boat and you were on your way. Once the boat had settled, everyone started getting ready to jump off the boat, except for you. It didn’t take long for JJ to notice that you were staying behind, so he simply sat next to you. “Aren’t you going to go in?” you asked the boy beside you. “I’m not going if you aren’t, beautiful.” You simply rolled your eyes in response to your best friend, “you know, you look amazing in that swimsuit, and I really would like to see it again at some point today, y/n/n.” 

You silently debated, you assumed he was just saying that, but you decided why not and got ready to jump into the water, spending the rest of the night with your friends. As the night went on, the sky grew darker, allowing the stars to be seen. Sarah started pointing out the constellations as all of you watched in awe, but while you were looking at the stars you felt a pair of eyes on you. “J, it’s rude to stare, you know.”

“Sorry, you just look stunning.”

“JJ, stop. Omg.”

“Awe, are you flustered, babes?” You simply flicked his forehead causing him to groan. You started to feel your eyes grow tired, tired from the thoughts running through your head, and everything else you did today. JJ took notice of your tiredness, telling you that if you wanted you could lay on his lap. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, the noise of your friends’ conversation slowly dimming. 

JJ focused on your face for a moment, confused simply by the fact that you didn’t see yourself in the way that he did. He thought that you were absolutely stunning. You reminded him of sunflowers, the bright color of yellow matching that of your personality, and the beauty of the flower matching that of everything else about you. He knew it was cheesy, he knew if he ever told anyone that they would call him out on how whipped he was for you, but he didn’t care when it came to you. 

“How long have they been together?” Sarah asked John B, curious as she saw how JJ looked at you and protected you throughout the day. “Oh, they’re not together,” John B responded when he saw where she was pointing to. “Wait, seriously,” Sarah was in awe when John B simply nodded, either you two were just extremely oblivious or you were just plain dumb.

When the boat came to a stop at the dock of the chateau, JJ tried to wake you up as gently as he could, leading you towards the dock. “Here, pretty girl. Jump up,” JJ said, pointing towards his back, ready to give her a piggyback ride on the way back to the chateau. Once he got into the chateau, he set you down in the spare bedroom, telling you to come and get him when you had changed. 

Once you had gotten changed into one of JJ’s shirts, you went out to the living room to get him to come back to the room the two of you had shared way too many times. “Goodnight, beautiful,” he said, kissing your forehead, before walking to the other side of the bed to lay down. Maybe JJ’s plan wasn’t that bad.

Throughout the next few days, JJ kept reminding you how beautiful you were, no matter the occasion or how bad you thought you looked at that moment. The bad thoughts in your head didn’t necessarily go away, but you were starting to feel better with yourself and how you looked. 

When you were told that there was a boneyard party this Friday, Sarah made the executive decision that she would go out to the Mainland to go shopping on Thursday, have a sleepover, and then, get ready at her house Friday. You were excited, saying as you hadn’t gone shopping in forever. 

When you got the text that Sarah and Kie were outside to pick you up, you quickly grabbed your bad, yelling goodbye to your mom, and running out the door. “Get in loser we’re going shopping.” 

The three of you got your ferry ticket to head to the Mainland and you were on your way. Sarah and Kie took the time to look through clothing items that would have made you feel awful for wearing. The colorful crop tops would show a lot of stomach, the shorts would show your thighs and stretch marks, the shirts made your arms look weird. “y/n, you have to try this on, it would look amazing on you,” Sarah said as she held a denim dress that buttoned up in the middle, that would look amazing with a simple black shirt under it. 

“Sarah, I don’t know, it’s cute, but just not my style,” you smiled sadly. “But it would look amazing on you, y/n. Plus, I know JJ wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off of you,” Kie added. You simply shot her a look, “I’ll try it on, but if I don’t like it, I’m buying more oversized shirts and jeans.”

Hesitantly, you asked one of the employees to open a fitting room for you. When you got into the dressing room, you hesitantly stripped out of your jeans and shirt, grabbing the black crop for under the dress, then putting on the denim dress. Looking in the mirror, the dress didn’t look right, it didn’t look bad and you knew it, but everything in your head was telling you that it didn’t look good in any way. 

“y/n, you good in there? Whenever you’re dressed we want to see,” you heard Sarah say from outside of the dressing room. You didn’t want to step out, but you knew they would be disappointed if they didn’t see it. “Oh my god. y/n, you have to buy that. And if you won’t I will for you, you look hot as hell,” Kie said, making you smile. 

Sarah and Kie both convinced you to buy the dress and shirt, saying something about wearing it to the boneyard, it was still a casual outfit, so they had a point. As you bought it, your mind immediately went to the one person who’s opinion you wanted to hear. 

When the three of you got back to Sarah’s, you all decided to start watching Criminal Minds, again. “So, y/n, what is up with you and JJ?” 

“Like the JJ on the show or Maybank?”

“Maybank.”

“Oh, uh, nothing. I don’t know what you mean, to be honest, we’re just friends.” 

“It sure seems like more than that,” Sarah added. 

“Oh no, if something happened I wouldn’t complain, but I also don’t want to mess with the dynamic that me and him have had for so long, you know?”

“Ooh, she admits it,” Kie says, giving Sarah a high five. “He’s literally in love with you, I don’t understand you two,” to which you simply denied what they said, going back to watching Criminal Minds. By the time all of you went to bed, your mind was racing. Was he actually in love with you? Why hadn’t he said anything? 

Friday night came around a lot quicker than you figured it would, anxiously tapping your foot in the back of Sarah’s car, you just watched all the trees pass by until you were parking to head to the party. All of you walked towards the bonfire where the boys usually hung out, in an attempt to find them. 

When you made it to the bonfire, you noticed how John B and Pope were there moving to open a space for Kie and Sarah, while you stood waiting for JJ. “Last time we saw him, he was getting drinks, so you might check over there and I’m sure you’ll find him,” Pope said, to which you politely thanked him. 

Making your way towards the keg, you caught the attention of people you didn’t want to talk to. “Who knew a pogue could actually clean up well,” a random kook, that you recognized as Quinn said. “Woah, who knew a kook could wear something other than a basic ass polo and random striped shorts?” you retorted. 

“I would watch your mouth, pogue,” Quinn said. 

“Oh, and what are you going to do about it?” The familiar voice of the boy you were looking for said, causing you to smile. “Hey, J, he’s not worth our time. Let’s go for a walk,” you pulled on his wrist to which he simply hesitated for a moment before following you. 

The two of you ended up walking near the beach, “are you ok? I heard what he said to you?” JJ asked concerned that Quinn might have hurt you. “Yeah, it’s funny what happens when you actually start believing people when they say you’re beautiful,” you said, causing him to stop walking and smirk at you. 

“Man, who could have possibly told you that?”

“Hmm, I don’t recall actually, but it just stuck with me,” the both of you laughed. 

“I just wanted to say you look absolutely gorgeous tonight and I’m glad what I’m doing is helping, but I plan on reminding you until we’re like 80 or something.”

“J,” he simply hummed in response,” did Kie mean it when she said you were in love with me?” JJ simply stood there, clearly debating what to do, he was starting to get flustered. “Is it a problem if it’s true? I’m not trying to mess anything up with you.”

A rush of confidence ran through you as you wrapped your arms around his neck,” well, it’s not a problem since I am too.” JJ smiled before his lips met yours softly, he pulled away only for you to kiss him again, “I love you so so much, pretty girl. I’ll be reminding you of that too, baby.”

“I’m sure you will, J. I’m sure you will.”

[comphersjost]

All for You | 2 ➸ Brady Tkachuk and Matthew Tkachuk

hi, its 3 am, and i couldnt stop until i finished this. ik i promised yall another part on thursday so im sorry this is later then i was hoping. i hope you enjoy it :) i took a different approach to brady here than ive normally seen, let me know how you guys like it!!

It’s been 4 and a half months since that day in the basement. With Christmas just days away and Matty on a flight back home, you and Brady take a risk, leaving Matt to wonder where he went wrong.

word count: 4.6k

warnings: this is really angsty yall, like actually, smut, sir kink, brady is Mean, uh moral ambiguity sorta (thinking abt someone else during sex), d/s undertones sorta, unprotected sex (be safe), oral (m on f), some choking, alcohol (wine), sex under the influence, pls ignore any typos fkakldfa

part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

masterlist

Even with how utterly fucked the situation was that Matt had found himself in, there was one thing he couldn't stop thinking about. It was the way his logo and his last name and his number rested against your back that drove him insane.

It was burned into his retinas.

Even now, on a plane back home to St. Louis it was all he could think about. Every time he closed his eyes it was you you you.

It had been months since he had seen you. Nearly 5 months had passed since that night in the basement. And it killed him.

He was in a slump. Everyone knew it. He knew it, his teammates knew it, the damn front office knew it. And it was because of you.

His teammates had quickly put together your absence at any sort of gathering and Matty’s sulking. 4 and a half months later he resembles a shell of the man he used to be.

He had called, of course he had. Over and over, hoping, pleading, praying to any deity that existed out there to hear from you again.

Matthew’s prayer was answered one day, when he had come out of practice to find a text from you. His heart rate accelerated, time felt like molasses as his phone camera ID’d his face. As the facial recognition unlocks his phone, the message is revealed.

Please stop calling me. And tell the boys to stop too.

The text tears his heart to shreds. It was the last straw. Before he had been mopey, but now - now he was spiraling. His play was abysmal - a shit show on the ice really. He drank until he blacked out every time, not even looking at another girl.

He had contemplated going to your work, but decided a player in the middle of a slump having a restraining order filed against him would not go over well with the Flames management. Every time he went out for the most mundane task, groceries, dry cleaning, he couldn’t help the hope that he would run into you. Even if you didn’t give him the time of day it would be enough for him to just see you.

He hadn’t seen you since that day. Not for lack of trying, though. Matthew had been to all the spots you used to frequent—the grocery store you love, the clubs you two used to go to, even the 7/11 you had both been to after the both of you got so drunk that you could barely walk. You weren’t on the flight you had booked back together. In fact, he had no idea about anything that’s been going on in your life, his mom just told him that you’re okay and that was all he got.

Now it was 3 days before Christmas and the idea of seeing you again both filled him with dread and also made him feel more alive than he had in months. He was equally utterly terrified and buzzing with excitement. His hands itched to hold you again, though he knew there was a bigger chance of you slapping him than letting him kiss you the way he wanted.

As Matt stares out the window at the clouds, he lets his mind wander. He wonders how you're doing; are you okay? After everything that happened did you pick up right where you left off? He wondered if you missed him, if he was on your mind as much as you were on his.

He still wondered if you loved him back.

-

“Mom, I really just, I really want to stay home and do nothing tonight okay? I'm tired.”

Your mom rolls her eyes at your attempt at getting out of going over to Tkachuk’s house tonight. You’d been trying since 9 am.

“Honey, I know you said you and Matthew don’t hang out anymore, but he won't be there!” she tried reassuring you, “Brady and Taryn will be there to hang out with you until Taryn goes to spend the night with the Johnson’s.” That made you groan even louder - you had to be alone with Brady. Great, now you had to steel yourself for a night of utter humiliation.

Brady isn't even downstairs yet when you enter the Tkachuk’s threshold, Chantal’s call for her kids brings Taryn down in an instant, ever excited to see you.

“Y/N!” she squeals, running down the stairs, “You're here, you're here!”

“Y/N?” you hear faintly, and then the slam of Brady’s door and rapid footsteps. He nearly slides down the stairs, freezing at the bottom when he spots you. Taryn lets you out of her embrace, leaving you to stare wide-eyed at Brady. Unsure how to navigate your way out of this situation, you keep staring at Brady as your parents and Taryn follow Chantal to the kitchen.

“Hi, B,” you say meekly, unsure of how he’ll receive you after so long.

“Hi, buttercup,” he responds, a bright smile pulling at his lips. It’s all he needs to take a few quick steps in your direction and draw you into his arms.

“I missed you so much, buttercup,” he whispers against your hairline, “More than you know.”

Despite his warm welcome, the night is tense. You still don't know what he thinks of that night, not wanting to ask him in front of your families - well, most of your families anyways. You didn't even let yourself think about what would happen when you saw Matthew at the next dinner party. You sat at the table and ate your food, barely speaking to Taryn and answering Keith and Chantal’s inquiries about your life in Calgary with a tight smile.

You’re so zoned out trying to make time go faster you barely register your parents telling you that they’re going out with Keith and Chantal.

“Mom, wait-”

“Y/N,” she warns, looking at you with that look, and you sigh in resignation. She smiles at you, a silent promise to make it up to you.

Taryn had left 30 minutes ago, announcing that she had somewhere to be before leaving as quickly as she could, uncomfortable with the palpable tension between you and Brady.

You watch your parents leave, wincing for a moment at what awaits you when you turn around. To your surprise, what greets you is a glass of wine hovering in front of your face.

You take the peace offering gingerly from Brady’s hand with a tiny smile. And it’s a really bad idea, the way you let him keep refilling your glass, and his own, let him draw you in during The Grinch on the couch, let him hold you tight under the blanket that was covering the both of you.

You can hear your common sense screaming in the back of your mind when you snuggle closer into Brady’s chest. It’s near 11 now, and your parents are still together, laughing and drinking in the living room of your house before Keith and Chantal are supposed to head to the airport. You're cuddled up to Brady, shifting every few minutes to try and get closer, even though nearly every inch of your body is practically glued to him.

He hums when you shift again, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. “Gotta go home,” you say, your voice muffled against him. It’s not like you haven't spent the night with him before; you just haven't since that night.

“Probably,” he mumbles, arms tightening around you. “But I don't want you to.” And like, you've had way too much wine and you should probably go before Matty gets here cause you really can't handle that conversation like this so you push off of Brady, standing up but stumbling, wine sloshing over the lip of the glass and splattering on your pants.

“Fuck,” you hiss, the red wine surely staining the gray leggings you wore. Brady takes the glass from you, placing it on the table and stabilizing you with his other hand.

“Go change upstairs,” he says softly, looking up at you with those eyes you're such a sucker for. “Stay.”

And - how can you say no to that? You can't, because it's Brady and you're so damn easy for him it didn't matter what he’d asked you to do, you would do it without a second thought.

That's how you find yourself stumbling to Brady’s bedroom, barely finding your way to his bathroom to change out of your stained leggings and wipe yourself down. You rummage through Brady’s dresser, searching for - there it was. A pair of Brady’s sweatpants from high school that he stopped wearing approximately 2 months after he got them [mostly because he couldn't find them (mostly mostly because they were either in your room or on your body)].

You place the worn sweats on top of Brady’s dresser, fumbling to close the drawer and find your balance. Someone clears their throat and your head snaps towards the doorway. Brady is leaning against the doorframe and through the fuzziness of the wine, you register the thought that he looks so good like this - in his comfort zone.

“Hey,” he says, pushing off the doorframe towards you.

“Hi,” you whisper back, eyes too focused on Brady moving towards you.

“We should give it a shot,” Brady husks, hooded eyes trailing down your body and back up again. Suddenly the room feels too cold, the oversized sweater you had on stopped at the top of your thighs, barely covering the pale pink panties you were wearing. The sweater paws gave an air of innocence around you that Brady knew was fake.

“What are you talking about?” you whisper meekly, both concerned about what was going on in that head of his, and intrigued.

“You know how you feel about me,” Brady states - which isn't entirely true anymore, but you don’t interrupt. “I don’t know how I feel about you, and neither of us actually knows if this-” he motions between the two of you “-is it for us, so I say, we give it a shot and see how it feels. Let’s give it until we go back?”

When did he get so close to you? Brady’s taking more steps forward, and you’re taking as many steps back, until the back of your thighs hit the corner of the bed and you instinctively sit.

Which - in retrospect, was probably a mistake, because now Brady towers over you even more than before and now - you’re really intrigued. His fingers trail over your jaw, thumb swiping gently across your bottom lip.

You part your lips out of habit, eyes widen when you realize what you’ve done. Brady laughs darkly when he catches your slip up, stroking your face affectionately.

His thumb slips between your lips for a moment, and your eyes flutter shut as your cheeks hollow around him.

“Look at me,” he commands softly, and you do, opening your eyes to stare up at him again; Brady, your best friend. He smiles proudly, murmuring a soft, “Good girl.”

The words are uttered at the same time he withdraws from your warm mouth, wrapping his fingers gently around your throat. You can’t help the whine that escapes, mortified when Brady’s grin widens.

He leans down, mouth next to your ear to whisper, “Matty always did like it when they’re needy. Needy girls drive us crazy.”

Really, the thought of Matt shouldn’t be driving you crazy, but it is. And when you feel Brady’s nose nudge against yours, his mouth just millimeters from you - your biggest fantasy for nearly 20 years - you knew you were going to hell.

A needy moan escapes your throat before Brady’s hand tightens around your throat and you give in, looping your arms around his neck. You pull him down to meet your lips, nearly clawing at him in your desperation.

Faintly, you think that this is a bad idea, this would only hurt you more later on.

But the longer you kissed him, the less you cared about the consequences. You wanted - you needed Brady so fucking bad right now you were willing to deal with whatever the aftermath presented you with. Brady’s other hand finds the bottom of your sweater, slipping underneath the fabric to lay against your rib cage.

You needed more.

“Brady,” you whine as you break away from his lips, tugging at his hoodie. “Need you.” Brady chuckles darkly, tugging you by your throat to kiss him again.

“Ask nicely,” he husks against your mouth.

“Please,” you whimper again, pulling harder at the fabric to just get him closer. “Please, Brady, I need you so bad.”

“Try again.” Brady pushes you - nearly tosses you really - further up the bed with a snarl, ignoring the yelp you let out at the suddenness of his mood shift. You stare up at him, eyes wide and lips parted. You're unsure of your next words.

“Please…Daddy?”

A cocky smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. “Not quite.”

You think for a moment, watching him bring his hand behind his back and pull his shirt over his head. The dark look he gives you makes you shrink, as if to say ‘Still?’.

Suddenly your eyes light up, and Brady can see it. He's already on the bed, crawling up your body as you attempt to control your breath. The words are barely out before he's kissing you again.

“Please sir?”

Brady groans into your mouth when he hears you say the words, slotting himself between your thighs to grind his hips against yours. You mewl into his mouth when his clothed cock catches against your clit, pushing your hips up against him for more. He growls as he pulls away again, swatting your thigh as a warning.

“Careful, princess,” Brady warns - voice low and dangerous - and his grip on your hip so tight you knew there would be bruises in the morning, “or I won't be.” His words are thick with intention, both a threat and a promise.

“Yes, sir,” you breathe shakily, letting yourself fall against the sheets to look up at him.

Brady’s eyes soften for a moment, reaching up to brush your hair out of your eyes. “Hi,” he whispers, leaning down to steal a kiss.

“Hi,” comes your response. He steals another kiss before pulling away again, and you can't help but think that he looks beautiful like this.

I love you. I'm in love with you.

You want to say it, the voice inside you is screaming it. It’s screaming for you to say it, and Brady is looking at you almost like he wants you to too.

The feeling of his hands pushing your sweater up distracts you from your plight. Brady’s movement is slow, and he’s looking at you intensely, giving you time to stop him. You only nod, and the softness is gone as soon as it had come. You lift your arms to help him bring the material over your head. He tosses the sweater to the side, catching your wrists when you reach for him. He guides them back over your head, smirking as you suppress a shudder when he leans in a whispers against your mouth. “Be a good girl and keep your hands there princess.”

You nod quickly, grasping the sheets in anticipation. Another slap to your thigh has you rethinking.

“I’m sorry!” you gasp. “Yes, sir.”

Brady hums in acknowledgment, kissing down your throat until he’s staring up at you from the valley between your breasts. You whine softly when he pulls a nipple into his mouth, his teeth grazing the harden peak before soothing it with his tongue. His hand is pinching and pulling at your other nipple, making your noises significantly louder. He alternates, playing with your nipples until they're swollen and sensitive and sore.

He sits back on his heels to look at you, hands on your knees now, sliding up your thighs. His eyes roam your body unabashedly, while his fingers play with the waistband of your panties. There's a burning look in his eyes as he says, “You're gorgeous. You're so fucking beautiful.”

You don't know why hearing him say it makes you tear up. Brady had told you that you were pretty before, that you cleaned up nice, always telling you how hot you were when he'd see you dressed up before events. He was your own personal hype man but he'd never called you beautiful.

Not like this.

Not like Matty.

Not like Matty.

The thought makes your blood run cold.

“Please,” you mewl, starting to reach for Brady before remembering what he told you. Your hands fly back above your head, twisting in the sheets, whispering, “I’m sorry, sir, I forgot.”

Brady smiles softly, slipping his finger under the waistband of your panties, tugging on it before letting it snap back against your skin. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss softly at your stomach. “Trying so hard to be good for me.” He shuffles himself backwards as he kisses his way down your body, sliding your panties down your legs at the same time until they've fallen to the floor.

“Wait,” you say softly, causing Brady to pause, his expression quizzical. “Please, I need you.”

Brady grins wickedly. “Just a taste princess.”

It turns out, ‘a taste’ actually means Brady edging you with his tongue until you were nearly crying. He's brought you to the brink three times now, each time getting you closer and closer before pulling away. At this point he's holding your hips down and your hands are as tangled in the sheets as you could get them, not wanting the repercussions of disobeying.

Brady’s tongue is sliding through your folds again when you finally break.

“Please!” you sob, tears finally sliding down your cheeks as your back arches from the pleasure. “Please, Brady, please, sir, please please, I- I need - please just - fuck - please.”

Brady hums against your cunt, the vibrations tearing a scream from your throat. Suddenly the warmth of Brady’s mouth is gone, leaving you chasing him with a buck of your hips. He pins you back down again easily, his lips glistening as he smirks. You hate the way the sleazy look on his face does it for you.

It reminds you of Matt.

You whine again, wiggling your hips as much as you could in Brady’s grip. “Please just fuck me,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut. You feel his lips press against your hip, smiling against your skin.

“Anything my girl wants, she gets,” he murmurs against your skin.

My girl. The words echo over and over again in your head. My girl my girl my girl.

Two words you've been waiting years to hear come out of his mouth, and the only thing you could think of was how you liked it better when Matty said it.

Your eyes stay shut as Brady kisses up your body, fingertips dancing over your skin. His mouth finds yours, emptying your brain of all other thoughts but him.

“You ready for me, pretty girl?” he asks you, a hand coming up to stroke your cheek gently, wiping your tears away. Your eyes flutter open, to look at him, nodding as you bite your lip. His thumb tugs your lip out from between your teeth as you feel the tip of his dick brush against your thigh. You didn't even realize that he had taken off the rest of his clothes, but you weren't complaining. Not with him so close like this.

“Please,” you whimper, and after stealing another kiss, Brady sinks into your heat.

“Fuuuuuck,” he groans, gripping the back of your thigh to spread your legs even further. “You're so fucking tight, fuck you feel so good.” Once he’s bottomed out, Brady leans down to kiss you, swallowing your desperate noises.

He gives you little time to adjust, and really - you don't need it considering the way he tortured you with his mouth and fingers. You're whining into his mouth as his hips move against you, the drag off his cock inside you so fucking good after being denied like you were.

You're close already, and Brady knows, delivering sharp thrusts and hitting a spot inside you that made you see stars.

He finally breaks from your lips, breathing heavily as his hips slam into your cunt. “I'm so close,” you tell him, gripping the sheets above your head so hard you feel like you might rip them. “Please, please let me cum, sir, please.”

It seems like Brady finally thinks you've had enough torture, because he brings his hand from your thigh to your clit, rubbing quick tight circles. “You've been so good for me baby,” he grunts, his other hand holding him up so he can look down at you. “Come on baby, you can touch me now, come on princess, cum for me.”

That's all it takes to send you over the edge. Your hands come flying from above your head to grasp at Brady, his shoulders, his back, tangling in his hair, anything to just touch him. You cry out as your orgasm hits, your back arching under Brady as he relentlessly fucks you through it.

You faintly register Brady’s filthy encouragement in your ears, telling you how good you are for doing what he says, for not touching him this whole time, for cumming for him like this. You writhe against him as you feel him spill into you, grunting as he fucks into you, chasing his orgams with shallow, sloppy thrusts. It feels like you've been riding your high forever; your vision is blurry when you finally come down.

Brady’s breath is hot on your neck, his hands stroking your skin gently as the two of you catch your breath. He shushes you gently as you moan when he pulls out of you. Brady practically collapses next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you into his chest. He peppers kisses across your skin, nudging his nose against your cheek to grab your attention.

You can barely turn your head, suddenly so tired you feel like you'll pass out right that second. “Hi,” he murmurs, kissing you gently. You hum and bury your face in his neck.

“‘M sleepy,” you mumble against his skin, eliciting a soft laugh from him.

“Then sleep,” he says, before smirking devilishly, “don't worry there's lots more where that came from, but in the morning.” You snort at his words, squeezing the back of his neck before burying your fingers in his curls.

“Night, B,” you mumble.

“Goodnight, buttercup.”

-

Matthew was going to kill his brother. He was going to straight up murder him. On top of not being there to pick him up from the airport, he also didn't answer any texts or calls from Matt.

So yeah, when Matthew got home, he was going to kill Brady. When the Uber finally pulls up in front of him, Matthew is nearly halfway done with his plan to get away with it.

He fiddles with his phone as the driver pulls away from the curb, scanning the random notifications that he had popped up when he got off the plane. It's when he opens up Instagram that he really pays attention, the 3 stories in a row at the top of his feed catching his eye.

Taryn’s, yours, and Brady’s. Against his better judgement, he taps Taryn’s magenta-rimmed profile picture. The story takes a moment to load, but when it does, he sees a picture of you in front of the Tkachuk’s Christmas tree. You had your arms out in a ‘ta-da’ fashion, the fingers barely poking out through the sleeves of your sweater. Taryn’s caption reads “didn’t need an angel for the tree cause we already got @y/n/y/l/n”. He can't help but smile fondly, so distracted by how cute you look that he just stares at you until the time is up - but not before pressing on the screen so he could screenshot the photo.

Your first story was a repost of Taryn’s, a simple white heart emoji in the bottom corner. The second was a shot of the TV in the Tkachuk’s living room displaying the Grinch’s title. The caption reads “heart grows two sizes bigger when i’m home :)”. The location is tagged as St. Louis, with Taryn and Brady tagged in the corner of the photo. The third post makes his blood run cold, it's a video of you and Brady, your back against his chest as you lay on the couch, the caption the cross-eyed emoji and Brady’s handle. Brady is facing away from the camera in the beginning of the video, your eyebrows raised as you wait for him to notice. When he does he laughs and reaches for your phone. The video cuts off there.

Matthew taps the left side of his screen to replay it, an unpleasant feeling twisting in his gut. He doesn't want to watch Brady’s story, but he taps the right side of his screen anyways. It's a photo of you on the couch, one knee pulled up to your chest with the other in Brady’s lap, and a glass of wine in your hand. Your hair is piled into a messy bun on top of your head as you wink at the camera and make a peace sign with your free hand, tongue peaking out of the corner of your mouth.

Matt screenshots the picture.

He’s angry; angry because his brother left him stranded at the airport. Angry because he said he hadn't spoken to you either, that you didn't answer any of his texts and calls since that night. He's angry because Brady managed to get you back, and Matt didn't.

Matty’s angry because he loves you, and he's pretty sure you still love Brady.

When the car finally pulls up to the house, he’s almost relieved. He notes that the lights are off downstairs as he lets himself in, pausing when he sees your shoes still by the door. The glow of the TV is visible in the living room, and as Matt pads towards it, the uneasy feeling grows.

There's two partially filled glasses of wine on the coffee table, as well as yours and Brady’s phones. He taps on Brady’s phone, revealing the unread texts and unanswered calls from Matt, as well as an unread text from Chantal, telling Brady that he would have to be the one to pick up Matty from the airport.

The pit in Matt’s stomach only deepens as he climbs the stairs, duffle bag in hand. He goes slowly, trying to prolong his inevitable heartbreak, but it doesn't change what he sees at the top.

Brady’s bedroom door is half open, the light from the hallway streaming in.

Matthew knows it's a bad idea when he takes one, two, three steps and he's in front of Brady’s door. He takes a deep breath and pokes his head inside the room. The sight nearly knocks the wind out of him.

You're tucked under Brady’s arm, your nose squished against his cheek and your hand curled around his neck.  He can see the bare skin of your back and stomach pressed against Brady’s bare torso. A blanket covers the both of you from the waist down. Brady’s hair is a mess, and so is yours, and suddenly Matt feels nauseous.

He feels like he would do anything - anything - to make the feeling in his chest go away. It feels like pressure, too much pressure, in his chest, and he nearly clutches his heart. The blood is rushing in his ears, he can't breathe, he feels dizzy.

Why does it hurt so much?

Before he can think it through he’s stumbling to his room. He kicks the door shut behind him, tossing the duffle back on the floor near his bed. His hands are reaching for the backpack on his shoulders and pulling out his laptop before it even hits the ground. He doesn't even sit, placing the laptop on his bed and bending down to type into the search bar.

He barely pays attention to the final amount when he hits “confirm” - he has more money than he knows what to do with anyways. The moment it’s done he sighs, watching the Gmail notification light up on his phone.

“Flight Confirmation, December 23rd, 2020 11:25 pm

St. Louis, Missouri to Calgary, Canada”

[poedameronloverx]

Close To Home

Life In Lockdown Masterlist

Pairing - Poe Dameron x F! Solo Reader

Warnings - Massive amounts of Covid talk in this chapter as it starts to effect our lovely little squad, so if that upsets you please don’t read, I don’t want anyone to be triggered or upset by this content <3

Month 2 – April 2020

As the weeks went on, you found yourself getting more and more used to remote working. Your boss had made a lunch time finish on a Friday a weekly thing and you were grateful for it. Poe was getting every Friday off, and Rose got to finish at 3pm on a Friday. You and Poe were working round each other better, you’d gotten used to his singing and he got used to you getting up to wander round the room and stretch every hour or so. The novelty of having people around all day had worn off for BeeBee, he would choose to spend an entire day with either Poe or you and lie by your feet for the day. Rose’s idea of doing something each evening had stuck and you had set up a weekly plan of things to do. Movie nights became a Friday night tradition. Rose had ordered relaxation colouring books for each of you and that became your Monday night routine. There was a YouTube marathon on Tuesdays, you’d all found a series to binge together on Wednesdays and you played board games on Thursdays. Poe was teaching you to cook, you could make basic things but he was much better than you were and you’d asked him to help you learn. Rose loved teasing your about how cute you both looked and how domestic it was. Things were still strange but everyone was getting used to it.

Rose and Finn occasionally took walks after work, just the two of them. Poe had just arrived back home with BeeBee. He wandered into the living room and found you sitting on the sofa crying your eyes out. He was by your side in an instant, pulling you into his arms and rubbing your back.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“My dad” you sobbed “He has the virus; he’s in the hospital on a ventilator”

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry!” he pulled you tighter “He’ll be fine, I’ve never met a man as strong and stubborn as Han Solo!”

“Mum said he’s really ill, she’s not even allowed to go and see him”

“It’s not fair”

“I just want to go and see mum and hug her”

“I know sweetheart, I know”

Poe held you until you eventually cried yourself to sleep. He pulled you onto him, and grabbed the blanket from the back of the sofa and draped it over you. BeeBee jumped up onto the sofa and lay by your legs. Your body heat and the heat from the blanket lulled Poe to sleep. When Finn and Rose came back a little while later they eyed you suspiciously. The sound of Rose’s keys against the coffee table woke Poe.

“This looks romantic” Finn said

“Far from, I’ve just held her whilst she cried herself to sleep” Poe replied, glaring at his friend

“What’s wrong?” Rose asked

“Han’s got the virus; he’s in hospital on a ventilator”

“Oh my god, when did that happen, is he alright?”

“I don’t really know” Poe shrugged “She was really upset, I only got the basic information from her”

“I’ll phone Leia” Rose replied “To get more information but also to check on her”

Finn nodded “That's a good idea”

“I should text Ben.” Poe said “Then we need to work out what to do here. I don't want to put her to bed before dinner, I know she’s exhausted herself crying but she needs food in her system, as much as she probably won’t want it”

“We can make a start on dinner, wake her when it’s ready and make sure she eats at least a little then she can get some sleep” Finn said

Poe managed to lift you off him enough to move, he laid your head on a pillow and made sure the blanket still covered you. BeeBee got up and moved along the couch so he could snuggle against your stomach. Poe headed to the kitchen and made a start on dinner with Finn’s help. Rose sat on the bottom stair and called Leia. She was on the phone for 10 minutes before joining the guys in the kitchen.

“What did she say?” Finn asked

“He had a few symptoms so they called the doctor yesterday and he was told to go in and get checked out, they didn't want to worry Y/N and Ben so they just kept it between them at that point, the hospital got him tested and obviously he had it so they said he would get kept in overnight but he started to struggle to breathe so they put him on the machine. They don’t know when or if he’ll come back around”

“Oh god” Finn replied

“We just have to take care of her” Rose said “We know how close she is to her parents and not being able to be with them is going to be so hard for her”

“She has us” Poe replied “And we’ll be here for her day and night, no matter what time”

“Absolutely” Rose nodded “I’ll wake her for dinner”

The next week was difficult, you’d asked for some time away from work as you knew you would never be able to concentrate whilst your thoughts were all about your father. He hadn’t been getting better but he also hadn’t gotten any worse, which the doctors said was a really good thing. Poe and Rose had both taken a few days off to make sure someone was with you and helping keep your mind off things. You and Poe were on a walk with BeeBee one afternoon when your phone rang.

“It’s mum” you said to Poe before answering the phone. He gently took hold of your arm and led you over to a wall where you could sit. He could only hear your side of the conversation but the fact you hadn’t burst into tears yet made him feel more positive. “I’ll speak to you later mum, love you. Bye”

“How’s things?”

“Dad came off the ventilator this morning” you replied, happy tears appearing in your eyes “He’s breathing on his own and the doctors are really happy with his progress”

“That’s great news sweetheart. And it’ll be a load off your mind knowing he’s doing okay”

“Yeah, it really is” you replied “Thank you, you’ve helped keep me going this last week or so. I really appreciate it”

“I’m here for you anytime sweetheart” Poe replied

“I appreciate it more than you'll ever know. It's been so scary seeing all the stuff on the news, I guess I just didn't think it would end up so close to home”

Poe held his arms open and you fell into his hug gratefully. Poe gave the best hugs in the entire world. He hugged tightly and it made anyone he hugged feel secure and content.

Easter was very much a non event, the weather wasn't great so you were inside all day. Poe cooked a nice meal for everyone and you sat and watched a lot of TV whilst eating all of the Easter snacks you'd ordered in with the food shop. You were all happy to have a few days off work, Finn had a few weeks off whilst the schools were closed for the spring break. A few days after Easter, your father was released from the hospital. He still wasn't 100% back to his normal self but he was really glad to be back in his own home. You face-timed with him and your mother every day, just to check up on how they were both doing. You knew it wasn't easy on Leia either. She had to take care of Han plus do everything herself at home, whilst trying to work. Finn decided to take up gardening whilst he had free time, he ordered loads of plants and gardening tools online and got to work as soon as they arrived. Your garden had never really been full of plants because you and Rose were always too busy and neither of you were that into gardening. Finn cut down all the bushes, planted loads of flowers and painted the fences. The small fence that separated the patio from the grass was painted a sky blue and all of the surrounding fences were white. Poe helped Finn with the painting, whilst you and Rose cleaned up all the garden furniture. Once you were done, it looked like a whole new garden.

As the month went on, things with everyone's work got quieter. You were no longer working full days, Monday to Wednesday you only worked from 11am until 3pm, Thursday you worked 9am-12pm and Friday was a day off. Rose only had to work Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Poe no longer had to do any work. He was luckily still getting paid but his work just didn't have anything else they could do remotely. They told him to keep checking his work emails just incase anything did come in. It took a while to adjust to all of the free time. Working from home had been strange anyway but only working for part of the time made it even weirder. Finn was still working his normal hours after the school break. Friday became a cooking day. Poe continued to teach you how to make meals, and sometimes the pair of you would bake.

Rose liked to come on walks with BeeBee when she had the spare time, the park was everyone's favourite place to go. It became a lifeline to everyone. The stay at home order still said you were only able to go out once a day for some exercise. You all began to look forward to walk time so you could get to your park. You could walk all the way round it twice before BeeBee got bored. You would always stop at the kiosk and get a coffee or an ice cream, whilst the dog ran after his ball.

“This is his dream” Poe chuckled as he watched Rose throwing the ball “He's getting to spend time with people he loves, he's getting much longer walks than normal and he gets to run after his ball a lot”

You smiled “Animals must be loving this lockdown thing, they get to spend so much time with their humans and don't have to stay home alone all day”

“Bee is loving living with you and Rose. He's always really happy when you guys come to visit us so all of us living together is great for him”

“I'm actually really enjoying it too, I had my reservations at first. Especially when Rose just mentioned Finn moving in. I didn't want to be the third wheel in my own home. And even when she said you were coming too, I wasn't sure we'd all manage to work around each other but thankfully we have and I couldn't be happier to be spending this lockdown with you guys. Especially with how much you helped me when my dad was ill”

“I'm glad we're all together too. It's made things feel so much better knowing that anytime I have a bad day I get to spend it with my best friends. Living with Finn is great but sometimes when him and Rose are all loved up it gets a bit annoying. I mean not that I'm not happy for them because I absolutely am, they're a great couple but yeah”

“No, I totally get that. Being the 3rd wheel isn't easy” you nodded “They're adorable, but sometimes it sucks to be left out so I'm glad we have each other during this lockdown”

“Me too, I think you're the only one that gets what it's like to be 3rd wheel to them” Poe chuckled

The final few days of the month were difficult, Rose fell ill with suspected Covid. She had all of the symptoms but she didn't feel overly ill. Finn moved into the spare room with Poe, he didn't want to get ill whilst he was still so busy with work. You looked after Rose, bringing her food and plenty of fluids to keep her going. You were glad that she didn't have a really bad case of it, but you worried for the rest of you.

So here’s the next part. I hope if you read this far that you enjoyed it and you’re still enjoying the series. Your comments would mean the world to me <3 Have a lovely weekend!

[yslkook]

#do you have the bandwidth (7)

#corporate masterlist summary: the closer it gets to the new year, the more memorable moments you have. word count: 6.1k warnings: cursing, alcohol, discussion of mental health a/n: ENJOYYYY and thank you to @taestybae​ <333

After you had texted Jungkook after the holiday party, it seemed like neither of you went longer than a few days without texting each other. Most of it was for work related reasons- but Jungkook was aching to talk to you about anything outside of work.

And at work, his head spins when you spend a few extra minutes at his cubicle as you’re passing by-

“Your boss would be ashamed at the state of your desk plant,”

“We don’t all have a green thumb, okay-”

“You don’t need a green thumb to take care of a succulent, Jungkook! Look at it! She just needs a friend.”

“You be her friend then.”

“We are friends,” You murmur with a blinding smile, “Aren’t we?”

“Y-yeah,” Jungkook swallows nervously.

And then you had asked him if he wanted to have lunch with you and Seokjin, a request that had made his head spin. Do you even know what you’re doing to him?

From the oblivious smile on your face, he thinks not.

But it’s so easy to insert himself into conversation with you. You always look to him, to make sure if he has something to say, that he says it. You do that with everyone, really. Whether it’s at work or not-

“Hey, I made a lot of samgyeopsal last night,” You say, opening your container once you’re seated at the table, “Figured you’d want some?”

Jungkook looks at you and then the container a few times. His stomach rumbles and his heart flips, a betrayal of his own body. 

You’re already placing some in his plate without asking, along with some rice. It’s all so very domestic, despite the fact that you’re both in the middle of the office cafeteria.

“Jin likes samgyeopsal, too,” You muse, “Especially the way Grandma makes it. Grandma cooks so much better than me. She says Appa used to cook better than me, too.”

You laugh and Jungkook is stunned. He doesn’t think you’ve ever opened up about home to him before. 

“What else do you like cooking?” 

Your eyes light up as you rattle off different things you’re trying. You tell him you want to become better at baking-

“I’m a ready and willing test subject, here at your service.”

“Oh, really?” You snort, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jungkook eats his food in awe, his eyes wide and sparkling and lips tinted with sauce. It surprises you, how eager you are for his reaction. He moans in satisfaction, even closing his eyes as he chews.

Your face heats up. The noise that comes out of his mouth should most definitely be inappropriate for the general public of the office cafeteria.

“So much better than anything I could offer you,” Jungkook groans.

“I’m sure I’ll think of something, Jungkook.”

And while the end of the year means that things are starting to wind down with the holidays approaching- everyone is out of the office from Christmas Eve until the day after New Years- you still meet with your submissions team once before bowing out for the holiday.

It feels oddly nostalgic, as if you’re saying goodbye to friends rather than colleagues-

“Any plans, Sana?” Namjoon asks at the end of the meeting. All of your laptops are down, having finished your work about twenty minutes ago. 

This was the best part. Finishing the work early so that you could catch up with each other. Ever since Tokyo, you’ve felt the bonds between the four of you strengthen into something more than just workplace associates.

“Going to my grandparents’ with my dad,” Sana replies, leaning back in her chair, “You?”

“Visiting the family. I’ll be here for new years though,” Namjoon muses and turns to you.

“Oh, yeah. Me too,” You nod and Jungkook nods in agreement.

“Nobody’s traveling this year?” Namjoon asks, “We’re all wasting our youth. But our families are gettin’ older, huh?”

Namjoon is nothing if not tactful. 

“Maybe next year,” Jungkook jokes, eyes crinkling.

You groan and smack your palm to your forehead, “It’s too early for ‘next year’ jokes, Jungkook. Reign it in.”

“No such thing as too early,” Jungkook protests.

“You’re the type to come in the first day back and tell everyone that you haven’t seen them since last year,” You tease, and Jungkook lets out a surprised laugh.

“So what if I am? It’s a timeless joke!”

“Oh, is it?”

Namjoon rolls his eyes as you both playfully bicker. “Before we leave, since this is our last meeting for this project… Thank you for all of your hard work in the last few months. You’ve all really stepped up, and I’m proud to lead a team as strategic, smart, and flexible as this one.”

“Watch out, Namjoon, you’ll put a tear in my eye,” You interrupt with a grin. He shoots you an impressed glare and you shut your mouth.

“As you know, Tokyo will be here in February. And I expect nothing but the best from us. But until then… Enjoy the holiday, and be safe and well. And spend time with your loved ones.”

Jungkook catches the soft look in your eyes. You bite your bottom lip nervously, feeling like you have to say something. At least to Namjoon.

So you muster every ounce of bravery in you and open your mouth. “Thanks, Namjoon. For… everything.”

Well, nobody said you were a poet.

And sometimes you might text him after work, too. Sometimes you send pictures of your dinner and dessert to him. And he, without fail, compliments every single one of them with an array of emojis. 

Jungkook sometimes can’t believe it. He finds himself asking Taehyung if he’s dreaming- that you’re really texting him. Taehyung rolls his eyes and smacks the back of his head.

Sometimes when you try new wines with Grandma, you tell him about it. You send him snapchat videos once in a while, after a few glasses of wine detailing your assessment of the wine-

Hey. It’s me. Today, I tried this five year old pinot noir. Don’t even like pinot noir like that. Don’t you think all wines taste the same? Except pinot noir. Pinot noir tastes like the devil’s lettuce.

When you send him snapchat videos, his heart seizes in his chest at the flash of your name on his screen. The camera will be facing you, voice slurring and a little high pitched. In one of them, he thinks you’re in your bed, under the covers half asleep. 

And when he sends you little videos back, he stammers in nervousness. In fact, he drops his phone more than once while recording himself doing his skincare routine to send to you.

The fact that you willingly send him these silly snapchat videos of your sleepy voice, sends a flutter of butterflies through his belly.

Jungkook starts going to bed with a goodnight text from you more often than not.

You surprise him again, on a random Thursday night, asking him what he’s doing. It’s the Thursday before Christmas.

Normally, Seokjin is your go-to to text when you can’t sleep at night. But you find yourself curiously hovering over Jungkook’s text message thread more often than not these days.

Jungkook is playing video games and the moment he sees your name flash across his screen, he gets distracted. A chorus of protests echoes in his ears when he suddenly pauses to check his phone. It’s close to 1 AM, and he wonders what you’re doing awake.

you : hi you: what are you up to you: i cant sleep lol jungkook: is this a booty call? You: lmaoo shut up. if this was a booty call u would know jungkook: what’s a dude to think

Jungkook blames his next text on the fact that it’s after hours, also known as vulnerable hours.

jungkook: when a pretty girl texts u at 1 AM what am i meant to think you: idk, go ask whoever else is texting u at 1 AM 

Of course, you don’t take the bait. Who does he think he is?

you: i was just thinking about u

He pretends like his hands don’t shake as he types his response to you. It appears that he’s feeling brave tonight.

jungkook: want to facetime? 

His heart races in anticipation when he sees three dots on his screen. They go away in a flash and before disappointment settles in, you’re FaceTiming him.

Jungkook nearly fumbles his phone in his hand before he answers. 

“H-hi,” He mumbles in greeting, a tired smile gracing his features.

You cannot believe that you’re FaceTiming Jungkook. You don’t remember FaceTiming anyone who wasn’t Jin. You wonder if he can feel your nerves through the screen.

“Hi,” You say with a wave, “What are you wearing?” 

You wink at him, eyes dark, before bursting into laughter.

“I thought this wasn’t a booty call,” Jungkook deadpans. As if his cheeks aren’t pink from your words.

“‘S not,” You promise with a laugh,  “Were you sleeping?”

“Nah, I was playing video games with-”

“Oh! I’m sorry, I just barged in on your plans with your friends,” You say apologetically, chewing on your bottom lip, “I didn’t even ask if you were free-”

“Relax, I’m the one who asked if you wanted to FaceTime, remember?” Jungkook says soothingly, and you instantly feel your heart calming from the sincerity in his voice.

“Yeah. ‘Cause you thought this was a booty call,” You grin and Jungkook giggles.

What a sweet sound.

“I’m going to get into bed,” Jungkook murmurs, “Gimme a sec.”

He leaves his phone slanted on his chair, giving you a view of him walking away from you to refill his water bottle from the fridge. You can’t help but stare- even though his clothes are quite baggy, you can make out the outline of his ass through his sweatpants. 

He does have a nice peach. You’ve always thought so. You could probably bounce a quarter off of his ass. Not that you ever would.

“I feel like I’m in your pocket,” You say once Jungkook picks his phone up and heads to his bedroom. He makes sure the lights are off before heading in and closing the door and puts his headphones in his ears.

“You can be my pocket pal,” Jungkook says, getting comfortable in bed.

“How flattering.”

You’re cuddled under your covers on your side, the light from your nightstand illuminating your face. Jungkook sees dark circles lining your undereyes, and a tint of nervousness in your gaze.

You look cozy and cuddly, a little contemplative, and he wonders what’s on your mind. 

“Hey,” You say, voice turning a little serious, “Thank you. For… For answering my text. And for being my friend, in general.”

Your face is heating up, vulnerability pooling in your eyes. You want to look away- maintaining eye contact even through the camera feels like too much. But you’re working on it. You’re working on being more vulnerable to those around you. 

You want to let him in. It hurts how much you want to let him in.

“O-oh. You don’t… You don’t have to thank me for being your friend,” Jungkook stammers. How must you feel about yourself if you feel the need to thank him for just being a friend to you? “Are you...okay?”

Your eyes widen and you play with the hem of your shirt to distract yourself for a second. “Yeah-”

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” Jungkook says softly. 

You pause for a second, heart pounding in your ears. The only person you’ve ever talked to this about is Jin. But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you spilled your thoughts to Jungkook.

You’ve never been the best with words. 

“Um,” You say in a tight voice, “I just… I had a really hard day today at therapy. So I can’t sleep.”

Jungkook catches the hesitation in your tone. He’s not the best at comforting people, he thinks. But he’ll try, for you. For you, he’ll try anything.

“Are some days easier than others?” Jungkook asks, trying to probe what you’re comfortable with sharing and what you’re not.

“Yeah. I’ve had worse days, but this has been a tougher day than usual…”

“What do you usually do? On tough days?”

“Mostly just sleep. And then wake up feeling worse,” You laugh dryly.

“Maybe journaling would help. It’s a good way to get rid of the buzzing in your head,” Jungkook suggests and your eyes light up.

“Really? I’ve been thinking about it but I never know where to start,” You reply, “Do you journal?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Jungkook nods, “You just write...Whatever comes to mind. Get it off your chest. You can make your journals pretty too, if you want.”

“I’ll look into it,” You muse, “Thanks, JK.”

Jungkook’s eyes turn into crescents as he gives you a blinding smile. “Talking to friends helps, too. Even if you don’t want to share everything. Just talking helps.”

Your smile begins to fall and Jungkook quickly tries to backtrack but you beat him to it. “I don’t… have many friends, Jungkook,” You say softly, “As you may have gathered by now. I don’t think I have much to offer.”

Another dry laugh. It breaks his heart a little. What do you think of yourself? Do you recognize when the room lights up when you enter it, when people laugh at your jokes, when people praise you? 

“You have me,” Jungkook says instantly, “You have me, you have Jin. I’m always here if you want an ear.”

“Even at 1 AM, when you’re playing video games with your friends and I’m the dumb bitch who interrupts-”

“Stop that,” Jungkook says firmly, “Yes, even at 1 AM. Especially at 1 AM.”

He reminds you of Jin, when he tells you to stop with the immediate self-deprecation. It makes you smile fondly.

“JK,” You say slowly, “I’m… here for you, too. If you ever need an ear.”

He throws you another blinding smile. It’s no surprise that your dreams that night are filled with that soft bunny smile.

As Seokjin claims, the best way to get to know someone is over food. Not that he’s wrong- but it’s the first time you’re meeting Yuna and you’re incredibly nervous.

You feel like you’re going on a first date. This unfamiliar first date feeling keeps creeping back more and more lately. How bothersome.

Grandma even asks you why you’re so jumpy-

“You finally going on a date?”

“No! I’m meeting Jin’s new girlfriend. Her name is Yuna,” You roll your eyes.

She gasps, “It’s about time someone snatched that boy up, if you wouldn’t.”

You arrive about ten minutes early to brunch, tapping your foot against the floor restlessly as you scroll through your phone. You wait at the table for them to arrive-

Jin nearly screeches your name from across the restaurant. A pretty woman, Yuna you presume, only laughs at his antics. She loops an arm around his upper arm easily. Despite many of the restaurant patrons glaring at them for causing a scene, Jin pays it no mind.

“Hi,” You breathe and Jin pulls you to him for a tight hug. He holds you in his arms, peering at you as if you’re transparent. “You gonna let me say hi to Yuna, or are you gonna keep staring?” You ask dryly.

Jin gasps, clearly affronted, “I haven’t seen you in days! Excuse me, for missing my best friend.”

“You’re excused,” You grin, but squeeze his arm in appreciation.

Yuna waves at you from next to Jin, rolling her eyes at him. “If he ever lets go of you, maybe I can finally say hello…”

“I knew this was a bad idea. Bringing you both together,” Jin grumbles.

“Hey, you made your bed. Now lay in it,” Yuna says, rubbing his cheek fondly.

To your surprise, Yuna doesn’t pull you for a hug immediately. Instead, she shakes your hand. It might seem awkward to anyone else, but you appreciate it. You appreciate not being hugged by someone you had just met. Jin probably told her that you don’t like impromptu hugs.

You’ve been on edge all morning. But it starts to fade away, slowly. When you sit down next to Yuna and across from Jin. Jin doesn’t mind that you both are engrossed in conversation without him- in fact, he encourages it. He only watches with adoring eyes, drinking his coffee.

“How did you and Jin meet,” You ask curiously, “He gave me the big picture, but lemme hear the details!”

“Seokjin! You never told your best friend how we met?” Yuna gasps, hand against her chest dramatically, “I don’t know if I should be offended or not.”

“What! I did,” Jin pouts, glaring at her playfully.

“Oh, did you? Actually, I would be more offended if I was your best friend and didn’t know all of the details,” Yuna complains.

“Oh, I like her,” You grin, pointing to Yuna, “Bottom line, it’s Jin’s fault. So tell me then-”

“Well,” Yuna says, turning back to you, “As funny as it is, I met him at a coffee shop…”

And she tells you about how Jin started frequenting the same coffee shop for weeks in hopes that he’d catch a glimpse of her after the first time. Your heart aches only a little over the fact that you had no idea. It’s okay though- it’s not about you. She tells you that he had somehow figured out her coffee order and was waiting with her order when he asked for her number.

Yuna whispers that she was a sucker for him right off the bat, and you both share a laugh over that. Even though it’s only been a few weeks, a little over a month, you can see how much she likes him. And how much he likes her.

She also looks at you in the same way Jin does sometimes- like she can see right through you with knowing, curious eyes.

It doesn’t unnerve you as much as you thought it would.

You’re on a mission, with two bags of fried chicken in the passenger seat of your car. Today, you’re planning on paying a visit to Jimin and Hoseok in their dance studio. They’ve been here for years, and you haven’t seen them. Not even once.

First date jitters settle in your belly again. You’re only making good on your promise to them in Tokyo- that you wouldn’t be so much of a stranger again.

Fried chicken and bubble tea would be the way back into their hearts. Hopefully.

With a deep breath, you park your car into the lot, away from the rest of the cars. And you take your time pulling the food and trays of bubble tea out of your passenger seat before arriving at the front door of the studio. One of the students who is about to leave sees you struggling at the door, and lets you in without a second thought. 

“Thank you,” You murmur and he nods at you before exiting the building.

You spot Jimin with his back turned away from you, talking to Hoseok. It must be something important, from how serious the expression on Hoseok’s face is. But Hoseok pulls away from Jimin when he sees you in the mirror that lines the wall.

He looks surprised, but gives you a bright smile. 

“Uh,” You say, with a weak smile, “Hi. I brought food.”

“Is that fried chicken?” Jimin says, peeking at the bags. You nod and Jimin smiles, taking the bags from you and setting them on the floor.

“And you got our favorite bubble tea flavors,” Hoseok says in approval. You help him set the food and teas in front of you and stretch your legs.

“You should’ve texted! We could’ve gone to dinner or something,” Jimin says, plating the fried chicken for everyone.

“Ah, I wanted to…” You trail off, “Wanted to see the studio. And surprise you both. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” Hoseok murmurs, scratching his chin. His eyes are warm and sunny, just as you remembered all those years ago. It’s interesting, how it’s been so many years since you’ve held a conversation with either of them. And yet, it feels like no time has passed at all. 

You suppose that’s what adulthood is. And maybe you missed some of it while you were in your very own black hole.

“Tell me,” You demand softly, “Tell me everything. And where is Yoongi? Jin mentioned he has a recording studio?”

So they do- they tell you everything, from how they got the seed money for the school, how they train backup dancers and main dancers, and have just expanded their team so that they can train younger kids, too. 

“Took a while to get here,” Hoseok shrugs, “But we’re here.”

“Yeah. We are,” You say wistfully, “I’m happy for you guys. I remember...how this was your dream. In school. So… I’m happy to see it come true.”

“Ah, don’t go getting all sappy on us now,” Jimin teases and you roll your eyes.

“Hey, finish your bubble tea. Let’s dance it out,” Hoseok says. Your lips part in surprise, about to protest. But they’re both persuasive and you’re not immune to their charms.

So you dance with them, the music bouncing off of the walls, the mirrors and reverberating in your blood and making your heart pound. You dance with them, you laugh, and you even cry a little.

Nerves seize you as you walk towards the karaoke bar from your Uber with Jin and Yuna. You had driven to Jin’s apartment and left your car there, to Uber (and pregame) with them. He refused to let you take an Uber by yourself all the way from home into the city. It’s been years and you’ve given up fighting him on it.

Yuna has an arm slinked around your shoulders as she leads you inside, seemingly sensing your nerves.

So many people, mostly faces you don’t recognize are at the karaoke bar. Yuna pulls you away, to introduce you to her girlfriends.

Yuri, Sooyoung, Seohyun. They talk to you as if you’ve been a part of their circle since the beginning. It makes you yearn for it- for girl friendship.

Yuri suggests a round of drinks and shots for everyone, and you go with her to the bar to get the bartender’s attention.

You catch Jungkook’s eye and you tell Yuri you’ll meet her at the bar.

“Hi, Jungkook,” You breathe, a little nervously. You smile brightly at him, opening your arms for a hug without a second thought. He also looks delicious, a fact that you had been all too aware of. He’s wearing a baggy white shirt and a bomber jacket, paired with tight, black jeans and combat boots. Two silver hoops sit pretty in each ear, and a metallic feather dangles from his right ear. He has his hair pinned back, exposing part of his undercut to you on his left side. On his right side, his hair falls over his eyes in an effortless waterfall.

You want to push his hair back. You resist the urge and clasp your clutch tightly.

He smells spicy and warm. Like always. You could drown in his arms, you think. You don’t want to let go of him, you quite enjoy the feel of his strong arms easily wrapped around you.

But he lets you go and you let him go.

“Hi,” He says, his eyes crinkling, “How’s it goin’?”

“Good,” You murmur, “You sober?”

“Nah, had a few drinks with Tae at home,” Jungkook says, pointing to Taehyung. Who’s currently chatting Yuri up at the bar.

“He’s trouble,” You laugh lightly.

“You don’t have to tell me twice. I live with the guy.”

Jungkook had seen you walk in with Seokjin and Yuna earlier. You were deep in conversation with Yuna, throwing your head back in laughter. He’s glad- he’s glad that you’re finding friends outside of Jin. He knows it’s hard for you to open up. But he’s proud of you for trying.

He knows this because you’ve told him. Late at night, via text. During vulnerable hours, as he’s dubbed them. He’s flattered that you feel comfortable enough to share such things with him. He’s only known you again for a few months, but the way you had been in the beginning is a stark contrast from how you are now.

You’d been mean in the beginning, a little rough around the edges. But now, you’re a little softer. He likes you like this. Jungkook doesn’t like when you’re deliberately mean. 

Even if you haven’t truly apologized for how you’d treated him in the beginning, he thinks it's mostly forgivable.

You look so pretty- is the first thought that runs through his head. As it generally always is. You’re wearing a black velvet off the shoulder top that proudly shows your tattoos off on display and a thin gold necklace at the base of your throat. A watch sits pretty on your wrist, your pants are tight around your thighs...

He could stare at you for hours. Jungkook loves the way your face relaxes when you laugh, loudly and genuinely.

Jungkook’s throat goes dry, the same way it did at the holiday party. He can’t keep his eyes off of you- your bare shoulders, the dip of your chest, the swell of your ass… 

If he doesn’t watch himself, he might have to rub one out in one of the dirty bathroom stalls. And this time, he probably won’t be so lucky to be alone in the bathroom the way he was at the party.

He just can’t believe how pretty you are, and how he gets to see you like this as often as he does.

Taehyung snaps his fingers in front of Jungkook, waving his hand in front of his face. “Hellooooo,” Taehyung says, “Anyone home?”

“Shut up,” Jungkook grins, shoving his hand to the side.

“The hell are you staring at?” Taehyung mutters, following Jungkook’s line of sight and sees you, “Oh. No wonder. Your girl’s here.”

“She’s not my girl,” Jungkook protests.

“Yeah, don’t I know it,” Taehyung scoffs, “You gonna make a move? Or should I?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, shoving Taehyung’s shoulder. Seokjin approaches both of them, throwing an arm around them and Jungkook forces his eyes away from you. Jungkook smells alcohol on Jin’s breath- he’s screeching about how he wants them to meet Yuna-

“Jin, she’s right there,” Jungkook says with wide eyes, “You can just-”

Over the last few months, being under Namjoon and Seokjin’s tutelage feels like he’s gained two older brothers. While Jungkook was initially wary about developing such close relationships with colleagues, let alone superiors, the pull of friendship was too tight for him to really resist.

Jin smacks Jungkook’s shoulder roughly, “You think I don’t know that! That my girlfriend is right there! She’s with your girl-”

Jin’s smile twists into a smirk and Jungkook’s jaw drops. 

“Close your mouth, Kook. Lookin’ like a damn fish outta water,” Jin says smugly, “I know everything. Don’t you forget it, kid.”

Jungkook just pouts at him, “I’m not a kid.”

“You kissin’ anyone at midnight?” Taehyung asks smoothly, with his legs spread and his arm over the back of the seat to face you.

You scoff, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He’s easy and fun to talk to. You don’t notice Jungkook’s smile dissolving into a pout.

Taehyung looks at Jungkook knowingly, with a smirk and innocent, dark eyes. Dangerous. “Wanna be my midnight kiss?”

He’s bold. You don’t think you’ve ever met someone as bold as Taehyung. But you understand why him and Jungkook click.

“You fuckin’ wish, Taehyung,” You swat his shoulder playfully, taking a long sip of your drink.

Jungkook crosses his arms across his chest petulantly. Taehyung knows about his not so secret crush on you. He’s doing this to annoy him, but also to tell him to get a move on with you.

But he likes slow, and he wants slow with you. If you’d ever give it to him. 

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” Taehyung says loudly, looking over your head to Jungkook subtly.

“Oh, I can definitely blame you for trying,” You roll your eyes, “C’mon. Let me get us some drinks-”

“I don’t-”

“I know you don’t like alcohol. I saw they have this fancy peach and mango drink, thought you’d like it,” You shrug and Taehyung’s face splits into a broad smile. 

“How thoughtful of you,” Taehyung beams, ruffling your hair fondly, “C’mon, Jungkook. Our girl is buying.”

You and Jungkook both roll your eyes this time, and you let your gaze land on him. “Your friend is a nuisance,” You mumble to Jungkook loudly, grinning when Taehyung pouts at you.

“Hey! I can hear you!”

“Good, that was the point.”

You were happy to be in settings like this without needing Seokjin to be a buffer for you. You think it’s progress- you can’t remember a single moment in the last five years that you didn’t need your best friend by your side to get you through events like this.

And now, you’re alone with Taehyung and Jungkook. All on your own. You think he might be proud of you. You think Appa might be proud of you, too.

“What can I get you, JK?” You ask, leaning close to him at the bar to hear what he says. 

“Soju,” He says instantly, his breath close to your ear. A shiver trails up your spine at his low voice.

“Me too,” You murmur, “We’re the only ones with any taste in this entire establishment.”

His eyes crinkle when he laughs. You love the sound. Neither of you realize that Taehyung has long disappeared. 

You lean against the bar, pushing most of your weight onto your elbows as you both wait for your drinks. Jungkook is so close to you that you can feel the warmth radiating through his white shirt and his leather jacket. You had already teased him for his white shirt before-

“You must have a lot of faith in yourself and in our friends if you think that white shirt will stay white all night.”

“I’ve got my good luck charm with me,” Jungkook winks at you.

Who does he think he is? You know he’s not talking about a physical charm, from the way he’s looking at you with stars in his eyes.

“Any resolutions this year, JK?” You prompt him, wringing your hands together.

“Nah, not really,” Jungkook shrugs, “Maybe just go see my parents and my brother more often. I wanna get back into photography, too.”

“Photography,” You hum, “That’s so very you.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” You nod with a small smile, “You seem like… You know how to capture a moment, even if it’s something mundane. You could make anything special, Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s cheeks flush at your soft praise. He wants to make you feel special. “T-Thanks,” He mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck shyly, “Do you have any resolutions for the new year?”

“I don’t know,” You shrug, “I think this year… I want to let myself be happier. Not much of a resolution but…” You trail off, suddenly alarmed.

“Sorry,” You mumble, “Didn’t mean to kill the mood.”

“What?” Jungkook says with wide eyes, “You didn’t. Trust me.

“And for what it’s worth… You deserve to be happy. H-happy looks good on you.”

A pet name almost slips out of his lips. Almost. The beaming, bashful smile you give him makes his heart race and his insides warm. 

“Is that the only thing that looks good on me?” You bat your lashes at him, lips formed into a pretty pout and Jungkook feels his knees weakening. He swallows nervously. Do you even know what you do to him?

Before he can muster a stuttering reply, the bartender appears with your bottles of soju. You turn a little too quickly on your heel, your heel slipping out from under you.

Of course you’re going to trip and bust your ass in front of everyone. And most importantly, in front of Jungkook. You squeeze your eyes for the inevitable thump of your ass hitting the wet floor, but it never comes.

Instead, you feel a warm, strong arm wrapped tightly around your waist. You feel your back against a solid chest. Your throat instantly goes dry and you force yourself to turn in his arms to look at him.

“You’re clumsy,” Jungkook says quietly, only for your ears. His eyes are teasing, his voice low from the rumble in his chest.

“N-no,” This time you’re the one who’s flustered, “Floor’s wet…”

Neither of you move away from each other. Your hand is still tight around his bicep, his hand firm against your waist. How is it that he always makes you feel like you’re the only girl in the world?

He could kiss you. You could kiss him. He could kiss you. You could kiss him. 

Instead, you stay in his arms for a little longer. Both of you sipping on your soju and sharing sweet smiles and starry eyes.

At least until Seokjin whisks you away, yelling at you for not even having one drink with him yet.

There are about thirty seconds left until the New Year. You can’t help it- you want to see Jungkook. He makes your heart flutter and pound at the same time- with his smile that you like to pretend burns a little brighter when it’s directed at you.

You find him, towards the back of the bar. He’s in conversation with Taehyung and Jimin but when Taehyung notices you noticing Jungkook, he grins to himself. And leaves the conversation, dragging Jimin with him.

You don’t notice that. You only see Jungkook.

The confusion in Jungkook’s doe eyes is cute, but it washes away when he sees you. His heart picks up again, throat going dry.

The countdown has begun already. Fifteen seconds left.

“Jungkook,” You say a little breathlessly. Jungkook can see the slick of tipsiness in your eyes when you flick your gaze from his lips to his eyes. You lean into him, chest to chest. Your voice catches in your throat when you realize your proximity.

You can see the mole beneath his pouty lower lip. Neither of you moves.

“Yeah?” He murmurs.

You could kiss him. He could kiss you. You could kiss him. He could kiss you. 

Five!

“I just-”

Four!

“I’m happy you’re in my life again-”

Three!

Jungkook says your name. “Me too. Really happy-”

Two!

His eyes are wide, unsure but sparkling. Adoring, even. And he’s looking at you like that.

One!

A chorus of cheers erupt behind you and you muster all of your courage. To press your lips against his cheek gently. Jungkook’s heart stutters, singing at the lingering touch of your lips against his skin. It’s not much, but it’s enough for his cheeks to turn pink and for yours to heat up.

It’s just you and him in this crowded, noisy bar. Everything else fades away when you stand with him.

A soft gasp leaves his lips, blowing on your face. He gives you a bashful smile, and you’re surprised at your own actions.

Your name sounds so good on his tongue. Like honey.

“Happy new year,” Jungkook says softly. He dares to press his forehead to yours and you exhale shakily at the action. You feel warm all over, as if bubbly champagne has been poured into your veins. You feel his hand at your waist.

“Happy new year, JK,” You say easily with a disarming grin. 

Jungkook wants to kiss you, kiss the gloss right off of your pretty lips. But not yet, not here. Not when he hasn’t taken you on a date, when he hasn’t even held your hand yet.

Not yet. Not here.

The way he looks at you, as if you’ve somehow captured stardust in your smile, it excites you and scares you at the same time. You don’t think anyone has ever looked at you this intensely, as if they can see right through you.

It sets your nerves on fire. You sway on the spot, leaning into the warmth of his forehead on yours.

“Happy new year,” Jungkook says again, dimples on display. He wonders if you can feel the tremble of his hand against your waist. Or if you can feel the way his heart is about to explode out of his chest.

You think you could spend hours glancing into his deep, sparkling eyes. A flash of his cold eyes from months ago intrudes your memories, but it’s gone as soon as it comes. 

His brown eyes are so warm and toasty- ringing in the new year with his soft gaze on you like this feels right.

tags: @koo-zy​

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of July. We really hope you enjoy this list and that you give these fics a lot of love.

Happy reading!

1) Your Good Time | Explicit | 3070 words

Louis nodded along with what the guy was saying, apparently his arousal taking over his brain to mouth filter as he said, “Who would want to hide a fit bloke like you? That guys an idiot.” Louis scoffed, dramatizing the word ‘idiot’, giving the guy a sly smirk. The guy leaned an arm against the bar, turned his body to Louis and fixed him with a curious look before he held out a hand.

“M’Harry.”

Louis and Harry meet in a bar when Harry's date is an ass. Inspired by Temporary Fix by One Direction.

2) I Push You To The Limits | Explicit | 3846 words

Louis is a brat who likes seeing his boyfriend get jealous and possessive over him.

3) Overkill | Explicit | 4354 words

Louis was never going to get over how fucking attractive Harry was. How glorious his big, tall, curvy body was. The feeling of Harry behind him, hot and heavy, trapped on the tube after they’d been somewhere during rush hour. His thick hands, full of pretty rings sometimes, handing Louis a cup of coffee, then getting one for himself.

4) Too Nervous to be Lovers | Mature | 6445 words

Louis doesn't want to spend quarantine with Harry, his straight roommate, who doesn't even acknowledge his existence.

5) Fratboy In Love | Mature | 6830 words

Harry Styles was a frat boy who loved to sleep around and flirt with boys and girls. Louis was a good uni student who loved to stay in and study and wasn't much of a partier.

Insert his best friend Niall who talks him into going. Louis gets drunk and ends up sleeping with harry. The next day he leaves before Harry wakes and tries to avoid him at all costs. Thinking Harry wouldn't care since Louis was just another conquest. But what if Harry did care. And actually have a crush on Louis. Read and find out

6) My Sunflower | Mature | 7057 words

Louis would rather be sunbathing at the beach with his friends, not slaving his spring break away in his father’s flower shop.

7) Waiting | Explicit | 8023 words

Louis Tomlinson was Harry’s omega, of this Harry had always been sure. Unfortunately for Harry, Louis seemed to think they were just best friends. The six weeks that Harry has to live with Louis were going to be rough.

8) Shine Light Upon Your Ground | Explicit | 8506 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/H, which the reader can picture as Harry or Henry Cavill.

Louis sighs again and fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist, twisting the charms around and petting the fake diamonds.

“How much for a night?” A deep voice suddenly asks him. The man who approaches him is already pulling out his wallet and flicking through a bundle of bills. Louis, who had been sitting at the bar completely innocent and minding his own business, lets out an offended, strangled sound.

“Excuse me?” He demands, straightening up in his seat. The hem of his dress creeps further up his thigh but he pays it no mind.

9) Glistening Under The Sun (You're My Honey Soaked Love) | Mature | 8996 words

“Oh Petal,” he picks her up nuzzling the top of her head with his cheek as she nibbles on the lavender, “How lucky are we? I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy, the only thing we have to be sad about is that soon I won’t be able to hold you like this,”

10) Connected To The Heart | Explicit | 9059 words

Note: This is an coda scene for this fic.

“Your stage cue is way too close for you to be wearing that look you’re wearing,” Louis informs him. He can’t stop himself from looking up at Harry through his eyelashes, the silk of Harry’s dress shirt brushing against the backs of his knuckles.

“Twenty minutes,” Harry agrees. His breath is minty from the gum he was chewing earlier, fresh and warm. “Twenty minutes can be a long time, baby.”

This time, Louis has to force himself to roll his eyes. “Not nearly long enough for the way you always want to fuck me.”

11) Fuck U Betta | Explicit | 11438 words

There’s something about having Louis like this, exposed and desperate, that makes a primal urge bubble up from deep inside Harry’s chest. Desire mixed with something else, something unquantifiable. It’s the thing that makes them want this, need this. Nothing else will satisfy them or quench their thirst.

OR the one where Harry likes the thrill of the chase, Louis likes to be chased, and everyone gets what they need… in the end.

12) Kiss Me In Your Chevrolet | Explicit | 11569 words

"Yes, Lou?" Harry asked, rubbing his tired eyes. A gust of wind came through the open windows, sending chills down Harry's arms as a light rain began falling outside. He closed his eyes again and let his head fall back to the couch arm rest.

"Can we go there?" Louis asked, probably pointing somewhere. Harry opened his eyes and felt his heart jump in his chest, a magazine page a couple of inches away from his face. Startled, Harry closed his eyes and breathed heavily, trying to collect himself.

Harry blinked a few times to focus his eyes on the page Louis still held in front of his nose. "You want to go to the Grand Canyon?" He furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head to the left to look at Louis' face.

13) Pull The Trigger | Explicit | 12007 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic, which is #16 on this list.

Louis has never been alright with killing. Will that change when he learns what it's like to be the one holding the gun?

14) Open All Night | Explicit | 12537 words

It’s six in the morning when Harry finally makes it back home.

Harry's a bartender, Louis' got a nice ass and a shit taste in men. They make it work.

15) Among Other Things | Explicit | 16073 words

“Harry, it’s 7:45, oh my god, my class starts at 8:15,” and Louis wants to cry. Harry’s busy under the bed trying to find the tiny silver key but Louis knows that fate just hates him and he needs to find a way to get up. “Harry, I—fuck,” Louis whines. Harry stands up in a rush.

“I can’t seem to find them. It. The key.”

Or, Louis’ the teacher of Harry Styles’ daughter. Their paths shouldn’t cross like this. This meaning Louis showing up to school handcuffed to a headboard.

16) A Bullet And It's Gun | Explicit | 18156 words

Note: The sequel to this fic is #13 on this list. 

Louis’ parents arrange his marriage with Harry. He’s fully ready to accept that he’s going to be a sad and lonely person for the rest of his life. But then Harry starts proving himself as more than just an asocial man with money.

17) By Such Slight Ligaments | Explicit | 26764 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/Henry Cavill.

A late night visit to a patient sets off a series of events that will turn Louis' world upside down.

... Here there be monsters.

18) At Your Fingertips | Explicit | 27384 words

He finds himself wrapped up in sheets in bed on Thursday night, staring at the familiar name on a new story that was posted the night before.

His fingers twitch, ready to hit play and surrender to his impulses, saving the regret and turmoil for later.

And still he hesitates, internally praying that he’ll somehow gain the strength to exit out within the next few moments before he inevitably loses his patience and hits the button.

Three…

Two…

One.

Play.

19) Forgot My Roots Now Watch Me Bloom | Explicit | 28334 words

Lonely transit worker Louis pulls his longtime crush, Peter, from the path of an oncoming train. At the hospital, doctors report that he's in a coma, and a misplaced comment from Louis causes Peter's family to assume that he is his fiancée. When Louis doesn't correct them, they take him into their home and confidence. Things get even more complicated when he finds himself falling for Peter's brother, Harry. Loosely based on the movie "While You Were Sleeping".

20) Push You Out, Pull You Back In | Explicit | 31544 words

Harry hates feeling vulnerable. Louis is set on breaking through his tough facade.

21) Baby Blue | Explicit | 39439 words

Harry Styles takes his time coming out to greet them. Louis only knows what he’s seen on file and what he’s heard them talking about, but he fully lives up to the image he had inside of his head.

He saunters down the front steps of the farmhouse in his Levi’s, brown snakeskin boots curving out from underneath the denim Louis’ sure he had specially made. He’s got on a plaid button-down tucked into the jeans because of course he does, curls spilling out from either side of his cowboy hat around his sunglasses and country-tan skin.

“Harry Styles,” he drawls, extending a hand to Louis’ manager, “Pleased to meet ya’ll.”

22) Lidocaine And Palm Trees | Explicit | 44653 words

Heat, fake tans and lots of traffic.

Harry never expected to earn his living this way when he moved to LA.

Louis didn't think he could ever be the same after his divorce.

A lighthearted story about two guys trying to find themselves in the vibrant, sprawling city of Los Angeles, with a side of technical porn industry stuff.

23) Sleeping On Our Problems | Explicit | 67369 words

Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

24) Truth Would Be | Explicit | 91869 words

“You want me? I’m not a… a thing to be owned!” Louis stuttered, still very angry and confused.

“Hmmm…” The alpha tapped his lips as if he was contemplating something. “Last time I checked, the debt was paid off and the only thing I had asked in return was… you. So technically I do own you.”

“You are crazy…” Louis muttered as he began to back towards the door. Harry’s impossibly green eyes turned a shade darker, but his tone was still teasing and light when he said, “Maybe I am…”

The I-paid-off-all-your-debt-so-you-are-mine AU in which Omega Louis wants to be left alone by Alpha Harry but it's super complicated when he starts to not hate the alpha all that much.

25) Collision | Not Rated | 224594 words

Note: This fic was finished in 2018, but two new epilogue chapters have been added.

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[collecting-stories]

Christmas Eve - ep. 07 - Georgia

Summary: Christmas in King County and a hint at what lies behind the All-American girl persona that you wear. 

A/N: Hope you guys are enjoying the rewrite so far!

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

Christmas Eve in King County, like everything else, was marked by the church. There was the Christmas Eve midnight service that Hershel led, the living nativity set up in the middle of the square, for the days leading up to Christmas, and, of course, Annette’s Christmas Eve dinner at the farm for all the church congregation to gather together. It was more of an open house and you always ended up ‘working it’ though it was really just a glorified dinner, no need for servers and no one got paid for the shift.

“Are you busy on Thursday?” You asked the question innocently, leaving out the part where Thursday was also Christmas Eve.  

“Dunno,” Daryl shrugged, wiping his hands on the rag hanging out of his pocket as he turned to face you. A welcome distraction, having you around had prolonged the work that Daryl could’ve easily completed in two months. He was always stopping and starting when you came over though, more interested in you than in the car. Before he might’ve denied it but after Thanksgiving, he knew it was true, Rick had been right about him having feelings for someone. It wasn’t something he was used to but it was something.  

“It’s Christmas Eve.”  

“I got a calendar.” He replied, smiling when you pouted at him.

“Well if you’re calendar isn’t too booked maybe you’d come to the dinner Annette’s having at the Greene farm?” You replied, “it’s always a lot of fun.”

“Wouldn’t know, ain’t never been invited to it before.”  

“I’m inviting you now.”  

“Dunno,” he walked the short distance to the fridge and grabbed a beer out, “I’m not exactly a participating member of the community.”

“Dale will be there,” you offered, skimming over his last sentence. You knew he wasn’t anyone’s favorite person and you’d heard a good deal of Dixon stories from everyone who had heard that you were getting your car fixed by Daryl but that hadn’t dampened your opinion. Just because a bunch of people thought they knew him didn’t mean they did. “I’ll be there.”

“Ya want me ta spend Christmas Eve listening ta yer yammering on?” Daryl asked. You caught the hint of a smile and you knew he wasn’t as opposed to the idea as he was saying.  

“Maybe...beats me showing up here to interrupt your night.”

-

“So you asked him to come to Christmas Eve dinner?” Maggie asked, standing beside the wooden structure meant to represent the manger, white and blue cloths and headdress covering her jeans and thermal shirt. It was chillier than either of you would’ve liked tonight.

“Yeah, thought it’d be nice, he’s never been.” You pointed out. You had been sent over with thermoses of hot chocolate and cups for the manger volunteers, standing a short way off so that you didn’t ‘break the illusion’.  

“I highly doubt that Patty sent you over here to chitchat. You girls need to be better stewards of your time and your tongues.” Jacqui called, beckoning Maggie over as she spoke. You frowned, watching as Maggie rejoined the nativity cast. You weren’t a fan of King County’s holiest member of the community or her perception that she was better than everyone else.  

Jacqui was a central member of the church, a ward against gossip though she had a tongue for it herself, and a general know-it-all. She had been managing the 7-11 in town since the owner had franchised his small business to them, before you were even born. She even rented the house that sat just to the left. There was a picture of the original business hanging behind the counter at the 7-11, the house with two gas pumps in front of it, an older man and his wife standing on the porch. Somehow all that deemed Jacqui a sort of unspoken ‘elder’ member of the community. A gossip but an important voice in the town. On par with Patricia, Annette, and Hershel though she was younger.  

Her voice was important to everyone but you.  

“I heard you were in again the other day with that Dixon fella, buying cigarettes.” She mentioned when she came over, claiming to want some hot chocolate.

“The cigarettes were his, I don’t smoke,” you replied, watching the nativity scene. Having a job this Christmas had saved you from having to participate with all the rest of the youth group and you were more than thankful for that. “Besides, he’s working on my car, like I keep saying.”

“I’d said you’re spending a little too much time in his company. Might not’ve picked up his smoking but you picked up his need for talking-back.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you smiled at her, “sorry Miss Jacqui, didn’t mean anything by it, must be the cold getting to me.”  

“Must be.”  

When she walked away again to reign in Joseph and a Wise Man you capped the rest of the hot chocolate and left it by the church table that was set up for donations. You weren’t lying about the cold, it was nearing forty at night as it got closer to January. Nothing you liked but you made due as long as you weren’t outside for too long. It was only when Patricia made you do ridiculous things like walk hot chocolate across the street to the living nativity that you really had to brave the weather.  

“Oh good you’re back, you got a table. I was gonna take his order but he said he didn’t ‘want nothing yet’ figured he might be waiting for ya.” Amy said, bumping her hip against yours as you took your coat off, whispering and glancing over her shoulder to your section as she spoke.  

You looked back, biting your lip to stop the smile on your face at the sight of Daryl sitting there reading over the menu. You grabbed your apron from the rack and tied it around your waist, “I got it, thanks.”

“He’s some trouble ya know.” Amy mentioned.  

“He’s Just fixing my car.” You replied and even as you said it you knew it sounded like a lie. You walked over to his table, smiling when he looked up at you.  

“Heard ya were bringing hot chocolate ta baby Jesus.” He said, grin in place.

“Yea course, haven’t you read that bit in the bible?” You teased. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Your own hot chocolate?”  

“Coffee’s fine.”

“What brings you in?” You asked, hovering at the table, thankful for the slow night.  

“Figured yer always showing up ta harass me while I work, ain’t fair I don’t give ya the same treatment.” Daryl replied.  

You bit your bottom lip, preparing for a comeback when you heard Patricia call your name from behind the counter. She’d come out of the kitchen to see you standing at Daryl’s table, smiling at him like he just hung the stars and she’d almost had a heart attack. Patricia had seen him come in and had known, the moment he sat himself in your section, that he wasn’t moving anytime soon. She’d listened to you tell her the same story over and over again, that Daryl was fixing the jeep and that as soon as he was done so would your seeing him be.  

“I only see him to pay him for the job.”  

But Patricia wasn’t some naive young kid who you could pull the wool over. She’d been around the block a time or two and knew exactly what kind of temptations you were wading into hanging around Daryl Dixon.  

“I’ll be right back with your coffee.” You promised, turning away from him and walking back to the counter. Patricia looked passed you, eyebrow raised in disdain as she watched Daryl fiddle with his laminated menu.  

“Are you out of your damn mind?”  

“What?” You asked innocently, “I was talking to a customer.”

“I have half a mind to call your mother and tell her you been hanging around Dixon on your off time.” Patricia said.  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Patty,” you insisted. If she called your parents then it was over. Your car would be in Woodbury, you would be grounded worse than Maggie could imagine, and you’d likely never see Daryl again.  

“You watch yourself, you’re in dangerous territory.”  

“He’s just fixing-”  

“Your car. I heard.” Patricia replied.  

“Can you hand me a coffee?” You asked, changing the subject.

She went to the other side of the counter to grab you a cup of coffee for Daryl while you turned back to look over at him. As if on some cue he looked over at you and you smiled. He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck and you caught the faint pink the blossomed over his cheeks.  

“One coffee.” Patricia said, setting it down and catching your attention again, “charge him this time.”

“I’ll make sure to get the dollar from him,” you replied, taking the cup and walking back over to Daryl’s table. Patricia shook her head, despite her friendship with your parents and the Greene’s she’d kept plenty of secrets for you and Maggie over the years. She hadn’t told them about Glenn and Maggie dating, she hadn’t told your parents about your tardiness over Thanksgiving or Daryl dropping off the pie plate when you’d claimed you were bringing the apple pie to Tara. She just wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing not telling them you were falling deeper and deeper into something with Daryl.  

It was unspoken knowledge the way Will Dixon treated his kids. While Daryl’s mother hadn’t been some innocent girl getting taken advantage of she had loved her kids, Daryl a little more than Merle probably. She’d never hit them but she never stayed sober passed three in the afternoon and Patricia could still remember the senior Mr. Grimes coming in after the fire burned down the old house telling them about Daryl arriving home in time to see the place ablaze.  

Losing his mother, watching his brother leave, enduring years of abuse from his father, Patricia couldn’t help but worry that the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree with Daryl. She’d been watching for any sign of abuse on you but she hadn’t seen any. If anything, you seemed happier than you had been in a while and it was that Patricia relied on to make herself feel better about not telling your parents that you were occupying your time with a Dixon.  

“Ya working late?” Daryl asked as you idled by his table.

“I’ve got thirty more minutes then I’m free to trudge home in the cold.” You replied, “I’m going to Maggie’s...we���re setting up the barn tomorrow for the Christmas Eve party.”

“Ya need a ride?”

“Do you mind driving Maggie too?”  

He shook his head. Daryl had come to the diner tonight just to see you. Aside from going to Dale’s for work or 7-11 for a pack of smokes he didn’t frequent too many places in King County. He was far from an active member in the community but he’d been turning up more often. The diner for one, the Winter Fest where Otis had spied him at the church table talking to you. He’d come tonight because he definitely wasn’t planning on going to the Christmas Eve party dinner that you had invited him to but he did have a present for you. Stupid, he was sure, but a present nonetheless.  

You paged Maggie to tell her to meet you at the diner and finished out the rest of your shift while Daryl drank his coffee, paid, and left to smoke out in the parking lot. He was there, toking on a cigarette, when you exited the diner with your backpack.  

“I really don’t like closing. I hate having to clean up.” You confessed as you came out to meet him.  

“Shifts a shift.” He shrugged and you rolled your eyes at his words. “Here, ‘fore Maggie comes over and I gotta hear the two a ya bitching about the Nativity or something.”

“You don’t have to drive us.” You replied, taking the box wrapped in newspaper that he had handed you, “is this a present? Did you get me a present?”

“Ain’t nothing special...don’t get so excited.” He said, chewing his thumb as you opened the gift he’d bought. Sitting in the little box was a keychain. A leather strap folded over and fastened onto a thin metal plate that attached it to the key hook. The leather was embroidered with clumsy little flowers in yellow with green leaves.  

“This is so pretty.” You smiled at Daryl, holding the keychain close as you gave him a one-armed hug.

Daryl tensed and pulled away, huffing as he tried to appear indifferent about the keychain, he’d made himself, “none a that, it ain’t nothing expensive. Just thought ya’d like it.”

“I love it, thank you.”

“I’m here, I’m here.” Maggie’s voice cut through your conversation as she came around the side of the truck, brushing out her hair from being pinned back in Mary’s head covering. Daryl dropped his cigarette and stubbed it out with his boot to distract himself from the blush that had started warming his cheeks when you hugged him. “Hi Daryl.” Maggie greeted.

“Hey,” he nodded to her before heading around to the driver’s side of the truck. You climbed in first, taking the middle seat, while Maggie climbed in second. You slipped the leather keychain back into the box and held it on your lap as Daryl pulled out of the diner with the two of you, heading toward Hershel’s farm.  

The ride was quiet, a lull of conversation as Maggie complained about Jacqui and the other youth group kids that had been roped into the nativity. You stayed quiet, knee pressed against Daryl’s and hands gripping present he had given you, unable to contain the smile on your face. The truck drove the dirt path up to the farm and Daryl cut the engine, Maggie already opening the door and slipping out.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem.” Daryl replied, huffing out smoke as you slide across the seat, suddenly cold from the loss of touch. He was gripping the steering wheel with one hand as he watched you get out of the truck, lingering in the door like you always did.

“I do have a present for you, by the way.” You mentioned, spying the newspaper wrapping crumpled on the floor of the truck.  

“Ya don’t have ta waster yer money.”

“Too late.” You teased. You met his eyes and your smile widened. On the other side of the truck  you could hear the front door clatter open, the familiar squeak of the springs on the screen and footsteps bounding down as Beth ran across the headlights to engulf you in a hug.

“I missed you!”  

“Hi Beth, I missed you too!”

Still holding your waist she caught sight of Daryl for the first time and twisted, moving her body behind yours and peeking out at him. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Daryl dropped his cigarette into the ashtray in the truck as he nodded his head to her, “yer Beth I take it.”

“I am.”

“I like yer braids.” He mentioned, watching the sweet smile she offered as she moved further out so he could see the blonde french braids clearer.

“Thank you! My mom did them for me so that my hair will be wavy tomorrow for Christmas Eve.”

“I’m sure it’ll look beautiful.”

She giggled and you bit your lip as your eyes met his. “I’d better get inside, thanks for the ride.”

“Sure thing, see ya ‘round.”

You walked Beth inside, her gaze wandering back to the pickup as she climbed the porch stairs with you. “Is that your boyfriend?”

“No. Daryl’s not my boyfriend.”

“She wishes.” Maggie teased, waiting at the door for the two of you.  

-

The barn at Christmas was arguably one of your favorite sights in the world. Hershel took great pride in outlining the entire building with lights, he hung a oversized wreath on the side with a large spotlight and the whole thing felt like you were walking into a Hallmark movie or a Thomas Kincaide mural. Georgia didn’t a lot of real winter weather but the barn made you feel like you were in some New England town.

“I was sorry to hear your dad couldn’t make it.” Jacqui came up behind you, her voice returning you to the reality of the evening. Hershel’s barn decorated at Christmas was your favorite but the people who filled it weren’t.  

“Yeah, he wishes he could be.” You shrugged. “Working.”  

“That’s what your mom said. At least he’s a good worker right? Must be where you get it from.”

Just passed Jacqui you could see your mom talking to Annette. Her eyes met yours and she straightened up, pointing to her mouth and indicating for you to smile. You straightened your back and offered Jacqui a closed lip smile before answering her, “yeah. Must be.”  

When Jacqui left to talk to another church member your mom made a quick beeline for you, wrapping her hand around your arm and guiding you outside, away from the party. “What did Jacqui want?”

“She was just asking about dad-”

“What did you say?”

“I said he was at work. God, mom we went over this in the car...I’m not stupid.” You crossed your arms in front of you, looking away from her.  

“You didn’t say anything to Maggie?”

“No.”  

“Hey!” She grabbed at your jaw to make you look at her, nails scratching against your cheek, “look at me. Did you tell Maggie?”

“No. I didn’t say anything to anyone mom.” You replied, pulling away from her and stepping back, “can I go back inside or did you want to assault me some more?”

“For Gods sake stop being so dramatic.”

“Dramatic? You dragged me out here to ask if I told some random person that my dad is in rehab for the billionth ti-”

“Keep your voice down!” She snapped, “you want everyone to hear you?”  

“Sorry mama.”  

She smoothed back your hair, pushing stray pieces away from your face and fixing your headband for you before leading you both back inside for the continuation of the night. Neither of you spoke to each other the rest of the evening. Not in the car on the way to the service at church and not once you’d gotten home. You went in your room to change and listened to her in the kitchen, trying to throw together a lunch as she prepared to work through the holiday. A knock on your bedroom door was the only thing to signify that she was leaving and would likely work the whole of Christmas.  

The Greene’s would be confused if you went to theirs too early in the morning and you didn’t want to disturb Daryl any more than you already did by showing up at his. Tara was spending the holiday upstate visiting her sister and seeing her niece. The diner was closed. You opted for going straight to bed once your dress was off and your face was clean…hopefully you’d be lucky and you’d sleep through the holiday.  

-

Taglist: @hopesxxhigh @coffeebooksandfandom @jodiereedus22 @tehfabbooty @thecaptainsgingersnap @of-storms-and-sadness @twdeadfanfic @alwaysadreamingoptimist @mainokutan @sabertooth-potato @qrangr @bucky-barnes-babies @ly--canthrope @daryldixonandfrogs @jaycc7983 @easnuppa @imaginecrushes @tonystarkismyboy @watchmeaspire @harpersmariano @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare  @mainokutan @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @cathwritestragediesnotsins @siren-queen03

[plaidbooks]

Everyone Deserves Love chapter 1

A/N: It’s finally here! I really wanted to finish this series before I started posting (mostly because I was afraid I wouldn’t finish it). This is my first time writing for an OC, and for SVU! I promise not every chapter will be this long; I was just trying to establish the character.

The first three chapters are prequels. This chapter takes place during season 5.

Next Chapter

Tags: child prostitution mention, sex trafficking mention, minor character death, child death, guns, blood, normal SVU stuff.

Words: 10k+

          Devon Motely got out of bed and stretched, yawning loudly. She walked over to her window and threw the curtains open, letting the sun stream in. She glanced at the clock, 7:05am. She shook her head; it was later than she was used to, but not really; time zones still made sleep times awkward. The dawn was just peaking over the city buildings. New York, Devon thought, a thrill running through her. She had just moved across the country from California at her boss’s suggestion, transferring in the same department, but a new place; a welcome change from the monotony that was Devon’s life. It was fine by her; she was kind of done with California: the heat, the drama, the constant worry of her childhood coming back to haunt her. New York was a fresh start, a new adventure. Though, as someone who worked in the FBI, an adventure wasn’t always a good thing. But she wouldn’t think about that, instead focusing on the positives. For example, her best friend and fellow special agent, Emma, was reassigned with her. Plus, her old psychiatrist-turned-friend was reassigned to New York years ago, and she was hoping to catch up with him.

Devon was nearing thirty and had been an FBI agent, working with the Hostage Rescue Team, since she was 18—a whole decade ago! Most of the time, she hardly believed it had been that long. Other times, it felt like it had been so much longer; working HRT meant she had to do and look at things that would make others sick. They made her sick, too, but she could deal with it; she had to, it was her job. Sometimes while working undercover, however, she had moments of weakness, moments when she couldn’t commit to her illicit cover story, and she had to isolate herself to get back in the mindset. Only once did she ever have her cover blown; she grimaced when checking out “product”—little girls—and she couldn’t recover. She lost a couple girls that day, and she learned to always put on the correct face after that, no matter what she said or saw. Devon was damn good at her job, though, and she almost never lost another life since. Almost.

  1 year later

Cubicle of Devon Motely

Thursday, October 25th. 12:37am

Devon sighed heavily; she was in the office—a rare occurrence indeed—flipping through pictures and unconsciously clenching her teeth in disgust and anger, slowly giving herself a headache. The Assistant Director, and subsequently her boss, Thomas Jenkins, had personally given her this task. It was a delicate procedure, one that he needed to make sure made it into the right hands. For that, only one name came up, and that was Devon’s. Devon scrolled through the pictures looking, searching for anything that could be useful—a tattoo, a building, a street sign. Anything. Hell, she’d take a moldy food wrapper at this rate; her search has pulled up dead-end after dead-end, and she was getting frustrated. She knew, though, how to relax and refocus her efforts; getting frustrated helped no one, especially not the poor children that were caught in the middle of this chaos. That being said, flipping through hundreds of kiddie porn images wasn’t the way she wanted to spend her day.

           About two weeks ago, another field agent had been able to shine some light on a huge human trafficking ring, one that the FBI had been trying to break into for months. Devon hadn’t really been on the case, besides maybe looking through some facts or pictures in her fleeting free time, but she was now called in. Thomas mostly wanted her to stay caught up on the details because he wanted to send Devon in, hence why she was now stuck at her desk in the middle of the night, obsessively looking for some clue as to the location of where the kids may be. The other field agent, the one that first broke into the ring, was shockingly able to take one of the pimps alive, and even more shockingly, they were able to break through the encryption on the bastard’s laptop. All that he really had on there, however, were private messages with anonymous johns and pimps, something that the FBI’s best computer techs were trying to crack the identities of, and then some very, very disturbing pictures and videos.

           Devon had mentally prepared herself for a couple hours before going to work on watching the videos; she figured that they were probably the worst things there, so she’d deal with them first. Sadly, she was correct; the things that she saw in those videos—mostly violent kiddie porn—made her skin crawl and still haunted her at night. It had been about a week since Devon started this “project,” and she had either gone to or talked to a psychiatrist almost every day afterwards. The pictures were…better isn’t the correct word, but they were less intense than the videos...for the most part. Devon kept a notepad and pen by her as she flipped through file after file. She came upon a particularly horrible picture and turned her screen off for a moment, feeling nauseous. She stood up quickly and took a couple steps from her desk, rubbing her temples, trying to get the image out of her mind with no luck. She needed a moment to recollect herself before she did something she regretted—going into their secure facility to beat that pimp to a bloody pulp would help no one. Though, it may make her feel better.

           She sighed, taking a sip from her long-cold coffee. She picked up her notepad, going over the few—mostly useless, she knew—clues that she could pick up from the files she had already gone through. One kid in a video—a young boy, no older than 10--begged the man to not touch him, calling him by name, Evan. She wrote down the video timestamp; you can see half of Evan’s face for the briefest of moments. That’s been the most helpful thing she had found, though. Everything else she had scribbled down was just a description of the various rooms in the videos and pictures, or one of the children’s names, or the brand of…items used—anything that may be helpful in tracking down where these children could be. There was a grand total of 4 different rooms; she labeled one as “Evan’s room” and had scrawled down a basic description, but no other names of the pedophiles came up.

           Tossing the notepad back onto the desk, Devon took a deep breath before sitting back down. She steeled herself, trying to force herself to feel nothing at all. It was good that she still felt repulsed, she told herself. Once she really did feel nothing, then it would be time to quit…and find a better therapist. Barely containing her groan of discomfort, she turned her computer screen back on, and analyzed the grotesque picture that appeared, looking for something, anything, that could help this child and all the others.

           It took her two more days, and thousands of images that she’d need the strongest alcohol in existence to erase from her mind, until she found something concrete. There was a picture of the same bed that Devon had seen a hundred times now, the bed that she had labeled under “Evan’s room.” But Devon ignored the…scene that the picture was attempting to focus on. Instead, she focused her attention on what looked like a receipt—one that someone would get after they signed for something, a carbon copy of the signature on the bottom—that was on a clipboard on a dresser on the other side of the bed. It looked like the signature said “Evan Thompson” or “Evan Frampton,” but it was hard to tell. She needed another set of eyes, a fresher set that aren’t bloodshot from looking at a screen for days. She called Jenkins on his direct line and waited for him to come over to her desk to inform him about her discovery, see if he could make it out.

           “I was starting to give up on you,” Jenkins joked as he appeared in the office doorway.

           Devon gave a tired smile. “Trust me, I’ve been wanting to give up on this since the first image.” Jenkins came up behind her, looking over her shoulder at the image on the screen. Devon had saved him from seeing the whole image, having it punched in on just the receipt. “What does that signature say to you?”

           Jenkins leaned over her shoulder, putting his face almost against the screen. “Evan Thompson?”

           “That’s what it looks like to me, too. Think the techs can clean it up?”

           Jenkins leaned back, nodding. Devon turned to face him, cautiously hopeful. “I think it’s worth a shot. Good work Motely,” he replied, giving her a pat on her shoulder.

           Grateful for the praise, and for the possible lead, she copied the file into a message and sent it to the techs. It took them only an hour, in which Jenkins had retreated back to his office and  Devon had been engrossed in more pictures, before they sent back the picture, clearer than before. The receipt now clearly read “Evan Thompson.” She could even see a total amount above it now. With how much it came to, she was pretty sure that she knew what he had purchased; more children.

           With a name now confirmed, Devon opened the Bureau’s database, typing in Evan’s name. Thousands of matches pinged in seconds. She narrowed the field down; in New York—the apprehended pimp accidently mentioned that detail--still alive, not incarcerated. Down to a couple hundred. She then pulled up the half-of-a-face picture she had saved and added in a couple things in her search; white, aged 35-50, 160-190lbs. Only a handful of addresses this time. She wrote down all of them, then got up to go to Jenkins’ office, give him the good news. She needed a team of—she looked down at the number of addresses—at least 16 people, if they were to go at all of these Evans at once and in pairs, as per protocol. They were all over the state, but in clusters. The furthest an Evan was from another was 5 miles. Perfect.

The FBI had been desperate to catch this trafficking ring; they had people at their disposal. Getting the field agents to interview the suspects would be the easy part; the hard part was assembling teams to go back them up. Devon wanted to be coordinated in this takedown. If the real perp was to catch wind of the FBI coming down on Evan Thompsons, then he’d be in the wind instantly. They had to be ready to take all eight down at the same time, just in case. They couldn’t let this guy get away. Because of their close proximity, they were also able to place teams in between the suspect’s locations, saving them some manpower. Devon conveyed as much to Jenkins, who agreed; now they just had to pull every agent they could back to base, go through the briefing and saving those children.

FBI Headquarters

Monday, October 28th. 8:05am

           Everyone crowded in the briefing room, standing with their partners or teams, watching Jenkins intently. Jenkins went through the whole operation with everyone, 80 agents in all—16 field agents and 64 SWAT members. Every single person wanted these kids in safe hands; they all wanted to take these bastards down, and they hung on every word Jenkins said. Assignments given, the agents started to prepare. Devon vaguely noticed the field agents that were assigned to interview the suspects pair off and get their equipment.

           “We better get this guy,” she heard one agent mumble to another. Devon pulled on her bulletproof vest, strapping it tight. She strapped on her glock and put her badge on over her head—she had it on a chain necklace for this. Then she grabbed the rifle issued to every SWAT member. She wasn’t normally SWAT, and the metal weapon felt heavy and unfamiliar in her hands. True, she had learned to use it in training, but it was rare that she used it at all. She couldn’t wait for this mission to be over, to be back in the field, alone, with no liabilities. It was easier that way.

           “Hey Dev, don’t sweat. We’ll get those kids out safely,” a familiar voice said. She turned to see Emma next to her, red hair pulled back into a low ponytail, helmet already secured on her head. Devon didn’t have many friends, inside or outside of the FBI, but Emma had always been nice to her, always had her back when Devon had to play nice with others instead of going undercover by herself. While Devon counted Emma as her best friend, they didn’t see much of each other outside of work, only a stray text here or there.

           “God, I hope so,” Devon replied. She didn’t want to imagine the scene that may be awaiting them. She had done this hundreds of times, but it never got any easier; her brain liked to imagine the worst possible scenario. It didn’t help that she had seen that scene in person. Every time she geared up for a siege like this, the dead bodies flashed in her mind. She shuttered.

           “We will. I know we will,” Emma said with such conviction, how could it end any differently? Devon simply nodded back, putting on her helmet. Once fully geared up, Devon, Emma, and the rest of their team—6 other men--made their way to their SWAT van. Devon felt the familiar butterflies in her stomach on the drive to their outpost spot. She tried to calm her nerves; there was only a 1 in 8 chance that she would even see any action today. But she knew her luck. And she knew how much Fate liked to fuck with her. So, she counted the minutes ticking by while her team idly chatted about nothing; getting drinks later, the Knicks game the previous night, the wife and kids wanting to go on vacation with their father for once. Devon had nothing to contribute—she hardly did anything outside of work—so she just listened, replying only when prompted.

           Devon’s phone rang, causing her to jump and the others in the van to go silent, looking towards her. Devon quickly silenced it, looking at the caller ID. She never got phone calls outside of spam or telemarketers; she had completely forgotten to turn it off before this. She was shocked when she saw a name appear; Dr. Huang. Fighting the urge to answer it, Devon let it go to voicemail. Dr. Huang only ever called in case of emergencies, opting to communicate through text. But there was no time to answer as the van’s engine sprang to life, Jenkins informing them through their earpieces that the Evan they were sitting on was their guy. Devon shot a quick text to the psychiatrist—emergency, call you later—before putting her phone away. She fought down the thoughts that had sprung up, wondering why the doctor had called her; she had more important things to worry about. The knot in her stomach had returned and every bump in the road made it feel like she was going to be sick. The van drove for a couple more minutes before cutting the engine. Everyone in the back of the van readied themselves. They laid out a basic plan on the short drive over—Jenkins had told them it was a warehouse. A team of four people were going through the front and the other 4 were going through the back. Devon and Emma would be in the latter group. They had done this a handful of times before; all the team knew each other, trusted each other. Devon gripped her rifle, stifling any lingering nerves. She switched her thoughts off, ready to rely on instinct and training. The van doors were thrown open, and Devon and her team charged out and into the beyond.

Warehouse of Evan Thompson

Monday, October 28th. 12:47pm

Devon and her team stormed the place as quickly and quietly as possible. They found the backdoors quickly, unguarded. One of the men pulled out a crowbar, shoved it into the crease between the doors, and ripped it open. It was loud, and they moved in slowly, listening for any sign of life. Hearing nothing, they started clearing little office rooms before they made it to the big, empty space. Well, empty besides a couple of abandoned cement guardrails, like something that littered parking lots, and a huge chain-link cage. Devon had taken the lead, had been the first to peer around into the expansive place. The cage had caught her attention immediately, not because of its size, but because of its contents. What seemed like at least 30 children, all between what looked like 8- and 12-years-old. Devon felt the nausea come back but shoved it down. She could feel sick later. She motioned for the team to follow her as she led them slowly towards the cage, keeping an eye out for danger.

“What the fuck?” a male’s voice called out from across the warehouse. Devon whipped around to the source of the sound, seeing 4 heavily armed men coming out of a small room. Then, pandemonium. The traffickers open fired, forcing them to take cover behind the cement guardrails, firing back. Devon looked over to the cage; it was far enough out of the line of fire that none of them were injured, though the children were all on the ground now, hands covering their heads and ears. But how long would it take until the traffickers decided to cut their losses?

“Cover me,” Devon said, mentally preparing herself for the short run to the cage—it was at least 10 yards. She felt the familiar churning in her stomach when having to make this tough decision; she knew it was highly unlikely that all the children would survive, but it was better than leaving them stuck like fish in a barrel. Wasn’t it?

Emma saw what she was planning and shook her head. “You’ll be killed before you make it halfway.” A bullet pinged off the cement by their heads, as if to emphasize this point.

“That’s why I said cover me.” Without waiting for a response, she poked her gun out from behind the low wall she was crouched behind, rapid firing in the direction of the traffickers. Their gunfire quieted as they took cover from the barrage, allowing the FBI agents to peek their heads out, taking better aim and giving her the cover she had requested. Devon took her chance and sprinted to the cage, firing at the traffickers as she went. A couple of stray bullets got close to her, but none hit their target. The kids noticed the agent running towards them and scrambled to their feet. They came rushing to the door, reaching for Devon through the chain link wall, voices overlapping, panicking as they begged, pleaded for help.

“Stand back!” she yelled over the ruckus. It wasn’t until she took aim at the lock that the kids backed up. She pulled the trigger, bullet destroying the padlock. Devon turned her back on the cage, firing wildly at the traffickers while the children ripped the door open.

“Run, run! Go go go!” she ordered, raising her voice over the gunfire. She could barely hear the children fleeing across the warehouse towards the waiting agents. Devon chanced a glance to the side, trying to make sure they were making it. She felt a pang in her heart when she saw Emma positioned halfway between the cage and the other agents. It was in that moment, that split-second glance, that Devon realized that she loved Emma.

The traffickers renewed their efforts, obviously pissed that their product was escaping. Bullets flew, but Devon held her ground until the last kid left the cage. Once the cage was empty, Devon started to retreat back to her previous cover. It was a perilous journey; there were a few bodies in the path—Devon glanced to find her footing, but otherwise tried to ignore the small, unmoving corpses and the sudden sadness and anger that they conjured. After what felt like hours, Devon made it back behind the low wall. As she was moving to crouch behind it, however, she was hit in the chest. It hit her vest, but that didn’t stop it from knocking the wind out of her, causing her to fall onto her back. It hurt like hell, and she knew she would have a wicked bruise, and hopefully that was it. She scrambled back to her knees, trying to get a baring on her surroundings again. One of her teammates was covering the escape route from their cover to the hallway leading to the exit; a much closer trek than the cage was. The other agent that stayed behind was giving them cover fire from the hallway. Devon joined in; having no more distractions besides the pain in her chest, she was able to take precise aim, shooting two of the traffickers, their bodies falling like a sack of bricks. The firefight seemed to go on forever, but eventually, the warehouse fell silent. Keeping their guns at the ready, the agents came out from behind the wall, making their way towards where the traffickers had been in cover. Six dead bodies; two more must have joined the original four. Right at that moment, the other half of the team came in from the front, calling out the all clear. Devon let out a heavy sigh, lowering her weapon.

“Thanks for the cover, Emma,” she said, turning to find the spunky redhead. But she wasn’t with Devon’s team. She unstrapped her vest, checking the area that she was shot. It hurt and was already bruised, a bump forming, but no broken skin, and from the feeling, no broken bones. “Emma?” she called out after a couple moments of silence.

“You didn’t see?” one of her teammates asked. Devon felt a stone drop into the pit in her stomach. She shook her head and the man raised his hand slowly, pointing. Devon hesitantly followed his finger and felt the ground drop out from under her. The children who were hit were laid out in almost a line from cage to cover, an indicator of their flight. And among them was a redhead, complete with SWAT vest.

No, Devon thought. A pain completely unrelated to her injury punched her in the heart. She hurried over, knelt down, and turned her friend over, hoping against hope that she was just grazed, that she was still alive. Emma’s  eyes were flat, grey, staring at nothing. A bullet hole was almost perfectly in the middle of her forehead, blood already drying. Devon dropped her as if burned, falling backwards onto her ass. She started hyperventilating, bile rising in her throat. She had to get out of the warehouse, get some fresh air. There was a roaring in her ears, her heart beating frantically. Out of nowhere, a faint whimpering broke through the blood rushing in her head. Devon whipped her head in the direction of the sound. There—a small form was crying, breathing hard. Devon scrambled over to the child, anything to get away from her dead friend, and found a little girl. She was clutching her stomach, blood seeping through her grasp.

“I need medical attention!” Devon yelled, ripping the shirt off a not-so-fortunate body, and using the fabric to try and staunch the bleeding. She held the shirt firmly, but not too hard; pushing too hard on a stomach wound could damage the internal organs. Devon stayed like that with the poor girl until paramedics came. A different set of medics checked Devon’s injury. They tried to convince her to go to the hospital, to make sure nothing was damaged internally, but Devon declined. She was quiet the whole trip back to the FBI HQ, mind completely blank.

FBI Headquarters

Monday, October 28th. 2:26pm

Devon moved on autopilot, making her way to her locker, ignoring the congratulations or condolences sent her way. She opened the locker and started taking off her gear, her hands like machines. She unstrapped the helmet from under her chin, lifting the piece of equipment and placing it on an empty shelf. She then gently took off her vest, wincing in pain, the events from the past hour still fresh in her mind, flashing before her eyes, as if she were still in that warehouse. Devon closed her locker door forcefully, hands still feeling sticky from all the blood, even though she had scrubbed them clean. In all, 7 children laid dead in the warehouse. The little girl, Patsy, was the only one who was found to still be alive in the pile. She was still in surgery, and Devon had asked for updates; she needed one win to come out of all this. The other 25 children survived, and the FBI were now attempting to track down their family members, if they had any. Now out of her SWAT gear, Devon made her way to Jenkins’ office. She was running on autopilot, Emma’s dead stare branded in her mind’s eye. She really rather just go home, drink until she couldn’t see straight. But she had to be debriefed, and she knew Jenkins would force her in to see the Bureau’s shrink before she was allowed to leave—if she didn’t tell Jenkins that she was shot, then he wouldn’t force her to the hospital.

           The debriefing took upwards of an hour, and Jenkins gave her a shot of strong scotch—not Devon’s drink of choice, but she was used to it from past hard cases and highly grateful for the burning liquid, warming her cold, empty shell of a body. As she had predicted, Jenkins all but ordered her to go to the shrink before she left for the day. And to take some time off—she had enough vacation days saved up—and to continue seeing a shrink at least once a week. Devon hid her pain as best she could, but she knew Jenkins saw her little winces. Jenkins, to his credit, ignored it; he knew that she’d make sure she was alright, but he also knew that she needed some time. It wasn’t until Devon was sitting in the waiting room of the company shrink that she remembered that she had a call from a different FBI psychiatrist earlier, before everything went to shit. She pulled out her phone and redialed Dr. Huang’s number.

“Hey George. What’s happened?” she asked when he answered.

           “I need a favor, and it’s very time sensitive.”

SVU Department

Monday, October 28th. 4:30pm

Devon stepped through the doors of NYPD’s 16th precinct after blowing off her appointment with the shrink, claiming she was meeting up with Dr. Huang. The psychiatrist had giving her a hard look, but agree that Huang could counsel her, too. Devon looked around curiously; she had never been in this particular precinct before and had to ask for directions from the deskman, who directed her to the elevator. The elevator dinged and the doors opened to the Special Victims Unit. Officers and detectives were wandering about, doing paperwork, or otherwise working. Devon felt eyes trailing behind her as she made her way through the precinct. She tried to shove that down, along with all her other emotions; there was a time and place for that eventual breakdown, and this wasn’t it. Work was work, and this seemed important as well as stressful, as her work normally was. NYPD already felt like walking on enemy ground, no matter how much people wanted to claim about them being “brothers in arms.”

“May I help you?” a woman asked, breaking through Devon’s thoughts. She was in street clothes—a detective, then—with short cropped hair. She had bags under her eyes, slumped shoulders; she was obviously running on overtime, probably hasn’t slept in a day or two.

“I’m looking for Dr. Huang,” Devon replied. She felt a fresh wave of pain as she subconsciously puffed out her chest. She didn’t try to engage in posturing, but this woman already was giving her a hard glare.

The woman nodded. “Ah, you must be his FBI friend—” Devon didn’t miss the…resentment? Venom? in her voice—“he’s in the Captain’s office.”

“Thanks,” Devon said, pushing past the detective. She was used to NYPD disliking her; the Bureau had no friends. But she rarely had someone using that kind of tone so boldly to her face; it was usually coy smiles, sugar-coated threats, and other politics designed to make them seem like friends to the untrained ear. She may not like the detective, but she respected her bluntness. Devon ignored all the other eyes that she could feel on her as she made her way to the only office in the place. She knocked on the open door, sticking her head in. Before she could say anything, Dr. Huang stood up from his seat, gesturing her in.

“Devon, it’s nice to see you again,” he said, giving her a hug. He released her quickly, giving her a concerned look when he felt Devon tense up, hissing in pain. She subtlety shook her head, promising to explain later.

“Same to you, George.” Devon had met the doctor years ago in California as a patient; they’ve been good friends ever since, even after Huang was reassigned to New York. As much as Devon liked him, though, she had a hard time reading him; it made her slightly uneasy, but not enough to stop being friends with him. They’ve worked on cases together in the past. Huang was a profiler as well as a psychiatrist; he made most of Devon’s aliases when she went undercover in her early years, would spend hours working with her until she became that person.

Dr. Huang gestured to the man, presumably the Captain, sitting behind the desk. “This is Captain Cragen,” he introduced. “Cragen, this is Special Agent Devon Motely.” They shook hands.

“I assume Huang told you why you’re here?” Cragen asked by way of meeting.

Devon let out a breath. “No, actually. Only that it was an emergency.”

Dr. Huang gave her a weird look but said nothing. Devon knew the look, though; she had said something wrong, something weird. She knew he’d ask about it later, when they had more privacy. She wasn’t looking forward to that talk.

Cragen looked between the two before answering, “well, we have a missing kid. Kidnapped 16 hours ago. Believed to be taken by a gang member in retaliation. It’s a…delicate situation, one that I felt the need to call Huang in on. Though, he has convinced me that you specialize in this kind of work, that you could get this kid out with no casualties.”

The familiar knot formed in Devon’s stomach; the dead children from earlier, Emma’s dead face flashed in her mind. She took a sharp breath, trying to ground herself in now. She needed to focus; there was another child in danger, another child that needed her help.

“Do you know where the perp is, where he took the kid?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady, professional.

“No, but I have every available officer on it; we’re closing in on them.”

Devon nodded. “Tell me about the perp.” All business, nothing else. Emotions didn’t belong here.

Cragen led the two FBI agents to where they had a screen and whiteboard, all filled with information on this case. The woman detective from earlier was there, as well as two others; one was a tall white man with glasses and grey hair, the other was a black man, slightly taller than Devon. Another detective was at his desk, on the phone and typing on his computer. Cragen introduced the man as Elliot Stabler, the woman as Olivia Benson, the tall man as John Munch, and the black man as Fin. Devon nodded to them each in turn, but got mostly the cold shoulder or a hard stare in return. As Cragen filled her in, she tried to memorize every detail she could, no matter how small. The perp’s name was Jose Gonzalez, the kid was Eddy Suarez. Eddy’s father was in the same gang as Jose; from what SVU understood, the father had slighted Jose in some way, so Jose took his kid as payback. He was considered armed and dangerous.

“Captain, I may have something,” Stabler called out, slamming his phone on its receiver. His desk was against Benson’s desk—partners, then. The group hurried over to look at his screen. “Got the car and license plate crossing the bridge into Staten Island.”

“Let’s move,” Cragen said, spurring the detectives into action. Devon followed; Huang would stay behind, waiting for the interrogation, to where his skills would be needed.

“We need to talk,” he murmured to Devon as she hurried by him. She simply nodded, then followed the Captain out of the precinct.

540 East Marigold Lane

Monday, October 28th. 5:28pm

They pulled up a couple houses down from where Jose had barricaded himself with the child. ESU was still arriving, scrambling to get into place. It was a normal, suburban house, one story, complete with white picket fence; ESU didn’t need long to surround the place, evacuating the houses nearby. Devon wanted to get in there before they were ready; the most important part was getting the 7-year-old Eddy out, alive and unharmed, not something ESU was trained for. She got out of the car, bulletproof vest on and ready, trying to ignore the pain in her chest and her heart, but failing miserably. The nerves that she normally got in these situations were absent; she was still reeling from the warehouse earlier. She kept glancing around, trying to find Emma, then remembering and grimacing. It was like she couldn’t control her emotions, her mind. Devon was afraid that she’d feel this anytime she put the vest on again.

“You alright there, Agent?” Stabler asked, coming to stand next to her. She nodded absently, not really pay attention to the man. Devon’s mind was far away, her nerves fried. She felt like she was about to scream, cry, explode, all of the above. She shook herself, shoved all of her thoughts and feelings down; all that mattered now was that little boy being held hostage. She conjured up the picture she saw in the precinct; a little boy, laughing, being held by his dad who was also laughing. She focused on that boy, focused on the fact that he was in the house in front of her, scared to death. She took a deep breath, then made her way around the house, away from the NYPD officers. She vaguely heard someone call out to her, asking where she was going, but she ignored them. There was a backdoor in the backyard that had a huge window next to it, blinds open, giving her a clear look inside.

She could see a large living room with couches and a TV mounted on the wall. There was a coffee table and a couple of bookshelves full of a variety of books. Otherwise, the room seemed empty. Looking through it, Devon could see an empty kitchen and a hallway. No sign of the man or child. She tried the doorknob and was stunned that it was unlocked. Why had no one else come back here? she thought. Fearing it was a trap, she unholstered her gun, the familiar steel in her hand. She twisted the knob, opened the door slowly. She stepped back, aiming her glock for anyone who may jump out at her. Nothing. Confused, she slowly went through the open door, checking both ways as if someone could be hiding there against the wall, waiting to kill her. Empty. The house itself seemed empty, but then why was ESU and the NYPD stationed outside? Might as well clear the building, make sure that they were just overreacting rather than blaming them right away for botching the location.

Devon crept through the rooms, listening for any sound, but hearing nothing. She then made her way to the hallway; there were only two doors lining the walls, with a master bedroom at the end. She took one step into the hallway, and her mind flashed. She blinked, and she was back in the warehouse, hard concrete under her boots, Emma’s breath loud in her ears. Devon’s breath caught in her throat as she whipped around. But no one was there; it was an empty living room in a quaint house in a suburb. Trying to calm her racing heart, Devon turned back to the hallway; all the doors were open, almost confirming that there was no one here with her. The first room was an empty child’s bedroom, nothing in it disturbed. The second room was a small bathroom, also empty of human presence.

“Get out of here,” a man’s voice called from the master bedroom, making Devon jump, heart racing painfully against her chest. She heard a soft, metallic sound and looked down, trying to find the source. She was surprised to find that it was coming from her; the hand holding her glock was shaking, hard enough for it to be making noise. Calm down, she told herself. She glared at her own hand until the shaking stopped. Devon took a deep breath, then made it to the doorframe, pressed up against it. She tried to peek in, to see the situation she was about to be in.

“Let the boy go. We can talk about this,” Devon replied, gripping her gun tighter if only to keep in control. She could just barely see the man holding the child, gun to the latter’s head. Eddy let out a choked sob. Another flash in Devon’s mind and she saw Patsy lying in a pool of her own blood. She pulled back, breathing hard. Quit it! she yelled at herself, her own mind.

Jose’s voice wavered slightly as he said, “this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

It took a moment for Jose’s words to make their way into Devon’s mind. “Then stop it from continuing. All you need to do is let the kid go, and we can all walk out of here unharmed.”

She could almost hear him shaking his head. “Naw, that’s not gonna happen. If I let this kid go, you’ll just shoot me. I don’t wanna die, man.”

Emma’s face flashed across her mind. She didn’t want to die, either, Devon almost spat out, but she held her tongue. What was happening to her? It had been a long day, and she needed to get out of there. “I’m going to put my gun down, okay? I’ll be unarmed, and I’m coming into the room.” True to her word, she put the safety on her gun, then gave it a little toss into the room, not close enough for Jose to reach it, but definitely out of Devon’s reach. A little show of trust, so that hopefully he will trust her, even a little bit. She then put her hands up, reaching them around the doorframe before coming in herself. “I don’t want anyone here to get hurt, Jose, I promise. Why don’t you tell me how this happened?” Keep him talking, help him see that there was no winning here, that he’d have to do as she asked.

Jose used the hand holding the gun to rub his shaved head. He was panicking, but Devon was hoping to calm him down, even if she couldn’t keep her own mind calm. “Alonso fucked up for the last time”—Devon recognized the child’s father’s name— “and the boss wanted to make him pay, ya know? So, he had me pick up his kid, but then he wanted me to kill him and I just, I can’t kill a kid, man. But if I don’t, boss will kill me.”

Devon felt a pang of pity for the man; he was in a lose-lose situation. But her fraying nerves and overall exhaustion was making it hard to think straight, making it hard to play the nice cop. “Jose, you’re not leaving this house alive unless you surrender yourself. But, no listen to me, if you give yourself up, you’re only going to jail. You hurt that kid, though? You’re done, you’re in the ground, I guarantee it.” She spat out the last part, a little more violently than she meant to. Normally, she’d use a threat like that just to get a suspect to comply. But right now, she was afraid…afraid that she wasn’t using an empty threat. Afraid that she may actually kill this man if she didn’t end this soon. She had never felt like this before.

Jose let out a pained whine. “I don’t wanna die,” he mumbled. He tightened his grip on Eddy, who was starting to cry louder, as if he understood that the more distressed Jose became, the least likely he was to survive.

Devon took another deep breath, trying to shove all of her personal feelings down, trying to bring that professional side back out. The field agent that she always was. “I won’t let you die, Jose. Trust me, I can get you out of here, but you have to put the gun down. You said it yourself, you don’t want to kill this child. What would that even accomplish? Eddy has done nothing wrong. Think about how terrified he must be, how cruel it would be to end his life before he got to do anything that he’s dreamed of.” Devon glanced at the cross Jose was wearing around his neck. “Do you really believe that God would forgive you for ending this child’s chance at life?” If personalizing Eddy didn’t get through to him, religion probably would.

Jose sniffled, the hand holding the gun starting to shake. “You—you can get me out of here? Alive?”

Devon nodded. “Of course, but you have to put the gun down, let Eddy go. I give you my word.” During this whole exchange, Devon had been making her way slowly through the room, around the bed towards Jose. Jose looked like he was thinking through all of his options, breathing harder and harder. After what felt like forever, he released Eddy, who ran to Devon, wrapping his arms around her legs. She jumped as if shocked by the touch, but played it off, trying not to scare the child. Jose then slowly handed his gun to Devon. She put it in the waistband of her pants at the small of her back.

“I’m so sorry,” Jose said through tears. He turned around, head down, defeated. He put his hands on the back of his head and waited. Devon took her handcuffs out of her back pocket and awkwardly made her way to Jose, Eddy hanging off of her.

“Don’t let me die,” Jose whispered, more to himself than to Devon. Once he was secured, Devon let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. All of her nerves were on fire, as if the slightest touch would set her off. It was taking everything in her to not react to Eddy hanging off of her. As she led the two out of the room, she swooped down to grab her gun, replacing it in her holster. Eddy stayed by her side, never releasing her leg. She was glad he was safe, that she could provide some safety to him, but it was starting to annoy her more and more. He’s a scared child. You just saved his life. Suck it up, she thought to herself. She thought back to Patsy, still in surgery. If Devon had patience for her, she’d have patience for Eddy, too.

“Let me go first,” Devon said, stopping them when they had reached the front door. She pushed Jose gently against the wall by the doorframe, so that none of the awaiting officers could get a clear shot on him. She moved the child behind her legs, effectively becoming a human shield. It’s not that she really distrusted ESU or the NYPD as a whole, but all it took was one overzealous cop to have a twitchy finger, to let this all go to hell.

“Coming out! Suspect is unarmed and apprehended! Don’t shoot!” she yelled out the closed door. Slowly, she unlocked the door, then turned the knob, inching the door open. From the outside, she knew that ESU would only see her standing there, a child behind her. From her point of view, Devon saw guns from every direction aiming at them.

She put her free hand up in surrender, the other hand holding Jose by the cuffs. “Hold your fire!” she called out. She waited until she heard whoever was in charge repeat her order before she moved Jose through the doorframe and out into the open. Eddy took Devon’s free hand when she had lowered it, gripping her tightly. She couldn’t even imagine how terrified this kid must be having this many guns pointed in his direction. She led them out slowly, struggling not to flinch as officers came hurrying up. They all but ripped Jose out from her grip, reading him his rights, and throwing him in the back of a squad car. Devon gave him a sympathetic look as the car pulled away. At least he didn’t die, she thought. More officers came up to take the boy, but Devon refused to release him as Eddy gripped her hand tighter, turning to hide his face against her legs. All of the anger and frustration that had been welling up inside of her finally had a target.

“Back the fuck off,” she said, venom dripping from her voice. The officers scrambled to get out of her way as she led him over to the awaiting paramedics in the ambulance. She waited by his side as he was checked out for injuries. She looked over and saw the SVU detectives, Cragen in their center, looking over to her, something like respect and astonishment in their eyes. She knew Cragen would want to debrief her, but at this point, she was emotionally exhausted—she had spent all day in this damned vest. So, she stayed with Eddy, giving him silent support while he was poked and prodded, asked questions. It eventually came up that they wanted to take him to the hospital, run more tests to make sure he was physically okay.

“Don’t let them take me,” Eddy cried, grabbing Devon’s hand like a lifeline.

“It’s okay, Eddy. I’ll ride with you,” she replied softly. She climbed into the ambulance before the medics could say anything. If they didn’t want her there, they made no mention of it as they loaded up. The whole way to the hospital, Devon whispered encouragement to Eddy—“everything’s fine, you’re safe, you did so good back there”—until he calmed down. Devon stayed with him until the nurses kicked her out, much to his dismay.

“I’ll be right outside. I promise, I won’t leave you until your parents get here,” Devon said as she was shooed out. She went to the waiting room and was shocked to see two detectives—Stabler and Benson—already there.

“That was good work today,” Stabler commented quietly. Benson nodded in acknowledgement. “Even if you did go a little rogue going in the house.” Benson rolled her eyes at that.

“I’m just glad there were no casualties,” Devon replied before slumping into a chair. She felt so drained, so tired. And yet, today wasn’t quite over; she wanted to be there for the interrogation, to let them know about Jose’s impossible situation. To maybe give him some sort of mercy, and maybe some protection from his boss. This day just got longer and longer. Plus, she should probably get her injury checked, too. She rubbed at it absentmindedly, trying to relieve some of the pain.

Benson sat down next to her. “How’s Eddy?”

“He’s fine…relatively. He’s going to need some counseling. But physically, I think he’s unharmed.”

Benson nodded. “Detective Olivia Benson, by the way. Detective Elliot Stabler,” she said, gesturing to the man. Devon was glad that the animosity from earlier seemed to have disappeared. Rescuing a child had that effect on people.

“Special Agent Devon Motely,” she replied, giving them both a small smile. “Any word on Eddy’s parents?”

“They’re divorced; mother is going for full custody, and after today, I’m sure she’ll get it,” Stabler explained. “She’s on her way now.”

Devon nodded, but was too tired to answer. Hopefully, the mother can better protect her son from her ex’s illicit life. She’d make sure she gave them her business card, let them call her if they were ever in trouble again. Even if Devon was busy, she had connections all over the city.

It took about 20 minutes of the three officers sitting in silence—the detectives seemed to know how tired Devon must be, mumbling to themselves every no and again--before the mom showed up. Devon and the detectives had been barred from seeing Eddy until a parent or guardian gave the okay, but they were informed that the child was indeed unharmed, just shaken up by the ordeal. The mother was shown to his room, and the nurse asked for Devon to follow her about 5 minutes later.

“Not you two,” the nurse said to Benson and Stabler. Stabler looked like he was going to start a fight, but Benson waved him down. Devon followed the nurse to Eddy’s room, his mom standing next to him, grasping his hand in both of hers.

“You’re the one who saved my boy?” the woman asked. Devon nodded and the mother came over, flinging her arms around Devon’s neck and pulling her into a tight hug. Devon grimaced as fresh pain coursed through her, but she did her best to stay quiet, keep her pain undetected by the civilians. She awkwardly patted the woman’s back as she cried, thanking the agent over and over again.

“I’m glad he’s alright. You got to watch him, though. Make sure he doesn’t get wrapped up in this again,” Devon replied after she extracted herself from the mother’s grip. She handed her card to the woman. “You call me, though, if anything does happen, okay?”

“Yes, yes of course,” the woman nodded fervently, taking the card from Devon. “We’re moving out of the city, though. Moving closer to my family in Connecticut.”

Devon felt a weight lift off her; getting Eddy out of New York was probably for the best. “Good, that’s good.”

Feeling like they needed time alone, Devon said her goodbyes to both Eddy and her mom—who never stopped thanking her—and backed out of the room. Both detectives were still in the waiting room, and Devon relayed the information to both of them.

“As long as she brings him back to testify, then it’s fine,” Stabler huffed.

“Do you really need a 7-year-old to testify?” Devon asked, incredulous. Devon hated the courts; such bad memories from her past there, plus the unneeded drama and politics that came with it. Besides, hadn’t Eddy suffered enough?

Stabler gave her a hard look. “If we want to get him on kidnapping, then we need the actual kid that was napped,” he explained in a slow tone, as if Devon was an idiot. This was why she liked her job. She only needed to catch the bastards; she didn’t have to go through the whole façade of lawyers, courts, and the politics involved.

“That’s your problem,” she shot back. She really wanted to just go home, have a nice, relaxing bath, and listen to some orchestra music. But she needed to go back to the precinct, listen in on interrogation. Like hell she’d ride with this asshole, though. She said nothing as she left the hospital, hailing a cab. She was sure that the detectives were staying behind to interview Eddy, anyways.

SVU Department

Monday, October 28th. 8:36pm

She made it back to the precinct quickly. Her mind had wandered on the drive over, and she was having trouble focusing. She vaguely realized she didn’t see a doctor about her gunshot wound while she was at the hospital, but she couldn’t force herself to care. She felt like she was floating through the precinct, weaving around the officers as she made her way to SVU’s floor. Her emotions were so frayed, she didn’t think she’d ever feel anything ever again. One of the officers pointed her towards an observation room, where she found Captain Cragen and Dr. Huang watching Fin and Munch grill Jose.

“Fin and Munch have been able to get the whole story out of Mr. Gonzalez, here. Not that it took much prompting,” Cragen said by way of greeting.

“From what he told me in that house, he was in an unwinnable situation. I do hope that you and your DA will take that into consideration when indicting him,” Devon replied flatly. She didn’t have the strength to put up a polite exterior anymore.

Cragen gave her a wondering look; he didn’t seem mad about her tone, just curious about her, about why an FBI agent, especially someone who works in HRT, would be on the perp’s side. “He kidnapped a 7-year-old and held him hostage at gunpoint. Do you really think we should go easy on him?” It didn’t seem like he was trying to defend this point, simply wondering how Devon would answer. As if he were in charge of the debate team in high school, seeing if she could defend her point.

“He was just following his boss’s orders, the promise of death if he failed. And even then, he didn’t kill Eddy. He made it clear how much he didn’t want to,” Devon explained.

“And what would have happened to Eddy if we didn’t find them? If you never talked to Jose?”

Devon didn’t have an answer for that. She’d like to think that he wouldn’t have shot a child, that he may have even killed himself instead. But she could also see the possibility of Jose doing it, because he could make sure Eddy didn’t suffer in death. It all came down to Jose’s fear of death versus his fear of God’s wrath. She resigned to watch in silence as Jose continued to tell the detectives—Fin and Munch—about the hierarchy of the gang, about his boss, about anything they asked about. She could feel Huang’s gaze on her, but she ignored him, trying to focus on Jose’s words.

All three looked to the door when a redheaded woman walked in. Devon felt a punch to the gut as she recalled Emma’s face for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. No matter how many times her empty eyes flashed across Devon’s mind, the nausea and emptiness hit her hard.

“This is ADA Casey Novak,” Cragen announced. “Novak, this is Special Agent Devon Motely.”

“I didn’t know this was a Federal case,” Casey said, giving Devon the familiar I-don’t-trust-the-FBI look.

“Off the clock,” Devon replied, giving her a small, exhausted smile. Maybe she could still have some pleasantries. Casey gave her another look, this time of disbelief—who the hell wanted to do this kind of work off the clock?--before focusing in on the interrogation. Cragen filled her in on the details, including the fact that Devon was the one who collared him, before Devon interjected.

“I’d like to request that you go a little easy on the man,” she said.

Casey gave her an appraising look. “He kidnapped a child, with a gun.” It was the same conversation over and over again. Devon was getting sick of it.

“Yes, but Jose had a gun to his own head. He was acting under duress. Plus, he’s giving you guys all the information on his boss that you need,” Devon reasoned.

Surprisingly, Casey agreed. “I’ll plead him out, then. Kidnapping is 5 to 25 years; I’ll recommend 7.”

“Thank you,” Devon said before excusing herself from the room. With her work effectively done, Devon just wanted to go lay down somewhere for a couple hours…or days. She heard someone follow her out of the observation room and sensed Dr. Huang’s presence.

“We do still need to talk, Devon,” he commented. Devon’s shoulders slumped and she hung her head in defeat as she followed him to an unoccupied room, full of standard-issued beds. Must be where officers could sleep when they couldn’t make it home. It seemed like a cruel joke to bring her here, with how tired she was, but at least it was private. Devon resisted the urge to sit on any of the mattresses; she was afraid she wouldn’t get back up again.

“What’s going on, Dev? Are you okay?” Huang asked once he shut the door.

“Don’t treat me like a patient, George. I know you know me better than that.”

Huang nodded, dropping the professional tone, and adopting something more personable. Yet still that overall calm that he exuded was present. “You’re right. Something did happen to you today, though. Do you want to talk about it?”

Devon huffed out an unamused laugh. “Not really, no. I would rather just down a bottle of whiskey and sleep for three days uninterrupted.” She knew by admitting that, Huang would just dig in further, at least until she got everything off her chest. But she was too exhausted to come up with some elaborate lie about how she was feeling, too exhausted to really care what anyone thought of her right now. She felt nothing, only the dull ache in her chest that pulsed in pain in time with her heart.

Huang looked concerned but hid it well. It only showed in his eyes. “You need to talk it out,” he said. When Devon didn’t reply, he continued, “first, you missed my call, texting me that you were in an emergency. And second, you told Cragen that I gave you no details. I told you the whole case over the phone.”

That stunned Devon; she thought back to the phone call that felt like days ago—how was it only earlier today?—tried to remember what was said. She didn’t remember a single word, though he must have at least old her to come to the 16th precinct, since she showed up here.

Sighing, Devon recounted the Thompson ring takedown. She was a little shocked that Huang didn’t get the notification—“I’m not a field agent, and I was already assigned here,” he explained. Devon got a little choked up when recounting the 7 dead children, and the 1 dead FBI agent, shocked that she even had emotions left.

“I don’t have many friends—you know that. So, losing Emma hurt more than I thought it would,” Devon finished. She refused to acknowledge the feelings that became apparent shortly before the agent’s death—that would be something to unpack later.

Huang had listened intently to her plight. He gave her a look of sadness as she recounted the dead; no matter how many times someone saw another person killed, it never got easier. “You saved 25 children from hell, though.”

“And lost 8 people in the process.”

Huang weighed his words, then responded, “but don’t the lives saved outweigh those lost?”

Devon’s phone went off right then. She recognized the hospital’s number and answered. She felt the dread build in her core, tears finally springing to her eyes as the final nail of the day was hammered into her. “Correction, 9 people. Patsy didn’t make it.” She let the tears flow freely now; it was the first time she had cried that day, but all of the sadness, anger, and guilt from earlier rushed out of her in a wave. She collapsed onto one of the beds hard, face buried in her hands as she let everything out. She vaguely felt Huang sit down next to her, patting her back in comfort, careful to touch lightly after hearing about her being shot. He let her cry until they became hiccupping sobs. Devon wiped her face with her shirt, trying to regain her composure. She tried to make it a point to not cry in front of people; she didn’t want to appear weak. The fact that Huang had been here to see her fall apart hurt her pride more than anything.

Huang waited until she seemed to be back in control before whispering, “Devon, why do you still do this job?”

The question caught her off guard, and an answer didn’t immediately jump out at her. She thought about it, really thought about it; why she got up in the morning, put on the badge, and went to deal with the worst side of humanity. Why she put her life on the line for strangers. Why she cared enough to help people.

“Because if I don’t, who will?” she sniffled. She wanted to expand on that, but the right words didn’t come up right away. She took a deep breath, tried to pull in her scattered thoughts, then said, “you’re right, you know. The lives saved are more important than the lives lost. This city, this world, can be a terrible, terrible place. But if I can save even one person, one child, then it’s worth it to me.” She sniffled again and blurted out, voice desperate, “I just want to help people.”

Huang nodded. “That’s a good answer. The fact that you even had an answer is a good sign, Devon. You still have your humanity. You’re still a good person.” Huang always knew exactly what Devon was really feeling; inadequate, remorseful, and most of all, guilty.

“Even if those 9 deaths are my fault?”

“Devon listen to me. Emma”—her name still hit Devon in the stomach—“knew what she was doing. It was her choice to cover the children’s escape. Besides, if you didn’t unlock that cage, what do you think would have happened to those kids?”

As much as Devon wanted to argue that the cage was out of the line of fire, she didn’t know what would have happened. Maybe the kids would’ve been safe until the firefight was over. Or maybe the traffickers would have decided that they didn’t want any witnesses.

“Survivor’s guilt takes time to digest, to move forward. I agree with your boss, too; talk to a psychiatrist about this. I can talk to you as a friend, but not as a doctor-patient anymore. The one in your sector is good, and a friend of mine,” Huang said.

Devon nodded, agreeing to go to the company shrink. “You know me, though. I can’t take time off; I’ll go insane.”

“You are a workaholic,” Huang agreed. He was the only one allowed to call her that, no matter how true it was. “How about I arrange Cragen to call you if he can use your help?”

Work for the NYPD? Busting low-level rapists and pedophiles? Trudging through the shit field work, the court systems, and the corrupted politics of the mayor’s office? “Sounds like a deal…as long as I don’t have to work with that Detective Stabler.”

“He can be a little abrasive,” Huang said, smiling. “But he grows on you…eventually.”

“Like a parasite?”

Huang laughed at that. “He is a good detective, and a pretty good person. He gets angry, and he’s headstrong. But at the end of the day, I’m glad SVU has him on their side.”

Conversation coming to an end, they both stood up. Devon didn’t really care what her face looked like after all that crying. All that mattered was that she was tired and hurting but feeling lighter than she had all day.

Huang stopped her as she went to leave. “Do me a favor, though.” When Devon arched an eyebrow, Huang said, “go see a doctor for that gunshot wound.”

[all-things-skam]

Jens’ season: chapter nine

Saturday, February 29th

Feeling the bed shift next to him, a smile broke out on Jens' face as he remembered last night's events. His plans had completely shifted and he couldn't be more happy - sorry, Robbe.

His heart began to swell, filled with endless happiness. He had thought Lucas was asleep when he confessed his feelings to him. That's why Jens allowed himself to say those three words. Given the Dutch boy's steady and slow breathing, he should've been asleep - but he wasn't -, which turned out to be a good thing. If he had been, Lucas wouldn't have reciprocated the words.

Jens felt his smile deepen. Lucas loved him back. Life couldn't be better.

At least, at 8am on a Saturday.

Lucas woke up not long after Jens, both still sleepy but also needy. He nuzzled his face into Jens' neck and along his shoulder, fighting sleep. That boy was really cuddly in the morning. Not that Jens minded.

Jens wished all his mornings would be like this. Warm, lazy and filled with kisses from the prettiest boy. It was as close to a perfect morning as it could get.

Lucas bit Jens' bottom lip and let it go with a 'pop'. ''Do we have any plans for today? Or are we staying in bed all day? Not that I'd mind.''

''We?''

The brunet hummed, blue irises looking up at Jens. ''I told you. It's my mom's weekend. I don't need to go home. I can stay here instead.''

A content smile formed on Jens' lips. ''I'd like that very much.''

Now that Jens had come out to the boys, he could officially introduce Lucas to them, but staying home and keeping Lucas for himself sounded better. Much better.

He leaned down to join their lips together, one of his hands sliding under the blanket and down Lucas' body. His hand was about to slide inside Lucas' boxers when his bedroom door opened and Lotte walked in, forcing their little 'fun' to end before it even started.

''Lucas!'' she squealed, eyes sparkling with joy the second she saw him in her brother's bed. Lotte jumped on the bed with them, clueless about what almost happened. ''I didn't know you were here.''

Lucas forced an awkward smile, cheeks flushed from the situation.

''Does Mama know?''

''Yes.''

Lotte knitted her eyebrows, staring at her brother, trying to figure out if he was lying. ''That's a lie. If she had known, you wouldn't have been startled when I came in.''

Jens groaned. If only she knew why he was startled... ''Lotte, can you go bother someone else? It's 8am, let me go back to sleep.''

''No! Dad left for work so Mama and I are making waffles downstairs.'' She turned to Lucas. ''Are you staying for breakfast, Lucas?''

The brunet cleared his voice. ''I guess I am.''

Grinning, Lotte took Lucas' hand and tugged, trying to drag him out of bed, but the curly haired one stayed under the covers, very aware that he was only wearing underwear. No matter how much he loved Jens' mom and sister, he didn't feel comfortable enough to be walking around like that in front of Jens' family.

''Why don't you go and make sure Mom doesn't burn the pancakes? We'll join you in a minute.''

.

Sunday, March 1st

Spending the weekend at Jens' made room for a lot of awkward situations.

Yesterday, Lucas almost stumbled into Jens' dad when exiting the bathroom after his shower. Is there any better way to be introduced to someone? Lucas wanted to be swallowed by the ground. Then, he got caught mid-changing by Lotte. Thankfully, his pants were still on.

Their making out session had been cut short this morning when Jens' mom walked in, catching them kissing in Jens' bed. Fenna didn't say anything, both boys being still fully clothed. She just deposited the pile of clean clothes and left, leaving the door wide open instead of just ajar. Message received.

Later in the afternoon, Jens decided to leave the house to get some fresh air - aka freedom.

While he was grateful that his parents agreed to have Lucas spending the weekend over - and sleeping in his bed -, he was tired of his family breathing down his neck or constantly being interrupted by his sister. They couldn't even sleep in or have some morning cuddles without Lotte coming in and jumping on the bed. Jens really needed to learn to lock the door.

It was cloudy and gray outside - a bit cold too -, but Jens wanted some time alone with Lucas. Can you blame him?

Spoon still in his mouth, Lucas hummed, eyes closed. ''This cake.''

''It's good, uh?''

The brunet nodded avidly, cutting another piece of his cake with his spoon. ''You, Belgians know how to make desserts.''

Jens shook his head, smiling. ''You and your sweet tooth...''

As if a cake wasn't sweet enough, Lucas had ordered the sweetest one on the menu: a chocolate mousse cake. Even though Luc had told Jens how much he loved chocolate, he didn't realize until now exactly how big of a sweet tooth he really had.

Jens watched the thick, yet smooth chocolate mousse disappear into the brunet's mouth. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes, reminding himself where they were. He tried to keep his mind from wandering to a dangerous place, but it wasn't easy. It seemed, sometimes, like Lucas made every minor actions somewhat suggestive, and he knew exactly the effect it would have on Jens.

''Want a taste?'' Lucas asked, raising an eyebrow.

Turning his attention back to him, Jens nodded. Why not? He wasn't a big fan of desserts, but the chocolate mousse seemed really tasty. He opened his mouth, ready to taste the sweet desert, but Lucas put the spoon in his own mouth, making Jens frown and pout.

''Hey! That was for me.''

Lucas shrugged. ''Sorry, but this cake is just too good to share.''

''Tease''

Smiling smugly, Lucas blew him a kiss over the table before returning to his plate.

Jens pulled up his phone, snapped a picture of Lucas - he was just too cute to not capture this moment - when a notification from the selling app popped up. ''Yes!''

Lucas glanced at his boyfriend, confused.

''Someone is interested in something I'm selling,'' Jens explained.

''What are you selling?''

''Oh, just games I don't play anymore.'' He shrugged. ''They were collecting dust.''

It wasn't a huge sale. Only some game at 7€, but, it was 7€ less to find to pay back the drugs Lucas had flushed.

Lucas frowned, taking a sip of his fancy coffee. ''Why are you selling your video games online? Can't you go to a game store for that? Jayden does it all the time.''

''Yeah, but they only offer discounts on other games. I need money.''

''What for?''

Jens sighed. He didn't want to involve Lucas any more in his problems, but he already knew about the drugs, so why not. ''Remember when you saved my ass and got rid of the drugs in my locker? Well, my dealer texted me and he wants his money. I have some cash from the weed I sold and other stuff, but what has been flushed needs to be paid too. I can't just tell him I almost got caught and had to get rid of them.''

''I can help. It's partly my fault that you have to repay him.''

Jens shook his head. ''No. It's my fault that I'm caught in this shit.''

''And, it's my fault that they're in the sewers somewhere in Antwerp.'' Lucas paused. ''We could always try to retrieve them...''

Jens wrinkled his nose in disgust. The pills had probably all dissolved by now anyway. ''Ew, gross.''

''So, are you taking my offer?'' Jens hesitated and Lucas smiled at him. ''You can pay me back if you want to. In cash or...other,'' he added, winking over the table.

''I'll think about it.''

.

Monday, March 2nd

''What the fuck, man? Why did you shoot me?''Jens asked through the headphone's mic as his character received a bullet to the chest.

''Sorry, I thought it was Aaron.''

Jens laughed, looking around on his TV screen to find Aaron and shoot him, laughing harder as he did so.

''Hey! Why is everyone trying to kill me?''

''Because it's fun,'' Moyo responded.

paused his video game when he saw Michiel's name on the screen. He bit his lip anxiously before opening the message.

Michiel: Where's my cash, kid? Ghosting me won't work. I need it by Thursday. Or else...

Jens stared at the screen for what felt like a lifetime. Michiel was now threatening him. Jens had to do something quick or he was going to be in real danger. Who knew what Michiel - or his men - were capable of? He couldn't tell Lucas why he had suddenly changed his mind and he felt bad for asking his boyfriend for money - Lucas wasn't his personal banker -, but he needed the money sooner rather than later.

Jens: Is your offer still standing? I don't think I'll sell enough shit by Thursday

Lucas: I told you I'd help, didn't I?

Lucas: When do you need it for?

Jens: Thursday

Lucas: Want me to come with?

Jens: No. I'll be fine

Lucas: Is that supposed to be reassuring?

Jens: I'll be fine, Luc

Lucas: Okay... but I want you to text me when you get there and when you leave just so I know you are safe

Jens: 👍

.

Wednesday, March 4th

The television was playing loudly when Fenna returned from work, some sort of anime on the big screen. She furrowed her eyebrows at the unfamiliar characters, her heart aching at the explicit content flashing across the screen. How can teenagers watch that?

''Sorry for finishing so late. There was a big car accident and I had to do extra time to help,'' she explained, removing her jacket and setting her bag down. ''Did Lotte eat already?''

''No, I let her starve,'' the teenager answered from the couch.

Fenna gave her son a look. ''Jens...''

He flashed his mother a smile. ''I'm joking. I reheated last night's leftovers.''

''Good. Where's is she?''

''Upstairs playing in her room. Want me to tell her to come down?''

Before he could call Lotte down, Fenna shook her head. ''No. That's good, actually. I wanted to talk to you.''

Jens frowned, trying to read his mother's face but failing. She came around to sit on the couch and he turned down the volume of the television.

''You...you were right. About your father. He lied to my face about this job, he lied to all of us.'' Fenna closed her eyes, her husband's lie still fresh.

She had gone to see Mohamed on her lunch break between shifts since the hospital wasn't far from his new office - and he wasn't answering his phone. When Fenna got there, she asked to see him and was told that he didn't work there and never had.

''After a lot of difficult thinking, I made a decision and I wanted you to be the first to know about it. Your father and I will be separating.''

''As in a divorce?''

Fenna nodded slowly. She didn't want to get a divorce - nobody does. Divorce felt like a failure to a lot of people. But, it was the right choice to make. ''I still love your father, but sometimes love isn't enough. Money might not buy happiness, but without money, we can't live in this house.''

''We?'' Jens repeated. ''That means we're going to...move?''

Exhaling a breath, Fenna nodded sadly. ''I didn't want to. I did everything in my power to stay here, but I can't afford this house on my own.''

Jens swallowed thickly, a wave of sadness flowing in. He wasn't one to get attached to things, but loved this house. He spent his whole life here. Every corner and walls held a memory. The staircase where he broke his arm when he fell with his bike when he was five, the dining room table where him and his mom used to sit and work on his spelling homework, his bedroom where he had his first makeout session and the place he lost his virginity.

''What about Dad?''

He didn't want to be insensitive, but where will his father go? Clearly, he won't be following them after the divorce.

''His brother lives in Liège, he'll be staying with him for a moment. Or, so he said.''

Jens nodded. Maybe a change of scenery will be good for him. Maybe it'll help him get back on track.

.

Thursday, March 5th

His hands were clammy as he crossed the street, seeing Michiel's building in his line of sight. After his parents' divorce announcement, Jens wasn't in the mood to meet with Michiel, but he didn't really have the choice. Michiel had been clear: he wanted his money. He didn't care whatever was happening in Jens' personal life.

All the money was in his left pocket, feeling heavy, and a worried Lucas was in the other, sending him texts every ten seconds.

Jens stood on the doorstep and rang the doorbell, stress growing in his stomach. He bit his lip as he waited, going still when the door opened and the same big guy who was there the first time stood there.

''Long time no see,'' he pointed out.

''Is Michiel here? I have his money.''

The man nodded and let Jens in, the door shutting loudly behind.

.

''So, it's over? No more drug dealing shit?''

Jens hummed. ''It's over.'' He kissed Lucas in the middle. ''No more drug dealing shit.''

Lucas rolled his eyes at the small mockery. ''Good.'' He sighed, relieved.

After leaving Michiel's, Jens came over to Lucas' to reassure him and take advantage of Mr. Van Der Heijden being at work. They hadn't had a lot of alone time during the weekend despite Lucas sleeping over, so it was nice to be just the two of them again.

Lucas led them to the couch and cuddled against Jens, being the cuddle-bear he will never admit to be. Some things were just for Jens and him to know.

''I could fall asleep right here and now,'' Lucas pointed, closing his eyes as Jens played with his curls, twirling the soft ringlets between his fingers.

''Am I that much of a bore? Because I can go home if-''

Clutching a fistful of Jens' hoodie, Lucas made a protest noise. ''Don't you dare.''

Jens laughed and kissed his forehead, feeling Lucas pulling him in closer. He was keenly aware of Lucas' wants and needs and cuddling was Lucas' unspoken signal of reassurance that he would always be there for him.

''So, now that you've met my family, when am I going to meet yours?'' Jens asked, mildly teasing, breaking the comfortable silence first.

Lucas grew quiet, staring down at the carpet in front of the couch, the shades of browns and greys suddenly very interesting.

''Do you...not want me to meet your parents or something?'' Jens asked, silently hoping it wasn't that.

The brunet sat up, removing himself from Jens' hold. ''No, no. That not- It's just, I've never introduced someone to my parents...like that.''

''You mean a guy?''

''No girls either, if it reassures you,'' Lucas added with a bit of humor.

''You've told your mom about me, though?''

''Yes, but it's complicated. With my mom, we can't just schedule a date and have dinner all together. She might get anxious or she can- So many things can go wrong.''

''Or it could go well.''

Lucas sighed, moving away from his boyfriend's touch. ''Jens...''

''And, your dad?''

‘’My dad’s a dick. I only moved with him because the judge said I had to. It was that or going to a foster family. My dad might be a dick, but he’s not the worst. There’s kids out there that need fostering more than me, some who are stuck in abusive families or even orphans. I would’ve felt bad for taking someone’s place. Entering the foster system would’ve also meant not seeing my mom anymore and I can’t renounce to that.’’ Lucas paused, swallowing his emotions. ‘’She needs me. I’m all she has left. I can’t do that to her.’’

By the way his voice was strained, Jens could tell that it was still a difficult subject. Lucas was close to his mother. Hearing his story made Jens wonder how bad her mental illness was. If a judge had declared her inapte to take care of him, it must be serious. It was also so sad to hear that her husband had completely pushed her out of his life just because of her mental illness. She was lucky to have a son like Lucas.

As much as he wanted to meet Lucas’ parents, it wasn’t worth putting Lucas - nor his parents - in this state. Causing trouble in his boyfriend’s family wasn’t what Jens wanted.

He shook his head. ‘’Forget what I said, okay? I’ll meet them when you’re ready. No pressure.’’ He flashed Lucas a small smile which got reciprocated.

Lucas nodded, grateful to have someone as understanding as Jens. ‘’I love you.’’

‘’I love you,’’ Jens repeated, pulling the smaller one back into his hold.

.

Friday, March 6th

‘’Is Lucas coming?’’ Aaron asked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Jens nodded, taking a sip of his beer. ‘’He said he’s on his way.’’

An eager smile spread on Aaron’s lips. ‘’So, I’m gonna meet him?’’ he added, unable to contain his excitement.

‘’You’ve met Lucas before...’’

‘’Yeah, but not as your boyfriend. This is a big deal-’’

‘’Aaron…’’

He shrugged. ‘’What? I didn't say it the other day, but I’m happy for you. I liked Jana, but Lucas is much cooler. At least he skates with us instead of sitting and watching.’’

Jens raised an eyebrow. ‘’Cooler than Sander?’’

‘’Don’t push.’’

After Robbe, Aaron was Sander’s biggest fan. He was never shy to voice how much admiration he had for him whether it was his flirting tactics, his confidence, romantic gestures or how good looking he was. It even became a running joke in the gang that if Sander wasn't already taken by Robbe, the curly haired one would tempt his chance.

‘’Your boy is here,’’ Aaron pointed out, nudging Jens as he saw Lucas walking in.

Jens looked up, watching as Lucas squeezed a path between the dancing girls in the living room and some shotgun drinkers. He grimaced at the mess it was making on the floor and scanned the room, trying to find his boyfriend, fastening his pace when he spotted him and Aaron in the kitchen.

Jens greeted him with a kiss, getting some cooing from Aaron. Could he be more annoying? Lucas leaned into Jens as the latter hooked an arm over his shoulder, pulling him close.

‘’So, you’re Jens’ boyfriend?’’

Jens rolled his eyes and groaned. ‘’Let’s go look for Moyo and Robbe.’’

.

They all sat in the bathroom, passing around weed and booze, like the old days. Moyo had brought some weed and smoke was rapidly filling the bathroom as they all blew their thick, grey puffs into the air.

It was the first time they all hung out together - Lucas and Sander included. Jens and Lucas squeezed in next to Robbe and Sander in the tub, laughing as Aaron vented about his latest romantic gesture that turned into an epic fail. Honestly, when does it not?

''I had the room all set up and everything,’’ he explained. ‘’Candles, flower petals, her favorite scented bath stuff, but then her mom came home and ruined my surprise before we could even get in the water. I tried telling Amber that we can still go in, but she said it was too weird if her mom was in the house.’’

Amber’s bathtub. Lucas shared glances with Jens, memories of their first kiss flowing in.

Sander sighed. ‘’Robbe’s the same, he won’t-’’

Knowing where this was going, Robbe didn’t let Sander finish his sentence, covering his mouth with his hand before he could say any more, refusing to let this turn into another let’s tell Aaron about our sex-life episode.

‘’Why did you stop? It was getting interesting,’’ Aaron complained.

‘’Quit encouraging Sander into telling you stuff. It’s private.’’

‘’And weird,’’ Jens added, backing his best friend.

‘’You’re the one who used to brag about sex-’’

Jens rolled his eyes. ‘’I don't brag…’’

He did tell everyone about losing his virginity and the sex he had with Jana - what else does fifteen years old do? And, he ranted about that toothpaste tip...a lot, but he wasn’t on Aaron’s level of bragging.

‘’Well, if you really want to know, there’s this amazing thing Jens does with his-’’ Lucas stopped himself, a smug grin on his lips. ‘’Did you really think I was going to tell you?’’

‘’I like him,’’ Moyo commented, giving Lucas a high five.

The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Jens. It was nice to see that Lucas was integrating well into their group.

“So, since we have two new guys in the group, maybe we should get to know you both better?” Aaron suggested, waiting for his turn to take a puff.

“Dude, why do you always have to be in everyone's business?” Moyo asked.

''Don’t you know Sander enough already? You've pestered him with questions ever since Robbe said they were dating,’’ Jens said, making Robbe laugh.

Lucas felt his phone buzz and reached into his pocket to see who it was. Noting the number, he silenced the call and put his phone back in his pocket, returning his attention to the boys.

Aaron shrugged. “I’m just trying to get to know my best friends' boyfriends. If they are important to them, I want to get to know them better and let them know we care enough to get to know them.”

Sander snorted. “How profound and thoughtful of you, Aaron. I feel much more appreciated.”

Robbe laughed as Jens grabbed the joint from Moyo and took a hit. He had hesitated at first, remembering recent events, but figured that weed was a better coping method than Xanax. And, he wasn’t going to let himself get so high. Just a couple puffs to have a nice buzz.

He was about to hand it to Lucas when his phone went off - again. Sighing, Lucas pulled it out of his jacket and frowned.

‘’Gotta take this. It’s the third time he’s called, it must be important. I’ll be right back.’’

Jens nodded and watched as Lucas rose to his feet, leaving Jens’ side and headed outside to answer the phone call in a more quiet place.

The second the door closed, Sander whistled. ‘’I didn’t believe Robbe when he told me you two got together. Does he still steal your fries?’’

Rolling his eyes, Jens shook his head.

Minutes later, the door opened and Lucas’ face was worried and distraught, his previous lightness and drunken happiness completely gone.

Jens furrowed his eyebrows. ‘’Luc?’’ He sat up, recognizing a frantic and panicked behavior.

‘’I-I gotta go,’’ he simply said, ignoring Jens’ question and grabbing his jacket on the edge of the tub before leaving again, not saying ‘bye’ to anyone.

The boys watched confusedly and gave Jens a look, but the latter wasn’t paying attention to them, his eyes focused solely on Lucas. Jens stood, handing the joint back to Robbe, and went after his boyfriend, wondering what he had been told on the phone that made him want to leave the party so fast.

He didn't catch up to him until they were outside, the amount of people inside the house made it difficult to get a hold of Lucas. The evening wind hit his face the second he stepped out, sending a shiver down Jens’ back. He grabbed Lucas’ arm when he was close enough to reach and made him stop.

‘’Slow down, Luc. Why are you leaving?'' he asked, releasing his arm.

Lucas turned around, eyes filled with tears but he fought them. ''My dad. He said-'' He interrupted himself, shaking his head, voice trembling and faulty as he spoke.

Jens frowned, going immediately into comforting mode. Something was up, but the Dutch boy was talking so fast and the panic in his voice made it more difficult for Jens to understand what he was saying.

He lifted Lucas' chin, catching sight of his glassy blue eyes. ''Hey...tell me what’s going on. I can’t help you or understand if you don’t tell me.’’

‘’My mom. It’s- She’s going to be admitted to a clinic, I… I have to go.’’

[vickyvicarious]

Oh my god. What if at one time, even very briefly, both Parker and Hardison were in the same foster home?

Pre-Nana Hardison is weird to write and I don’t know enough about their age difference/childhoods so this is rather vague on details (like for example names haha), but a certain scene popped into my head as soon as I read this ask so have a tiny fic exploring that.

(AO3)

.

As soon as he walked in the door, Alec could tell this wasn’t a good place.

It didn’t seem like it was bad, at least - not the type of bad he’d heard about from other kids, the type he knew he’d been lucky to avoid so far. But there were a lot of little signs that this wasn’t one of the good places, either. It wasn’t so much the small house, or the five other kids he saw when they took him inside. The furniture looked old and beat-up, and the TV was a dinky old monstrosity, and there really wasn’t much else to see. But none of that was what clued him in; way more important was the way Mr. Reeves smiled at him.

Alec could tell fake from real easily enough.

As soon as his social worker left, he was told to leave his stuff in the back bedroom and stay quiet, and then Mr. Reeves walked off. A moment later, a door slammed down the hall. It wasn’t anything scary, but the cold disinterest was its own sort of stinging. He didn’t much mind though, or he told himself he didn’t anyway, because it wasn’t like he was staying here long. He was supposed to be staying with a Mrs. Hardison but apparently she’d gotten sick and wouldn’t be able to take him in for another week. He didn’t know what he was going to be in for with her either, but for the moment not having to stay here any longer than a week was plenty good enough.

Once Mr. Reeves was gone, the other kids livened up a bit. Alec didn’t go put his stuff away, instead flopping down on the floor near the crowded couch and making friends. He might only be here for a week, but that was no reason he had to be lonely.

.

Elijah was the one to tell him about the ghost.

Everyone was normal amounts of friendly, for foster kids. Meaning a pretty even mix of cheerful and reclusive, one very tall boy wearing a lot of black, a couple little kids too young to make good conversation, one older girl who sat crosslegged in the corner of the room and didn’t say a single word the entire afternoon. Elijah was cool though, and so were Alex and Sanjay, so Alec mostly hung out with them. They watched cartoons and after a while Alex pulled a pack of cards out of her jacket pocket and led them to the bedroom so they could play Go Fish in peace. It was actually a pretty big room, but most of the space was taken up with bunkbeds so it still felt crowded. Sanjay showed Alec where he’d be (the bottom bunk near the door, because of course all the better beds were taken) and if he were staying any longer than a week, he might’ve tried to trade with one of them. He could have made it a bet. In his experience, all kids liked betting on games, and also in his experience, Alec could win any bet that relied on cards since he could keep track of who had what in his head pretty easily.

He was glad he didn’t try, anyway, because Elijah was the one whose bed he would have gone after, since it was a top by the window, and Elijah was the one who liked him enough after beating him three times to tell him about the ghost in the house.

Weird things had started happening a while ago, he explained. At first no one thought anything of it, because there were a lot of people coming in and out who could have been moving stuff around, but then Mr. Reeves came storming in one day yelling about someone taking his watch. The one he wore all the time and never took off, not even when he showered probably. He made everyone go through all their stuff, and pretty much everyone found things missing - but they were all in with someone else’s belongings. It would have turned into a huge argument except by the time everyone found they had someone else’s stuff they were all too confused to be angry for long. Also, Mr. Reeves’ watch didn’t turn up, and he’d yelled for hours about it, which kind of distracted everyone.

Except that right after he finally gave up and left the room, he came rushing back asking who put it back on his dresser. It was obviously impossible, because everyone had been in the room the whole time getting yelled at. A rumor started about the ghost that night, after everyone had been sent to bed without dinner because no one had fessed up. And at first, Elijah said, he hadn’t believed in it either (he must’ve caught Alec’s snort), but then stuff like that just kept happening. People lost stuff, even if they carried them around everywhere, only for them to turn up in weird places days later, like on top of the ceiling fan or inside the cereal box instead of all the cereal, or stuffed inside someone else’s shoes. Some of the stuff that went missing never came back. But most of that stuff belonged to Mr. Reeves, so the kids didn’t usually mind too much.

“Don’t worry about hanging onto whatever you want to keep,” Elijah said, finally. “It doesn’t matter, the ghost will take it right out of your hand if it wants to. My advice is just to ask it to give it back. It listens, sometimes, if you’re nice about it.”

Alec tried really really hard not to roll his eyes, because even if he was only going to be here a week that was no reason to be lonely. Elijah didn’t seem to notice.

.

Alec was pretty good at sleeping, as long as he remembered to try. He didn’t have any trouble falling asleep in a brightly-lit room, or with lots of noise, or even a bedtime that changed every other day. As long as someone made sure he wasn’t in front of a computer or a book or painting or trying to build a crossbow out of sticks or whatever else caught his attention that day, he could fall asleep in two minutes flat once he decided to.

So he didn’t actually need a better bed, and he wasn’t bothered by the couple of times other kids had to slip past him in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. Someone crying into their pillow across the room didn’t phase him, not any more than hearing someone cry always did. He knew better than to go help, especially because he was pretty sure it was the tall boy wearing all black, and older kids usually hated younger kids showing them up at anything.

The first night he stayed with Mr. Reeves passed uneventfully. So did the second, third, fourth, and fifth.

.

Since it was summer, there wasn’t really much to do other than sit around the house. Mr. Reeves made the older kids help out with chores, but he didn’t really bother the younger ones and Alec was small for his age so he got off easy with just babysitting the really little kids. There was a yard, but it was mostly just dirt with a few weeds, and they weren’t supposed to wander off into the neighborhood. Alec saw all the older kids leave anyway at least three times apiece, but it wasn’t really any of his business so he didn’t worry about it. Besides, one thing Mr. Reeves did have was an old bookshelf with some battered paperbacks, three of which were actually Star Trek books Alec had never read before. He tried to make them last, because without school to go to or a library nearby he didn’t have access to any computers and the TV really did suck. It didn’t work too well though, he still finished all of them two days into his stay, and then he didn’t have anything else to do but just hang out with the others. It had been a good idea, making friends.

Alex taught him some new card games he’d never played, up until Wednesday when her pack of cards went missing. She’d just shuffled it up and put the rubber band back around it, tucking it into her pocket, when Alec spotted a Jack that had fallen to the floor. She went to get the pack back out of her pocket, but it wasn’t there anymore. Alec had been right there the whole time and he hadn’t seen or heard anything.

It was stupid, ghosts weren’t real.

(He checked through all his stuff that afternoon, just in case. Nothing was missing. Of course it wasn’t, ghosts weren’t real.)

.

Mr. Reeves was never around, except in the mornings when he gave everyone their chore lists. He didn’t even spend much time in the house at all, but when he did he was mostly back in his room or watching the news on his really just unfortunate TV. Whenever that happened, the other kids cleared out and left him alone, without really making a point of it or anything. They just found other stuff to do - even if it was in the same room, like on Thursday when it was raining really hard. No one tried to sit on the couch with him and they all got really quiet. Alec noticed that everyone seemed to follow his rules really well whenever he was around, even though when he wasn’t there they pretty much did whatever they wanted. He didn’t seem to notice or care as long as stuff like the laundry and dishes got done, and nobody got hurt. Alec hadn’t had a single conversation with him all week.

Not one of the bad ones.

But not good.

.

On Alec’s penultimate day in the house, something of his finally went missing. It was a notebook he’d carried around since the start of last school year, when his then foster-part Keller gave it to him for taking notes in class. Alec didn’t really ever bother doing that because he usually could figure out whatever the lesson was and remember it later without writing anything down, but he did like to draw in it. He’d started trying to write code in there too, but honestly he didn’t like trying to write down what he was thinking because his hand could never keep up with his brain. He was much faster at typing, even if he only really got to on school computers. Mostly, Alec just liked to draw stuff.

It wasn’t like the notebook really mattered. Alec didn’t have a lot of stuff, but most of what he did have didn’t matter too much. He’d like it to matter, he’d like that a lot, but the simple fact was he didn’t have anything he really cared about, not that couldn’t be replaced if he really needed. A new book would still have the same words, he didn’t even really like any of the clothes he had except his glow-in-the-dark Darth Vader shirt and even that was starting not to glow anymore. The notebook probably came closest to something really special.

Alec thought about getting mad. He really did, he really almost came very close to blowing his top. But he’d been in not-so-good houses before. He’d spent hours walking around the neighborhood, smiling at people who half the time slammed the door in his face, trying to sell them on a religion he didn’t even feel very strongly about. He’d tried getting mad before and it just never really worked. And he didn’t have time here to try something that didn’t work, even if he really really really wanted to.

Instead, Alec asked the other kids about his notebook. None of them had seen it anywhere, or at least none of them admitted to seeing it. Some of them didn’t even bother to answer, or he didn’t bother to ask them. The toddlers weren’t exactly going to be much help.

Next, Alec searched the house for his notebook. He looked under everything, behind everything, he even went to Mr. Reeves’ room and asked him very politely if he’d seen it, hovering on the threshold and looking around everywhere. He didn’t see anything and Mr. Reeves just told him no and to leave him alone. He sounded so final and Alec was only here one more day, and so far nothing had happened to explain why all the other kids stayed very quiet whenever Mr. Reeves was in the room. He didn’t need to find out if there was a reason.

He didn’t need the notebook, anyway, and he could leave without it if he had to but he didn’t want to. He wanted it back. He wanted it almost enough to believe in ghosts, if that was something that would work, and after dinner he went to the bathroom and spoke to the ghost while he was washing his hands so no one else would hear.

“That’s mine and I want it back please,” Alec told the ghost, feeling very silly. “You’re a jerk if you don’t give it back before I leave.”

.

He didn’t go to sleep that night, because ghosts weren’t real and even if they were it wasn’t like he was gonna put his trust in a thief to fix things. Alec still got into bed, still lay down and breathed quietly and even closed his eyes when Mr. Reeves stuck his head in to make sure everyone was where they were supposed to be, but he didn’t sleep.

Instead, he waited for everyone else to fall asleep, so he could use the flashlight he’d taken from the garage to look through all their things until he got his notebook back. Only Elijah and Sanjay had been willing to let him root through their stuff during the day. Mostly everyone ignored him, blaming it all on the ghost.

Alec waited until he couldn’t hear anyone else making any noise, then a few more minutes to be sure they were all asleep, then counted to three hundred just in case, before finally sitting up. He turned to face the rest of the beds, pulling the flashlight out from under his pillow but not turning it on yet.

And then he saw the ghost, floating above Elijah’s bed. Alec froze up, only a quick gasp making its way through his lips. He felt terrified for just a moment, scared for his life because he wasn’t going to bet on the ghost staying friendly when someone caught it. And also it looked like it might be trying to eat Elijah’s soul, or something.

But then the ghost lifted its head, just enough for the moonlight coming in through the window to shine on its face, to make the long silvery strands of spiderweb hair catch enough light that they looked blonde again. The shadows around its skull no longer looked faceless.

In fact, it was grinning at him. It held a single pale finger up over its lips.

Alec blinked rapidly, watching as the ghost moved over Elijah’s bed like a spider, only touching the frame. It crouched on its tiptoes, fiddling with the window - the locked window that no one could get open, so it got insanely hot in here during the day and no one spent much time here if they could help it - and a moment later swung it open silently.

The ghost-girl, she was a girl with pale skin and long hair silvery in the moonlight, slipped through the window feet first, reaching out and up and either catching on something or just floating in midair, before she let go of the windowsill and swung backwards into the night. In the last moment before she let go and fell head-first down to the ground, she smiled at him again and twiddled her fingers in a silent wave.

Alec’s heart thumped hard when she vanished out of sight. He listened but he didn’t hear anything hit the ground. His fingers were trembling, he felt like something might grab his ankles from under the bed.

When he flicked on the flashlight, carefully covering all but a slit of the beam with his fingers, it turned out there was no need to search: his notebook was sitting on the floor right in front of him, looking perfectly innocent. He snatched it up, then hid under his covers with the light to check that none of the pages were missing, that everything was the way he’d left it.

It all was - except on the last page, where there were several sketches of cars. A couple from the outside, the rest from what looked like what you’d see from inside the driver’s seat. They were really good, probably better than Alec’s art. They were also weird, little lines marked at the driver’s side window, several spots on the inside of the dashboard, one drawing just a tangle of wires. It didn’t make any sense at all, but it was back and that was good enough.

He’d be leaving tomorrow morning, he didn’t need to know any more (even if he really really wanted to, now).

.

In the morning, Alec snuck the flashlight back into the garage before Mr. Reeves got up. He shrugged when Elijah caught him carrying his notebook around and laughingly asked him if he’d asked the ghost to give it back. He wanted to tell his friend about actually seeing the ghost, but something stopped him. He wasn’t sure what, exactly. It wasn’t like he had any reason to be scared of her, since he was leaving and he was pretty sure ghosts couldn’t leave where they were haunting. But still. Something about the memory of her shadowed grin, her finger telling him to hush… it wasn’t scary really, but he didn’t want to ignore her.

Mr. Reeves clapped a hand on his shoulder when his social worker came to pick Alec up. He laughed with her, told her Alec’d been no trouble at all and they’d had a great time together. He shook her hand and helped Alec carry his stuff out to the car. He told him “take care, son,” and smiled down at him and shut the car door for him once he was inside the backseat.

Behind him, a couple of the other kids stood in the yard or the doorway. Alex and Sanjay were waving; Elijah had his arms crossed and a frown on his face. Benny and Miles, the little kids, waved for a second before getting distracted by something on the ground.

And standing in the doorway was an older girl with long blond hair and pale skin, her mouth set in a neutral line. The girl who barely spoke to anyone, who spent most of her time this past week working on cleaning out the gutters together with the oldest boy John, and then just vanishing all afternoon. Her eyebrows furrowed a little as she watched the car start to take him away, and Alec suddenly felt a crazy impulse to wave at her over any of his friends.

He twiddled his fingers at her, grinning.

The car was pulling away, starting to speed up down the street, but Alec still saw her. Saw the ghost-girl blink, then smile, just a quick flash before he passed her completely.

[let-me-write-shit]

Like We Used To: 14

A/N: Next Chapter starts the interviews! If there’s any questions you might want to be asked, or if there’s something you’d like me to incorporate in any of the future chapters, let me know! I love hearing from you! 

I’m gonna try to put up the next chapter later tonight, so make it quick!! :) :) 

PLEASE don’t forget to like/reblog/message me if you like it. It’s suuuuper helpful

[CLICK HERE FOR PREVIOUS CHAPTERS]

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“I cannot believe I let you talk me into this,” Elizabeth shifted in the passenger seat of Harry’s car, staring out at the streets of London.

It was nearly 10 AM and the two were on their way to the airport to travel to LA for a week for some promotional interviews for Harry’s upcoming performance in New York next month before a new album is released. Somehow Harry and Judy managed to gang up on Elizabeth. He even got Kate to call her in the middle of her honeymoon to convince Elizabeth to go. So Thursday and Friday were spent finishing up as much work as she could get done, visiting the office to tie up any loose ends and let her staff know that she would be out of town for a bit, and spending her free time relaxing with Harry.

Harry seemed to be spending his free time either watching movies, writing emails, on phone calls, or, what Elizabeth assumed, writing new songs. By the end of the week it was pretty much tradition to end the day sharing a sleeve of oreos and going on a late night walk around town. Luckily her neighborhood wasn’t too busy so no one was hardly ever outside to notice them. At least there was no buzz in the tabloids on Harry’s whereabouts since his appearance at the club the previous weekend.

“Well, with the help of Judy I can be pretty persuasive,” Harry grinned at her, turning into a gated lot. A small plane was parked in the middle of a huge runway with a couple people standing around the bottom of the stairs and a few other cars parked around it. Harry must have noticed Elizabeth’s uneasiness as he parked the car because he squeezed her hand and whispered, “Don’t be nervous, it’ll be fine. I already warned my manager that you’d be tagging along and the band is excited to meet you.”

Elizabeth nodded and the two of them stepped out of the car, letting the wind whip her hair around, clutching onto her purse and laptop bag that hung around her shoulder. Harry walked beside her, his hand on the small of her back, leading her over towards two men and one woman, handing his car keys to one of the men. They all greeted Harry with high-fives and hugs before smiling at Elizabeth.

Harry started the introductions, “Elizabeth this is Jeffrey, my manager,” he introduced the man he gave his keys to and continued, “Lisa does videography and photography whenever we travel, and Kenneth is my bodyguard. We keep him around whenever we travel for work, but usually he’ll only be with us when we’re at interviews and such.”

“Very nice to meet you,” Lisa smiled sweetly, shaking Elizabeth’s hand and earning a nod from Kenneth.

“So you’re Harry’s old school friend, are you?” Jeffrey asked, and joked, “I heard he practically bullied you into coming?”

Elizabeth let out a small chuckle, “Yeah, he just keeps nagging you until you say yes!”

“I know the feeling,” Jeffrey nodded as they all laughed, “Handsome boy, but dead annoying. Don’t worry, we’ll keep you company whenever Harry’s preoccupied. I bet we’re more fun than him anyways.”

“Excuse me, I take offence to that,” Harry jested.

“As you should,” Jeffrey said before looking between the both of them, “So you’ve both got your passports with ya, then? Great. Go on up, then. Everyone’s in there waiting.”

Harry nodded and led Elizabeth towards the steps of the private airplane, almost reaching for her hand before she lightly pushed it away, unsure of what them holding hands might look like. He didn’t seem too phased by that and continued on up. Harmonious shouting occurred as the two walked further onto the plane. Harry gestured for her to sit in the window seat while introducing her to his backing band members Mitch, Sarah, Adam, Ny, and Charlotte. Elicabeth’s worry of what Harry’s friends’ and crew would think of her started to disappear as they got to talking. 

An airport worker came to load the bags from Harry’s trunk to the airplane before taking his car away and within thirty minutes they were ready for takeoff. Airplane safety instructions were given and as soon as they were in the air Jeffrey gave everyone the rundown. It would be an eleven and a half hour flight. They would arrive in LA at nearly 3 PM their time. Immediately from landing they would head straight to hotel check-in where they got free reign for the rest of the night, though they were given ‘strong suggestions’ to make it an early night as they had to be up by 6 AM to head to their first performance at a news station. The performance wouldn’t be until 8 AM, but they needed to get their equipment set up and rehearse.

“So, wait, did they get me my own hotel room, or….?” Elizabeth whispered to Harry, not wanting the others to hear.

He whispered back, “No, I have a house in LA, so you’ll be coming with me there. Everyone else has a hotel room. Except Sarah and Mitch share a room. They’re dating.”

Elizabeth nodded, understandingly, before Adam spoke, smiling, “So, Harry didn’t tell us much. Just that you two were friends since you were fourteen? Is that right?”

“Yeah,” Elizabeth confirmed, “Knew him before all of this….” she looked around at the airplane.

“Wow,” Adam nodded, “And was he a little shit back then, too?”

“Excuse me,” Harry interrupted, “Little shit? Watch your tone, sir. I’m a big shit. A big, masculine shit, thank you very much.”

They all continued to banter for a bit, making Elizabeth relax. They were all given lunch, but it didn’t take long before everyone started doing their own thing. Sarah and Mitch cuddled up and watched a movie, Adam and Ny started scrolling through their phones, Harry was talking with Jeffrey, and Charlotte fell asleep. Elizabeth used the time to get even more work done so that she could be completely free tomorrow. By 7 hours into the flight everyone seemed to take Charlotte’s lead and went to bed. 

It felt like seconds before Elizabeth was being shaken awake. She fluttered her eyes open, immediately looking out the window to notice their descent before looking over at Harry who was grinning at her. His hair was disheveled and a red mark was bright on his cheek from where he fell asleep on his wrist, clearly haven been just woken up.

“We’re getting ready to land,” his groggy voice drawled.

Elizabeth looked around to see most everyone else stirring awake and Mitch glancing between Harry and outside. He didn’t speak much, but when he did he was really sweet and very funny. She looked around sheepishly, unsure of what to do when they exited the plane as everyone was kind of unloading their things and going over details on when and where they would be meeting in the morning. Eventually an SUV pulled up and a man got out, waiting patiently. Jeffrey directed him to Harry and Elizabeth’s luggage and he began loading up the car.

Harry broke away from the group who all shouted a “see you later” at him and Elizabeth before the two of them slid into the SUV.

“You alright?” Harry asked her.

Elizabeth smiled coyly, “Yeah they’re all nicer than I thought they’d be. Was just a bit overwhelmed. I think I’m still coming to terms with the fact that I even came. And it’s so hot here, what the hell? It’s October in a few days' time!”

The car started off and Harry laughed, “We’re not in England anymore, that’s for sure. You get used to it, though,” he reassured before asking, “So I was just talking with Mitch about him and Sarah coming over tonight to chill out with us if that’s okay?”

Elizabeth shrugged, “Yeah, sure, why not? It’s not my house.”

“What do you say we grab some dinner first? It’s only 3:30, but I was thinking once we get back to my place we could get our stuff settled and then go out and grab something to eat?”

“Will people not notice you eating out with a random girl?”

“I’m not too worried about it, honestly,” Harry smiled, “What, do you not want to be seen with me?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to be seen with you. It’s just...we’re still trying to figure this whole thing out and I don’t want it to then be made into a big deal for you.”

Harry smiled, “I’ll be fine, love. It’s just dinner.”

Her heart fluttered a bit. When they got to Harry’s house, Elizabeth looked around in awe. It was, for all intents and purposes, a mansion. Sleek and modern, it had four bedrooms and six bathrooms. Who needs six bathrooms?! It even had a heated outdoor pool and hot tub. There wasn’t much in the way of decoration, but she figured it’s probably because he’s just a guy and he spends more time in England, anyway. 

She followed Harry with her luggage up to Harry’s room and dropped them in the corner. He decided to take a quick shower while she got situated, touching up her makeup and unloading some of her clothes. She had been in the middle of a text to Matt when Harry walked out of the bathroom. A towel was wrapped around his waist, his water glistened on his skin and his hair looked like a wet mop.

“You can’t just come in here lookin like that,” she motioned vaguely at him, sitting up on his bed.

“It’s my bedroom!” he retorted, ruffling his hair, “Am I making you nervous?”

Elizabeth groaned, “Don’t do this to me. I’m starving! I can’t think straight on an empty stomach.”

He laughed, dropping his towel, exposing himself, before pulling on a pair of briefs, “You know, I’m starting to think you’re just using me for my body.”

“I definitely am just using you for your body!” Elizabeth joked, “You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

“None at all.”

It was 5:30 by the time they were ready to get dinner. There was a chinese food place not too far from his house that they decided they wanted to eat at. It wasn’t too fancy, so Elizabeth didn’t bother changing her clothes before heading over there. Parking was horrendous in LA, so they had to park a block away, but luckily the restaurant wasn’t too crazy for a Saturday night. He informed her that most people in LA either postmated their food, or ate later in the evening. 

The staff did recognize him, so they were able to get a seat at a booth towards the back. Dinner was fantastic. They were able to sneak a few quick hand-holds in before finishing up. On the way to the car they heard a few people shout Harry’s name at a distance, but he didn’t seem to pay any mind to it as he took her hand and led her to the car. While driving out of the lot, though, she noticed a man with a camera on the corner snapping a few pictures of his car.

“Harry?” she questioned, slightly concerned.

“Yeah, I see him,” he acknowledged, biting his cheek.

She decided to drop it and they continued back to Harry’s house. 

Mitch and Sarah had arrived a little after 8 PM after the sun had set. The four of them took some wine and a pack of oreos to Harry’s seating area beside the pool in the back, Mitch and Sarah on a couch across from Elizabeth and Harry, and got to know Elizabeth some more while music played softly over his house speakers. They had asked about the friendship with Harry when they were younger, told stories of their childhood, and talked about their current lives. Harry and Elizabeth shared a sleeve of oreos, again, joking about it with his bandmates before putting it away. She felt like they could really open up to them, like they were forming a real friendship.

“I can’t believe you almost got into a fight with her ex boyfriend!” Sarah put a hand on her cheek, “Good on you, though. He sounds like a creep, no offence.”

“None taken,” Elizabeth nodded, taking a sip from her glass of wine, “It was a long time coming.”

“It must be nice to still have close friends from when you were just children,” Mitch commented and turned to Harry, “Do you feel like you missed out? I mean, I know you said you had lost touch for a while, but….?”

Harry nodded, “Yeah. But I’m just glad to be back in it now. That’s why I practically forced her to come with me. I didn’t want to have a repeat of last time.”

Mitch and Sarah nodded in silence, but the stare Mitch gave seemed almost like he was peering into their soul. He finally spoke again, “Alright, so you two are dating then, or?”

Elizabeth glanced at Harry seeing a shocked smile form on his face, “Uhm...no. We’re not officially dating yet.”

“What does that even mean?” Sarah grinned, furrowing her eyebrows at the two of them.

Harry cleared his throat, “Jesus, with the interrogation tonight. It means that we’re enjoying each other’s company and elevating our friendship slowly.”

“You sure do have a way with words, don’t you?” Elizabeth laughed. “I’m just...not ready to have that official label yet, so for now I’m just a ‘friend’..”

Mitch nodded, “I understand. You just need to dip your toe into this world first.”

“Exactly!”

They spent a little more time talking until the song ‘Comethru’ by Jeremy Zuker started playing on the speakers.

“Oh, I love this song!” Elizabeth exclaimed, swaying in her seat. 

Harry looked over at her with a smile before standing up and offering his hand for a dance. Elizabeth looked at it hesitantly, and slightly embarrassed, taking a peak at Mitch and Sarah. They smiled kindly at her and Harry, so Elizabeth took this as a sign that it was okay and took his hand. He led her a few feet over towards the pool a bit more before turning to her, draping her free hand on his shoulder before wrapping an arm around her waist, still holding onto her other hand. She relaxed her head into Harry’s chest as the two swayed. In seconds Mitch and Sarah joined them, dancing under the stars.

The next, more upbeat song began to play and Mitch turned to them, “Oh, Harry, that reminds me. I had a few more ideas for those songs we were working on if I can show you real quick?”

Harry nervously switched footing, breaking apart from Elizabeth, “Uh, yeah. Let’s just go into the office,” he looked hesitantly at the girls, “Are you two okay for a bit?”

“I think we can manage,” Elizabeth snorted, making Sarah laugh.

KEEP READING

[raysofcrosby]

LITTLE DO YOU KNOW PT. 4

“𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯𝘵 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥. 𝘖𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥. 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺.” ━  𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬, 𝐒𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧

gif credit (x)

series masterlist

requested: yes | no

warnings: mentions of alcohol and swearing. 

word count: 7,562 [ ok but i swear its all worth it tho ]

authors note: okay yay we’re finally at part four and the friendship is getting a lil bit less...friendly and more romantic ;) any-who, if you need a visual for the outfit y/n and kennedy wore in this, here it is [but just imagine it’s in two pieces instead of one big one ok yay]. anyway, um here’s parts one, two and three. so ya enjoy and i’d love to hear your theories, your likes/dislikes, anything, so don’t be afraid to pop on over to the ask box! ok byeee :)

The best thing about the boys only having one game during the week, was the free-time they had to hang around and relax. Katie, your brother's longtime girlfriend had flown in for the week to pay him a visit before she had to go back to work in L.A. Tyler, being the ever social person he is, decided to invite the team over to his house every day for pool parties and other stuff, just so everyone could relax and mingle amongst one another. Kennedy and Big Rig were getting closer, seeing as he was over at your dorm every day and you were getting a lot closer to Tyler as well.  

The night he invited you over to help you study was the most fun you'd had in a long time. Tyler not only stuck to his word and let you cuddle with the dogs while he quizzed you using your flashcards, but he also tried (and miserably failed) to make the two of you milkshakes, which resulted in a messy kitchen and uber eats delivering you two milkshakes at 3 A.M. In the minutes before you were set to go to sleep in the guest bedroom, you had managed to convince him to record a Hallmark Christmas movie, and he promised that he wouldn't watch it without you.

Which is how you ended up back on his couch with him and the dogs the next night and every night for the last week just watching and recording more and more Christmas movies. Tyler and Big Rig invited both you and Kennedy out to the bars with them and the boys, and for once you actually accepted the invitation. The third time you and Kennedy had joined them at a bar, Jamie wasn't nervous about approaching you with the question as to why you were coming out with them all of a sudden when you hadn't dared to in the past. It was awkward, trying to come up with an answer on the spot, especially since Katie had asked you the same thing earlier in the night. But Tyler swooped in to save the day with a beer for him and Jamie and saying that Kennedy had dragged you along since Big Rig invited her– and Jamie ate it word for word.

That was your cover-up all week when you showed up at the same bar they did– that you were here for Kennedy and it was all Tyler's doing. It was a tricky thing to play it off around Jamie that you were here for Kennedy's sake and not just to see Tyler. Though there were those gap moments when you and Tyler were able to separate yourselves and talk. That's what it was at first, just talking. He'd offer to get you a drink, you'd accept it and then you'd mingle with each other and the rest of the boys who decided to come out– talking about anything and everything.

But that Thursday night was when everything changed. You were all at Bottled Blonde, Tyler's pick of bar that night, and had wandered off to the bar to get yourself a drink after dancing your ass off with Kennedy and Katie. Distracted by texting Kennedy that you'd be right back, you didn't notice someone was beside you until their arm was resting along your lower back and gripping your hip. When you looked to your left, expecting to see one of your friends or a Stars player, you were met with an unfamiliar, and clearly drunken, stranger. You tried to move out of their grip, only to be pulled back in as he was persistent with getting your phone number while complimenting your dancing on the floor. 

You weren't the least bit panicked until the words 'I have a boyfriend' seemed to not affect the man. And when you found yourself suddenly freed from the man's grasp and pulled into someone else's side, your heart continued to race– because it was Tyler who had pulled you away. 'Back the fuck off, she's taken' was all it took for the guy to stumble away. You didn't know if it was because it was Tyler Seguin saying it or the fact that his tone had dropped into a demanding one that sent chills down your spine...and maybe even turned you on a little bit.

When the bartender handed you your drink, Tyler told him to add it onto his tab, grabbed your hand, led you away through the dance floor and over to a tucked-away space where the music was mumbled. He had you cornered, looking you over before letting out a relieved breathe before asking if you were okay. You didn't know what to say. That you were freaked out because some guy came onto you at the bar? Or that you wanted to do nothing more than pull Tyler against you and kiss the hell out of him? 

Instead, you just nodded and he led you back out to your guys' group, never letting go of your hand. For the remainder of the night, you stuck close to your group and Tyler stuck close to you. For anyone watching, it looked as if you were just hanging out with friends and laughing. But secretly, Tyler was always touching you. Sitting at a booth? His hand was on your thigh underneath the table. In the big crowd? He was cradling your lower back. Standing up? The two of you were standing thigh to thigh.

It was comforting, it was safe, it was hot...and it wasn't as secretive as you thought it was. Because the next morning before her class, Kennedy asked you the one question you'd been asking yourself over the last few weeks.

'What's going on between you and Tyler?'

And tonight, a cool, Saturday night was no different. Instead of getting ready to go out with the boys– you, Kennedy and Big Rig were getting ready to go out to Cole's fraternities big annual off-campus 'ABC' party. Tyler had extended an invitation for you guys to join them, they were only going out for a little bit since they had to leave for Winnipeg the next morning– but you had already told Cole a while back that you'd go to the ‘ABC’ party. Besides, you and Kennedy had put in some work on your Jack Daniels' boxes to make them outfit material, and that wasn't going to waste. Big Rig was surprisingly comfortable in his box and almost asked for you guys to make it as short as yours– but according to him, he'd need a shit ton of shots to follow thru with that idea.

"Okay so I know I've already asked you this before–"

You groaned, turning away from your makeshift vanity and looking at her. "If it's what I think you're about to ask, then try like a hundred times...since yesterday!"

"Don't be so dramatic, it's been like ten."

"Fifteen."

"Actually, it's probably closer to–" Big Rig went to chime in, but Kennedy raised an eyebrow at him and he raised his hands in defense. "Ten sounds about right."

"Anyway, as I was saying," she stopped tying the shoulder strap of her box and turned to you. "What's going on with you and Tyler? I mean, you've been over at his place almost every night since last week, sometimes spending the night there. Plus he was all touchy and staring at you with lovey-dovey eyes all night, Thursday."

You turned away from her, returning back to double-checking your make-up. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh please, are you and Segs hooking up or what?"

"Jamie!" Kennedy blurted out, tossing a nearby shirt at him. "You can't just blurt it out."

"What? It's not like we're all not thinking it!"

You put down your mascara and turned to him. "What do you mean by 'all'?"

He shrugged his shoulders, kicking his box to the side as he lounged on Kennedy's bed in his compression shorts. "I mean you've got Kennedy and me. But then some of the guys have kind of noticed how you two have been...I don't know," He plucked at her comforter, looking away from you. "Getting closer, I guess."

You feel a sense of panic wash over you as your brain starts to list off the possible names who noticed you and Tyler. Which ones have been around you two when those little moments happen? "Does Jamie suspect anything?"

Big Rig shook his head. "Nope, he's oblivious as hell. It's just the young ones– Miro, Klinger, Hintz. Why? Are you admitting that something is going on between you two?" He asked, raising his eyebrows and smiling.

You flipped him off and stood up from your chair, walking to your bed. "No, I have a boyfriend, remember? Cole?"

"Yeah, a boyfriend who you haven't talked to since the Halloween party– TWO weeks ago."

You wanted to argue against her, but you knew she was right. You and Cole haven't texted, called or spoken to one another since Tyler's Halloween party– at this point, you weren't even 100% sure you were still dating. You looked over at Big Rig and stuck out your bottom lip, asking for help.

"Oh no," he laughed, shaking his head and holding his hands up in defense. "I'm not stepping in the middle of this."

"Ugh, you suck," you replied, tossing a pillow from your bed over at him. "Anyway, nothing is going on between Tyler and me, and there probably never will be."

"Do you want there to be? Cause the boys might be oblivious to looks, but I see how you've been looking at him all this week when we're out. You do that giggle and you constantly touch your hair and roll your eyes at his stupid jokes," Kennedy walked over to her bed and plugged her phone in to charge. "They're all classic Y/N likes someone, signals."

You were speechless because she was right and you knew it. You liked the way Tyler was around and with you, and part of you wanted him to know it but is too nervous to admit it. You cleared your voice, putting your make-up away.  "It doesn't matter if I do. I'm his best friends little sister for God's sake, could you get more cliché than that?"

"I mean, have you met Tyler?" Big Rig added in, no humor in his voice. "Not to be a total downer here, but he isn't picky when it comes to his girls...and I don't think Chubbs being your brother would stop him from going after you. At least, if he likes you it wouldn't."

Ouch. You knew Big Rig was right. Tyler's reputation and resume of hookups didn't paint him as someone who had a type or cared what the girl looked like– he just went for it and that was it. But damn, hearing that if he really liked you, he'd have made a move by know and knowing that he hasn't done anything... gut-punched you.

Kennedy smacked his stomach and shot him a look. "Don't say that!" She looked back at you with a hopeful smile. "Listen Y/N, what he said,  maybe true, but you're also not just any other girl in a bar downtown who just wants to be able to say they slept with a professional hockey player."

"Yeah, because instead, I'm Jamie Benn's kid sister," you mumbled, turning towards your bed.

Kennedy turned you around and kept her hands on your shoulders, looking at you. "No, it's because you're his friend. You see him every day, you watch his dogs...he cares for you."

"Oh great, so now I'm in the friend-zone!"

She rolled her eyes and reached over for the bedside table and grabbed your beer, handing it to you. "I've seen the way he looks at you and I highly doubt you're anywhere near the friend-zone. I just think he's probably trying to figure out how to make a move."

"Well if he could do that sooner rather than later, that'd be great," you said, taking a long sip of your near-empty PBR. No sooner than the words left your mouth, did you realize what you just admitted? Your eyes immediately looked towards Kennedy and Big Rig to see them both smiling. "Don't you–"

"I knew it," Big Rig cheered, hopping off of Kennedy's bed and pointing at you. "Ha! I knew it! Klinger owes me 10 bucks."

You groaned as your phone beeped and you walked back over to your desk, picking it up. You chugged the rest of your PBR and turned towards the duo. "Stop being assholes and come on, our Uber is here."

"Whatever you say," Big Rig replied, brushing by you and walking to your door, turning around and winking. "Mrs. Seguin."

"JAMIE OLEKSIAK I SWEAR TO GOD!" You yelled out, only for him to already be completely out of your door. "I'm going to kill him. Have your fun tonight Ken, because he's a dead man."

"Please don't kill him Y/N, he's the best hook-up I've had in a long, long time," she joked, nudging you out the door. "Plus, he's not exactly wrong. Seguin is a good look for you."

You rolled your eyes and stormed ahead of her and down the hall to where Big Rig was holding open your complex door. Your costume prevented you from crossing your arms and fully bringing on the attitude, so you had to settle with your best resting bitch face to act as a mask so they wouldn't be able to tell just how much you actually liked the idea of Tyler being yours.

❒❒❒❒

Beta Upsilon Chi's off-campus 'ABC'  party, was arguably one of the biggest parties of the semester. It was thrown in a warehouse owned by a former member and has been a big tradition for the last ten years. A lot of shit happens at these parties, stuff that you thought only existed in unrealistic movies– but your freshman year you were surprised when you and Kennedy walked into one of the rented bathroom trailers to see a group of kids doing a line of cocaine. Another year, the entire men's swimming team decided to initiate their freshmen by making them do a naked lap around the warehouse and a spotlight following them around.

You had to give it to the fraternity though, while some wild ass shit always went down, nothing tragic ever happened, they always made sure people got home safe and it was always a damn good party. It was wild from the moment you guys stepped into the warehouse, both the literal party and the groups of people who would come up to the three of you and talk to Big Rig. After the ninth or tenth group stopped the three of you, you had found Cole talking to his roommate, Tristan. It was an awkward greeting since the two of you haven't spoken in weeks, but no sooner than he kissed you and Tristan offered you a few shots– all went back to normal. Cole managed to leave his fraternity duties behind for a good while so he could dance with you, Kennedy and Big Rig– all while managing to refrain from even looking at Kennedy, most likely due to what happened at the last party.

But the dancing didn't last long before Cole had to go back to doing his rounds as one of the Frat members and you were left third-wheeling with Big Rig and Kennedy. As the night went on, you realized that for the first time in a long time, you and Cole were getting along pretty well– when he came to find you in the crowd. The two of you were laughing, he was getting along with Kennedy (when she didn't secretly give him a stink eye) and it reminded you of the early stages of your relationship. Either it was real or it was all of the shots you took, blurring fantasy and reality together, you didn't know, but also...you didn't care.

Sometime during the night, Big Rig took Kennedy back to the dorm because she wasn't feeling too hot and he had to be up the next morning to fly to Winnipeg with the team. He offered to take you home too, but you were still wanting to dance and told him Cole had said he'd take you home later in the night. And that's how you ended up at the party alone, being fed shots by Cole's fraternity brothers whenever you walked by the table in search of your boyfriend...which totaled to be a lot of shots. Stumbling your way through the crowd wasn't too hard, seeing as you were amongst people who were much drunker than you and dancing wildly. When you got to the middle of the floor, you saw Cole through a group of people talking and waved your arm in the air to get his attention.

When the group broke and your line of vision cleared, your stomach dropped into your shoes. Cole had a girl pressed against him, his hands wandering along her body as he had his face pressed into her neck; whispering into her ear or kissing her skin, you couldn't tell– but she was smiling. Before you could even manage a logical thought, your feet were carrying you over to the two of them, stopping right beside them. You reached out and shoved Cole's shoulder, instantly gaining both of their attentions. "What the fuck, Cole?"

You expected his eyes to go wide in fear at the fact that he was caught in the act. That there would be a hint of regret hidden on his face or in his body language when you confronted him, but there was none. And at that very moment, you didn't know what hurt worst. The fact that he didn't seem to care you had caught him or that strangely...you weren't surprised.

"Hey, you're Y/N, right?" The girl asked, looking between you and Cole. "The ex-girlfriend?"

"EX- girlfriend?" You asked, looking at Cole. "Who are you?"

"I'm Paisley..." She looked up at Cole, linking her arm in his before looking back at you with sympathy. "His girlfriend of, what's it been, Cole?" She smiled up at Cole once again, "three months?"

Your eyes were about to pop out of your head the moment your mind registered her words. It was like you had completely zoned out, the only thing you could hear was the muffled music mixed with your heartbeat. Your mind was running a million miles a minute, throwing out questions that your mouth couldn't even speak.

"Also, don't worry about the dress stain. I took it to my dad's cleaners and they got it out like it was nothing. I never figured Dallas Stars team parties got so wild."

And that was the nail in the coffin. The dress Cole had brought for you to wear to Tyler's Halloween party– the one he said belonged to Pat's girlfriend, actually belonged to the girl he had been cheating on you with for three months. You tried to push down the nauseous feeling as the questions kept creeping back into your mind. Was he sleeping with the both of you? How did he hide this? Was it your fault? 

Then the tears started to build. Partially because he was cheating on you and from the alcohol, but mainly because you couldn't believe you had been so stupid. And then the laughter soon followed, because here you were, still with your shitty boyfriend that:

A) None of your friends or family liked.

B) Managed to get an entire NHL roster team to hate him

and C) Was so shitty to you, that even the most prolific womanizer in Dallas could see it and thought it was wrong.

You looked at Paisley and smiled. "I don't know what he told you, but we're very much still together," you turned to Cole, the anger suddenly needing to take over. "And you're such a piece of shit that I honestly don't even know why I'm surprised."

"Y/N, you're making a scene–"

"What do you mean you're still together?" Paisley turned to Cole, a confused look on her face. "You told me that you broke up with her before the semester started!"

"Nope, we're still together! Though Paisley, a bit of a warning for you? He's a misogynistic asshole who's total shit in bed, will belittle every little thing that you do and–"

Cole stepped towards you, looking around at the few people who were starting to notice that your argument was even taking place. "Y/N, enough!" He growled, putting on a smile and nodding before looking down at you. "Let's go and talk somewhere. You're drunk and upset and not making any–"

"No!" You yelled, stumbling back from him and poking him in the chest with your finger. "Fuck you, Cole! I have a right to be angry! I turned down hanging out with people who genuinely like me to come to your party because you whined about me missing the last one and it turns out you've been cheating on me for months!"

He laughed, rolling his eyes. "People, who genuinely like you? Who are you talking about? Seguin and the rest of your brother's pathetic team? Newsflash, Y/N," he stepped towards you with anger in his eyes. "You're just a young, hot piece of ass to him and that's all you'll ever be. Just another girl trying to fuck a Hockey player." He smiled and looked off to the crowd before looking back at you. "Huh, I guess that replacement Halloween costume...wasn't a costume after all then, was it?"

You could feel the tears come back as you bit the inside of your cheek to keep them from falling. That was a sore spot that he just did a boxing combo on and you just wanted to turn around and run. But you were tired of letting him treat you like this, so even though your legs were shaking, you kept your shoulders back and blinked back the tears. "Go to hell Cole," you spat, throwing whatever was left in your cup onto his costume and spinning on your heels to walk away.

"What the fuck, Y/N?" He yelled, seconds before he reached out and clutched onto your forearm, trying to stop you from leaving with all of his strength.

You whipped around, swinging your free hand back and up, your knuckles making solid contact with his eye and cheekbone. He immediately let go of your hand and went to touch his face as more people looked on. Your heart was racing as you took in what just happened and yet sympathy for him was nowhere to be found. "In case that wasn't obvious, Cole...we're done." You looked up at Paisley, who was standing in the same spot, frozen. "Sorry about the dress."

Before either of them could reply, you stormed off through the crowd, not caring who you bumped into as you tried to distance yourself as far from them as possible. You ended up by the bar in search of the cooler that held some free water in it. "Hey, want a shot?"

You turned to see someone you didn't recognize but looked a little too old to be a college student. This wasn't surprising because there's always been a problem with non-SMU students sneaking into the party with invites from current students. "Uh, no thanks."

"Come on, just one shot! It won't hurt you and look, you can even watch me pour it in case you think I'm going to drug you or something." He laughed, brushing off the seriousness of it all and opened his flask, pouring out two shots and sliding one over to you.

"I said no."

"Hey, Hey!" He grabbed onto your hand as glared at you as you went to turn away. "I'm offering you a fucking drink, you don't have to be such a bitch about it!"

You snatched your hand away from him and stumbled back into the crowd, not even caring if the tears you'd worked so hard on holding back were starting to fall. You took your phone out of your spandex beneath the bottom portion of your box and unlocked it, scrolling through your messages as you continued to stumble through the crowd. You clicked on a contact, calling the number as you reached the entrance of the warehouse. It only rang once before they picked up, but you didn't even bother to give them a chance to speak.

"P-please come get me," you struggled to take a deep breath as you pushed your way through the crowded entrance and out into the night air. "Kennedy and Big Rig left, I p-punched Cole, some creepy guy tried to give me a drink and I-I don't have a ride home. I'll share my location, just...please."

"Stay right here, I'm on my way."

You hung up the phone and broke down alongside the warehouse building.

The chill wind was just starting to pick up when you felt a presence in front of you. "Y/N?"

You looked up from your arms to see Tyler squatting down in front of you in a sweatshirt and shorts. "You came?"

"Of course I did." He looked at you as if you had two heads before holding out both of his hands. "Now come on, let's get you home."

You grabbed onto his hands and he helped you up, looking at you and turning you side to side to make sure you were okay. "I-I'm fine," you sniffled, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "I just look like a drowned rat."

Tyler just laughed and pulled you into his side, wrapping an arm around your waist. "No, you don't, Y/N. Let's just go home, okay?"

You nodded and snuggled more into his side, relaxing against him as he led you away from the warehouse. "Tyler! Hey Tyler Seguin, what's up man?" A drunk partygoer yelled out, waving at Tyler. "Go Stars!"

"Not much man, thanks for the support!" Tyler replied, pulling you further into him, staying tense and on alert as he led you to his car. When you reached his car, you noticed that he was parked pretty much on the curb in his fancy-ass Mercedes. He opened the passenger door and looked. "Do you need help getting in?"

You scoffed, tossing your hair over your shoulder and acting as if you weren't totally shitfaced and had been crying for the last fifteen minutes. "I am an i-independent and newly single woman, Tyler. I c-can do it."

You took a step up onto the sidestep and reached out for the 'oh shit' handle, grabbing air and almost falling forward. Tyler grabbed onto your hips and helped you steady yourself. When you looked back at him in embarrassment, he just shook his head and tried to hide his smile. "I won't say anything, now get in the car."

With a little push, you were seated in his leather passenger seat and looking around the car. He stepped up and grabbed your seatbelt. "I'm going to buckle you in, okay?"

You just nodded and watched as he reached across you, balancing himself by only holding onto the 'oh shit' handle and standing on the side step with one foot. He was so close to you that you could smell his cologne radiating off of his body and man, it smelled good. Your eyes took in his mess of curls he called his hair and for a split second, you wanted to reach out and run your fingers through it. When you heard the buckle click, he stopped right in front of you and smiled. "All buckled in."

'I could just lean in and plant one on him', you thought. Just grab onto his face and kiss the hell out of him. What's stopping you? Not Cole, that's for damn sure. Now that you were a single woman, you could indulge in your feelings and finally go after Tyler...assuming he'd even be okay with that.

Tyler reassuringly squeezed your thigh and got out of the car, closing the door and making his way to the driver's side. It was only a few seconds before he was in the driver's seat, starting his car and turning on your seat warmers. When he turned the radio station from Hip-Hop to Country, he smiled at you. "I know you like country music, so just listen to this and we'll be home before you know it."

You nodded as he started to drive away from the party and zoned in on the song.

"You brushed away your blonde hair And you kissed me out of nowhere, I can still show you the spot where everything went down. Oh, I told you I was gonna marry you, you probably didn't think that it was true"

The moment your brain registered what song was playing, the waterworks just exploded and you burst into tears. Tyler looked over at you with a panicked look on his face before slamming on the brakes at a stop sign. "What? What is it what's wrong?"

"The s-s-song," you pointed to the radio and wiped your cheeks. "Th-that was our song. He said it was our s-song when we first started dating b-because we met on October 14th."

You felt stupid, bawling like a baby into your hands in Tyler's car over a song that an asshole of a boy dedicated to you years prior. It wasn't the fact that the song was the issue, but how you remembered how nice your relationship was at the beginning of it all.

"Okay, okay we can fix this," Tyler cleared his throat and kept changing the station channels until settling on another country station that had a song just ending. "How about this, hey...look at me, please?"

You sniffled and picked your head out of your hands to look at him. His eyes took in your tear-stained cheeks and immediately he covered his hand with his sweatshirt and patted the tears away. "S-Sorry that I'm such a mess."

"Don't apologize for what that asshole did Y/N, ever." He brought his hand back and nodded at the station. "I've got an idea, hear me out?" You nodded and he pointed at the radio.

"The next song that comes on, that'll be our song, okay? Not you and douchebag, you and me. Does that sound good?" Nodding again, he smiled and held his hand out across the center console towards you.

You looked at it and smiled, reaching out and holding onto it for what felt like dear life. He intertwined your fingers with his and held up your hands, looking at you. "You've got me on your side, okay? If you need to cry, vent or just yell, go ahead and do it...I won't judge."

"Thank you, Tyler." You sniffled, squeezing his hand.

He just smiled and let your hands relax back onto the center console, where he didn't release his from yours. As the long list of commercials came to an end, Tyler squeezed your hand again before turning down the street. You rested your head back against the headrest and looked out the window as the radio DJ kept talking about the CMA awards. You weren't listening much, only trying to focus in on what song would play next- the song that would belong to you and Tyler.

"I'll never settle down, that's what I always thought. Yeah, I was that kind of man, just ask anyone. I don't dance, but here I am, spinning you around and around in circles. It ain't my style, but I don't care, I'd do anything with you anywhere. Yes, you got me in the palm of your hand, 'Cause, I don't dance."

You tried your best to sneak a peek of Tyler from the corner of your eye to see if he reacted to the song, but before you could even get one, he let go of your hand and changed the song. "Next station!"

"What? Why!"

"This song is better," He turned the volume up and went back to staring at the road.

"If he don't love you anymore, just walk your fine ass out the door. I do my hair toss, check my nails– baby how you feelin'? Feeling good as hell"

He looked at you quickly, soon frowning. "What? You don't like this song?"

"No, I love this song and Queen Lizzo," you sighed, slumping into the seat. "It's just... that was gonna be our new song, remember?"

"Oh," he cleared his throat and turned it back to the country station. "I just figured since it was like a...romantic song that uh, I'd change it."

You shrugged your shoulders and turned your attention back to the window, continuing to jam out to Lizzo. You had the urge to cry but bit the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from doing so. Tyler changed the song because it was a romantic one, he hadn't bothered to grab your hand again– maybe you were thinking too much into things and your friendship with him. Otherwise, he probably would've been okay with the song...right?

❒❒❒❒

Tyler had his arm around you still as he helped you up the steps and to the door. The longer you had sat down in his car, the more the alcohol had hit you and the moment you went to get out of his car, he practically had to catch you or you would've hit his garage floor face first. "I'm such an i-idiot. My brothers were right," you slurred as Tyler held you up and against him, throwing your arm over his shoulders. "Cole is a fucking dickface and I wish I could k-kick him in the balls."

"I'm sure we'd all love to do that, Y/N." He laughed, unlocking the door and pushing it open with his foot. "Now there's a step, so be–"

You walked ahead of him, wanting to get into the house and completely tripping over the step he was telling you about. “careful...”

You landed on your hands and knees as his tile floors felt cool against your skin. Crying wouldn't have helped any, so all you could do was laugh. You crawled ahead and out of his way as the familiar sound of paws echoed down the hall. "PUPPERS!!!"

In seconds, the three blobs of fur sprinted around the corner and tackled into you, knocking you onto your but and inadvertently breaking your DIY costume bottoms. "No! Bad boys, go back!" Tyler said, closing the door and snapping his fingers.

The dogs didn't listen as they continued to crawl all over you and licking you. "Be nice to my puppers Tyler," you said, reaching forward and rubbing Cash behind an ear as your other hand was rubbing Marshall's butt. "Because dogs are so cute and lovable and they don't screw other girls behind your back."

Like he knew that you needed it, Gerry reached up and started licking your face. You could feel yourself start to forget all about Cole and Paisley as the three Seguin boys showered you with their love and attention. Standing over you, you saw Tyler laugh and shake his head as he had his hands on his hips. "Don't worry, you guys are the best, goodest boys in the world and your daddy is just jealous that you love me more than him."

"Alright that's enough you needy dogs," Tyler shooed them off and ignored your pout as he held onto your hands and stood you up off of the floor. "You lost your pants." He said, bending down and picking up the Jack Daniel's box. "Need these?"

"Throw them away, I don't care." You replied, moving ahead and walking towards his living room as best as you could.

"Oh no you don't," He ran up behind you and turned you around, his hands on your waist. "Come on, please don't make me toss you over my shoulders."

You gasped, a smile breaking out on your face. "Like a fireman? Oh, could you? That'd be so cool."

Tyler just sighed and directed you towards the stairs and pushing you lightly up them, keeping a hand on your lower back in case you were to fall. You only fell back into him a few times before reaching the top of the stairs and when you did, Tyler grabbed your hand and led you to his room.

A crazy sense of Deja vu washed over you as you knew the situation was all too familiar. You in a...broken costume of sorts, drunk and Tyler taking you to his room. He walked you over to the bed and sat you down, pointing at you. "Stay right here, okay?"

You brought your hand up to your forehead, saluting him and almost knocking yourself over. "Yes, sir!"

He just laughed as you fell back onto his bed, staring up at his ceiling. "Don't fall asleep on me, Y/N!"

"Technically," you raised a finger into the air. "I'm not sleeping on you, I'm sleeping on your bed...which is so comfortable. I think I'm going to steal it for my dorm."

You heard him walk by you again as he tossed something onto the bed beside you. "I'd love to watch you try, Y/N. Now come on, stand up for me."

He tapped your bare thigh and you felt your nerves send a shock throughout your entire body. "Did you just shock me?!"

"What? No!" He replied, reaching out to you and pulling you up by your hand. He made sure you wouldn't fall back down as he reached beside you and picked up a shirt. "You can go ahead and put these on so you don't have to sleep in...whatever that is."

"It's called art, Tyler," you scoffed, sliding the straps of your box top off of you and letting it drop onto the floor as you took the clothes from him. "And I'll have you know, I worked the hell out of it!"

You reached down to take off your bandeau and Tyler immediately spun around. "What are you doing?! Just put on the shirt! You don't need to," he waved a hand around in your direction. "Do that!"

"I never sleep with a bra on, Tyler. Besides, it's a bandeau and it'll just slip off when I roll over," You took it off and tossed it onto the floor, sighing. "I bet you he cheated on me because of my boobs, do guys do that?"

You could hear Tyler choke on his breath as he kept his back to you, looking up at his ceiling. "I mean, I think my boobs are great and they're real! I bet you Alpha Gamma Psi Paisley the bottled blonde's boobs are fake!" You looked down at your chest before looking back at Tyler. "Mine are real! I grew them myself, I mean...aren't my boobs great? Actually, Paisley was really nice...now I feel mean.”

Tyler brought a hand to his face shaking his head. "I'd prefer not to answer that question, please."

"I demand you to look at my boobs Tyler!" You glared at him, the alcohol taking over you completely. "How else can you judge them fairly?"

"I'm not going to look at your boobs, Y/N..."

You groaned and plopped down onto his bed. "Tyler Seguin, you look at my boobs right now or I'm telling my brother."

"Well, that's exactly why I can't look at your boobs."

It all seemed so ridiculous, the fact that you were getting so upset because he wouldn't look at your chest. You were 100% positive that he's looked at other girls' chests without protest, but yet here he was with his back to you still, being stubborn and refusing to look. The thought of him not returning even a slight bit of feelings, combined with the alcohol and everything that happened tonight- was enough to make you start crying again.

"I bet you he cheated on me because my boobs are ugly or something," you wiped your cheeks as more tears fell. "Am I that undesirable of a girlfriend to where he had to go out and find a-another girl?"

You could see Tyler's shoulders relax before slumping over as he let out a deep breath. He turned his head slightly, looking you in the eye before letting his eyes travel down for only a second before he turned right back around, just as fast. "Your boobs are great, Y/N. Now can you please get dressed?"

"That wasn't even a full look, but I guess you're just really nice," you sighed, pushing yourself up. "Nothing like the manwhore everyone says you are–oh!"

You tripped over the Jack Daniel's box that was still around your feet and Tyler turned around quickly to keep you from falling. When he looked down at you, his eyes went wide before he looked away towards his closet and helped you up. "Just, use me for balance and get dressed."

You picked up the shirt and put it on you, resting a hand on Tyler's shoulder whenever you felt like you were going to fall over. When you sat back down onto the bed, Tyler picked up your bandeau and folded it, placing it onto the dresser. He turned back around with a pink pack of facial wipes in his hand and squatted down to your level as he pulled done out and started to wipe off your make-up.

"Is this okay? It's not too hard, right"

"Why do you have these? From your last club conquest?" You asked, not afraid to hide the jealousy and sarcasm in your voice.

Tyler blushed as he nodded at you to close an eye so he could get the mascara off of your eyes. "Candace uses them and I love the way they smell, so I bought them for myself." He grabbed a new wipe and moved to the other eye, "plus they keep my beautiful face clean."

You laughed as he finished up and pulled back the covers of his bed and patted the empty space, "welcome to your bed."

You smiled and crawled towards the empty space, digging your legs beneath the covers. "With the dogs?"

Tyler just laughed and rested his hands on his hips as he whistled. It was only a few moments before the three dogs you babysat often, were jumping onto the bed and each picking their place beside you for the night. "You three better behave yourself and let her sleep," he said, looking at each dog individually. "And no funny business, I'm looking at you, Gerry. That means no shitting on my floor."

He turned back to you and grabbed onto the covers, pulling them up as high as the dogs' weight on the blankets would allow. He picked up the facial wipes and walked into the bathroom, tossing them away before going to leave the bedroom altogether.

"And you?" You asked, propped up against his pillows and petting Cash who had claimed the spot right beside you.

Tyler stopped and turned around, looking as if he was contemplating whether or not he would join you in his bed. He rubbed the side of his beard and shook his head. "Not yet, I've got just some to do really quick."

You tried your best not to allow your disappointment to show but ultimately failed, "Oh. Later then?"

"Maybe, later." He headed towards the door and stopped to look at you again.

"Thank you for coming to get me again, you're the best I don't deserve you." You yawned and rolled over onto your side, snuggling down into his bed and against Cash. "Goodnight Ty."

It felt as if the moment your head relaxed into his pillow that your body and brain just slipped into a fast sleep. No sooner than you closed your eyes, you heard him turn off the light and then start to walk...except the steps were coming closer to you. You felt him tug onto the blankets a little more, making sure that your upper body was covered, feeling his hand rest on your shoulder.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he whispered, removing his hand from your shoulder softly. You thought that maybe he was leaving the room, but as soon as you felt his lips and the scruff of his beard against your cheeks– your heart stopped. "And no...I don't deserve you."

You stayed still as you listened for his footsteps leave the room and the sound of the door closing. You opened your eyes, bringing your hand against your cheek, swearing up and down that you could still feel his lips against them. You smiled and snuggled more into Cash, petting his head as he sighed. "Holy shit Cash, he just kissed me...does this mean he might like me? Oh God, what if I'm just overthinking this? Do you think I'm overthinking this?"

Cash lifted his head slightly and licked at your face before plopping his head back down onto the comforter and letting out a long breath. You sighed and kissed his head, "okay yeah, you're right, let's just go to bed."

As you closed your eyes again and cuddled with the Seguin boys, your heart was thumping against your chest as your brain thought about the one Seguin that you couldn't help but wish was lying here with you– Tyler.

[iwantthedean]

A New Fall

Graphic courtesy of @atc74.

Part Six: Cripps Pink. Brisk, autumn nights. 

Summary: The Fall Festival continues.    Pairing: Jensen x Reader Word Count: 2409 Warnings: Set post-Season 15, which I know makes a lot of people sad to think about.  Square Filled: This entire series will fill my proposal square for BTZ Bingo.

A/N: Thank you for the continued support! I am loving writing this series :) Enjoy this fluffy chapter! Thank you to @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ who let me use her requested drabble prompt for this (bolded), and @atc74​ who helped me pick a song for the moment ... don’t want to give to much away, but you’ll know it when it comes.  

Masterlist

Friday afternoon went about the same as Thursday, except now Jensen was more comfortable with the register. The two of you sat behind the counter, making small talk and joking like you were old pals. It was a comfortable familiarity that made you like him even more.

Ms. Kitty would trade out with the two of you sometimes, give you the chance to mingle with other patrons of the festival. Some of them were local, some had traveled from places like Boston and Providence.

Towards the early evening, Stephen came in to close The Farmer’s Stand for the day. Normally the market would have stayed open later, but on the festival weekend, it gave everyone the chance to enjoy the festivities. Tonight was the chili cook-off. With Ms. Kitty’s blessing, you and Jensen walked from The Farmer’s Stand over to the main square, where tables were all set up. Each cook stood behind their table, offering bowls of chili scooped from deep pots or huge crockpots.

“So, I normally walk around and check out all of them, then decide which one I want to eat,” you informed Jensen. “Not a big fan of the spicy stuff, so I stay away from those. How about you?”

Jensen puffed out his chest. “Oh, bring on the spice! The spicier the better!”

“Oh, really, Mister?” You challenged him with your brow raised. “Okay. Come on then, let’s go see the Randalls table. You’ll smell their chili from a few feet away.”

The closer the two of you got to the Randalls’ table, the more nervous Jensen looked. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. He had tried to act all macho, and now you were calling his bluff. You couldn’t wait to see how this turned out.

“Hey, Genita,” you greeted the wife. “This is Jensen, he’s new in town. He says he likes spicy.”

“Well, you came to the right place then, darlin’.” Genita reached for a plastic spoon and a Dixie cup to scoop out a sample for Jensen.

He looked like he was going to be sick before the spoon and cup were even in his hand. You hurried to pull up the video feature on your phone. Jensen took a generous bite of the sample, and seemed okay -- for about a second and a half. He threw the cup and spoon into the nearby bin, cough and sputtered as he swallowed down the chili, then accepted the beer from Ray, Genita’s husband. He chugged down half the bottle before he took another breath.

“How ya feelin’, tiger?” you teased, still pointing the camera at him.

Jensen’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, you are not videoing this!”

“Oh yes I am!” you laughed.

Your laughter grew deeper and the phone fell away when Jensen attacked you with his free arm wrapped around you and tickling your side. You shrieked and squealed, begging him to stop. Finally, you managed to grab the beer can from him and finish off a good portion of the rest of it.

“Hey!” he said, taking it back and finishing it off. “Can’t believe you.”

“Can’t you?” you smiled, finding your phone and tucking it into your back pocket.

The two of you grinned up at each other as you walked with him over to the table of the family that usually made your favorite chili.

* * * * *

Jensen couldn’t get to The Farmer’s Stand fast enough Saturday morning. He hadn’t wanted to leave Y/N’s side the night before when they parted from the square, but the hotel was in the opposite direction of the The Farmer’s Stand where she had left her car. Today, they would spend the morning at the market, then go back to the farm until the carnival that evening. He was looking forward to seeing visitors react to the activities on the farm for the first time -- and seeing Y/N interact with all of them.

“Y/N called this morning, she’s running late -- they needed a little more help setting the final details. Although, by ‘they needed help’, I assume she means she really wanted things perfect for her last Fall Festival there.” Ms. Kitty’s face smiled, but her tone held a note of sadness. “Jensen, dear, I need more price stickers, and there’s some on the desk in the office. Do you mind grabbing them for me?”

“Sure, can do.”

He went into the office and stood behind the desk. The price stickers probably should have been right in view, but he was having trouble spotting them. A manila folder with Y/N’s family name on it caught his eye; he picked it up and glanced through the papers in it.

Months of inventory were recorded on print-outs, and in two columns. It looked like the same month in both columns, but the numbers were different in one column. Jensen frowned; before he could look further into it, Kitty stuck her head in the back.

“Find ‘em?”

Jensen put the folder down and gave the desk another once-over. The price stickers were right there; he wasn’t sure how he had missed them in the first place. He held them up for Kitty and went back out to join her in waiting for Y/N.

* * * * *

You watched from the porch as the last family left, smiling with their bag of apples, and the kids hefting their carefully selected pumpkins into the car. The farm had been bustling all afternoon; you realized how much you were really going to miss this. Sure, there was nothing that said you couldn’t visit the farm once you picked an offer and sold it. It just wouldn’t be the same.

Jensen jogged up the steps to stand next to you. “Been a good afternoon. It’s amazing, watching all these people, come and go.”

You nodded. You had enjoyed spending all of this time with him, but in that moment, already missing what wasn’t even gone yet, you wanted him as far away as possible.

“Going to the carnival tonight?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Probably.”

From your peripheral vision, you could see that he was chewing nervously on his bottom lip. “Do you wanna ride to the market with me, then we can walk over to the square?”

With a deep breath, you turned to face him. You opened your mouth to tell him exactly what was on your mind, but you chickened out, in the end.

“I think I’m gonna take a nap. I’ll see you there, maybe.”

You gave him a tight smile, then went into the house to indeed take that nap and, hopefully, sleep away all of your negative feelings.

* * * * *

When you woke up, you showered off the sweat from the hard couple of hours of sleep. You put yourself together, all the while debating whether you even wanted to go to the carnival or not. People were expecting to see you though, and you couldn’t stand the thought of letting down anyone else.

You wore an off-the-shoulder, comfy sweater, your favorite pair of jeans with the hole in the knee, and a pair of brown lace up boots. You went with your usual curled hair and pretty makeup, then left the house. You parked your car at the market, then walked the way to the square on your own.

A lot of the carnival-goers had been at the farm that day, and they greeted you with a wave. Most of the locals greeted you by name; your heart broke a little more. Would you always be the girl who almost was if you stayed in Attleboro? Maybe sticking around wasn’t such a great idea.

You let go of the thought for now and approached the funnel cake truck. After receiving your snack, you found an open table and took a seat. While you tore pieces away from the sweet, fried food, you watched people walk back and forth. These were your people; your world. Leaving it seemed unimaginable, up until now.

“Hey. I picked this up. Not specifically for you, you know, but if you want it, you can have it.”

You turned toward Jensen where he had slid onto the bench next to you. With a deep breath and a quick decision, you decided not to be harsh. You allowed yourself a half-smile as you took the small bouquet of black-eyed susans from him.

“They’re pretty.”

His smile reflected his relief. “I’m sorry if I’ve been pushing too hard, Y/N. I love being in this town, and learning about the farm and everything you do around here. I’m excited but I know you probably aren’t. So, I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “You don’t need to apologize, Jensen. I know it’s not personal. It’s just -- that farm is my whole life. Every memory I have, where I lived with my grandparents and my dad up until they passed away and my dad moved to the Midwest. I know it’s time to let go, I’m having a hard time with it is all.”

“Don’t apologize, either.”

“Okay.” You got up to drop your empty plate into a trash bin. You returned with only the flowers in your hand. “What now, Mr. Ackles?”

Jensen offered his elbow. “Dance with me, Y/N.”

More than a little nervous, but remembering that you couldn’t hold him responsible for your personal problems, you tucked your hand into the crook of his arm and let him lead you to the dance floor in the middle of the square. A few couples were already out there dancing, and the two of you fell in line with the rest of them.

Despite your hesitancy, you felt nothing but butterflies when he put one arm around your waist and clasped your free hand with his. You set one arm over his shoulder, still holding tight to those flowers.

When holding your breath is safer than breathing

When letting go is braver than keeping

When innocent words turn to lies

And you can't hide by closing your eyes

The slow song started not long after the two of you started to move over the makeshift dance floor. You were so torn over the moment, and you needed to feel safe. Whether it was coincidence, or Jensen could sense your need for a life raft, he held you closer as you hugged tighter to him.

When pain is all that they offer

Like a kiss from the lips of monster

You know the famine so well, but never met the feast

And home is the belly of the beast

The ocean is wild and over your head

And the boat beneath you is sinking

Don't need room for your bags

Hope is all that you have

So say the Lord's prayer twice, hold your babies tight

Surely someone will reach out a hand

And show you a safe place to land

What the hell was it with moments like this? You needed a safe place to land, and here was this song playing while this man -- this man you hardly knew but wanted to know -- held you close and made you feel just as safe as you needed to feel. More than, even.

The longer the song went on, the tighter you held to Jensen. You still had a suspicion that he was only getting close to you because of the farm, but right now, in this moment, you weren’t going to think about that. You were only going to think about this man that you were attracted to -- hell, that you maybe were starting to care about -- and how much he seemed to wanted you back. When the song was over, Jensen made to move away from you, but you still held tight.

“Wait … don’t pull away. Not yet.”

Without question or hesitation, Jensen stayed right there with you, until you were ready to leave.

* * * * *

Jensen rode back to the farm with Y/N. They hadn’t even spoke about it, he just got in the car, and she seemed to agree that he should accompany her.

She seemed to be nervous as she let them into the house. Immediately going into the kitchen, Y/N took a glass vase from the cupboard and filled with water, then dropped the bouquet of flowers in. She set the vase in the middle of the table, then turned to him.

“Are you thirsty?”

Jensen shook his head. “No. I’m okay. Thanks, though.”

“How about I put on a pot of coffee and we can sit out back and talk? I was gonna sit out there by myself anyway, but the company would be nice.”

He agreed immediately. While the coffee brewed, she went upstairs to change. When she came back down, her hair was in a ponytail, she had exchanged her jeans for leggings, and her feet were bare.

By now, he knew where the coffee cups were. He poured a mug for each of them, and met her at the back slider. Y/N had an armful of blankets, and he could already see extra pillows on the two lounges on the patio.

For the next couple of hours, she told him more or less every memory she’d ever made on that farm. About her grandparents, about her father, about living in the house alone.

“Thank you for telling me all of this,” he said when she finally wrapped up her stories. “I hope I can do this place justice, if you decide to take my offer.”

Y/N drew in a breath and hugged the blanket tighter around herself. “I suppose I should make a decision soon. I just wish I knew who the other offer was coming from. I don’t know if they’d be as nice as you and let me stay through the holidays.”

Jensen pursed his lips. “You know, Y/N, my spending time with you -- yeah, it’s about the farm. I want to know how things are done. I don’t want to ruin any traditions or change things from the way you’ve done them. But I’m not hanging around so you’ll take my offer. When I came here to see the farm, I didn’t plan on you.”

Her smile was unmistakable. “I didn’t really plan on you, either. I guess that goes without saying. I’m not doing any of this so that you’ll keep me around or decide to pull your offer.”

“I know that.”

“Good. Glad we got all of that on the table.”

“Me too.” Jensen stood from the lounge and stretched. “It’s late. I should let you get to bed.”

Y/N stood too, the blanket still wrapped around her. She stood in front of him. “You could take my car back to the hotel, if you want. Or -- or you could stay. I’m not really in a mood to be alone.”

Jensen took a deep breath. His eyes searched hers before he slipped one arm around her waist and let the other arm wrap around her shoulders. She tipped her head up to meet him halfway; when he pressed his lips to hers, Jensen felt, for the first time in a long time, that he was home.

* * * * * * * * * *

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