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taexual · 8 months

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sleepwalking ● 19 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, ANGST & FLUFF (i mean it, watch out), SLOW BURN

words: 14.5k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 19 ► so dig two graves, ‘cause when you die, i swear i’ll be leaving by your side

When the tour bus arrived in Glasgow, you realised that you had slept perhaps a quarter of an hour in total tonight. Discomfort and Regret had become unwelcome companions that kept you up.

Last night, you had planned to talk to Jungkook, but he flipped the script and did all the talking instead. And if you had to describe your choices from then on, you’d have to accept that, essentially, you had run away without saying anything.

You realised now, through tossing and turning in your bunk the whole bus journey, that this was your recurring pattern.

When you and Jungkook first broke up, you’d barricaded yourself in your apartment and only ventured outside when it was unavoidable, like to go to work. Or when your friends forced you out of bed. They tolerated your need for silence in moderation—a few days of self-imposed isolation were okay. But two consecutive weeks was a little excessive.

In Stockholm, the impulse to run away had gripped you right after your conversation on the bridge sank abruptly in the waters below. In Oslo, you had actually run away after you’d almost kissed. You could still feel the shivers on your skin from the cold night air on the rooftop terrace. And, of course, you’d also planned to avoid him when you arrived in Manchester.

It was a pattern that was doomed to end in failure every time, yet you stubbornly refused to give it up.

You wanted to escape the feelings that frightened you, but they only ran faster. They chased after you like daunting shadows. They caught up with you. They engulfed you.

This perpetual cycle wasn’t just futile, it was also unfair—to you and to Jungkook. And to Rated Riot, too.

It had gone on for too long.

You were determined to redeem that today.

While Jungkook and the boys were doing an interview on a local radio station after the soundcheck, you chose to stay at the venue to work. Initially, you only intended to answer internal company emails and update the label executives, but unsurprisingly, that morphed into more tasks that needed your immediate attention.

Seated at your laptop in the band’s dressing room, you spent a good couple of hours finalising Rated Riot’s schedule for the rest of the week, emailing back journalists and verifying their credentials before issuing backstage passes for upcoming interviews, and humming along to a tune playing in your headphones.

It was then—during the chorus of an old Bad Omens song that was loud and messy enough to keep your mind alert and focused—that Seokjin decided to tap you on the back.

You jumped up as high as it was humanly possible and pushed your laptop away as if to protect it from intruders—which was what your mind assumed Seokjin to be, apparently. He took a step back, shocked and very entertained by your violent startle.

“Shit, sorry,” he said, attempting to suppress a smile. “You’ve been—you’ve been working here by yourself for hours. I’m taking a coffee break. Want to join me?”

With one hand pressed to your chest, you slid your headphones off and checked the time on the corner of your laptop screen. “Uh, sure. Coffee sounds nice.”

The two of you found a quaint café a few blocks from Barrowland where Rated Riot would be playing later that evening. But despite the cosy setting, you chose to grab your coffee to-go. It was a warm, sunny day outside. Seokjin thought you could use some fresh air.

“So,” he said eagerly, as soon as the café bell tinkled, announcing your exit, “what’s on your mind?”

You met his question with surprise. “What do you mean?”

He maintained an air of nonchalance, sipping his Americano and observing casually, “your pupils are massive. You look like you’re planning a revolution. Or a massacre.”

You took a sip of your drink and regretted not stirring the caramel in better. You wondered what it would be by the end of tonight: revolution or massacre.

“I was—well, it’s nothing much,” you said. “I was just thinking that things might be different when we got home.”

“How so?”

The two of you crossed the street towards a small, vibrant green space—not quite a park—with a tree-lined pathway in the middle and an old blue police box nearby, reminiscent of Doctor Who.

“Well,” you said, “I hear Brazil is really nice that time of year.”

“You’re thinking of going on holiday?” Seokjin asked, surprised. He’s known you since you joined the company, even before you started to manage Rated Riot, and he was well aware of your lack of holidays. The HR department, however, remained blissfully ignorant about it.

You shrugged. “For starters.”

“And then?”

“And then we’ll see.”

The ambiguity in your response wasn’t worrying in itself, but combined with your reluctance to meet his gaze and the intense concentration on your coffee—even though you winced every time you took a sip—it was certainly alarming.

“You’re not… going to quit, are you?” he asked hesitantly. “I’ve heard about Reconnaissance.”

Of course, he’d heard. At this point, enough people knew about it for the news to have a ripple effect and circulate backstage.

“No,” you said, trying to dispel the tension with an airy laugh. “Of course not.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“I’d find a replacement first.”

Seokjin’s casual stride came to an abrupt halt. A few steps ahead, you realised he’d stopped and turned around.

“No,” he said.

His firm declaration made you stutter. “Th-that—that wasn’t a question.”

“And that’s not an option,” he argued. “You can’t quit.”

“I’m not saying I’m leaving for sure. I’m just saying that if I did leave, you wouldn’t even notice the difference,” you said. “I’m a very good teacher.”

With that, you started to walk away, leaving him little choice but to catch up.

“And I love all of you guys,” you continued while Seokjin grunted next to you. “I wouldn’t leave you with someone I didn’t personally trust to take care of you and the band.”

He shook his head, his determination unwavering. If he had known about the band members’ conviction that no one would blame you if you left Rated Riot due to the alluring offer from Reconnaissance, Seokjin might have been tempted to express his disagreement with his fists.

Of course, people would blame you—Seokjin was the people in question.

You belonged here. You were an essential part of the team.

He was convinced of this, and he was going to be annoying about it.

“Okay, I appreciate that,” he said, his tone tinged with incredulity. “Except, what the fuck are you thinking? Of course, we’d notice the difference! You’re you. We love you.”

“That means a lot—”

“But not enough?”

You hesitated, caught off guard by the intensity of his anger. “No, it’s—”

“Alright, look.” He stopped walking again, the paper cup of coffee in his hand more of an accessory than a beverage. “Is this about Jungkook?”

An unexpected heat surged through you and a cascade of excuses immediately raced through your mind. You scanned the pathway, reading the names of the bands imprinted into the pavement with colourful stripes—artists who’d performed at Barrowland before, you assumed—so you wouldn’t have to look at him.

But this was Seokjin. If there was anyone who knew everything that was going on in the band, it was him. You didn’t want to give him pretend reasons.

“In part,” you admitted.

“Well, if that’s the case, then it’s an even more definite no,” he asserted, his resolve unyielding.

You sighed and attempted to smile, but there was a hint of awkwardness in your expression. “I’m not taking votes, Jin. I’ll talk to Jungkook about this, and—”

“You can talk to anyone you like. All the gods you can find, even,” he interrupted. “But you’re not leaving.”

“Jin—”

“Look, when you accepted this job, the fact that you and Jungkook used to know each other didn’t matter,” he stated, tactfully omitting the word ‘relationship’—a nuance you appreciated. “What difference does it make now?”

As you bit your lip and lowered your eyes, Seokjin sensed that there was a difference, after all. It occurred to him that perhaps he wasn’t entirely up to speed on everything that was happening on the tour, after all.

“Okay, you don’t want to talk about it, and I’m not asking you to,” he said, his words gentle, but his tone strict. “What I’m saying is that nobody cares. You can date, you can break up, you can—I don’t know. You can pretty much do anything as long as you don’t kill each other. No one cares.”

“The label cares,” you blurted, the words unpolished and agitated. “I care.”

He waved his free hand dismissively. “The label cares about profit. We’re making a profit from you both. Maybe even more when you’re together because you’re both less annoying that way.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “How are we annoying?”

“Are you kidding? All mopey and sulky?” He stuck his tongue out and pretended to gag. “You make me sick and miserable.”

You snickered softly at the dramatic display. “Fair. Sorry. But fact is, it’s still a good opportunity.”

“Well, sure,” he conceded. “But is that really the reason you want to leave? Or is it because you think that what you’re doing with Jungkook is wrong? You think others will disapprove or think less of you. You think this is highly unprofessional, and it would make more sense to work elsewhere.”

It felt oddly incongruous to hear him articulate—so easily, without a moment’s hesitation—everything that you had been thinking.

“Well, that’s a factor, too, of course…” you said, your voice faltering.

“I think that’s the main factor.”

Taking a sip of your coffee, you mumbled, “I think you think too much.”

“I think you don’t think enough,” he countered. “You can’t leave, not even for Reconnaissance. You’re part of the team, our team. We all are.”

You looked at him, and he raised his eyebrows expectantly—waiting, clearly, for you to admit defeat.

While you didn’t technically need his consent to quit, the sheer determination in his stance made you feel as though his approval was, indeed, a prerequisite for anyone choosing to leave.

“Now you’re making me feel guilty,” you said.

“As you should!” he said—nearly bellowing in his frustration. “But you should feel guilty about mistakenly thinking that you should leave. Not about being in love with him.”

His words struck a deep chord and your heart began to rattle violently in your chest. “I’m—right. Yeah. I need to talk to him about—about everything.”

His tone softened at your reaction.

“I think you should sit down for ten minutes and gather your thoughts before you do that,” he advised. “You should sit and accept that we don’t care if you go out with Jungkook. Whatever you decide, we’re all cool with it. As long as you are, too.”

Afraid that your eyes would betray your thoughts, you shifted your gaze to the silver barks of the graceful birch trees around you. “Do you know about the bet?”

Seokjin took a slow sip of his coffee to allow more time between these overlapping conversations.

“Yeah,” he said. “Is that... uh, have you two worked it out?”

“We’ve—I think we have. I think the bet wasn’t even the main issue, actually, it just—it sort of highlighted all our problems,” you admitted. “We—we’ll have to work through the rest.”

“Right. Okay,” he said. The sun rolled out from behind the buildings, casting a golden glow on the trees and the empty path ahead of you. He squinted and took a sip of his coffee before speaking. “Well, then I can safely tell you that everyone backstage knows about it.”

The disappointment on your face was absolute. “Oh. That—that’s lovely.”

He smiled sympathetically as the two of you continued down the faintly coloured path. Despite the sunshine, the cool breeze toyed relentlessly with the edges of your jackets.

“Don’t worry about it too much, though,” he said. “It’s nothing more than a silly joke backstage. We’re not judging either of you.”

You did worry about it. “What… do you mean by ‘silly joke,’ exactly?”

The two of you arrived at a large sycamore tree with leaves that glimmered in emerald hues under the sun, and Seokjin stopped, grateful for the shade.

“One of the roadies started it,” he explained. “It was just a game. A bet, actually! Funny.” He chuckled at the irony, but stopped himself when he noticed your stoic expression. “Anyway. Someone suggested that Jungkook’s friends were trying to sabotage your relationship by making this bet with him. So, we bet on Jungkook fighting his friends for you. Which—that cost me money, actually. When he showed up at the airport in Cologne with a black eye, I lost fifty euros.”

It took you a minute to process this, and you felt so uncomfortable that your fists itched with an urge to fight someone, too.

“You—so, you bet that he wouldn’t fight his friends?” you clarified, almost hopeful.

“No. I bet that he would,” he said. “But I got too big-headed and bragged about how he wouldn’t miss a single punch. So, everyone claimed that I lost and took my money. Really, I thought he knew how to fight. And he was doing it for a noble cause.” A dramatic pause ensued, and then Seokjin smirked. “I mean you, by the way.”

“No, yeah, I got that,” you said bitterly. “But you didn’t even know the actual—everyone just assumed he had a black eye because of me?”

He pulled his lips together to stifle a chuckle as he moved his cup of coffee away.

“Can you blame us?” he asked with a leisurely shrug. “He’s in love with you, and his friends are complete idiots. And then he shows up with a black eye! The dots connected themselves. Although, personally, I thought Luna or Maggie could have socked him in the eye, too. You three are very protective of each other.”

You tilted your head, your posture a warning. “I see. So, we’re a telenovela to you. Did you bet that I would knock someone out if I found out what you were up to?”

“Not yet,” he said, clearly delighted by the prospect of this happening in the future.

“Did you get your money back at least?”

“Yeah. But then I lost it again.”

The leaves of the sycamore tree rustled impatiently as you groaned. “How?”

“Another bet,” he said. “Some people—including Jimin, by the way—thought that Jungkook’s friends would never come to another Rated Riot show. In the UK specifically. We were very specific about the details in this bet.”

“Right, of course.”

He smirked, unapologetic about the amusement he derived from this. There were all sorts of games happening backstage at any given point in the tour; nearly everything became a joke here. And Seokjin hoped to show you that yes, people did know about you and Jungkook. But unless they could find ways to make it funny, they didn’t care.

He could tell that the more he talked to you about this, the more you started to recognise the absurdity of it all, too.

“Right. Well, Jimin won that round. I actually—I thought Jungkook would change his mind and bring his friends back,” Seokjin confessed. “Serves me right. I should have trusted him more.”

You raised your cup in his direction.

“Yeah,” you said. “Serves you right for making bets about this. He blacklisted Sid.”

“He—oh!” Seokjin seemed very pleased to hear this. “Well, that was worth my money, then.”

“Hmm.”

He grinned, the mischief still lingering in his eyes.

“We have another bet going on,” he said.

“Anoth—well, of course.” Your teeth dug into the coffee lid as you tried to take a sip, but reconsidered. “So, what? Who’s getting a black eye this time?”

“It’s whether you’ll get back together.”

Your irritation wavered in surprise. A rustling stirred inside you as though you had swallowed the wind and carried it within.

“Well,” you said. “Where’d you place your bets?”

“Drink your coffee,” he said. You did. It had cooled and turned unpleasantly sweet as the caramel settled. “I haven’t bet on that yet. But if you told me if you’re considering going back to him, I could win my money back.”

You made sure to swallow before looking up.

“That’s not solely up to me, though,” you said, sensing an obvious defensive undertone in your own voice. You didn’t make much effort to conceal it; he would have read right through you anyway. “A relationship typically involves two people. I can’t force him to be in it.”

Seokjin offered a patient smile.

“Please,” he said. “Everyone knows he’d burn down half of Europe for you.”

You swallowed again.

It was just you. The only one still fighting it.

“Well, in any case—” Seokjin said, distracted, suddenly, by a particularly cheeky pigeon that kept flying up to your ankles, then to your knees. “That bird is going to steal your coffee.”

You glanced down, and the shift in your position frightened the pigeon into flying a few metres away. Seokjin nodded in approval.

“Anyway,” he said. “What I meant to say is that I don’t know how much my opinion is worth, but if the only reason you’re considering quitting is because of this, then that’s nothing. You sit down, you work through your problems, you get back together, and you’re good to go. Well, good to stay. It’s up to you. No one else cares.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Everyone’s talking. They’re making bets about us. We—we’re a joke backstage. And yet you think we should get back together?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Give us something else to bet on.”

Exasperation flashed across your face. “I’m thinking I’d like to sic that pigeon on you a little bit.”

“Oh, but what would you do without me?” He was grinning in a manner so endearing and genuine that you felt your lips stretch into a defeated smile as well. “You know we’re family. That is what we do. And you said it yourself – everyone’s already talking. And no one’s truly bothered by it. You might as well do what you want.”

You took a big gulp of your coffee to finish it.

Some of the humour faded from his eyes while he watched you. He looked around—to make sure the pigeon hadn’t returned and to gather his thoughts.

“Just think about it, okay?” he said. “You know how they say ‘measure twice, cut once’? Why don’t you measure three times? Four, even. Five. Or, I don’t know, as many times as it takes until you realise that there’s no need to cut anything. Everything’s great as it is.”

Your face felt warm. “That’s very profound.”

“It is.” He nodded, his exaggerated confidence faltering a little when he saw the gratitude in your eyes and suddenly found himself timid. “I’ve also got a few carpentry jokes if you’re in the mood for those.”

Laughing finally, you shook your head. “Maybe later. But thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “And notice how I’m not saying ‘anytime’? Because there can’t be another time that this happens. In fact, the next time I see you, it’ll be as if we never had this conversation.”

Still smiling despite his threatening tone, you put your palm to your forehead and extended your fingers in a salute. “Sir, yes, sir.”

He nodded, content with your response.

“Now go back to that café and bring me a scone,” he ordered, his expression bright again. “I got distracted by your misery and forgot to buy one.”

You snorted and nodded—you did owe him a scone, at the very least. Seokjin stepped deeper into the shade by the tree and waited while you jogged back towards the café. He looked up to see your lighthearted expression reflected in the window across the street and felt himself exhale in relief.

He’d done his job—you knew everyone needed you here.

You returned to the venue with enough scones for the whole staff, and as you passed them out, almost everyone on the team regarded you with a mix of curiosity and anticipation. It was a nice change from their earlier concerns about your health, but you still felt uncomfortable.

There was an obvious reason you enjoyed working backstage: here, you successfully evaded the spotlight. You did your work quietly and got to spend time with your friends.

But lately, you’d been feeling everyone’s eyes on you and, naturally, your instinctive reaction was to flee. Really, this had to be inherent; you wondered if your brother shared a similar flight-or-flight-never-fight response when confronted with an uncomfortable situation.

And still, you forced yourself to wait.

Following your conversation with Seokjin, you decided on the key points that you needed to discuss with Jungkook. And they were simple: share your thoughts with him and make a decision together.

You’ve never really tried this with him before; open communication was a recent development for the two of you. But you meant what you told Seokjin: a relationship involved two people. And regardless of what -ship you and Jungkook were currently in, your decisions still influenced his, and his influenced yours.

You had hoped to speak to him after he returned from his interview, but it was almost funny how time worked against you today.

After the band returned, you went to help Jungkook with his bandages, and the company executives decided to respond to your email with a phone call. And so, you were forced to stay on the phone with the label the whole time before Rated Riot went on stage.

That was okay. You figured you would talk to Jungkook later.

But later just wouldn’t come.

After the concert, you waited for the band to finish taking pictures with their fans before you took them to another interview with several more radio hosts. And when you returned to the bus, the curtains on Jungkook’s bunk were drawn. You didn’t want to wake him in case he was asleep.

The only time you finally had direct contact with Jungkook was on the plane to London. He surprised you by approaching you from behind and casually lifting your carry-on to the overhead compartment. Then, as though he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary, he turned around to return to his seat.

“Wait,” you called out. “Can I—can we talk? Yoongi said he’d switch seats with me.”

Jungkook stopped, his stomach sinking. He was the undefeated champion of misinterpreting situations—he hadn’t forgotten how your conversation had ended last night, but he still thought this was about Sid.

Because while you were beating yourself up about your avoidant tendencies, Jungkook was grappling with a different problem.

Since this morning, he had been bombarded with incessant text messages from an unknown number that ranged from vaguely bothersome (“UR SO DUMB LMSAO”) to genuinely threatening (“DNOT THINK THS IS OVER YOU FUCKVING CUNT”). All texts contained a certain distinctiveness: full capitalisation, typos, and a disturbing scent of wounded ego.

It was Sid, Jungkook was absolutely sure of it.

He seemed to be in a white powder induced frenzy, which wasn’t particularly unusual—Jungkook didn’t think he could remember the last time Sid had been completely sober—but the frequency of the texts was a little unsettling. Jungkook thought the bet was over now, even if Sid wasn’t satisfied. But clearly, Sid was craving something more.

Jungkook wasn’t sure how you would know about this or why you would bring it up now, but he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket again, and he thought this had to be the reason why.

“Sure,” he said, trying to mask his apprehension. He turned on airplane mode on his phone and looked up. “What’s, uh—what’s going on?”

You gestured at his seat. He sat down with bated breath—as if his life was about to change and he needed to brace for it—and waited for you to settle beside him.

“I wanted to, uh, explain myself,” you began as the plane filled. The rhythmic sound of people shuffling across the aisle was oddly soothing. Jungkook, however, appeared perplexed. “And to thank you, actually. For being there when I—well, when all of that happened. I’m sorry I caused—”

“You’ve already thanked me,” he interjected. “And you better not tell me that you’re apologising for fainting right now.”

“I’m—well, I’m just saying, you were right,” you said, disheartened by the disbelief in his eyes. You placed your water bottle on the fold-out tray and shifted in your seat. “I should have known better. Rested more. I guess what I’m saying is that I’m sorry I didn’t listen, and it all led to... that.”

He sighed. This wasn’t about Sid; this was about something worse.

“That’s who you are, though,” he said. He should have known this would be something you would blame yourself for once you recovered. “You always have to get everything done, or you—you can’t sleep. You need to, uh, work on that, but you don’t need to apologise for it.”

You looked down, tracing a shaky finger over the armrest between your seats.

“And,” he added before you could speak, “to be fair, a lot of things that happened on tour were actually out of your control. You had no choice but to put in extra time and effort, I guess. The stage constructions collapsed, the venue was flooded—”

“Right, but these—well, anyway,” you cut yourself off, reverting to your original train of thought. “I’m sorry you had to drop everything a-and worry about me. Well, not just you; the whole thing ended up being a big scene that disrupted everyone. But I—I wanted to say this to you, first of all.”

He observed you for a long moment. Between the truce you’ve decided on in your hotel room, the conversation he’d overheard about your meeting with Nick, and the disturbing messages from an unknown number, Jungkook was having a hard time comprehending what he’d done to warrant an apology from you right now.

Then, a troubling thought occurred to him: what if this was your way of saying goodbye?

He had let you go last night. What if you had decided to leave, and this was the prelude to the end of your time together?

“I’m—I didn’t have to do it,” he said. “I did it because I—well, I mean, you were passed out. Of course, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He leaned forward in his seat. “It kind of sounds like you’re forgetting that you’re not just the manager here. You’re also my—uh, y-you’re our friend. We all would have acted the same way if it had been anyone else. It’s an ‘all for one, and one for all’ situation with us. You know that.”

He was right; your team had grown so close that none of you would have hesitated to help each other. Your unease simply stemmed from the fact that you were the one receiving help this time.

You swallowed. You thought you owed him an explanation about everything, but you haven’t even really gotten to it yet.

“Thank you,” you said. “For what you said and—and for what you did. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He gave you a hesitant smile. “Was I really so terrible at taking care of you that it made you change your workaholic ways?”

You raised your eyebrows, surprised by the gentle teasing in his words.

“No, you di—you were great. Except for the fact that you didn’t need to do that,” you said, shooting him a look that he promptly rolled his eyes at. You added, “I say that with gratitude, of course. But, um, I felt very uncomfortable just lying there while everyone else—well, can’t let that happen again. Anyway, this isn’t—”

��I hope it won’t happen again,” he interrupted. “But it’s—well, you’ve spent your whole life taking care of... everything. Your brother, your mum, uh, e-even me. It’s second nature to you, I don’t know how else to—you can’t help but actively try to fix things. So, I-I don’t mind being the person who reminds you to take it easy sometimes. I just want you to listen.”

He’d said something very similar to you last night and you dug your teeth into your lower lip so you wouldn’t argue.

You thought you weren’t doing a very good job of fixing things—nevermind that you’ve subconsciously turned absolutely everything around you into your personal responsibility, and it was simply unrealistic to take care of it all.

“Thank you,” you chose to say. “I just, um—I don’t want you to think I’m talking to you so you’d make me feel better. You don’t need to do that. And it’s my turn to expla—”

He whipped his head to look at you so suddenly—an almost offended expression on his face—that the rest of your sentence got caught in your throat.

“Wh—why do you always think that?” he asked. “That I do something for you because I feel like I have to?”

“I don’t—I know you’re not—ah.” Leaning back in your seat, you attempted to rearrange your thoughts as if you were shuffling stubborn cards in a deck—trying to find the one you needed to win a game against yourself. “That’s not even the main thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Okay,” he said, a little worried. “What is the main thing?”

It took you a moment to find your breath.

“The conversation that we had last night—well, not just last night, actually, it’s been happening for a while. But, uh, last night specifically—it wasn’t supposed to end like that,” you said. He lowered his eyes. “That’s what I wanted to, um—to bring up. Because we’re not talking again, you know? I mean—okay. That’s not true. You are talking. But I’m not. I-I think it’s still new to me that we’re—that we’re actually talking about things. About everything. I’m sorry I haven’t said much to you in return.”

You exhaled when you finished speaking—finished stammering, really—but you didn’t feel relieved. There was a lot more you had to say.

Jungkook, on the other hand, felt his thoughts drift back to Amsterdam once again, when he had entered your hotel room to apologise, and you told him you forgave him and apologised in return. He remembered the pained, laboured beating of his heart as he listened to you—thinking, all the while, that he had no right to want you all for himself.

Now, he had some additional time to think about how to respond, because the flight attendant started the safety demonstration at the front of the plane, preparing for take-off.

He fastened his seatbelt, relieved by the silence on his phone—but the quiet pause between you as the plane lifted off the runway felt very loud in his head.

“You know,” he said after a few minutes, “you find the weirdest things to feel guilty about.”

You furrowed your brows while Jungkook idly twirled the onyx signet ring on his index finger.

“You’re never obligated to respond to what I tell you,” he said. “I didn’t say any of those things to you in Manchester in exchange for your immediate forgiveness, or for some similar stories, or for—anything, really. You don’t owe me anything. I just wanted to tell you everything, and that’s it.”

“I-I get that,” you shifted in your seat, restricted by the seatbelt, “but I’m your manager. And I-I left you in a confusing, stressful situation by yourself when I refused to talk to you right away. That was—it was unprofessional at best, and cruel at—”

“You’re more than that to me, though,” he cut in. You gripped the armrest tighter. “You know that. And you didn’t… leave me in that situation as my manager. You left me there as my ex-girlfriend. You have that right. You were confused and stressed, too.”

Your gaze slid over his black and grey flannel and the t-shirt with a Rated Riot logo underneath. The plane cruised at the designated altitude, but you still felt pushed into your seat like you had during take-off.

“I don’t—I’m not sure those two roles can be separated any longer,” you admitted.

Oh, whispered an alarmed pang of his heart. And, oh? echoed the multitude of shivers rippling underneath his skin.

“What are you saying?” he asked.

You drew in a breath. You didn’t want to start from the beginning because you had a feeling that he might not let you get to the end, so you decided to start from the explanation—the one that you’d come here to give him, but kept getting sidetracked as he responded to you in ways you weren’t anticipating.

“People on tour,” you began, “are very invested in our, uh—situation.”

Jungkook arched an eyebrow. “They’re invested?”

“Apparently, we’re a popular topic backstage.”

Quickly enough, he thought he figured out your implication: if he hadn’t played along with Sid, the staff on this tour might have been having very different conversations.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No, that’s not—well, it’s not just your fault,” you replied. “It takes two, right?”

“Right, but I was the one who made the bet.”

“You—okay. But this isn’t about the bet—” you paused. Reconsidered. “Well, alright, the bet sort of kick-started a lot of things, but it’s not—that’s not the problem from my point of view right now.”

Oh, once more. And then, ah.

You were talking, he realised, about the things you didn’t want to talk about in your hotel room in Manchester. The things you’ve affectionately labelled as “a confusing, stressful situation.” The things you were supposed to discuss later, when the time was right. Except he had succumbed to the terminal case of nothing-matters-anymore-if-you’re-leaving-the-band and got drunk instead.

“Okay,” he said. “That’s… fine with me.”

“Alright,” you said. “So, here’s our problem: I’m your manager.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows and pulled his chin back.

“If that’s our only problem,” he said, “we are very lucky people.”

A brief smile flickered on your face.

“It’s our biggest problem,” you clarified. “But we definitely are lucky.”

Encouraged by the amusement in your eyes, he grinned. “Because we have each other?”

Your smile grew and even the plane itself seemed to shake a little when his heart rate accelerated at the sight of it.

“Because we can solve this problem,” you said.

His face fell. He thought he could guess where you were going with this.

“How do you mean?” he still asked, his voice a low murmur.

You thought you could have used some of the whiskey that Jungkook had sought out last night.

With a measured breath, you said, “I leave the band, and—”

“Wait,” he cut you off. “Is that supposed to be—”

“Hear me out first—”

“No, listen—if the problem is that you’re my manager,” he said, “then you leaving Rated Riot is not the solution.”

Jungkook sounded a little like Seokjin had earlier—a stark contrast from the way he’d spoken to you last night by the bus.

“Are you suggesting that because people are talking about us backstage?” he pressed.

You turned away. “It’s not just that. I mean, they’re already talking and that’s—well, it’s not great. But we can’t stop the wheel from turning now, or however that saying goes. What we can do, however, is stop it before it gets worse. And by that I mean, you know—we need to decide what the hell we’re doing.”

That was what he wanted, he thought. But now he was confused.

You seemed to want to make a decision about your relationship together. Yet you also seemed to believe that leaving Rated Riot was the best option. He failed to see how both of these things were possible at the same time.

“So, you’ve made up your mind, then?” he asked. “About leaving?”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about,” you said. “I don’t want to leave the band, but—”

“Well, that’s the thing, then,” he said sharply, unfastening his seatbelt. Turning to face you, he stumbled over his own confusion, “I’m—I don’t want to hold you back. I told you. But I thought you—I thought it would be—I thought you wanted to leave. I thought—but you want to stay. So, stay.”

Stay.

It was very simple, really, very concise. But it carried a lot more weight than his words last night when he had caught you off guard. When he had let you go.

You wanted to stay. You just didn’t think you should.

Your response wasn’t particularly verbal. “Hmm.”

“Is it me?” Jungkook asked. “Am I the only reason you’re thinking of leaving?”

He didn’t sound accusatory, even though you were prepared for it. He sounded apologetic instead—almost guilty—and you were completely unprepared for that as a million tiny needles pricked at your heart.

“You’re not the only reason,” you replied. “You’re part of it. And I don’t—look, I-I don’t want to leave. But that sounds reasonable when you look at where we are right now.”

He heard nothing of what you’d said.

“That’s not reasonable in the slightest,” he insisted.

“Jungkook—”

“You have to stay. If you—”

“But if that’s the choice that would make more sense for us,” you interjected, exasperated, “then I don’t mind leaving. If—if we weren’t working together anymore, then maybe we could try to finally figure our shit out.”

Now he heard it.

He had a vague awareness that the other passengers behind you had turned off their screens and removed their headphones, choosing to listen to your conversation instead. But he was too stunned by the look in your eyes to care.

So, that was what you were trying to say: you were prepared to leave Rated Riot to fix your relationship.

He opened his mouth to speak, but it took another minute for coherent words to come to him.

“We can—we can figure our shit out while working together,” he said. “Why do you have to leave?”

“It’s—you have to understand,” you said, “that I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m pretty sure neither do you, but that’s how you usually function.” Jungkook sobered up enough to offer a noncommittal shrug. You continued, “but for me—this is freaking me out. I don’t—I don’t know what’s going to happen and what we should do, and—leaving the band sounds—it seems reasonable. It seems safe. Smart. And that’s what I’m clinging to.”

He swallowed, not trusting himself to move. “But that’s—”

“Please, it’s—this is what I wanted to say to you—what I should have said to you last night.” There was a pleading tone in your voice. He nodded, quiet while you continued. “If I stay with Rated Riot, and we try to solve our problems… there are only two ways that can go, right? We both know as much. Either we get back together, or we don’t.”

Jungkook was mesmerised by how glaringly simple this was, in principle: either you used a label on your relationship, or you didn’t.

He knew he was going to love you either way, but he couldn’t breathe, suddenly, at the thought of this other choice in this dilemma—the choice where you didn’t get back together, and he spent the rest of his life deliberately going crazy, so he could return—at least in his mind—to that day seven years ago when he first met you.

“Well, uh, yeah,” he managed to say. “That’s pretty much the choices that we’ve got.”

You reclined in your seat, lifting your gaze to the light control buttons overhead.

“If we get back together…” you began, exhaling. “Then, we might have to face a lot of problems from the label. But we might be alright in the end. I don’t know.”

Jungkook tightened his jaw. He attempted to formulate a response that would be logical and appropriate in this situation. But really, his head felt too small for his thoughts and his tongue too big for his mouth.

“That’s… that’s good to know,” he eventually said.

“Mhmm,” you replied distractedly. “But see, what if we don’t get back together? Or we do, but it doesn’t work out?”

That was what worried him, too—but for different reasons.

He knew that you were looking at this from a pragmatic perspective. A logical, what-would-make-more-sense perspective.

He didn’t think he’d ever looked at it this way. For him, this was simple: he loved you and wanted to be with you. He didn’t care how inconvenient and illogical it might seem to those around him, and he refused to think about what would happen if this love didn’t work out. It would have to. How could it not?

But he recognised his privileges; he knew he didn’t have as many responsibilities as you did. And, alright, fine, he thought about it—realistically, if you broke up again, he’d probably drink until he turned into a puddle of whiskey, while you’d flee across the globe to get away from it all.

And yet—was that all there was to this? Just rationality and calculated decisions?

Jungkook cleared his throat and asked the question that he believed really mattered here.

“Do you love me?”

Someone on the plane gulped audibly and held their breath. He wondered if it was him.

The colour of your eyes deepened, then blurred. “I-I—that’s—that’s not—”

“Answer me,” he whispered.

You tried, but no words came out. This moment resembled the nightmares that haunted you lately: you opened your mouth to scream, but silence stifled every sound you tried to make.

“T-that’s—” you began and stopped yourself before you could stutter any further. You took a breath. “That’s not important right now—”

“How can it not be—”

“Because I do love you,” you said quickly—the words slurred into one desperate Idoloveyou, a hopeless Idoloveyou, a how-can-you-possibly-expect-me-not-to Idoloveyou. “But I don’t think I should. I don’t think you should, either. We’re a—we’re a fucking mess.”

Visibly frozen, Jungkook found himself thinking that if this was the sixteenth century, and the two of you just happened to have this conversation in some public square, the townsfolk would have surely accused you of witchcraft.

It was uncanny, the way you cast a spell on him with just four words—all four of which he heard with perfect clarity: I do love you. Granted, he wasn’t sure if he heard the rest. He felt like he was already burning in your place.

“Right,” he thought he said. He couldn’t feel his face. “But we’ve always—”

“I’m—I have to—I do owe you,” you said. He watched you, his expression oscillating between mild confusion and outright bewilderment. “You said I don’t, but I do. I could have told you what was going on in my head like you told me. Honestly, all this time, whenever I talked to people, they all told me to speak to you. To talk it out. And I closed up in my head instead. If I don’t talk about it, I don’t have to deal with it. You know?”

He blinked, finally. “That’s—”

“I’ll explain it, though, okay?” you said. “Please?”

You gave him too much power—as if he could ever say no to you. As if he could stop listening. As if every fibre of his being didn’t ache to stay close to you.

Warm—so unbearably warm that it felt like he was in the middle of exploring the landscapes Dante depicted in Inferno—Jungkook wiped off the sweat from his palms on his dark jeans.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, okay.”

“It won’t take long,” you assured. “Really, I don’t even have much to say. I’m fucking scared. That’s all there is to it.”

Jungkook seemed to be practising the lost art of swallowing his tongue. He wanted you to continue and you were biting your lip in a way that suggested that this was not all there was to it. You only wished it was.

You took a trembling breath, and your lungs followed—quivering, it seemed, as they tried to provide you with the oxygen necessary for all that you were about to say.

“I spent the first fifteen years of my life watching my parents break up and get back together again,” you began. “And do you know what I felt every single time they broke up? Actual rage.” You laughed wryly here like this reaction was absurd. “But when they got back together, I was fucking—I was hopeful. I refused to speak to them, of course—I was a teenager—but I was… Inside, just like my mum, I also hoped that this would work. That this time would be the one.”

You swallowed and lapsed into a silence so long and heavy that Jungkook worried you might never speak again.

Fifteen years, he thought. And all this time, he’d assumed that your dad left for the final time when you were twelve. That was already bad enough, of course, but Jungkook hadn’t realised that the back-and-forth between your parents that you’d mentioned back in Tilburg had taken place after that. He hadn’t realised that you and your brother had gone through three years of almost having a father—and your mum through almost having a partner.

“I knew they were a tragedy together,” you continued. Jungkook didn’t know how to raise his eyes to look at you. “It was obvious that it wouldn’t last. I always knew it, and I always said that to my mum. But deep down, I still fucking hoped that they’d get together and it would work.”

You shook your head with a cold, unforgiving smile.

“How fucking stupid,” you concluded. “All hope does is bring misery and disappointment.”

“You were a child,” he said, his brows drawn together—sad and a little scared for your younger self. “You just wanted your parents to be together. You wanted a family.”

“Yeah,” you said with a sigh. Then again, “yeah.”

A minute passed without either of you speaking. Flight attendants crossed the aisles, offering complimentary snacks, but missing you—either by mistake or because there was no one in your seats on the plane. The two of you were somewhere else.

“I think,” you said once the commotion around you quieted, “that I wasn’t just angry at my mum for trying again and again, even though it never worked. Or for never losing hope that maybe they could be happy together. I think I was also angry at myself. Because I never truly lost hope, either.”

Jungkook hung his head, his lips tight in silent contemplation.

“So that’s what I’m afraid of,” you said. “I’m scared that this—us—will turn out to be like that. I’m scared that we’ll let wishful thinking take over, and we’ll get back together even though we shouldn’t. Even though it’s obvious that we won’t last.”

Right away, he wanted to insist that you would defy those odds. That there was nothing obvious about the two of you whatsoever. He wanted to promise all that and more, but it wasn’t right—not after you endured fifteen years of broken promises between two of the most important people in your life.

“You, um—” he started to say and coughed suddenly, caught off guard by his dry throat, “—you told me before that you admired your mum’s courage. F-for trying again.”

You handed him the overpriced airport water bottle that you had bought earlier. Jungkook nodded in gratitude.

“I did,” you confirmed. “And I do admire that about her. But I don’t have any of her courage.” You brought a shaky finger over your forehead, not quite scratching it. “I always say that I don’t believe in second chances, but the truth is, I think I do believe in them. I’m just debilitated by my fear that these second chances might not work out.”

Jungkook lowered the bottle. He’d emptied almost half of it in a single gulp, but an anxious undercurrent inside of him had absorbed it before he could feel any relief.

“Is that, um,” he tried to ask, “is that something you feel in general or—or because it’s us?”

You thought about that for half a second and shook your head.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in a situation where a second chance held so much significance,” you said. “This isn’t a mistake that you can fix. It’s not a human error. It’s you and me. And it’s so—it’s final. There won’t be another chance for us, it’s now or never. And what if it’s never?”

You lowered your gaze, your fingers restless as they toyed with the sleeves of your black shirt. Every now and then, you’d lift your hand to your bare neck—you still hadn’t found any of your necklaces—as if seeking a distraction from the weight of the moment.

“Y-you are—you’re my—” you tried and couldn’t. Finally, you looked at him, and the words you couldn’t voice were right there, shimmering uncertainly in his dark eyes. “You’re my first thought in the morning and the last one at night. I don’t think my heart could take it if I started to have hope for us again, but we didn’t work out in the end.”

Jungkook felt his heart trip over several beats—

Stumble down his ribs—

Crash into his stomach—

Roll around the hollow cavities somewhere at the very bottom—

Rise suddenly, all the way back to his chest—

Expand—

And explode, it seemed. In a flash of light so vivid and intense that for a minute or two, his blood stopped running and he survived on nothing but the words you’d just said.

“And so that’s what I meant,” you finished, and he struggled to hear your next words over the loud pounding in his chest. “If I stay here and we don’t get back together—or we do, but not for long—then what? We see each other every day, we try to act like nothing’s wrong, we learn how to go back to being professional, and then four years later, you make another bet?”

Jungkook found the end of your sentence so utterly unexpected that he wasn’t sure if he had even heard you correctly. His response was half of a gasp and a fractured “I—” before you cut him off.

“I’m joking,” you said with a gentle smile—one that managed to feel both, very fitting and completely out of place in this situation. “That’s—well, that is why I think it’d be more reasonable for me to leave. That way, I think, we could figure it out without some dramatic, tragic consequences in case it, uh—in case something goes wrong.”

“R-right,” he said. A warm haze settled on his face in a delicate shade of pink. It appeared almost soft to the touch. “I… I understand. I-I don’t—I don’t know if there’s anything I can say that would take that away. All of your fear.”

You swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. There might not be anything to say at all.”

Jungkook hurriedly ran his tongue over his lips. He wasn’t thinking about you leaving right now. He was thinking about you staying and fighting through it.

He wanted to say something more, but he didn’t think he could mend these particular wounds in your heart. They ran deeper than his love could reach.

It wasn’t him that you should have talked to about this. It wasn’t him that could help you reach an agreement—or, at least, an understanding—with your own self.

“You should talk to your mum,” he said.

You looked up from the floor of the plane, surprised. “What?”

“Talk to her,” he repeated. “Just to hear what she thinks about everything. To hear her reasoning. To understand why she made the choices that she did. I think that would be good for you both.”

Your surprise deepened and gained an edge. You looked alarmed, as if the notion that a caregiver could ease your hurt rather than deepen it was new and foreign.

“I’ve—we’ve never—my mum and I have only talked about her relationship with my dad maybe once in our whole lives,” you said. “I have never even talked to her about my own relationship. You know I haven’t.”

He nodded solemnly. “I have, though.”

“What?” you asked. There was a ringing in your ears. “You have—you’ve talked to—to my mum? About—”

“I’m sure she’ll tell you everything.”

For a good minute, you watched him with an expression that held more questions than possible ways of asking them.

“I—I’m very confused right now,” you managed.

He nodded again, understanding, but still not offering any explanations.

He’d told you most of everything, really—he’d called those bits of the story “Haunting” and “Cursed.” But the rest of it had to be something you pieced together on your own.

For a long time, he had imagined this to be something that would hit you years later, perhaps when you would accidentally hear an old Rated Riot song. You’d think no, it can’t be, and you’d rush home. You’d pull out the albums, the track lists, and the lyrics.

And you’d know.

These conversations with your mum were his far side of the moon—invisible, but still present, still heavy.

These conversations were his thoughts and hopes and countless fears.

They were everything he brought to Rated Riot and everything he expressed in the recording booth, in Namjoon’s studio, and on stage.

They were his past and his present, and someone else’s future.

They were him without you, but still searching for you every morning when he woke up.

They were you, you, you.

Everything he’d ever talked to your mum about had been his songs. And all his songs had always been a tale about you—in every banal, every impossible narrative he could find within himself.

They were about seeing you and growing wings.

About kissing you and coming home.

About losing you and bleeding out.

About forever and five minutes that don’t mean anything once they’re over.

“I’m sorry,” he said, not capable of much else. “I needed her help with something. I didn’t really tell her anything, uh, directly, so to speak. But she—she knows. She’ll tell you everything. It’s just, um—you have to talk to her, too. You have to tell her what you told me.”

Airplanes, you realised suddenly, made it very easy to force yourself to stop running away. There was nowhere to escape—you could see the clouds reflected in his eyes and you were already falling in them anyway.

“I’ll talk to her,” you said.

Jungkook gave you a small nod and scratched his knee absentmindedly.

“I want you to stay,” he stated. “With the band. It’s—it’s selfish, but it’s the truth. I’ve always tried to encourage you to stop thinking so much a-and just do what you wanted, and this—this is what you want, despite your fear. You want to stay.”

You looked at him with a forlorn expression and he felt his hands twitch at his sides.

“But what will we do?” you asked.

“We’ll figure it out,” he promised. “I mean, we’ve gotten this far, right? So, give us a chance. We’re not completely hopeless. We can... talk our way through it all, step by step.”

You’ve talked your way through a lot and you have gotten this far, that was true. Even if the journey hadn’t been pleasant.

Seokjin had told you earlier today that as long as you stayed with the band, no one would care about what happened next. And, really, no matter how you looked at it, this was what it all boiled down to: it was just you.

Only you—afraid of what others will say, afraid of getting hurt and hurting him again, afraid of doing too much, and afraid of not doing enough.

“I’m—” you tried, “w-we don’t know what will happen. That’s why I’m—”

“I know,” he said. “And you’re right. We don’t know what will happen. That’s fucking terrifying. I’m scared, too.”

He did look a little scared, but he licked his lips and successfully collected himself.

The two of you were so close to meeting in the middle and taking that first step together—just a little more strain between your shaking, outstretched hands.

“And I-I know that the bet is another thing that—that might make it harder for you to believe that we can—that we can work it out,” he added, spinning his ring around his finger twice more. “But I want you to know that it—the bet was a fucked up thing to do. But it gave me a reason to talk to you about everything that I already wanted to talk to you about. I’m—even without the bet, I would have approached you, eventually. It just—I was fucking scared, so it might have taken me longer.”

It wasn’t just you.

Fear was in the epicentre of everything you were saying to each other. It was like the wind in every city you visited on this tour—inescapable, uncontrollable, persistent.

He was afraid, too—of trying and failing. Afraid of getting his heart broken and breaking yours. Afraid of never finding the forever that he desperately wanted with you.

“My point is,” Jungkook finished, “I think this is inevitable, because—well, let’s be honest,” he chuckled softly, trying to lessen the gravity of his confession, “all I’d ever wanted in my entire fucked-up life was you.”

Your breath trembled.

Something very deep inside of you wanted you to believe that inevitability was meant for the two of you, too.

“It’s been four years, though,” you said with a faint shake of your head. “What if it takes us another four to find a way to make this work?”

“It—well, I don’t really care how long it takes, to be honest,” he said. “I’m going to die yours.”

He said that and your heart stopped beating for a moment to listen.

To wait.

To make one thing very clear for you: you would never survive losing him again.

And you were scared—completely petrified—to find yourself in a situation where losing him was possible. Where it was likely.

Jungkook saw it on your face. He saw everything—the anguish, the pain, the doubt, the fear.

But he felt a little exhilarated to find the fight in your eyes, too. This fight was the reason you were talking to him about things that you’ve never talked about. It was the reason you were here.

“We’ll decide everything else when the idea of—of trying again doesn’t scare you so much anymore,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “When you hear your mum’s point of view, and you can make a, uh—an informed decision.”

He noted that there was something softer in your eyes when you looked at him again, but he could still discern the lingering edges of doubt.

“You think that’ll help me make an informed decision?” you asked, touched by his choice of words.

“I hope it will,” he replied. “But we can work it all out, either way. I just think you need to talk to her. It’s been so long.”

“Right. It has been.” You clasped your hands around your neck and tucked your chin between your palms. “It—it probably won’t be an easy conversation, though.”

“Nor will it be short, I imagine.”

“Hmm. Probably not.”

He sensed the growing distance between you as your eyes ran over the back of the seat in front of you. He knew you well enough to understand what you were doing: you were mapping out the rest of your story in your head.

He didn’t like that. Your stories rarely had happy endings.

“You don’t—don’t start planning it ahead, though,” he said hastily—before you reached the unhappily ever after in your mind. “It’ll be late when we land in London. You need to sleep. Talk to her after that. When you—when you’re not working. We can wait. We have time.”

Finally, you allowed your gazes to meet again—and to linger a little longer this time.

You took a moment to note that, despite knowing Jungkook for so long, every time you looked at him, you still needed a minute to will yourself to keep breathing. You remembered thinking, after your first few dates, if that would ever go away—logically, it should have.

But you watched him now, seven years since you’ve met, and the beating of your heart still felt backwards.

I’m going to die yours

I’m going to die—

“Okay,” you finally said. “I’ll call her as soon as possible.”

He nodded twice and closed his eyes for a brief respite—but hesitated, suddenly, before opening them again.

He wondered, for a suspended moment, what it would mean for you—this ‘as soon as possible.’

Then he looked at you and decided to tell you what he wanted it to mean.

“Before that happens, though—before you talk to her, I mean—I-I want to still be able to see you,” he said and did so assertively, using the phrase I want, but really meaning, I must. “I don’t want to not talk to you.”

You felt your frosty expression crumble effortlessly into a soft smile.

“We’ve agreed to a truce, right?” you said easily. Lightly.

His heart soared.

He was smiling, too, but with caution—his lips were pressed together as he bit into his lip ring to contain his smile to a level that he thought appropriate.

His shining eyes gave him away, however, and you wondered—the thought sudden and overwhelming—if there was a point in your life when you weren’t in love with him when he smiled.

“Let’s try a friendship,” he proposed.

“Oh—” Your smile abruptly turned into laughter as you remembered trying this once before. It had lasted for about two days. “You know we can’t be friends. We don’t know how.”

The gentle cadence of your laughter made him weightless.

“What are you talking about?” he teased—so high that he was certain the flight attendants were going to ask him to take it down a notch because it was dangerous to float on the ceiling in the middle of a flight. “We can be whatever the fuck we want to be.”

Your laughter grew bolder, strengthened by the relief that you’ve had this conversation, that you’ve decided on your next steps, however uncertain they were—and his smile spread.

You could see him beaming through your half-closed eyes, and there was absolutely nothing—no matter how big or small, significant or not at all—that you wouldn’t have done for him when he looked like that, and no amount of fear could have stopped you.

He'd burn down half of Europe for you, Seokjin had said.

You were worried you’d burn all of it for him.

“Honestly,” you said, “we’re such a mess that I have nothing else to say. Sure. Let’s try being friends again. Why not?”

“For the time being?” Jungkook asked. There was a tentative glint in his eyes. “Until we figure out if—until we decide what we’re going to do with us?”

It was very considerate of him to say ‘we’ here, when you knew that you were the one who needed to get it together in the end.

“For the time being,” you confirmed.

“And you’ll stay?” he asked once more. “With Rated Riot?”

Last night, he had told you he was letting you go, and you needed to hear it—not just to see how much he’s grown, but to fully understand yourself. To stop jumping from possibility to possibility. To accept that it was okay to do what you wanted sometimes.

The past few days were like flipping a coin and realising, while it was mid-air, which side you were hoping it would land on.

“I’ll stay.”

Jungkook thought that this flight was going to be the most thrilling part of his day. But a miracle happened as soon as the plane touched down in London.

His grandmother called him.

It wasn’t an accident like he had initially assumed when he saw her name on his phone. She called because she missed her favourite grandson and wanted to wish him good luck at his concert (and chastise him a little for not wearing “enough clothing” on stage).

Jungkook wasn’t sure if the tears in his eyes were because she’d remembered who he was, remembered what he did for a living, because she’d called, or because she’d confirmed his long-held suspicion that he was her favourite grandson.

Perhaps, and most likely, it was all of these things.

He was so excited that he stared at his phone even after the call had ended, ignoring the influx of more unintelligible, frantic messages from the same unknown number. He probably would have spent the rest of the night fixated on the screen if his battery hadn’t run out by the time everyone settled in the hotel.

At that point, there was nothing Jungkook wanted more than to tell you about the fifteen-minute phone call. However, he couldn’t call or text with his phone off—and waiting for ten minutes until he found the charger in his suitcase seemed like half of an eternity.

Unaware of the lateness of the hour, he lingered outside the hotel, thinking of a plan.

In the end, he decided he didn’t want to draw more attention to your friendship—he hiccupped on the word even in his thoughts—and approached the decorative garden at the front entrance. Ficus plants (artificial, as it turned out) rested in a bed of pebbles (real, for some reason) and Jungkook grabbed a handful of those before heading back to the south wing of the hotel.

He counted down the windows until he identified yours, then took half a dozen steps back from the wall and tossed a pebble at your window. It hit the glass with a gentle thud and dropped onto the grass four floors below.

Jungkook waited for a minute—or what felt like a minute—and tossed another one, making this one bounce against your windowsill before it slipped into your room through the crack of the open window.

He waited again and, finally, your curtains fluttered. A moment later, he saw your puzzled face as you opened the window and covered your squinting eyes with your hand, peering down into the darkness.

“Jungkook?” you called out. “What—what the fuck are you doing?”

“Trying to get your attention!” he shouted with an elated lilt in his voice.

You picked up the pebble from the windowsill and lifted it. He couldn’t see it very well from the ground, but he could see your confused expression.

“By throwing rocks at my window?”

“Yeah!”

“How—are you—for what—”

You stopped. There wasn’t a singular question you wanted to ask, because nothing about what he was doing made any sense whatsoever.

You leaned over the windowsill to get a better look at him, but it didn’t help much. The light from your hotel room made it difficult to discern his expression in the pitch-black night. And the garden lights adorning the exterior of the hotel only highlighted his white sneakers.

“I’m sure there were a lot of steps you could have taken before you had to resort to this,” you shouted into the night. “Most people text. Or knock on the door.”

“My phone’s dead,” he explained, lifting a black block that you assumed was the dead phone. “And I didn’t want anyone to see me going into your room. Can you come down here?”

“Wh—hold on a second.” You retreated into the room to put on a robe over the t-shirt you had worn to bed. The night wind felt a little less frigid when you leaned out of the window again. “Can you just come up here? It’s nearly six in the morning, no one will see—”

“Come on, we finally have a few days off!” he shouted, implying, clearly, that you’d have time to catch up on sleep later. After days of him forcing you to rest, this was very unusual—but, really, quite welcome.

You realised that something important must have happened for him to do this. However, his buoyant voice—and this whole situation in general—also made you wonder if he was drunk.

“I meant that it’s cold outside,” you said. “Wouldn’t it be warmer to—”

“I can—it’s not that bad,” he ended up saying after quickly surmising that his offer to warm you might lead to you throwing that same pebble right at his forehead. “Please?”

You were well aware that this could go on for a while, and it probably wouldn’t be long before your Romeo-and-Juliet-esque conversation attracted the attention of the hotel staff, who would politely ask you to find a different accommodation. The manager already didn’t seem especially pleased when he found out that a rock band would be staying at his hotel.

“Alright. I’m coming down,” you said. “Put the rocks back where you found them.”

He snickered and watched you close the window, disappearing inside of your room.

By the time he returned the remaining pebbles back to the garden, the sky was already beginning to paint itself red. The clouds obscured the rising sun, but Jungkook turned his head just in time to see you walk through the hotel door, and he felt like it was the middle of the day already.

“What’s going on?” you asked, a little concerned about the size of the grin on his face.

“My grandma called me,” he said. “She’s having a good day. She remembered me.”

“Oh, my God!” you gasped. All of your irritation about leaving your warm hotel room at this hour vanished in an instant. “That’s great news! Did you talk to her?”

“Yeah!” He nodded, nearly laughing in pure, beautiful euphoria. “The whole call, she was okay. Even scolded me for breaking the glass on her favourite picture frame when I came to say goodbye to her on the last night before the tour.”

You laughed, infected with his bright mood. “Jungkook, that’s—that’s fantastic. I’m so—”

Instinctively, he pulled you to him by wrapping his arms around your waist. For just a moment, he tightened his embrace and lifted you up slightly, laughing breathlessly when you gasped in surprise.

“I know,” he murmured into your neck as he lowered you to the ground. “I still can’t believe she really called.”

He held you close to him with one hand around your waist, and another one on the back of your neck—and you were stunned for a split-second. Then finally, muscle memory roused you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting the side of your head against his.

“I’m—I’m so happy to hear that,” you whispered, feeling his breath on your shoulder and the goosebumps that rose on your skin as a result.

“I am, too.” He slowly pulled his head back to look at you, and the sight of the smile on his face was enough to pierce your heart with something that you could never remove. “You’re the first person I wanted to tell this to.”

Wordlessly, you pulled him back into a hug. You could feel the stretch of his cheeks against yours as his smile widened, and you realised you’d never want to run away from this. You’d always want to stay.

You were going to stay.

No. That wasn’t right.

You wouldn’t just stay with Rated Riot, determined to destroy every ounce of your fear for him. You’d have mopped up whole oceans for him. Captured shooting stars and stuffed them into jars. Flooded the entire world with an endless sea.

You’d have done anything to have him here like this: smiling so much that he could barely speak while his chest thud-thud-thudded against yours.

You felt so much of it—this vast love that refused to die no matter how much it was beaten—that you didn’t know what to do with it all.

A minute later, you pulled back slightly—a little dizzy from the intense whirlwinds inside your chest.

“T-thank you,” you stammered. “For telling me. I’m really—I’m so happy for you.”

His hands lingered on your waist, extending the moment to the very end.

“Thank you,” he replied, taking a reluctant step back. “She, um—she asked me to say hi to you. You know, from her.”

You were surprised that she remembered you—and brought you up!—and your smile returned, encouraged by the bashful look in his eyes when he said this.

“Give her my best the next time you talk to her,” you said.

“I will.” He nodded eagerly, then slowed down. “Although, I, uh—well—I don’t know when that’ll be.”

“That’s okay,” you replied quickly, not wanting to lose the lightness of the moment so soon. “The important thing is that she’s having a good day today. And she called you!”

You raised your voice at the end of the sentence, and it was enough to rekindle his excitement.

“She did!” he sang. “She said I was her favourite grandson, by the way. So I was right.”

“Oh—hmm.” You remembered pretending to argue with him about this in Stockholm and couldn’t help yourself. “Well, alright. I guess that makes sense. Remember that stray orange cat that she used to feed every night? Reginald?”

“Reggie,” he said, grinning. The cat was one of the first things his grandmother mentioned when she called tonight; it had stopped coming to see her, but continued to take up a large place in her heart. “What’s he got to do with this?”

“Well, I mean, she loved him so much, even though he scratched her every time she got too close,” you explained. “Clearly, she always had a soft spot for troublemakers.”

“Okay, now,”—he clicked his tongue—“my grandma did actually love that cat a lot, so I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You snickered and he laughed, too, and for a moment, he thought his chest might have exploded if he felt any happier than he did right now.

Then he noticed you clutching your robe closer to your body. Whatever you’d worn underneath wasn’t enough to keep you warm now that the initial excitement slowly began to fade.

“Do you, uh… want to go back inside?” he asked, gesturing at the exposed skin of your wrists. “You’re shivering.”

You looked down at your hands. “I’m okay. But maybe we could sit?”

You turned to look around. There was a bench right at the edge of the garden, next to a bronze-coloured flowerpot that was placed in the pebbles Jungkook had used to “get your attention”.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

You shivered all over again when he sat down next to you, and the bench turned out to be smaller than it had appeared. You could feel every bounce of his restless legs.

“So,” you said, “what did you two talk about?”

He brightened at your question, and suddenly, you didn’t think he was anywhere near close enough.

“Oh, so many things,” he said. “She told me she’d like to see us perform. Can we make that happen when we go back?”

“Absolutely,” you promised.

“Yeah?” His smile widened and his bouncing increased. “She’ll probably hate it. Mosh pits aren’t her thing.”

“We’ll put her in the balcony seats,” you suggested. This conversation felt so ordinary that it was hard to imagine you could be talking to him about anything else. “She’ll love every second of watching you on stage.”

“She said she saw pictures from the tour,” he added, giddy. “My cousins showed her Maggie’s Instagram profile.”

“Did she see your pirate cosplay?”

Jungkook displayed a remarkable resilience to the pirate jokes after that first concert—you and Jimin suspected that the response from the audience played a big part in his newfound immunity—and he chuckled at it now.

“She did,” he said. “She said I reminded her of Kurt Russell in Escape from New York.”

You pulled back a little to get a better look at him, even though he no longer needed to wear the eye patch. Most of the discolouration around his eye had already faded and you’d managed to cover up the scratches with a few smaller, skin-coloured adhesive pads.

“Well, shit,” you said. “Maybe I do kind of see the resemblance. You’ve got the hair.”

“I don’t know who that is,” he admitted.

You widened your eyes. “Jungkook. You don’t know Snake Plissken?”

“No, but my grandma said all her friends had a crush on him after the film came out,” he said. “Except for my grandma, of course. She insists she only ever had eyes for my grandpa.”

You both chuckled at this with a childlike glee—the thought of a love that spanned decades felt exhilarating and very possible as the sky awakened above you.

“My mum liked Kurt Russell, too, after the film,” you said. “And she was nine at the time. She snuck into the theatre with her brother and his friends.”

Jungkook inclined his head thoughtfully. “Maybe that guy’s not so bad, then.”

“He’s a classic,” you corrected. “But your taste in films isn’t.”

“That’s actually exactly what my grandma said,” he remembered. “She told me not to come home until I watched it.”

You could hear his grandmother saying this exact thing to him and felt yourself smile again.

“I think you’d love it if you watched it,” you said. “So, it’s not much of a threat.”

“Really?” He looked at you, but only for a fraction of a moment. “Would you—I mean, it’d be cool if we could—”

You knew what he was asking. And your response—like most of everything else tonight—came as a reflex. “I’m sure we can rent it on Amazon.”

“Okay,” he said, his shoulders slumping against yours in visible relief. “That—I’d like that.”

Unwelcome, the raw breeze of the late hour caught up with you, and you felt your body shudder involuntarily once more. Determined to ignore the chill, you opened your mouth to continue the conversation, but Jungkook suddenly leaned forwards.

“Here,” he said, slipping out of his dark flannel. “Put this on. It’s not much, but—”

“No, no—” you tried, but he drew closer to drape the flannel over your shoulders. “You’ll catch a cold.”

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted, pulling back. To further reduce the significance of the gesture, he added, “it’s what friends do. And I’m warm anyway.”

You clutched the collar of the flannel tighter to prevent it from sliding off. Or just to have something to do with your hands. “Well—thanks, friend.”

A powerful waft of his cologne permeated your senses, and you closed your eyes, preserving the refreshing blend of woody and citrus notes that already took up a significant amount of space in your memory.

Every time you inhaled, his scent mixed with a different moment from your life—and it all flooded your mind in an unstoppable sequence.

Meeting Jungkook—

Kissing him for the first time on that rainy night in the park—

Hugging him hello every morning before class—

Borrowing his clothes when you stayed at his dorm—

Losing your mind when you found yourself alone and his scent returned to you, uninvited.

Jungkook appeared to be sharing your memories in real time as he inhaled sharply and tapped his fingers against his shaky thighs.

“Friends,” he said, swallowing, “probably don’t kiss each other.”

His words ignited a fire in the pit of your stomach without any matches.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. “Yeah, uh—t-they probably don’t.”

“Hmm. Right.”

“As your friend,” you said, sitting up straighter and letting his flannel settle around your shoulders while you lowered your hands to the wooden bench underneath you, “I’m pointing out that you’re on a high because your grandma called. That’s why you’re thinking about—”

“I’m on a high because I’m with you,” he stated. “My friend.”

The fire inside you spread rapidly, wildly, uncontrollably.

The way you were starting to lose feeling in your fingers from gripping the bench so tightly, yet you refused to let go of it, should have probably been studied scientifically.

“Well, then,” you said, “let’s look at it this way: have you ever kissed friends before? Sid maybe?”

Jungkook snorted. “God forbid.”

“Minjun, then?”

“No,” he said. “Do you think I should?”

You snickered. “No. But if we’re friends, too, then we probably shouldn’t do that, either.”

He looked at you, his lips puckered in thought. Unconsciously, you had started to scrape at the dark paint of the bench.

You hadn’t meant a word of what you’d said. He suspected as much.

“Probably not,” he agreed. “But we’re such a mess, though, right?”

The echo of your own words on the plane brought a smile to your face again—a reaction more rooted in easing the sudden surge of anticipation rather than genuine amusement.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “We’re such a mess.”

Jungkook felt a little afraid, which was something that he always felt when the world around him blurred, and he found himself incapable of looking away from your lips.

It was dangerous, this tunnel vision. This singular focus. This impossible, magnetic pull that defied all reason, that made the whole universe tremble with a silent—

He leaned closer.

For a fleeting moment, the space between you was filled with nothing but your echoing heartbeats and silent memories.

For a fleeting moment, time itself held its breath.

You remembered Oslo and the way Jungkook had pulled away. You remembered how worried you were, how horrified—he was drunk, and he’d pulled away. He’d done the rational thing.

Funny thing, rationality.

You thought you were perfectly rational when you closed the remaining distance and your lips brushed against his—hesitant, uncertain, tender. A permission, a question, and his unequivocal death, all in one.

Jungkook inhaled—as if checking if he was alive or just pretending to be—and reached up to touch your cheek. He pulled you closer and stole the remnants of your breath with his kiss.

It was fair, he thought. You had stolen his entire soul.

The touch of your lips lasted for less than a minute—not nearly enough time for the trees around you to exhale in clandestine relief—but the softness of his mouth, the slow, intoxicating smacking of your lips against his, and the faint notes of mint on his tongue did irreparable damage to your pulse.

He stole that too, he supposed, because when he pulled away, his heart seemed to beat with enough strength to support the lives of half the population.

“Do friends discuss what it means if they kiss?” he asked, winded. His chest touched yours every time it rose in an attempt to recover.

Your laughter was breathless, too. “I’m thinking no.”

“I like what you’re thinking.”

Something very tranquil and very happy was inscribed into the contours of your features.

Soft red feathers spread across the sky above you as the city slowly stirred awake.

For the first time in a long time, everything felt like it was supposed to.

“I have a free day tomorrow,” you said. “Well, today.”

Jungkook was a bit puzzled by the shift in conversation but went along with it nonetheless. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm. The girls and I made plans, but I’m, uh—I’m going to call my mum before I go. I set an alarm for it and everything,” you said with a self-conscious chuckle. “I’m going to talk to her.”

“Oh.” He was shaking a little, he realised. He hoped you wouldn’t notice it and decide to give him his flannel back. “Well, that—that’s good. You should do that.”

You nodded, lowering your gaze to the grass and the pebbles below. “Yeah.”

“I’m going to kiss you again,” he decided. “For good luck.”

Your surprised smile overshadowed everything else he wanted to tell you.

“Oh,” you said. “Is that what friends do?”

“Yes,” he replied. “You didn’t know? It can’t be just one kiss, that’s bad luck.”

“Actually, I heard even numbers are bad luck.”

He gasped theatrically. “Oh, but that’s terrible! I’ll have to kiss you three times, then. To be safe.”

You smiled and shook your head. He died a little then, because everything was here, just like in his worst nightmares and his favourite daydreams: your scent, your eyes, your smile. All of you.

“You’re always such an idiot,” you said with so much affection that the wind crept away miserably, defeated by the warmth in Jungkook’s gaze when he looked at you. When he felt your hand on the side of his face—gentle and careful so as not to touch the healing bruises on his cheek.

“Hmm.” He wasn’t sure if he’d ever remember how to breathe again. “You said you love me, though.”

“I do,” you said, beaming, as you ran the tips of your fingers over the edges of his wolf cut. “It’s a burden I have to live with.”

He shivered from your touch and leaned in—impatient, all of a sudden. His lips met yours with a soft, rehearsed touch, and he thought he died all over again when you pulled him closer.

Your heart brought back the memories of sensations that you’ve tried to bury; it revived them and set them loose in your chest when you kissed him back and felt the smile on his lips.

Your heart threatened to quit it, to burst into flames and take you down with it when you felt his tongue slowly glide over your lower lip.

Your heart settled right against his when you parted your lips. When you felt his warm breath mingle with yours. When you held onto him with everything you were feeling, and he held onto you.

He kissed you in every way that a friend wasn’t supposed to, and groaned softly when he touched the back of your neck and felt the relentless roughness of goosebumps under his fingertips. Your body reflected everything he was feeling.

Every time your lips met—gentle and feverish—every time he pulled you closer—frantic and heated—every time you inhaled when he exhaled—sharp and eager—you were setting fire to something that once was and building something new in its place.

There seemed to be small fragments of a foreign nature inside of you both—fragments that had danced with each other long before your first kiss and would continue the lively, eternal swaying for years and years after your last.

Maybe it was dust from two neighbouring stars, drawn together by a force stronger than them, but forced to crash somewhere on earth and settle and quiver and wake up inside of you both.

Or maybe it was something less grand. Maybe it was just luck. Just coincidence.

“See,” you whispered, pulling back. “I told you we don’t know how to be friends.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he replied, kissing the corner of your lips. The sparks inside him were fierce and relentless when you smiled in response. “I think friends can decide what sort of friends they want to be.”

“What sort of friends are we going to be, then?”

“This sort.”

You could see the northern lights and the tails of comets in his eyes before he leaned in to kiss you again. You could taste the longing for the Milky Way and the whispers of timeless meteors on his tongue.

And it all solidified this for you: the two of you were not luck and not coincidence.

You were something much more.

chapter title credits: bring me the horizon, “follow you”

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chukys-mouthguard · 4 months

Text

Kinda Tempting

Genre: a big mixed bag of all the things

Word count: 4.4k

Featuring: Mat Barzal x female reader x Matthew Rempe

Warnings: cheating, secret relationship

Summary: you recently left your position as the media manager for the Islanders behind, along with your boyfriend Mat Barzal, for a position with the Rangers. And their new rookie Matthew Rempe causes quite the stir both on the ice and off

Author’s note: I rewrote this like 4 times…hopefully it’s good. This will be a little series, so things should pick up. I feel like establishing background and stuff is always hard. Hopefully you all like this? And I’m sorry I literally picked two guys named Matt, could I have made that any harder on me and you lol

If someone told you that you’d be working in the NHL while also dating one of the hottest stars in the league, both in skill and looks, you would’ve never believed them. But here you were. The head of the media team department for one of the biggest teams in sports, and also the girlfriend of none other than Mat Barzal.

The two of you met during your first season leading the media department for the New York Islanders, and you made it your mission to get him to not hate doing the stupid challenge videos and dumb quizzes that every team made their players do. And by the end of that season he’d become a pro, eventually fessing up that he only enjoyed seeing you pop up with your iphone because he knew it meant an excuse to see you.

Now it certainly wasn’t a walk in the park getting the stamp of approval from the organization, but Mat reassured you he wouldn’t let you get fired over it. And they eventually came around to the idea, only for you to get a job offer from their rival New York Rangers 2 seasons later. Despite the move from Elmont to NYC only making your distance roughly 2 hours depending on the day, it had proven to be difficult on the two of you. Your schedules never the same, not even enough for phone calls or facetimes. Sometimes going months without seeing one another.

Thoughts plaguing your mind on whether or not he still loved you, if he’d been seeing other girls behind your back. When you look as good as Mat Barzal it’s hard to imagine him not having tons of girls throwing themselves at him. You didn’t want to think of the worst, but you saw how other guys in the league made things work with their girlfriends, so why couldn’t he do the same with you.

Luckily today was the stadium series game between the New York Islanders and the Rangers, meaning an opportunity to finally get to see your boyfriend after almost two months. And to say it was a big game was an understatement, you just hoped Mat would actually make time to see you, and reassure you that things were good between the two of you.

You arrived to MetLife stadium a few hours early, the media grind keeping you on almost the same schedule as the players. Your first assignment of the day was documenting the debut of Rangers rookie Matthew Rempe, though looking at this guy you’d never guess he was a rookie. He’s 6 foot 8, literally towering over every guy on the ice, and probably off of it too.

After he finished up a few interviews, you saw him making his way past the crowd of reporters, looking a bit lost as he scanned the faces around. You assumed looking for you since he’d be told ahead of time he had media content to film today.

“You must be Matthew Rempe.” You walked up to greet him and he smiled down at you, “How’d you know?” Eyeing him up and down you rolled your eyes as if he was someone easy to miss or not notice. “Let’s see, all the headlines talking about a 6 foot rookie debuting for the Rangers, I’d say that was the giveaway.” The two of you laughed as you started down the hall, walking towards the Rangers tunnel that led to the ice. “I’m sorry I didn’t even introduce myself, my name is y/n. I’m the media manager for the Rangers, and unfortunately for you, you’re gonna be seeing a lot of me this season.”

The rookie simply smiling down at you as you two walked together, “something tells me I might be okay with that.” Fighting the blush that threatened to grace your cheeks, you continued on explaining what it is he’d be filming. He listed to you explain things somewhat, but then he sort of zoned out. Paying too much attention to your smile when you laughed, the excitement in your voice when you talked about your job. Not to mention he was taken aback at how beautiful you were. Your hair failing perfectly over your shoulders beneath your Rangers beanie. He was captivated by you, but tried to keep his cool.

“Okay, so we are gonna do just a little introduction. Whatever you feel like saying, introduce yourself, tell us where we are, all that fun stuff.” Rempe quickly snapping back to reality, stopping at where the tunnel began to open up to reveal the stadium. He simply followed your lead, waiting as you took out your phone and cued him to start whenever he was ready.

“Hey Rangers fans, it’s Matt Rempe here. Getting ready to make my debut at the Stadium Series here at MetLife. It’s time to bang some bodies and bring home a win!” He pumped his fists as he emphasized his final words for the camera, you signaling that was a great take. Next, moving over to the bench to do a couple sit down questions.

“Perfect, you are really a natural Matthew. I’m impressed! It took some of the other guys years to get comfortable with doing all the media stuff.” He smiled as he stood up, once again towering over you. “Well you made it really easy, made me feel comfortable and all the nerves went out the window.”

“Well good! I’m gonna go edit this now and we will probably have it posted within an hour, just in case you wanted to see it.” “Oh perfect,” Matthew began reaching into his pocket before pulling out his phone, “can you text me once it’s up?” You took his phone, not thinking anything of it, you had plenty of his teammates phone numbers. It becoming a thing for guys to want to send embarrassing clips of each other for their group chats. “Sure thing, there you go! Shoot me a text so I have your number and I’ll get you the link as soon as it’s up.”

You smiled as the two of you headed up the tunnel, some of the islanders players making their way out to see the ice. The second you saw your boyfriend’s face walking toward you, all of your professional game day demeanor went out the window and you took off running.

As you took off up the tunnel, Matthew was a bit confused, not realizing what was going on, he continued walking as his eyes followed you. Soon seeing you jump into the arms of Mat Barzal from the Islanders. His heart sunk a bit, of course she’s not single, he sighed to himself as he pulled out his phone. Trying to not seem so awkward when he walked past the two of you kissing. Flashing a smile when you mentioned that you’d text him after you finished editing the things you two just filmed.

Why was he so shocked to see a beautiful girl like you dating someone? Maybe it was shocking that you were dating one of the top guys in the league, who also happens to be on one of the Rangers rival teams. He’d felt a bit foolish for thinking that a girl like you would not only be single, but ever give him, a rookie, the time of day like that. Heading into the locker room, he threw on his headphones and started to get zoned in for the game.

It had been about a month since you’d seen Mat, and you couldn’t contain your excitement. He smiled at you as he braced for your hug, cutting it short before giving you a quick kiss. “Mat, come on, it’s been almost two months. Aren’t you happy to see me?” He nodded to his teammates to walk without him as he stayed back, “yeah of course I am, but I’m also trying to get focused. I’m sorry I’m not jumping up and down like you.” His laugh caught you off guard, as almost if he was making fun of how excited you were to see him.

“Sorry for being happy to see my boyfriend. Well go get focused, I don’t wanna be a distraction to you” Dropping his hands you’d pushed past him, doing your best to hide any emotions you had and ignore the feeling of just wanting to cry.

“Y/n, babe come on don’t be like that!”

Mat stood in the tunnel yelling after you, but he didn’t bother to chase you. Knowing it wasn’t the time or place, though when was the time and place for you two anymore?

Finding a warm area tucked away at the stadium, you took out your laptop and started editing, anything you could do to get your mind off of Mat and how annoyed you were. .

Beginning to edit the footage you took of Matthew, a smile crept across your face. Everything about Rempe was infectious. His thick Canadian accent as he spoke made you laugh. The little phrases and things he’d say when he got excited about the game and this opportunity. Pulling out your phone, you shot him a text, not sure if he’d respond since he was probably getting warmed up.

“Soooo, when is it considered too early to make Matthew Rempe, let’s bang some bodies merch? Lol”

Sitting in his stall, Matthew heard a quick ding over his music, slightly cursing at himself for not turning his phone on do not disturb. He had been getting tons of texts from friends and family about his debut, and while he appreciated it, they were distracting for sure. He went to simply swipe the text away, figuring he’d respond later. But he stopped as he saw your name displayed on the screen.

He chuckled to himself at the text, typing out a quick reply before heading off to stretch with some of the guys.

“Ehhh, not sure how entirely appropriate the merch would be. People who weren’t in on it may think it’s like a sex joke or something.”

Finally seeing a reply from Matthew you laughed out loud, quickly typing a reply before you put the finishing touches on your social media post.

“Oh lord I can see the headline now, Rangers merch sales at an all time high after rookie proudly endorses banging bodies.”

As soon as you got your content edited and posted, you shut your laptop and got everything packed back into your bag. Deciding you were in desperate need of caffeine if you were somehow gonna make it to game time. The Rangers kept a stash of energy drinks in their locker room, half the time you swore just for you because you never saw the guys drink them.

“Oh no, here she comes! She’s gonna ask us to do a tik tok!” Vinny Trochek calling out to the guys playing soccer and they all pretended to scatter. Being the media girl the loved giving you a hard time, but you knew it came with the territory. “Very funny Vinny, just wait until you see the embarrassing shit I’ve got of you ready to post!”

Trochek making a face at you as you popped in the locker room to grab your drink.

buzz buzz

“You know, if you were sneaking in the locker room to try and catch a glimpse of me shirtless or something, you could’ve just asked ;)”

Practically choking on your Celsius you wiped your mouth as you stared at the text you receive from Matthew. He truly was something else, his flirting not at all subtle. Though you didn’t mind, he was a ten for sure. Though you knew he probably was a player and had girls drooling over him.

But after the not so warm greeting from your boyfriend, you welcomed a little flirting.

Exiting the locker room you locked eyes with Matthew giving you a shit eating grin as you tried to hide the blush on your cheeks. He smiled to himself as he bit his tongue, turning his attention back to the guys as they finished up their game of soccer.

The final horn sounded, ending one of the most exciting games you’ve seen in awhile. The Rangers somehow pulled out the win, coming back from down 3 goals to take the game in overtime. Rempe got his first fight in his NHL debut, and the media content you got from this game was endless. The thought of all the editing you’d have to do tonight buried in the back of your mind as you focused on trying to find something to eat in the catering area near the locker room. Lucky for you, some of the guys were always kind enough to set food aside for you, knowing you rarely ate when working the games. Not even by choice, but simply because you were responsible for catching anything and everything on camera and posting in real time.

You munched on some french fries as you scrolled through the comments on your post of Rempe’s debut, laughing at all the girls drooling over him through their screens. Continuing your scroll you hardly noticed the scratched up knuckles reaching in to steal a fry. “Matthew Rempe how dare you!”

He shot you a cocky grin as he tossed the fry in his mouth, “Sorry, I had to, you were asking for it.” Rolling your eyes you finished off the fries, then reaching for your bag only to be stopped by Matthew. “Here, as an apology for stealing a fry, let me carry this for you. It’s the least I can do.” Smiling softly you obliged, letting him hold the bag as the two of you headed towards the parking garage.

“Oh, nice fight by the way. Didn’t feel like wasting much time huh?” He smiled proud as he shrugged, “Better to get it over with early, gets the nerves out you know?”

As you approached your car, he pulled your bag from his shoulder. “Not seeing the boyfriend or anything?” Checking your phone, you’d never heard back from Mat whether or not he’d want to see you tonight. “Probably not, I’ve got a lot of editing to do and…” your voice trailed off as you tried to make up a believable excuse as to why your boyfriend couldn’t see you. To which Matthew saw right through, “I couldn’t help but notice the two of you earlier, trouble in paradise?”

Letting out a huff you tossed your bag into your passenger seat as you laughed, “how much time you got Rempe?” An apologetic smile crept across his face as he saw you holding in a lot. He wanted to just hug you, let you cry if you needed to. He’d only just met you a few hours ago yet he felt like he was meant to. Like you needed him to come into your life and somehow make it better. “Well, my family is in town and I definitely have to see them. We are grabbing dinner. But, I can certainly make time later tonight?” Nodding your head you walked over to the drivers side of your car, Matthew offering a quick hug to you, sensing you needed it. Which you did, very much so. He closed the car door before leaning down and resting his arms on the frame as you started it up. “I’ll text you when I’m done with my family? Pinky promise.” He held out his pinky which was quadruple the size of yours, making you chuckle as you wrapped yours around it. “Don’t make me sit around my phone waiting for a text you don’t plan on sending Matthew Rempe.”

He laughed as he walked away from your car, “you kidding? I’ve already got our conversation pinned in my messages!” Shaking your head you rolled up the window, pulling out of the garage and heading out on the traffic filled road for your drive home.

As much as you loved your job, sitting on your couch and staring at the same repetitive clips of the Rangers for hours while editing really got old fast. Trying to fight your exhaustion you closed your laptop, pulling out your phone to try giving Mat a call. He texted you after the game, a half hearted apology that truly did nothing more than make you roll your eyes.

Hey it’s Mat, I can’t come to the phone right now, leave me a message.

Typical Mat, phone on do not disturb after a loss, and you probably won’t hear from him until later or even tomorrow if he’s really in a mood. It had unfortunately become the norm, and while you hated it, you couldn’t say much about it. You did sign up for this somewhat when decided to date a NHL player, and one who happens to be one of the top names in the league. He bears a lot of weight on his shoulders from his franchise, and it’s been taking a toll on him for the last year or so. Spilling over to affect your relationship, though he won’t agree. He thinks things are as good as they’ve ever been. Despite the two of you barely speaking, rarely ever seeing one another now, and we won’t even talk about the lack of anything remotely sexual. Not even the occasional nude could get Mat going, so you’d stopped trying to change him. Accepting that maybe this was who he was now, but never building up the courage to just walk away.

The buzzing of your phone in your lap snapping you from your sad thoughts, as a smile now appeared on your face after seeing Matthew’s name pop up on your screen. “Thank you for calling y/n’s phone, how can I help you?” Matthew chuckled on the other end of the call, “I am really hoping that y/n is available and still wants to talk to me after the long day she had? I might even have dessert that I am sure she’d love right about now.”

“You want to come over?” Your tone sounding a bit more harsh than you intended, just a bit shocked that he was offering to stop by versus just talk on the phone or text. “Oh, um, I don’t know. You seemed a bit down earlier, and I just felt like you could use some cheering up. Plus you said it yourself, I’m gonna have to get used to spending time with you so might as well get a head start.”

Before he could finish his sentence you’d texted him your address, telling yourself to say fuck it and have him come over. You refused to sit and sulk over your boyfriend any more than you already had.

“Sweet, I’m only like 15 minutes away. Me and the cake will be there soon!” You cackled into the phone as Matthew quickly regretted his words, “I meant like the dessert, not my ass or anything. Oh god! Look I’ll be there soon okay?”

Embarrassed, he hung up while you continued your laughter. Packing up your computer and cleaning up your place a bit, not sure where your sudden nerves were coming from. It’s not like Matthew would be expecting a five star mansion to be hiding within your small NYC apartment. And before you could double check the clothes you’d thrown on the second you got home, a knock came at your door. The last thing you expected when opening it was Matthew to now be in gray sweatpants and a hoodie, his hair still somewhat damp from his postgame shower, looking even better than you’d remembered. To put in plainly, he looked hot.

“I hope you like vanilla cake with chocolate frosting!”

He beamed as he carried the cake inside, setting it on your kitchen island then taking in the apartment. Nodding in approval as you went to grab two glasses, offering water which Matthew kindly accepted.

“So,” he started as he took a seat on your sofa, “cake first or did you want to tell me your life story to get that over with?” Grabbing the box of cake along with two forks, you took a seat next to Matthew before handing him the extra utensil.

“How about both?”

“Okay so, why don’t you just breakup with him? I mean, I know that’s easier said than done, but you don’t seem very happy.” Playing with the hem of your sweatshirt as you finished telling Matthew the gist of your love story with Mat, and his reactions were all what you’d expected. “I don’t know, I mean, I love him. It’s not easy to break up with someone you love. And I keep telling myself it’ll get better.”

“When? Once he wins a Stanley Cup and finally eases up a bit from his Mr. Perfect persona and attitude? How long is that gonna take?”

He had a point, you truly had no clue when Mat would change and start being like himself again. You missed the karaoke nights with him and your friends, movie nights at your place, dinner dates, even just sleeping in the same bed as him. You missed him, but something tells you he didn’t miss you.

“Look, I’m not trying to be an asshole. Hell, I just met you like 10 hours ago yet somehow I am in your apartment sharing cake and talking to you about your relationship troubles. I don’t know how we ended up here but I’m not mad at it.” A smile crept on your lips for the first time in the past thirty minutes as Matthew rested his hand on your thigh. “All I’m saying is, if you were my girlfriend, I would’ve sprinted down that tunnel today to hug you and kiss you. I would’ve come to see you after the game no matter if my team won the game or lost by twelve goals. You’re beautiful, funny, super fucking talented at your job, and from the few hours I’ve been around you, I can see how amazing you are.”

You hadn’t noticed yourself tearing up until Matthew reached out to wipe your cheek. “I’m not trying to make you cry, now I feel bad. Should I make you laugh?” He pouted his lips at you, doing his best to earn a smile.

“Like being so for real, if I was your boyfriend and I got to see you today after like a month, we would’ve had to go somewhere private at that stadium cause there’s no way I’m not getting my hands all over you the second I see you.”

Shaking your head you grabbed the forks and cake box from the table, walking them all to the kitchen as Matthew laughed at his words, though not denying them. “Well, as amazing as that sounds, I couldn’t even tell you the last time Mat did any of that.”

Matthew practically choked on his water as you rinsed off the forks, “what?”, then putting them aside to dry. “Don’t tell me you haven’t even been having sex with him, he’s your boyfriend y/n! Like…is he gay?”

“Matthew Rempe!”

“I mean, I don’t know,” he shrugged as he joined you in the kitchen, “I’m trying to wrap my brain around how a guy could be dating a girl like you, and not be even having sex with her. Like I get the not seeing each other as much because of being in two different cities, the limited phone calls and stuff, but going months and months without sex!? I’m not trying to cause a stir in your relationship or come across disrespectful, but I would one hundred percent not be able to go a month without getting my hands on you and- actually, let me stop myself before I say some things I shouldn’t.”

Your jaw practically on the floor as he retreated, quickly sipping his water so he didn’t have to speak. “No, actually I think you should continue. I’m kinda tempted to hear this.” You leaned back against the counter as you crossed your arms in front of your chest, a smirk on your face as you could sense Matthew’s nervousness with you getting closer to him. He eyes you up and down from behind his glass before that signature cocky grin crept across his face. His hands now on either side of your waist as he looked down at you.

Everything in you was telling you to stop, to not let your interaction with Mat lead you to do anything you’d regret. But hell you’ve been in this cycle for months. Constantly waiting for the day your boyfriend starts acting like your boyfriend again. And you were also a woman with needs. If a 6 foot hot man in your kitchen wants to gas you up and show you what you’ve been missing, how are you to say no to that?

“Well for starters, I’ve been trying my best to not stare at your ass with these little shorts you’ve got on. Not to mention keeping my hands off your legs, which I can’t believe you were hiding underneath your jeans all day cause wow.” To say you were enjoying his compliments was an understatement.

“Anything else?”

His fingers now brushing your hair back from your face as he could see your breath catch in your chest, you were nervous. He could see it on your face, your heart telling you that it wasn’t a good idea. But your body language telling him that you’d been missing this.

“I didn’t come over to do this, or fuck up your relationship. I promise you that. And if you want me to stop, I’ll respect that.” His hand cupped your cheek as he waited for your sign to stop, but nothing came.

“I don’t think anything you do right now could fuck up my relationship any more than it already is.” You smirked as his lips finally pressed to yours, the butterflies in your stomach bursting as you brought your hands to his hair, deepening the kiss as he picked you up, your legs naturally wrapping around his waist.

A laugh escaped your lips as you saw how high you were off the ground in his arms, joking that he could help you be able to clean the top of your fridge from up there. Matthew shaking his head as he brought your lips back to his. Only to be interrupted by your phone buzzing on the counter.

“Oh shit, boyfriend’s calling.”

You rolled your eyes as Matthew handed the phone to you, only to silence the call and toss your phone back onto the island.

“Guess I’m a little busy right now.”

#matt rempe #matt rempe blurb #matt rempe fic #matt rempe imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #mat barzal fic #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal x reader #matt rempe x reader

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honeypiehotchner · 2 years

Text

gold star (Hotch x Teacher!Reader) -- one shot

Been working on this one for a hot minute oops. Just wanted to say thank y’all for being patient with me always (and we literally hit 5.7k followers even while I’ve been so inactive???? what????). Here’s a longgg dose of fluffy angst <33

Edit: I’m a dumbass and queued this for the wrong day

Summary: You’re Jack’s teacher and Aaron is basically your nemesis. Until he’s not. (Kinda enemies to lovers?)

Warnings: angst! talks of parent death, therapy, bad parenting/emotional neglect, y’know the works. Lots of fluff tho to make up for it. And a happy ending!

WC: ...5.7k-ish

I love my job. I love my job. If you say it enough, you’ll believe it. I love my job. You glance at the clock and see your next parent is late. I love my job.

You do love your job, you really do. What you hate are parent-teacher conferences that you’re required to do. Especially when the parent is late. After having to reschedule at the last minute. Twice.

If you didn’t have a genuine concern to discuss with Jack’s father, then you wouldn’t be here still. But alas, you care for Jack more than your annoyance at his father.

Jack Hotchner is a sweet kid. Genuinely wonderful. After his mom’s sudden death a few years ago, everyone worried about him. You’re friends with Julia, who was his kindergarten teacher just a few months after it occurred. Despite being a teacher for almost a decade that year, Julia had never encountered this situation, so she looked to you for help. You lost your mom when you were in first grade, so you were able to give her more helpful tips that actually work.

Now, you have the pleasure of having Jack in your second grade classroom and he truly is an amazing student. You only wish you could share this information with his father who seems to be on another plane of existence every goddamn--

A knock on your classroom door frame makes you jump.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron Hotchner rushes out, quickly dropping his hand. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Hotchner,” you say, standing up from your desk chair, putting on a smile. “Come on in.”

“Thanks, and please, it’s Aaron,” he smiles sheepishly, walking over. He towers over the tiny desks as he maneuvers past them to yours. He sticks out his hand for you to shake. He has a firm grip, but his hands are soft. “I’m sorry I’m so late. I got caught up at work--”

“I figured,” you reply, sitting back down. You pull up your laptop and begin typing in your password. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to make this quick. I should’ve left an hour ago.”

“Oh, sorry, am I that late?” he flicks his arm to look at his watch. He sighs. “I apologize.”

You hum. “Our conference was scheduled for 4:15.” You glance down at the clock on your screen. “It’s almost six.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says again. “Would it be better to reschedule?”

“Nope,” you shake your head. “You’re already here.” And if you reschedule, then this might happen again, so you’d rather do this now while you’ve got him here. “Fortunately, Jack is doing really well. He’s struggling a little with math, but he’s not the only one, and we’re working on it. He’s made a few friends, I know we discussed that last time. He’s breaking out of his shell, I think.”

“That’s good,” Aaron says, smiling a little. “That’s really good to hear.”

“Is he doing any extracurriculars?” you ask. Last time, when you voiced your concerns to Aaron about his son being a little too quiet and shy, you suggested asking if he’d like to do a sport, or play an instrument.

“He’s doing soccer,” Aaron says.

Your eyes widen. “Oh!”

“You look surprised,” he presses.

“I guess I didn’t expect Jack to…want to do a sport,” you shrug, checking your notes for the conference to stall.

What you really wanted to say is that you didn’t expect Aaron to listen to you. Given his track record, it seemed highly unlikely that he’d follow through and actually ask his son about trying a sport, let alone go through with signing him up for one.

“Do you have any questions for me?” you ask, closing your laptop lid. Aaron has been studying your face in this lull of silence, and it’s unnerving.

“I don’t think so,” he finally says.

“Okay,” you nod, not surprised. “I did have one more thing. I know I said Jack is breaking out of his shell, and he is, but he seems…down. Is something going on at home?”

Aaron sighs. “It’s getting closer to the anniversary of his mom’s death.”

That tugs on your heart. “Oh, I see. Alright.” You pause. “Uh-- If you don’t mind me asking, is he seeing a counselor or a therapist or anything?”

“He’s not, not currently,” Aaron says.

You blink. You shouldn’t really be surprised, but you are. “Has he at all since his mom’s death?”

“Briefly, right after she died.”

“Okay.” You clear your throat. You cannot yell at a parent. That’s unprofessional. “I know it’s not my place, but I’d highly suggest finding him someone. Especially right now as the anniversary is getting closer, and as Jack gets older. I would suggest our school counselor, but I think Jack would do better with someone better equipped for his situation.”

Aaron stares at you, nodding slowly. “Alright.”

You lean over and open a drawer, grabbing the handout specifically for times like these. Given the area the school is in, parents are typically able to pay for services like these, and are more willing. You know it’s because they don’t have the time to deal with their children’s emotions, so they pawn them off on someone else, and claim it as a good deed.

In a way, you’re grateful the children are able to receive help that you didn’t because your dad couldn’t afford it. You just wish the kids also received support from their family, not just from doctors.

“Here’s a list of great pediatric psychiatrists and therapists in the area.” You hand Aaron the packet and he takes it gently, his expression unreadable. Parents are always so weirdly defensive about this. “Many of our students see someone from that list, so I trust that one will be a good fit for Jack. If you want some help narrowing it down, I can help.”

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “I’ll look into this.”

I hope so, you want to say, but he doesn’t sound too sincere. “Okay,” you smile softly instead. “That’s all I have, unless you have any other questions?”

He shakes his head. “No, I think-- I think this is good.”

“Alright, well,” you pause, opening Jack’s folder. “I just need you to sign here, so the school knows we met.” You slide the form and a pen across the table.

Aaron signs swiftly, a signature born from frequent piles of paperwork. You know he does something in the government, you’re just not sure what. Nearly every parent here works in the government, though, so that’s not a remarkable conclusion to have made.

“Thank you,” you say, taking the signed form and sliding it back into Jack’s folder. “I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

“You too,” Aaron says, standing up to shake your hand again. He’s so formal, you almost forget. He clutches the packet in his free hand, and you wonder if it’ll end up in the recycling bin at the end of the hall.

After shaking your hand, Aaron apologizes again for his tardiness, and then leaves your classroom. The clock on the wall says it’s just past six. A record for one of the latest nights you’ve been here.

Gathering your things, you do some last minute checks around the classroom before heading out, locking the door behind you.

As you reach the exit doors at the end of the hall, you peer into the trash and recycling bins. Both are empty, no signs of your pediatric psychiatrists packet.

At least that’s a win.

+++

A month or so later, you’re waking up early to go to a soccer game. If it weren’t for your kids asking you (loudly and enthusiastically) to come to their game, then you wouldn’t be awake right now on a Saturday.

Julia, at least, is coming with you, and so is Kate, a fellow second grade teacher whose classroom is across from yours. Julia is coming to see Jack, and Kate also has a few students who asked her to come.

The three of you stop for coffee before going to the park where the soccer games are held. Walking across the field, you find an empty space on the bleachers and sit down, looking around for your kiddos.

To your complete and utter surprise, you spot Aaron Hotchner -- of all parents.

You quickly avert your eyes, looking around some more. You haven’t seen or spoken to Aaron since the parent-teacher conference as Jack is usually picked up and dropped off by his Aunt Jessica. Jack has seemed a little more present and happy, but you have no idea if that means that Aaron actually sought help for his son.

Even more embarrassing, you’ve worried about your job since that conference. It’s always a gamble, offering parents advice. You never know what will cross a line and equal an angry phone call to the principal followed by a swift withdrawal of their child from your class. Not every parent has always been so keen on your attention to your students’ emotional wellbeing.

“Don’t look, but one of the dads cannot keep his eyes off of you,” Julia whispers.

“Which one?” Kate asks, then she spots him. “Oh, him-- He’s tall. Wait, is he…?”

You glance over and sure enough, the one in question is Aaron. He can’t tell that you’ve looked at him, though, thanks to your sunglasses. “That’s Jack’s dad,” you say, looking away again.

“I knew he looked familiar,” Julia murmurs. “I’m not used to him out of the suit. His hair is longer too, isn’t it?”

“Why would I know?” you counter, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Is he the one you mouthed off to?” Kate asks, nudging your arm.

You scoff defensively, “I didn’t mouth off--”

“She told him to put his son in therapy,” Julia explains with a prideful smirk. “Rightfully so, too. I would’ve done the same if I ever saw him.”

“Damn,” Kate chuckles. “Let’s hope that he took your advice.”

“And that he isn’t pissed at me for it,” you mutter. “I haven’t heard anything since.”

Kate and Julia share a look before Julia says, “He’s definitely not mad.”

Finally, you give yourself the chance to look over at him, and to let him see you looking.

You’ll admit, it is weird seeing him out of the suit, let alone in short sleeves. You’ve never seen his arms. They’re…nice. Muscular, more than you expected. Not that you’ve wondered about his arms, though. Or any part of him. Because he’s Jack’s dad, so you should not be thinking about him this way.

Still, you indulge, just for this moment. He keeps your eyes only for a minute before his attention is drawn elsewhere to the screaming kids practicing their warmups (if that’s what those can be called). He’s smiling from ear to ear, something you’ve never seen. The tiny smiles you managed out of him during conferences hardly ever looked genuine. This, though, this one is.

“You should talk to him,” Julia whispers, nearly scaring you shitless. You completely forgot where you were for a minute.

“No,” you shake your head, tearing your eyes away. “That’s practically asking for him to yell at me.”

“He won’t do that,” Julia chides.

“Well, I don’t know,” Kate grimaces. “Parents are finicky. I got yelled at last year by one who I thought was the sweetest ever. Until her kid didn’t pass a science test.”

“See?” you say, gesturing to Kate. “We have no idea what he’ll be like.”

“Besides that he’s looking at you again,” Julia says. “So he’s clearly interested in talking to you.”

“Then he can walk over here himself.”

Julia raises her eyebrows, shrugging. “Be careful what you wish for.”

You roll your eyes. Aaron is too busy with the kids and their game is about to start, so there’s no way he’ll walk over. Even if you speak after, Jack will be with him, so nothing will be said. It’s fine.

+++

Aaron’s mouth is dry. He feels like he forgot how to breathe properly.

He didn’t know you’d be here, and here you are. Beautiful. Except he shouldn’t think that, because you’re his son’s teacher. It’s inappropriate. But the way the sun hits your skin…beautiful. You’re beautiful.

He needs to focus. He’s supposed to be coaching the kids, not gawking at a teacher like some idiot.

To make matters worse, Rossi notices, and only silently raises his eyebrows.

Aaron told Rossi about your parent-teacher conference, and how he should’ve put Jack in therapy sooner -- along with himself. Rossi asked him if he thanked you for your advice, but Aaron never found the right time. He half-heartedly thanked you at the conference, but it wasn’t as genuine as it should’ve been.

He meant to call you, or send an email, but he never did. Truthfully, he’s been terrified. He feels incredibly stupid to have not gotten Jack help sooner, and even more stupid that he finds you as attractive as he does. Can he be any worse of a person, seriously?

And now, you’re here. At Jack’s soccer game. Which, he guesses he should’ve realized sooner that a lot of Jack’s classmates are on this team, too. And others from different classes, but still in his grade. It was only a matter of time before one of the kids asked a teacher to come. It would only take one, and clearly it did, and he’s unprepared.

Wildly unprepared. And wishing he put on a better shirt.

+++

The soccer game is a disaster, but a wonderful one.

The kids are too young for points to be counted, so it’s just a game of fun chaos. Teams are blurred and never really followed. But they looked like they had a blast out there, so that’s all that mattered.

You, Julia, and Kate split up to see your kids and give out as many high-fives as you possibly can. You listen to their rambles and congratulate them on playing so well. The parents stand by with smiles, occasionally one piping up to thank you for coming.

Aaron is there, too, surprisingly. He’s still smiling bigger than ever.

There’s a man with him, too, who Jack calls Uncle Dave. Jack has mentioned him in class before, and he’s actually Aaron’s coworker. He’s smiling, too, just not as wide, and he keeps glancing between you and Aaron.

Just when you think you’re in the clear, Aaron tells Jack to go with Uncle Dave because he needs to talk to you about something.

You catch Julia and Kate’s eyes when Aaron is left alone with you, and your stomach turns. He doesn’t look angry, but then again, the parents never look angry at first.

“I just wanted to thank you,” Aaron begins, turning so the sun isn’t in his eyes as much. He’s still squinting, and it’s adorable. You wonder why he didn’t wear sunglasses. “I picked a therapist from the list you gave me for Jack, and it’s really been helping him. A lot, so, I just wanted to thank you for giving that to me.”

You blink, stunned. “You’re welcome,” you say slowly before you gain your composure. “I’m very glad that it’s been helping. And to see him playing soccer,” you gesture to the field with a smile. “He seems to really enjoy it.”

“Oh, he does,” Aaron chuckles. “He can’t get enough of it. He talks about it all the time.”

All the time. So maybe he’s spending more time with Jack, then. “Good, I’m really glad to hear that.”

You pause, waiting for him to say something else. The awkward silence lingers for a little too long, and you know what’s coming next.

“I was wondering,” he starts, and lowers his voice a little. “I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner sometime.”

As much as you’d love to say yes, you can’t let yourself. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hotchner, that would just be inappropriate.”

“No, no, not as a date,” he backtracks, confusing you. “Just to thank you for-- For helping me get Jack in to see a therapist.”

You raise an eyebrow. “To thank me…for telling you what you should’ve done in the first place?”

He sputters for a moment, clearly losing his bearings. “No, I mean--”

“Listen, Mr. Hotchner,” you smile sweetly, trying to contain yourself. “What would you like? A gold star? For getting your son a therapist after he went through an incredibly traumatic event?”

He doesn’t say anything, and somehow that makes your anger and annoyance worse.

“Listen. The fact of the matter is that you should’ve kept your son in therapy since he lost his mother. And continue to keep him in therapy until he’s old enough to decide if he wants to continue seeing one or not. Because when my mom died, I didn’t get to have a therapist. We couldn’t afford it, and my dad was too out of his mind to even care. It nearly killed me, and my siblings. So don’t tell me that you want to thank me for something that I never should’ve had to do in the first place. You should’ve paid more attention to your son’s needs. Especially since you can afford services to genuinely help him.”

Your voice stayed quiet, thankfully, because you didn’t need everyone to hear you mouthing off to Aaron once again. You realize only halfway through that maybe you shouldn’t be saying these things in a setting such as this, but you’re too into it to stop.

Julia and Kate heard all of it, though. You can see their jaws open, eyes wide. Did you go too far? You don’t know and part of you doesn’t care. It’s the truth, and it hits far too close to home for you to say nothing at all.

Still, to cover your bases, you add one last thing. “I apologize if that was harsh, but it needed to be said. I want what’s best for my kids. And sometimes, that means getting their parents to see that they need to do better.”

You pause, and he nods, and says another quiet “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you murmur. And to keep things from stinging any more, you walk away.

Julia and Kate catch up with you on the way back to your car, both too stunned to say a word until you’re inside.

“Damn,” Julia whispers. “Damn.”

“Holy shit,” Kate says with a small laugh. “Tell ‘em.”

“Yeah,” you exhale loudly. “Let’s just hope I still have a job by Monday.”

+++

You do still have a job come Monday, with surprisingly no meeting with the principal, either. Or a phone call.

You’re suspicious, but trying not to be. Maybe it’s all fine.

You convince yourself that it’s completely fine until it really is. Until you start seeing Aaron occasionally, picking Jack up from school. You aren’t sure how often he’s been doing it, because the only reason you saw him is that you were forced into car rider duty. You’ve always been on the bus lane, but they needed another teacher out front, and that’s where you saw him first.

It caught you off guard the first time, honestly. It had been three weeks since the soccer game, since you told him off in front of everyone. And what did he do this time when he saw you?

He waved. He smiled. And then he scooped Jack up into his arms.

She won’t own up to it, but you’re positive Julia saw the interaction because you haven’t worked the bus lane since. Because Julia suddenly volunteered for it, taking your place.

Now, it’s a bit of a routine. Aaron picks Jack up almost every day, although sometimes there are a few stretches of three to four days where he isn’t present. Those days, you see Jessica, and she smiles at you as well, but it’s different. You got so used to seeing Aaron those days, that when you see Jessica, it feels strange. It begins to feel the way it used to feel when you saw Aaron picking Jack up.

It makes you smile. You’re glad to see Aaron taking the time to see Jack, to put in the time — finally — knowing he has the means to be able to do this.

+++

For the rest of the school year, this is how you see Aaron Hotchner.

Neither of you say a word to each other, except for the final parent-teacher conference — which he arrives early for. The conference is entirely professional, and he doesn’t mention the past. Neither do you.

The final week of school fast approaches, and you’re looking for decorations to put up in the classroom. You try to make the last week special because you know they’re just as ready for summer break as you are.

Part of your “decorations” consists of candy that you’ll put on their desk every morning, which means you’re in the grocery store, in desperate need of candy to entertain your kids. Five different kinds. Something extra special on the last day, though. They’ll get out two hours earlier, but they don’t know that yet (the parents do).

Right as you turn down the candy aisle, you stop dead in your tracks, your cart nearly smacking into someone else’s. When you look up, you realize who it is.

“Mr. Hotchner!” you blurt.

He smiles that soft smile. “Please, call me Aaron.”

You’re not used to calling parents by their first name. You know he’s tried to get you to call him Aaron a few times, but you can’t ever bring yourself to. Instead, you change subjects, peering into his cart.

“Grocery shopping? For…” You raise an eyebrow. “I don’t even have a good joke. Why do you have so many marshmallows?” He has like…six big bags. Of varying sizes, too.

“Long story,” he says, sheepish. “Jack wants to build something out of marshmallows.”

“Does he want to build a whole country?” you chuckle.

“Sort of, yeah,” Aaron laughs. “He said he wants to build a whole city, then eat it. His words.”

“Wonderful,” you grin. “Sounds like a blast.” And a good idea. You might steal that for next year.

“What are you here for?” Aaron asks, nodding toward your empty cart.

“Candy, for the kids,” you reply. “I want to give them a different kind every day for the last week, just to make it more fun.”

Aaron smiles wider this time. “They’ll love that.”

“Thanks,” you say, mirroring his smile.

You don’t know what’s gotten into you. Or him, quite frankly. Building marshmallow sculptures with Jack? Unheard of. But you leave it alone, just glad he’s spending more time with his son.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to shopping,” Aaron says, gesturing down the aisle. “See you on Monday.”

Baffled, you blink, then nod. “Yeah. See you Monday.”

You see Aaron every day of next week to pick Jack up, and you get to see Jack’s smile grow every day.

On Friday, you head back inside to your classroom, ready to pack things up. Thankfully, you’re returning to this room next year, so you don’t need to pack everything up.

As a tradition, you, Julia, and Kate go out to celebrate the end of the year, so you have to go home and get ready for the night ahead.

+++

Aaron doesn’t know why he let Rossi convince him to come out tonight. Jack’s at a sleepover at a friend’s house, so Aaron has nothing to do — theoretically. Until Rossi decided to drag him out.

Now, he’s sitting in a booth at a bar with a jazz band playing, and he’s wondering how many people Rossi can possibly know. Four people have already stopped to say hi, and they’ve barely been here for half an hour.

As Rossi talks with another friend, Aaron lets his eyes wander around the place, spotting the door when it opens. And you walk in.

He quickly averts his eyes, shifting in his seat. It’s enough to catch Rossi’s attention, and he gives Aaron a strange look, until he sees you at the bar with your two friends from Jack’s soccer game.

Aaron keeps his eyes trained on his whiskey, nodding absently when Rossi says he’s heading to the restroom.

What Rossi is actually doing is heading to the bar to intercept you and your friends, putting all three of your drinks on his tab.

“Thanks,” you chuckle, never one to argue with a free drink.

“You look familiar,” Julia blurts out.

“Dave,” Rossi introduces himself. “I’m a friend of Aaron Hotchner’s. I went with him to a few of Jack’s soccer games last season.”

“That’s where I’ve seen you,” you say.

Dave smiles. His back is turned to Aaron, so he can’t see Aaron glaring at him, wondering what the hell he’s doing up there talking to you.

“Aaron’s here with me, actually,” Dave says casually. “He’s at the booth just behind us if you’d like to see him.”

Kate nudges your arm harshly. “She would.”

“Actually, I don’t know if that’s—”

“Go,” Julia urges. “Why not?”

You give them both a look. “Fine,” you cave. “I’ll be right back.”

Kicking yourself for caving so easily (because you really would like to see him), you walk over to the booth where Aaron sits. Thankfully, his back is toward you, so he doesn’t see you coming.

He beams a smile when he sees you though, standing up to greet you. “Hey, what are you doing in here?”

“Kate and Julia drug me out,” you confess, idling for a moment as you both try to decide if you should shake hands, hug, or just stand here. “You?”

“Dave,” Aaron nods, chuckling. Just standing here it is. “Did he send you?”

“They all did,” you nod toward the bar, where they’re all watching like hawks, no doubt. “Mind if I sit?”

“Not at all,” he gestures to the empty space. “How are you?”

“Good, we’re out celebrating the end of the year,” you reply, walking around the table and sitting down on the plush booth cushion. This place is fancier than you would’ve chosen, but Julia heard good things about it from a friend, so you ended up here anyway. “How are you doing?”

“Good, although Dave drug me out for drinks because apparently,” he lifts his drink, “I don’t get out enough.”

“Y’know, that’s funny, my friends tell me the exact same thing,” you laugh. “Dave bought our drinks.”

“I knew he was doing something suspicious,” Aaron jokes, glancing back toward the bar. Dave and your friends have taken over three stools, clearly set on giving you and Aaron some time alone. “Sorry again if he forced you over here.”

“No, he definitely didn’t. My friends did,” you assure him, rolling your eyes. “Oh, I have to ask, how did Jack’s marshmallow city building go?”

Immediately, Aaron digs his phone out of his pocket. “I have a lot of pictures, I’ll just show you.” He unlocks his phone and goes to his camera roll, already smiling at the thought of them. “He had a blast. We went through so many toothpicks. We both had stomachaches by the end of it from eating so many marshmallows.”

He turns his phone to show you the pictures, and without thinking, you scoot closer to him. To get a better look at the pictures, you tell yourself, but you know that isn’t the full truth.

“Oh my god,” you laugh, grinning from ear to ear. “This so huge!”

“It covered our entire kitchen!” Aaron laughs with you, a sweet sound you wish you heard more often. “I didn’t tell Jessica about it, so she had a heart attack when she came over the next day.”

“I bet,” you nod seriously, swiping on his phone as he holds it toward you. “Goodness.” You look up at Aaron. “Did you guys eat all of them?”

“We’ve had a lot of hot chocolate.”

“It’s May.”

“I know,” he deadpans, feigning annoyance, but then he breaks into a smile. “I’ll admit, I’ve been snacking on them maybe a little more than I should every time I go into the kitchen.”

“I would do the same,” you chuckle. “No judgment here.”

He smiles at you and tucks his phone away back in his pocket, and neither of you move from how close you’ve gotten.

“How are you planning to spend your summer break?” he asks, taking a sip of his whiskey. You try not to stare at him too much.

“Lots of getting ready for next year,” you reply, rotating your glass in your hand, focusing on it instead. “Mostly reading for fun, I don’t get to do that a lot during the school year when I’m reading for my kids and grading and such. I plan to do a lot of nothing, basically,” you laugh. “What about you?”

“The same, hopefully,” he says, which surprises you. And he can tell, because he elaborates. “I took a lot of time off from work. I work from home now, essentially. If I absolutely need to go in, then I do, but so far, Dave’s been able to handle it.”

You knew a big change had been made, especially since he’s been picking Jack up from school everyday. But hearing the confirmation makes your heart warm. “I’m really glad to hear that.”

“Me too,” he says. “I know we’ve been over this, but I wanted to thank you for what you said, at Jack’s game—”

Mortified, you interrupt him. “Oh god, I hoped you had forgotten about that.”

“I didn’t forget—”

“I was rude.”

“What you said needed to be said and I’m glad you did,” he protests sincerely. “You shouldn’t have had to say anything, but you did, and I appreciate that.”

His sincerity stuns you. You blink, no words able to come out.

“We can move on from it now,” he says, noticing your hesitation. “I just wanted to be clear that I’m not angry with you for what you said, I’ve actually been the complete opposite.”

“Well,” you chuckle, trying to make light of this. “You didn’t call the school demanding I be suspended, so I knew you couldn’t be that upset with me.”

He stares at you, eyes widening. “Do parents do that?”

“Some, yeah,” you nod. “They don’t exactly like being told by a single teacher with no kids of her own that their parenting skills are shit.”

He laughs, taking a sip of his whiskey. You watch him raise the glass to his lips, but look away before he can catch you. You smile down at your own drink. This is embarrassing.

You thought this little crush -- or whatever it is -- had gone away since you hadn’t spoken to him since the soccer game. Sure, you started to look specifically for him in the pickup area, but that was for Jack. That wasn’t for you. Or, at least, that’s the story you spun for yourself.

“What’s on your list to read this summer?” Aaron asks, bringing your eyes back to his. He’s smiling. “I’ve been meaning to read more -- outside of the books Jack and I read.”

You remember Jack telling you about The Magic Treehouse series that Uncle Dave got him for Christmas, and how his dad was reading them with him.

“What, The Magic Treehouse isn’t enough for you?” you tease Aaron, and he laughs, that sweet sound you can’t get enough of.

You tell him about the books on your shelf at home, the ones you got years ago and have yet to read, and the others that you got this year because you couldn’t resist. He listens to each one, never once taking his eyes off of you.

“I am not going to remember all of these names,” he chuckles.

“I can text them to you,” you offer, a grin creeping up your cheeks.

He mirrors your expression. “You stole my line.”

“Oh, that was your line?” you ask, laughing as you pull out your phone. “Fine, fine, you can have it back.”

“No, you said it first,” he says, still grinning. He hands you his phone as you give him yours. “I’m bad at this anyway.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, typing in your contact information before handing his phone back. “I’ve had a pretty good time.”

He waits a moment, just basking in your smile, the feel of your fingertips brushing against his when he returns your phone. “Me too.”

The night doesn’t end there, as the two of you continue talking. Another round of drinks is sent to your table by Dave and your friends who wave enthusiastically when you and Aaron look over at them.

“Free drinks, at least,” you shrug. “How much money does Dave have?”

“Don’t ask,” Aaron shakes his head. “He’ll never tell.”

As you both finish your first drink and head into the second, you scoot even closer. You bring your legs underneath you on the booth, getting comfortable as you and Aaron start to talk about your favorite movies. He tries to be sneaky and put his arm around you, but you notice and can’t help the giggle that escapes you.

“I told you I’m bad at this.”

“No, it’s sweet!” you protest, leaning into his chest. “It’s very nice, I don’t mind.”

He moves his arm from the back of the booth to your shoulders then, his hand resting on your arm. “This okay?”

“It’s perfect,” you smile softly, turning your head to look up at him. “What movie were we on?”

He stares so intently, searching your face. You watch as his eyes gaze over every inch, dropping to your lips, then back to your pupils. “I have no idea.”

“Me either,” you murmur, silently hoping for a kiss. Silently hoping that he’s hoping, too.

And he is. “I know our friends are watching us,” he whispers. “But can I kiss you right now?”

“Yeah,” you grin. “I was about to ask.”

“Well now we’re even,” he says, leaning closer as he smiles. You tilt your head, meeting his lips halfway, not wanting to wait any longer. You’ve quieted these feelings for far too long.

He kisses you long and sweet, his free hand coming to cup your face as yours search for stability in his shoulders. He knocks the breath out of your lungs, literally, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Aaron pulls back for just a moment, just far enough to say, “Was that worth a gold star?”

You laugh, playfully swatting his chest. “Yeah, Aaron,” you say, looking up at him. “It was.”

#aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x teacher!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fluff #hotch angst #hotch fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner one shot

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rainychaoloveshack · 3 months

Note

hello >:3

AUAHA okay, uhhh. Continuation of the Night Owl!Reader X Silver?

What I had in mind was something about Reader passing out on him. Whether it’s in public, at home, etc., just something like that. Sorta like a parallel to the other one!

Idk, I’m not very specific just so you have a lot of creative freedom. Love your work!! <3

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞-𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐲. 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

sleeping on silver seems to be the highlight of tonight, after an eventful day (with an unfortunate ending).

⋆°•☁︎ content . silver x gn!reader, tooth rotting fluff, reader is mentioned to be a night owl (staying up late often)

☂︎ wc. 1k ☂︎ a/n. i think i got silvers personality more accurate then last time!! HERE is the prequel fic to this ^^ THANK YOU FOR YOUR REQUEST!! sorry this took a while to come out; i had trouble brainstorming up a scenario idea but i got it!

likes, reblogs, and especially comments are extremely appreciated!!! (i like chatting to you guys!)

“The rain’s not dying down.” Silver grumbles, taking a look up at the sky as you both get settled into the train's waiting area, sitting down on a bench set aside to put your shopping bags on instead of the wet floor, along with some strangers huddled under the waiting area with you two, shielding themselves from the pattering rain. “And the trains are going to be late for another hour or so. Look.” Silver gestures to a digital clock above you two, a large announcement in bold letters flying across the small digital screen. “Ah, just our luck…”

‘THERE HAVE BEEN UNEXPECTED DELAYS. THE NEXT TRAIN IS SCHEDULED AT 00:30. WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE DELAY.’

“I would’ve just taken you in my arms and flew home,” Silver makes a small grabbing motion with his hands, chuckling at the very thought. “But with the rain and everything… We’d both obviously get soaked, huh? Plus, with the shopping bags and all.”

If you hadn’t looked so good for your date today, the flight home almost seems like a pleasing thought. Unfortunately, your shopping bags are also by your side today, so that wouldn’t even be a viable option.

Silver shifts around in his spot, his gloves emitting a soft, cyan glow that's clear in the dark, damp atmosphere as he messes around with his fingers. “Sorry.” Silver sighs. “I guess I should’ve checked the weather before we went out tonight, huh?”

Now, now, now, it’s not like the rain’s his fault. You tilt your head at his unwarranted, worried expression, wishing you could get rid of his worries with a snap of your finger. With your forefinger, you poke him in the cheek briefly, waiting for a smile to creep up onto his face. Luckily it doesn’t take you more than two before that lovable smile pops up onto his muzzle.

“Aw, come on. It’s not like I’m down in the dumps about it.” Silver chuckles. “We still had a good day here! Nice spots, nice food,” He bends over a bit in his seat, pointing to your shopping bags beside you. “I’m pretty excited to see you in the clothes that you bought…”

With a small nudge from you once he slips his little sentence out, his small chuckles are almost drowned out by every other voice around you, only the pattering rain staying to mix in with his laughter. It sounds so sweet as it always does, especially tonight…

Ah.

A yawn leaves your parted lips, and you hunch over to rest your elbows on your knees, clasping your fingers together with each other as you check the time on your phone. It feels like time’s slowing down as you both wait for the train’s arrival.

“You’re tired?” Silver asks, almost surprised at your fatigue. “You usually stay up way later than this. What’s the deal with tonight?”

Usually on the nights you stay up, your day was filled with nothing but relaxing at home, maybe at most a small trip outside for groceries, or a short walk with Silver to the nearby flower garden.

But today you went everywhere with him; seeing every sight in the plaza and exploring every little store that caught your eye (evidence being your shopping bags themselves).

Plus, his presence here is pretty calming, especially with the hustle and bustle of everyone else, with the tapping of their feet and complaining about the rain, the delays, or the time. Paired with annoyed protests about their now-drenched clothing, or their wet bags and whatnot, and calling family or friends to tell them about the situation. Maybe some people here are missing something? Maybe a late-night show? Or perhaps it's just the irritation of the day finally getting to them, now wishing to rest so snugly in their bed and fall asleep. You understand that feeling well.

While deep in your thoughts, you lean back onto the bench and stare down at the floor, watching the puddles ripple with water droplets from above and flow into the pavement. It’s a struggle to keep your eyes open.

“You can lay your head down on me, you know.” Silver says softly, the chattering from the strangers around you, along with the rain hitting the roof of the shelter area, almost drowning out his voice from the haze of your exhaustion. You lean in closer to hear him better, and the moment you do so, it's a breeze to tune out every other voice around you. “You don’t have to be so stubborn about it. I don’t mind.”

As soon as you’re given his permission, you set your bags down on the floor near his feet, settling your body down on the now open spot on the bench and laying your head on his lap, shutting your eyes, the soft fur from his legs and the heat from his body soothing your exhausted heart.

“That was fast.” Silver chuckles, the back of his fingers brushing across your cheek. “You’re reallll tired, huh?”

So soft. He’s so warm, and the rain’s so cold, but he’s here with you. Just you. So warm…

So…

“[Name].” Silver says, brushing his finger across your cheek to draw your attention, yet you don’t fidget or budge at his touch. “You never told me what you bought for me at that store you went into. Er, mind if I take a peek?” Even with his words, you don’t respond to him; you can’t.

“Ah, [Name]?” Silver brushes his finger against your cheek, the fabric smoothing over your skin as you stay asleep, already deep inside a dream; a sweet one at that. “Awe, come on [Name], so soon…?” He whispers, his nose scrunching at your resting form, but it fades as soon as it comes, replaced with a small smile. He’s hesitant at first, but slowly his hand comes to pet your head affectionately, a bit nervous to wake you up, but you don’t stir around in the slightest.

“The train will be here soon. And once we get home, I’ll even tuck you in. Hehe.” Silver murmurs to the resting you. “I won’t look at your little gift, so show it to me tomorrow morning, okay?”

#sonic x reader #silver the hedgehog x reader #sonic fluff #thank you for your request!#silver the hedgehog #not beta read

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1d1195 · 1 year

Text

Traditional VII

You can read the rest of this series here: Traditional

I've heard lots that we're excited about this part, please keep that in mind as you read and try not to hate me by the end of it. Also, a huge reminder I don't know much about business terminology, concepts, or situations.

“Oh, love?” He said quickly right before she hung up.

“Yes?”

“I’m so proud of you,” he told her.

Can you bring this file in? FYI Harry’s mad. Don’t be alarmed.

:( be right in

She hated when Harry was mad. Nothing made her more nervous than when he was angry. She had only seen it a handful of times. Fortunately, it had never been directed at her. She was hoping to keep it that way. But moreover, she hadn’t been an immediate witness to his temper either. In the six months she had been at Styles Incorporated, she had only heard him yelling through Niall’s phone or from an office she passed. Unbeknownst to her, whenever he yelled or got frustrated, Niall did everything in his power to ensure she wouldn’t be around. He did it regularly because he knew his track record with the interns before. But now he did it because he was Harry’s best friend and as his best friend, he knew how much this girl meant to him, even if Harry wasn’t fully aware yet.

Of course, there was nothing to get mad about outside company walls. So, when he was angry, all she felt was worry and sadness. If Niall needed her help mid-meeting and he was mad, then it was dire.

Taking a deep breath, she glanced at the meeting title on Niall’s schedule one last time. The meeting was held for the last three hours of the workday with the anticipation of finding a solution within the first hour. But they hadn’t so it was now approaching hour two. She grabbed the appropriate folder making sure the name on the meeting in his schedule matched the folder in her hand. She had looked over that file with Niall not too long ago. Like an epiphany, she knew the reason for Harry’s anger. She wished she had told Niall this morning all the research she had been doing before he went about his own business. Or at least asked what his thoughts were on what she had done. Unfortunately, since landing in front of Harry and Niall this contract issue had been all-consuming and there hadn’t been much downtime for her to get a word in to either of them while at work. It was especially too late now. She had no idea what they had discussed up to this point. Grabbing the folder off Niall’s desk she hurried down the hall to the conference room. As she was told on her very first day, she knocked and entered. But her heart was beating out of her chest like she was in trouble. She entered in the middle of Harry’s rant, and she made eye contact immediately with Niall who sent her a quick wink to keep her calm. No one looked at her except for Niall. The idea of even glancing in Harry’s direction made her too nervous to do anything.

“— as I’m concerned we can stay here all night until we figure out a plan!”

The venom in his voice made her uneasy. She was so shocked that the man that previously rubbed petroleum jelly all over her body and kissed her like she was made of porcelain could produce such a sharp tone that it made her almost visibly cringe. There were at least fifteen people seated around the large table. No one looked at Harry. They all typed rapidly on their laptops looking for solutions.

“If someone doesn’t come up with something in the next five minutes, I’m going to start firing someone every 10 minutes until the end of the day,” he growled out.

Naturally, Niall was seated beside Harry at the farthest end of the table from the door. He was the only one who looked calm. She didn’t know how he could sit right next to him so unaffected. Must have been nice to be his best friend. She walked slowly. As if she walked that slowly, Harry might not see her. She didn’t want him to see her. She was worried he would get mad at her reflexively. Which didn’t make any sense because it didn’t involve her at all. But it didn’t matter. His anger made her sad solely because she cared so much about him—whether he knew it or not.

“What if we ask one of them to le—”

Harry turned his head like he was in a horror movie and just possessed by a demon. He spoke toward the person about to say (arguably, even from her perspective as a lowly intern) the dumbest thing she could have ever imagined someone saying at this moment in time. “You’re not about to recommend that one of our biggest clients leaves?” He snapped bitterly. She flinched almost imperceptibly at his tone. “What the fuck am I paying the lot of you?” He grumbled under his breath.

Everyone was avoiding eye contact with everyone else, not just Harry. “Does anyone have a semi-intelligent idea, or should I start firing people?” She couldn’t believe how harsh he was. But that’s why he was the boss, and she was just an intern. “Someone better say something useful in the next fifteen second or everyone—”

At the same time Harry spoke, she handed the file off to Niall. The silence was approaching near deafening. “Thank you, darling,” he whispered.

Without her realizing, her anxiety of Harry’s anger proved to be too much for her. The need to find a solution, offer a solution bubbled out of her mouth without her brain’s consent, she spoke just as Harry was about to fire the whole group. She wanted it to be whispered to Niall but her brain, as always, was so wrapped up in Harry that her mouth bypassed all rational thought. It took her a moment to notice it was her own voice speaking. “Why don’t you just have them partner together so it’s a mutual agreement between them?”

The moment the words left her lips, she slapped her hand over her mouth with an audible smack. She closed her eyes and refused to make eye contact with anyone. “I... am... so sorry,” she glanced finally at Niall. His eyebrows were raised in surprise, lips parted in shock. Like he was just as frozen in disbelief as she was. The outstretched folder in his hands hadn’t even fully made it into his possession yet. If she thought the room was silent before, nothing compared to the ear-piercing quietness now. After another moment suspended in a long pause, Niall turned to Harry.

“That’s not a bad idea,” he mumbled. Harry appeared shocked by her outburst as well. In fact, for the first time all day it seemed, he was speechless. His eyes were scanning her like he had only just noticed she was there. Maybe she was lucky, and walking slowly did make her invisible.

“Go on,” Harry said. She could tell he was still wildly irritated, but he bit back his frustration once he realized it was her. That made her nervous in itself; she hoped no one paid any mind to how he lessened his tone. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

“I-I don’t—” She shook her head.

“No, go ahead,” Niall said encouragingly and rubbed his forehead at the same time, so he was covered when he winked at her without anyone else at the table seeing behind his hand.

“Uh...if...you partner them before you ask for what you want out of a merger...then it avoids a conflict of interest,” her voice wasn’t unsure, per se. She was confident she was correct. But she was terrified of Harry. Well...not...her Harry. Not that he was hers...but the version of him that cared for her in some capacity. He would never make her feel stupid or question her.

“Oh, we can’t seriously be taking an intern’s advice,” a woman at the other end of the table said. She glanced at her and could feel her own face warming in embarrassment that she was so thoughtless to say anything.

Harry’s head snapped toward the woman at the other end. Since she specifically did work for Niall, she knew nearly no one other than Harry and a few people from IT and HR. She didn’t even know the name of the woman that somehow took offense to her idea. “I’m sorry, did you have an idea?”

“There’s no way she knows what we’re talking about. She’s not even supposed to be here. This meeting is confidential.”

“Love, d’you have anything to attend to, or can y’stay for the last bit of this?” Harry asked.

“Oh, I don’t have to stay,” she shook her head quickly. Trying to keep Harry, Niall, (and now) this woman happy was her first priority...even if she hated the woman at the other end of the table. The last thing she wanted was for someone to notice Harry treated her differently. “I was going to tell Mr. Horan abou—”

“Niall, is she busy or can she spare a few minutes to stay and chat?” Harry asked, interrupting her.

“Mr. Styles, this meeting is confidential!” She would really like to know what she did to piss this woman off.

“Does anyone have a better idea?” Harry asked. It was silent.

“You should stay, darling,” Niall smiled gently as he murmured the words to her. He stood quickly and gestured for her to sit. He leaned against the windowsill, perched the folder on his lap and flipped through the first couple pages scanning for information.

No one answered Harry’s question. Specifically, the woman at the other end who was glaring at the now empty seat beside Harry. “Then, please sit,” Harry said quietly. But it was really an order. So, she sat uncomfortably. She never left her office without a pen behind her ear, which she was more grateful for than ever. Taking the writing utensil from her ear, she pulled it into her lap and fiddled with the cap opening and closing it quietly so she wouldn’t let it click but still allowed her to fidget awkwardly.

“Please continue,” Niall said from his spot by the window. Harry started pacing the length of the wall across from the window. Near the door to the hall.

She cleared her throat. She wanted to sound confident. Part of her wished she wrote it down. “Well, Mr. Horan had mentioned the dilemma...so I researched some similar cases,” she explained.

She spoke for a couple minutes. People were listening to her intently. She even surprised herself, but she thought of the research she had been doing when Niall mentioned the stressfulness of the most recent contracts and why this one of all things was going to be dire if they didn’t come up with a solution. All she wanted was to help; specifically, she wanted to help Niall the most (ergo Harry as well). Plus, she liked research. A few people had minor questions, curious as to what cases she looked up or how she even knew in the first place of where to look. “Well... one of my professors was big on conflict of interest, so I emailed him to ask.”

Niall and Harry made eye contact from their respective corners of the room. She was too nervous to look at either of them to notice the look that passed between them.

After speaking for so long, she finished her little monologue with a summary. “If my understanding and research is correct, this is definitely more of a legal process and problem we would—excuse me, you would have to go through. What I found, however, if you have the two clients for a partnership on this project, then you no longer have a conflict of interest. You do have to fill out a disclosure form and—”

“And lose a ton of money,” the woman at the other end grumbled. “Why are we even considering this?”

Harry didn’t speak. He was still pacing. He had had his hands clasped in front of his face; his index fingers pressed against his lips. Her heart was racing. Niall put the folder in front of her. On the very top paper Niall had written on a sticky note: you’re doing great :)

She took a deep breath. “Yes, there would be a pretty significant loss...but as far as I can tell by my research, the only other option is to lose one or both of the clients. Which I think would be arguably detrimental,” she concluded and pressed her lips together. She bit the inside of her bottom lip to keep her from saying anything else.

Harry spun on his heel at the sound of her accurate conclusion. For one miniscule moment he held her gaze. It was so brief if she wasn’t so in love with him, so attuned to catching where his eyes were looking, she might not have noticed. “Do you all recognize how this was an actual helpful contribution to our situation?” He asked rhetorically once more.

“Losing money is helpful?” Who spit in her coffee that she had such an attitude? And why was it directed at her idea? Did she not know that a business like this was a group effort? Her heart was hammering against her chest so fast; the idea that someone thought she was stupid made her feel so embarrassed.

“Losing the least amount of money is helpful,” Niall remarked casually looking up from his folder.

“Thank you,” Harry said, and it was a surprised sounding thank you. One that she hadn’t ever really gotten from him. Most of his thank yous oozed with kindness. This one was flat. Like he was trying to not show how truly thankful he was for her.

“Get up,” Niall whispered quickly as he leaned toward her to grab a document out of the folder. He didn’t mean it maliciously and she could tell that. In fact, she was quite grateful he told her what to do because she wanted to run out of there. She would have thrown herself out the window to escape if that meant she could get away from the awkwardness of Harry’s anger and that woman’s anger. She stood and Niall put the piece of paper in front of his mouth and directed his speech against it so it would go toward her ear. “Go get the disclosure form, check your phone. Great job,” his voice was so low, but she didn’t miss how the seriousness emphasized how proud he really was.

She exited around the opposite side of the table as Harry made his way back to his original seat. She left the room and breathed a sigh of relief getting out of there. She could already hear Harry chattering away on the other side. Almost immediately her phone vibrated in her pocket. It was Niall.

HOLY SHIT.

Oh my God...

Oh. My. GOD.

Good or bad?

I’m freaking out!

GOOD. I’M SO PROUD. Bring the form back in, you don’t have to stay, knock and give it to Harry.

Do you want me to fill it out?

Darling, if you fill it out, Harry might not be the only one who falls in love with you.

She was practically bouncing in her apartment when she got home. She felt so light, so excited to contribute something of worth to Harry’s company. She cleaned and danced around the whole place feeling like she could truly do anything. Once cleaned, she pulled the laundry from the dryer, and she was bouncing to the music in her headphones while she waited for her leftovers to reheat in the microwave. She was going to fold laundry and snuggle up with a good book after eating and having one of the best days of her professional life thus far.

She emailed her professor back and thanked him for the help, told him how grateful she was, and the advice was so helpful that she really thought she might get a job at the end of the year.

I had a GREAT day! She texted Louis and Eleanor.

Oh yeah? Did Harry finally fuck you?

Louis, can you just...? Eleanor sent an eye roll emoji to their chat. She giggled. Not even Louis being cheeky could embarrass her right now. What happened, love?

So, she sent a few voice messages and told them all about the woman that seemed to hate her for no reason. All about how Niall was impressed. Her professor was impressed. Maybe most importantly, Harry was impressed.

Of course, she hates you. Harry values you and your opinion. She’s JEALOUS. She didn’t want to believe Louis. The idea that anyone would be jealous of her was laughable. But it created a pang in her chest because there was just no way that anyone would ever think Harry would willingly be with her in that way. That he would see her in the light that could possibly make people jealous.

Don’t forget we’re proud of you too, love :) Eleanor replied.

Her phone rang at that moment with Louis at the other end. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Hi, are you alright?” She asked curiously hearing the gentle tone. It was very unlike Louis to sound so quiet. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she listened alertly for signs of trouble.

He chuckled. “Yes, babe. Promise.”

She pressed the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she folded her laundry. “Then—”

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered. She stopped folding. Her heart fluttered and she rolled her lips into her mouth. Louis wasn’t one for long loving speeches. She only ever heard his big speeches all of three times. Once when her brother died and he spoke at the funeral, the next when he found out how she had been living for the two years since his passing with her parents, and finally when he told Eleanor how much he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, and she snapped pictures of him sliding a ring into place.

This, apparently, was going to be the fourth time. “I didn’t video you, because I know you’re probably fighting back tears already, so I just want to say this and then I’m going to hang up immediately because if I even hear a sniffle I’m going to run over there, and you know how I hate running.”

She smiled because if she laughed or breathed, she would have started to cry.

“Your brother would be unbelievably proud of you. Actually, I know he’s proud of you. Prouder than anyone—prouder than Eleanor, me, Harry, Niall, your professor...everyone. You are incredible. Your parents have no idea who they’re missing, and your brother is...wow,” he said simply in awe. She let the tears silently flow and she nodded, trying not to breathe into the phone because she didn’t want to bother Louis by making him run. Her heart ached so badly. Nothing was fair about this moment. Her brother should have been there. But she loved Louis so much for being there for her, for cheering for her when no one else did. “Okay, I’m gonna go now so you can cry in peace. I love you, babe, always and always.”

“Me too!” She heard Eleanor from the back.

“Talk soon,” he said sweetly, and the call ended.

She released a noisy sob and brushed the tears away. Unfortunately, she didn’t cry in peace for longer than thirty seconds. Niall was calling her before she could catch her breath. “Hello—?”

“I’m so sorry to bother you darling, I know you probably just got settled at home, but I was just wondering if you could send Harry and I the artic—are you crying?” He asked. She accidentally let her sniffles get the best of her as she tried to calm herself while he spoke. She even turned the speaker away from her mouth to hide it as best she could so that he wouldn’t hear. It clearly didn’t work. “Darling, are you—?”

“What’s wrong?” Harry was at the other end. “Love, are you okay?” The worry in Harry’s voice melted her already breaking heart. She sniffled again trying to regain her breathing so she could respond but all the words were choked off. “Kitten, please,” he begged anxiety so evident in his voice she could almost taste it.

“I-I’m fine,” she whispered sniveling like a child. “I’m—"

“No, you’re not,” he sounded like he was shaking his head and trying to convince her that she wasn’t okay. “Love, do y’need help? Are y’hurt?” She imagined him pacing Niall’s office. Squeezing his phone and in the right circumstance she believed Harry was strong enough to bend the metal frame.

“No!” she said hurriedly before Harry had paramedics breaking down her door. Or more than likely, before he broke down her door himself. “I’m okay,” but she was hiccupping on her uneasy breaths so much she couldn’t get all the words out fast enough, in one breath, to assuage his worry.

“Kitten, I don’t—”

“It’s just...my brother,” she croaked and let the tears of sadness but overwhelming kindness from her best friend flow some more. The last thing she wanted to do was worry Harry. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to force the tears to stop and she pressed her hand over her mouth so hard as she (very unattractively, in hindsight) snorted around a sob.

“Oh,” Harry almost sounded relieved. She nearly heard the sigh of relief deflating his tense shoulders. He figured she wasn’t hurt and that made all the difference to him. “Oh, m’so sorry, love,” he whispered. “M’glad you’re alright. Can y’jus’ call us back when y’feel up to it in a bit? Take your time, really s’not imp—”

“No, no,” she took a deep shaky breath. “No, I’m alright,” she sounded a little more confident.

“Love...” he cooed again almost disapprovingly. “S’okay. It doesn’t—”

“No, it’s alright,” she sniffled. “What do you need?” She asked.

Harry sighed. “The articles or the cases y’found. Our lawyers wanted—”

“Sure, sure. One second, I should—” she hiccupped on her own breath again but continued as if she didn’t interrupt herself, “—have sent them after the meeting.”

“It’s alright, y’didn’t know,” he answered softly. She hurried to her bag by the door with her laptop inside. Grabbing it she made her way to the kitchen counter and flipped it open. She liked listening to the way he sounded on the phone. His breath was comforting. It occurred to her she had never spoken to him on the phone since that first day at Styles Incorporated.

They were both silent while she booted up her laptop, save for the occasional sniffle. “One second.”

“Take your time,” he repeated. She released a shivering breath and Harry sighed like he was in pain. He didn’t think she lied to him on any kind of regular basis, but he thought she might if she was worried, she would upset him. So, while he hated the idea of her mourning someone so close to her—especially when the consequences were obviously much worse than he would ever know based on her brief retelling of the situation—and he couldn’t necessarily make it better, he was grateful she wasn’t hurt by someone else.

“Okay,” she gasped again trying to regulate her breathing. “Sorry,” she said awkwardly. “I’m forwarding you the email—” shaky breath, “—I sent my professor and his responses so you can see the progression of our talk,” punctuated sniffle, “so you know why I have these certain cases.”

“Thank you, kitten,” he murmured quietly. His heart broke a bit more hearing each hitch in her voice as she spoke. “Have a great night.”

“You too,” she responded quietly.

“Oh, love?” He said quickly right before she hung up.

“Yes?” She sniffled.

“Thank you for the meeting today. Y’did a great job. I’m...” he chuckled. “I’m so proud of you,” he told her. “I couldn’t say it in the meeting, of course... But m’really, really proud of you. I don’t think s’an exaggeration t’say y’saved a huge piece of the company. It was very impressive.”

Her heart felt like it was breaking all over again. “Thank you.”

“Sleep well, love,” once he hung up, she finally released all the cathartic cries and tears she bottled up since Louis spoke to her.

As good as her day was after the meeting—where she felt she actually, confidently did well—the following day was equally (if not worse to the same degree) terrible.

It started off okay. She was still riding her good day high from yesterday all morning. Niall was out of the office on many meetings and calls thanks to her. All of which he was grateful they were even happening, and he periodically sent her messages saying he was really looking forward to his afternoon coffee because he had been so busy, and it was all thanks to her. Since Harry stole the phone from him the night before he still hadn’t gotten a chance to congratulate her in person on one of the most amazing meetings he had ever been to.

She always looked forward to coffee. Mostly because she would catch a glimpse of Harry when she delivered his tea to him and after having such a good day yesterday, and impressing him at that, she was really looking forward to seeing him for a minute. Especially before their movie night tonight.

However, returning with their afternoon coffee was exactly when her day turned sour. Her coffee didn’t taste very good. It was minor, but it dampened the thrill of getting Starbucks.

Additionally, her bank sent her a message asking if she had purchased $200 worth of merchandise overseas. “Oh, fuck,” she hissed as she set the tray of drinks on her desk while she replied to the message. So now she had no debit card for a week and she wasn't big on using her credit card if she could help it. So much so that she left it at home unless she was traveling.

But those were still minor inconveniences in comparison to the remainder of her afternoon. She delivered her tea to Harry’s office as she always did at the same time and frowned as he wasn’t there. Not wanting to look like a psycho stalker, she exited his office quickly, leaving the tea on his desk and made her way back to her office.

She never really brought it up around Harry and Niall, but as part of her university’s end of the deal at this internship, she had to write reflections periodically about her time at Styles Incorporated. Therefore, when she didn’t have anything pressing on her plate from Niall, she would write a few sentences here and there on her personal laptop.

But her laptop didn’t turn on.

“Okay...” she sighed rubbing her hand on her forehead as she planned her next steps to buy a new laptop...without debit card access to her account.

“He won’t sleep with you.”

Her head snapped up to the sound of the woman that clearly disliked her from yesterday. She still didn’t know her name. “Pardon?” She shook her head in surprise.

“Harry,” she stated rolling her eyes. She stood in her doorway of the small little office inspecting it with distaste. It was small but perfect in her eyes. To this woman however, it was a garbage can. Her nose practically upturned as if it had the same stench as trash. “He won’t sleep with you,” she repeated.

She blinked as if she had misheard her. “Wh-what?”

“The whole innocent-look on you is overdone and tiring,” she said. “Harry doesn’t sleep with people that work for him. Especially the interns.”

Her lips parted in shock. “I don’t—”

“Everyone wants to sleep with him,” she rolled her eyes. It sounded like she tried and failed. “Don’t think just because you’re all buddy buddy with his best friend and second in command that you’re special. There have been plenty of interns before you and there will be plenty after. You’re not special. Harry doesn’t fuck plain girls.”

Her heart shattered and she felt her face warm in complete embarrassment, but she couldn’t move or speak.

While she trusted Harry way more than she trusted this woman who obviously had it out for her, it was her worst fears said out loud. She knew she was plain. She knew that people like Harry didn’t go for girls like her—especially when he had done this before, and she was already so insecure about how she looked and how their companionship worked. “Just because you had one good idea doesn’t make you special or smarter than the rest of us,” she repeated.

She wasn’t special. She heard it loud and clear over and over.

“I’m sorry,” she said because what else was she supposed to say?

“Pathetic,” she snorted, rolled her eyes, and like a movie, she bumped into her desk and spilled her coffee clean across her already broken laptop, all over her desk, and spilled some onto her skirt. Perhaps the only highlight of the day was that her skirt was plain black, and the coffee tasted bad. So, it wouldn’t stain obviously for everyone else to see with the remainder of the workday...and it wasn’t a waste of coffee. She gasped at the coldness, but she supposed it was better than hot coffee. Make that the third highlight. The coffee spilled from her desk to the floor, and she glanced back up and the woman was gone.

She got up in hurry to head to the breakroom, get paper towels and try to calm herself. But of course, she slipped a bit on the spilled coffee whacking her arm so hard on her desk she was sure it would bruise. That was the last straw.

She sat in a heap on the floor for a moment trying to process the last hour of work and how good yesterday was compared to how horrible right now was. “Hey darling, how’s my schedule look this afternoon?” Niall called breezing by her little space, and she didn’t even realize she was crying and still sitting next to a dripping puddle of coffee when Niall turned back from his desk and coffee to see her sitting there. “Darling, you okay?” He asked nervously. She stood and sniffled shaking her head. Smoothed her soaked skirt and pretended like she was fine not looking toward Niall.

“Yeah,” she sniffed awkwardly. “Spilled my coffee.” She was no snitch.

“Oh, jeez. Sorry, darling. I’ll go get you some paper towels—”

“No, s’fine. My mess,” she mumbled, and she tried to use the mouse for the desktop but since coffee covered the length of her desk it wouldn’t move fast enough for her to click through. “Uh...” she shook her head. “I’m sorry...” she croaked. “My computer—”

“Hey,” Niall said gently, and his voice was closer. He was right behind her. “S’alright, don’t... Hey,” he said grabbing her wrist as she tried to figure it out, tried to find a solution like she always did. “Darling,” he cooed.

It broke her. It was too much, so much of the day went wrong so quickly it threw her. Niall’s quiet voice was kindly soothing, and it was all she could take in that moment. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered.

“Oh, hey,” he sighed and turned her around and wrapped his arms around her comfortingly. She accepted it because she felt like if she didn’t her body would give out. She pressed her hands over her eyes as he held her and gently rocked. He didn’t pay any mind to the coffee that was probably getting on him yet again because of her. Her arm ached and she just wanted to go home so bad. “Shh, it’s okay,” he promised, and she shook her head. “Hey, what happened, love?” He asked gripping her shoulders and pushing her back a bit so he could try and look into her eyes. She shook her head.

“S’nothing.”

“Darling, it doesn’t look like nothing—”

She sniffled more and kept the part of her face covered. “It’s so stupid,” she hiccupped feeling like an idiot for crying in front of her boss.

“I’m sure it’s not,” he said encouragingly and pulled her back to his chest so he could let her cry. And she did for a good minute feeling the slightest bit relief.

But then naturally her day got even worse.

“Niall, I thought you—” instinctively, she ripped away from Niall her face warming as Harry saw how cozy Niall got holding her. Comforting her. She dared a glance at Harry.

For the first time in six months, he looked mad at her. “Sorry,” she whispered to Niall...or Harry. She was sorry regardless. There was nothing to apologize for, but she remembered when Harry saw Niall squeeze her arm. This was a thousand times worse.

“Yeah, sorry,” Niall shrugged. “We—”

“What’s wrong?” Harry wondered but his voice was tight. The air was so tense it felt like she couldn’t breathe. He wanted to be worried. She could feel it. Him asking was a chance to clear up the comforting. She should have just said it. But there was jealousy and sadness blocking his concern for her. It made her so anxious she felt tongue tied.

“She—”

“Let her talk,” Harry snapped. Niall may have been his best friend but that meant he knew when to speak and when to stay silent.

“It’s nothing,” she whispered.

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” he ground out.

“Harry, stop,” Niall said immediately coming to her defense.

“Then tell me what’s wrong,” she didn’t look up, so she didn’t know Harry was staring at her. Waiting for her response. It never came. Her lower lip wobbled, and she glanced at Harry momentarily. Long enough to see how angry he was.

But she didn’t miss the hurt hiding in his beautiful, sad green eyes. “I’m fine, it’s nothing.”

“Your turn,” he spat at Niall. Harry wasn’t thinking rationally because all he saw was the sweet girl sobbing into the arms of his best friend. He was upset about the company stuff, even with her brilliant idea it was still nerve wracking to have so much of what he spent most of his 20s on, in such a fragile state. Topped with the girl that clouded all his dreams upset and crying to Niall...all his irrational brain could think was that they fell in love working in such close proximity to one another. Plus, Niall was often more even-tempered and nicer than Harry was on a regular basis.

He scoffed at Harry. “Harry, no way,” Niall shook his head. “You know—”

“Apparently, I don’t know fucking anything,” he snarled. She visibly flinched at his tone. She shook her head, but Niall beat her to the punch. Besides, she couldn’t defend herself even if she tried to talk because it would be lost on broken sobs.

“Jesus Christ, Harry, don’t be a dick,” Niall rolled his eyes. Obviously if it was anyone but Niall he would have been fired on the spot. But as his best friend he supposed he had perks. “She was crying when I got here. She won’t even tell me what’s—”

He didn’t even let Niall finish. “My office,” he snapped and stormed out of the room.

She had a whole new set of tears flowing and she covered her face again. “Darling, don’t,” Niall rolled his eyes and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “He’s...he’s just the jealous type,” he whispered. “He’ll cool off. “Don’t stress,” he promised and headed out the door.

Once he left, she let herself have a small pity party while the coffee continued to pool on her desk and floor. Eventually, eyes cast toward the floor, she grabbed paper towels and started cleaning. On her hands and knees, she sniffled and wiped up the mess under her desk and she heard her phone vibrate from on top of her desk. It was Harry. Her heart rate increased rapidly, and her hands shook as she opened the message.

Don’t come over tonight.

Her heart broke.

Niall was unapologetically kind to her as the bad Thursday turned into a bad Friday. If wearing a skirt that didn’t stain was the highlight of her day yesterday, today it was Niall kindly asking nothing of her and reassuring her every time she forgot some simple tasks was today’s highlight. She blamed Harry entirely for her restless sleep. Makeup could only do so much to hide the dark circles and bags that accumulated beneath her tear-reddened lash line.

Niall closed her office door to block out the hall and everyone from the rest of the floor. “You okay, darling?”

“He hates me,” she whispered.

“He is an idiot,” he said seriously. “You shouldn’t even forgive him.” She appreciated Niall’s effort, but it was lost on her with how sad she was. It felt like they were breaking up and they weren’t even together. “Can you tell me what happened? I can help,” he promised.

She shook her head. “Nothing,” she mumbled.

She should have just told him about the stupid, mean woman from the meeting. Niall would have probably marched right to Harry’s office requesting authority to fire her. Which was exactly what she didn’t want. He sighed sadly. “Alright, well...m’gonna just give you some space. Don’t worry about anything. Just take it easy...or go home early.”

She nodded. “Maybe after coffee,” she mumbled.

“Sure, darling. Whatever you want. You’ve earned it. Whatever it is.”

Niall grabbed his laptop, his bag, everything like he wouldn’t be back either. “Niall,” she whispered.

“Yes, darling?” He still gave her space not looking even though he wanted to assure her that everything was fine.

“He’s gonna fire me,” she sniffled.

Niall shook his head. “Absolutely not. I’d quit.”

She snorted a breath of laughter. It wasn’t much, but it was something. “Go home and sleep, love. That’s official intern work,” he said.

She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize for his idiocy,” he shook his head. “Don’t give him all this credit. You have made his life so much better and if he wants to be mad then he should know of all people it shouldn’t be directed at you.”

She felt her lips tremble with a bout of fresh tears ready to spill. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, darling. I hope you tell me soon so I can help.”

She nodded but said nothing.

She texted Niall that she left his coffee and Harry’s tea on his desk. Then she messaged Louis and Eleanor.

Are you guys around? I’m heading home early.

It’s anniversary weekend, babe!

Shit.

Oh fuck, I am so sorry. Of course. I’m just feeling a little cloudy. Heading home. Have a great time. I love you both so much :)

She was impressed with her hiding skills. Thankfully, texting was a lot easier to hide her emotions. She walked home from the office. It was over two miles, but it would be cleansing, and she could always call for an uber if she got tired.

Maybe go to Harry’s if you’re feeling poorly, Louis suggested. She closed her eyes and sighed, wishing she could.

Yeah, good idea!

She assumed Louis would see right through that given she hadn’t once thought to purposefully bother Harry once in six months. So, she assumed the call that vibrated in her hand was Louis.

“Listen, I’m really—”

“Who the fuck answers a phone like that?”

No, no, no. NO. Her stomach dropped to her feet, and she froze mid step. The person walking behind her bumped into her, but she stood stalk still as the voice at the other end of the line processed through her ear drum. Her jaw dropped open, it felt like it would unhinge from the shock.

This could not be the same terrible day. What came after terrible? That was the word she needed right now to describe the last twenty four hours.

“Mom,” she breathed.

“Your father is dying,” she stated. “Not sure if you care. But thought you’d want to know in case you wanted to cash in on your inheritance,” she snipped. Her words were clipped, clear. Not slurred or confused at all. She wondered if it was hurting her to not have alcohol in her system. She heard the distinct sound of hospital beeps in the background.

It felt like someone was ripping her heart directly from her chest. “I’m sorry, what?” She whispered.

“For the love of God,” she hissed. “Your father is dying. Say goodbye if you want.”

The call ended.

Her hands were shaking. She somehow managed to put the phone in her bag. She was suddenly extremely aware of how cold it was. Or maybe it was the feeling in her chest.

She turned on her heel and headed back for the building. Work was the only thing that was going to occupy her mind but really, she just wanted to see someone who cared for her at that moment. For the first time in six months, she came to the sobering conclusion that she was really alone. There was no one to help her because there was no one that cared for her in that way anymore. Anyone currently in her life would find her bothersome and she couldn’t do that to them.

She couldn’t. She couldn’t see anyone. Niall was giving her space—and in turn appeasing Harry. Regardless of how much he liked her, he was still her boss. She couldn’t expect his comfort. Her brother was dead, and her dad was soon to be. Even if he wasn’t, her dad and mom hated her since her brother died. Louis and Eleanor were her best friends, but they had lives to live; she couldn’t bother them on their anniversary while they were out of town.

And Harry…

Well, Harry hated her guts.

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#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #ceo!harry #sugardaddy!harry #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #tradtional

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munsonsreputation · 2 years

Text

Acts of Affection

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: [5.8K]

warnings: a tiny bit of sad steve but reader reassures him! full of domestic tooth rotting fluff <3

summary: sometimes it's the little things that matter the most and make your heart melt. you and steve are no different...these are six times that the small acts of affection made your love for each other grow.

“Stevie!”

He watched you exit through the double doors of your college campus, instantly catching his gaze all the way from the parking lot where he stood leaning up against his car waiting for you. Flowers in hand and a little teddy bear for good measure. You squealed his name, racing down the few steps and into his arms that always felt like home.

Today had been a stressful one, to say the least. It was finals season, and you had been working tirelessly for the past two weeks trying to cram as much studying as you could into your schedule. Unfortunately, that meant fewer dates and time to spend carelessly with your boyfriend, Steve. Nevertheless, he was an absolute trooper through all of it. Bringing you coffees and little snacks to get you through those boring studying hours and somehow convincing you to take naps in order to recharge. He was the absolute bestest.

“How are you, pretty girl?” He asked through your hair, the smile he loved so much, pressed up against his neck until you pulled away and he got to see it for himself.

“Better now…you know you didn’t have to do all this.” You pouted, plucking the plush out of his hand and aweing at it before Steve had shook his head, planting a small peck on your lips, thumbs resting on your cheekbones warmly, “I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. I know you’ve been so tired, but now you can finally relax for a little.”

You fell into the warmth of his hand and the softness of his voice. He was always your comfort place during times of stress and anxiety like this one—somehow he had all your worries go away and you knew that being in his presence would be enough.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” He kissed your temple, keeping his lips there as he the question fumbled upon your skin.

“But I’m already home.” You whispered, sweetly, dotting kissing on the underside of his jaw and a few on his neck as you could feel the adams apple bop while he laughed happily.

Steve found it in himself to draw you away, not before placing a single kiss on your lips once more, his thumb pressing on your cheeks as he smiled at you, “I’ve got your favorite waiting on the kitchen table.”

“Chicken parm?” Your voice heightens, and he nods, withholding his laughter.

“Yup, my mom made it fresh this morning before work. She knows how much you love it.”

You squeal, happily moving side to side in his arms, “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

Steve finds your excitement for simple acts like this one to be rather adorable, but he knows that you deserve it. After working so hard and almost overworking yourself from some good grades, you deserved a good home cooked meal you loved.

He opened up the passenger door for you, letting you in, “Wanna tell me about the exams on the way?”

“Oh, just wait until you hear about Professor Danielson’s stupid test rules!” You huffed heavily as you buckled your seatbelt and looked up at Steve, who smiled, pecking at your lips again.

“Can’t wait to hear it, baby.”

Class getting cancelled was a rare occurrence, so you were surprised when you waked up to your ethnic studies class to see a large piece of paper, poorly stuck to the door that read, “class has been cancelled for today, see you next week!”

But who were you to complain? You now had a free schedule for the rest of the day, left to do whatever you wanted, but you had already finished up the last bits of homework you were aiming to get done and Steve was at work. So you opted to go home…Steve’s home, actually. His parents loved you, even trusting you with a spare key that you use a lot, coming in and leaving almost every day.

While you should’ve settled on taking a relaxing nap that you deserved, you remember that Steve had been talking about how messy his closet had been getting over the last couple of weeks. It wasn’t easy, constantly needing to share a closet with not only you, but the rest of the younger boys who often raided it, looking for the new trendy pieces they could sport at school. So you took it upon yourself to organize it.

Steve had a ton of polos—you weren’t complaining since he looked good in every single one, but Jesus did he have a lot. One in every color and every shade, and different brands and prints. He also owned quite a collection of different jackets, some he had bought at the mall after receiving a hefty paycheck, a few gifted to him from holidays and birthdays, some that he had picked up from garage sales and thrift stores that you and Steve would visit on weekend, but his favorite one was the light grey Members Only jacket you had gifted him for your one-year anniversary.

Pants were definitely the most modest part of his wardrobe in terms of quantity. He opted to only buy a few ones that were of great quality, but were highly expensive. He only had a few pairs of Levi’s and the rest being old sweatpants and shorts he would only wear at home or when it was hot out.

Then there were the shoes. God, if Steve loved something more than he loved you, it was shoes. He collected them like a hoarder. It was a rule that the younger kids could pick anything in his closet expect the shoes! He cared for those pieces like his baby. You practically had to force him to wear every single pair at least once before buying another or else they’d just sit in a pile in his closet forever until they fell apart naturally.

“Finally!” You exhaled, dusting your hands off as you took a step back and examined your work.

After about two hours, you were able to completely transform his closet. Organizing everything you had hung up by type and color so that Steve would have an easier time sorting through what he had. You even had the time to create a pile of clothes that you hadn’t seen Steve wear in a while, placing it in the corner of his room to go through himself before offering it up to the boys or donating it.

“Baby! You in here? Your cars’ in the driveway!” The front door opened and Steve's voiced filled the expanse of his home as you shouted out a reply,

“Hi Stevie!”

Your feet took you quickly down the stairs and into his arms, inhaling his cologne while you nuzzled your face into his neck, hugging him close.

“Class got cancelled today.” You mumbled against his skin, pulling away when he rested his hands on your sides, squeezing slightly.

He frowned, rubbing circles with his thumbs, “Why didn’t you call? I would’ve called out early for you.”

“S’ok, you’re here now and that’s all that matters.” Your cheeks rose as you smiled, finally landing your lips against his in a kiss.

His own, moving against yours gently, before pulling away, “I have a surprise for you upstairs.”

“Is it a naughty surprise?” His eyes brows wiggled and his tone shifted higher as you groaned, pushing his chest annoyingly, “Ew! Just come on!”

Your fingers took his wrist, pulling him up the stairs behind you as he laughed, speaking out a jumble of words like, “I’m just messing with ya baby,” “I hate surprises,” and “just tell me, please!”

“Ta-da!” Your arms flared out towards his open closet when you two finally entered his room.

He was astonished, “Babe, you did all this yourself?” walking up to it, his fingers skimmed each item as he passed by, looking at how organized everything was and how he could finally see the floor of his closet after all these weeks.

You nodded your head happily, “Yeah! It was actually really therapeutic to go through everything and see it all come together.”

He turned back to you when your bubbling voice filled the air. “I even made a pile of clothes you don’t wear anymore over there.”

Looking at to where you were pointing, he saw a bunch of old tee-shirts and hoodies that didn’t find him anymore, and then glanced back at you, “Baby, you really didn’t have to—“

“Uh uh.” You shook your head, finger waving from side to side making him chuckle, getting closer enough to you to wrap his arms around your waist.

“i wanted to! You’ve been complaining for weeks about it being a mess and I know you didn’t have the time to organize it all by yourself, so I took it upon myself to—mph!”

He pulled you into a kiss, mid-sentence making you shriek, “Shhh, stop rambling, baby.” He said against you, making you groan, fingers going up to his shoulder to pinch him slightly, “Not cool.”

“I love you.” He said, totally ignoring your fake annoyance,

“I love you too.”

The clanking of plastic hitting the diner table caught your attention, stopping you mid chew as you stared at Steve, who did nothing but smile, resting his chin on his fist as he watched you, “I made you a mixtape!”

“Are you serious?” the half mushed food in your mouth, muffling your words as he laughed, reaching over to close your mouth with his forefingers.

“Finish chewing—“ you rolled your eyes lightly, setting down your fork, mouth mashing up the last bits of food while you picked up the cassette.

from stevie to my baby…all these songs remind me of you, I love you.

keep on loving you - reo speedwagon

crazy for you - madonna

heaven - bryan adams

take my breath away - berlin

nothing’s gonna stop us now - starships

p.s. did I mention I love you?

You did realize your eyes welling with a pool of happy tears as you read the tracks—all of them being significant theme songs for you and Steve’s love story. When any of them would come on the radio, the two of you would instantly think of each other, reminiscing about drunk karaoke nights, late night drives around town, and sleepy nights you would spend falling asleep in each others arms.

“I could only fit five songs on this cassette but Eddie told me he could lend me a few empty ones so I could—“ He paused, seeing as you laughed lightly, eyes blinking and tears rolling down your cheeks and jaw, “baby are you crying?”

His thumb reached out to swipe under your eyes, then cupped your cheeks, eyes filled with concern of his side as you reassured him with a sincere smile, “Happy tears, Stevie…this is so sweet.”

“They’re just songs honey, you shouldn’t cry.”

Heading shaking in his grasp, turning slightly to kiss his wrist then look back into his eyes, trapping him in a trance of love that he would never be able, and never wanted to escape, “You’re the most thoughtful person I’ve ever had to privilege of knowing, let alone loving…the littlest things you do make me fall even more in love with you.”

Sure, you and Steve would share sweet nothings with each other all the time…almost on a daily basis, but this confession made his heart beat ten times faster and heat up to the hottest temperature. He’s never felt so…appreciated?

“I…wow, I’m sorry, I just—never knew I could make someone feel like that.”

Watching him stutter over his words was a touching scene, knowing Steve was totally honest and speechless, “I meant every word, I love you and I’m going to cherish this for the rest of our lives.” you told him, pressing the tape to your heart and leaning forward to peck his lips.

“I love you too, never gonna stop loving you—wait! I should’ve put that on there!” He groaned, hanging his head low as you giggled, shaking your head as you assured him.

“When you make me another, you can put it on there!” You patted his cheek with your warm palm, “Let’s finish up and we can listen to this with the windows down.”

He smiled warmly, pecking your lips, talking against them half-jokingly, “You’ll get cold after two minutes and ask me to roll them back up.”

You nodded, pressing your lips to his again, “And you’ll roll them up and turn up the heat.”

“Like I do all the time.” He agreed, finally pulling away to take in the expanse of your face and all your beautiful features he memorized.

You tiptoed out of the backdoor with your bare feet on the deck. Steve’s sweater clinging onto your body against the cold air, but thankfully the two mugs of hot chocolate you had made were warming your palms up.

“‘morning hot stuff.” You whispered cooly, leaning down to kiss his cheek before he had the chance to look up at you.

You smiled when you pulled away, handing him over his mug that he graciously took, then pecking your lips, “You’re up early…are you not freezing?”

He patted his thigh, signaling for you to sit on his lap, and so you did, snuggling yourself in embrace, feet bending to rest on the lounger that you two were now relaxing on. Your naked knees taking on the warmth of the mug that you set on them.

“You warm me up just fine.” You said softly, taking a sip of the sweet drink, overlooking the beautiful water and misty air.

It was your first time at Steve’s uncle’s lake house, and surprisingly enough, they had to trust the two of you to stay alone for the weekend. It was the perfect little getaway for the both of you, considering the fact that Steve needed to use his vacation days and you desperately needed to get your nose out of the textbooks for a while.

The comfortable stubble that scratched against your cheek was a case of Steve forgetting to pack his razor and being too lazy to head to the store down the road to get one. But you weren’t complaining. You always loved every touch Steve laid on you, accidental or purposeful. The butterflies and swelling of your heart never was a feeling you would get used to. It happened all the time.

When he reaches to hold your hand. Brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. Guiding you around a crowded room with his hand pressed gently into the small of your back. Throwing his leg over your body to prevent you from getting out of bed too early. And laying sweet kisses all over your body.

It always had the same effect on you.

“One day you’re going to catch hypothermia, babe.” He argued back with a chuckle, his free hand rubbing up and down your legs attempting to get the blood circulating.

You just giggled softly, taking a sip from your mug, indulging in his touch before finally saying something, “We’re never apart, so that’s highly unlikely.”

“You’re right…you know how much I love to keep you warm.” He kissed up the expanse of your neck up to your ear, making you fall into his touch deeper, his hand leaving your wrap over your shoulders, keeping you close.

“I wish every morning could be like this.” You murmured, turning your head to stare up into his eyes that agreed silently before coming down to peck your lips.

His were slightly chapped from the cold weather neither of you were accustomed to, but the chapstick on your lips seemed to do the trick, “One day I’ll get us a place of our own on a lake and we can spend every morning out there…” the sweet words fell onto your lips as he whispered them before pulling away.

“We can watch the sunrise and the sunset, host summer parties with our friends out here…then when we have kids, we can spend time with them out here—our little family at our little lake house.”

You smiled warmly, bringing one of your hands up to rest upon his cheek. The scarlet blush you were certain was from the icy weather, but was, in fact, due to his love for you. It was the mere fact that he was so infatuated with you in the simplest times like these…with no one around to judge or critique the love you had for one another.

“You want to have kids with me?” You asked as if you didn’t already know the answer, having thought of that dream too.

He huffed jokingly with the rolling of his eyes as he nodded, hand making its way to rest on your stomach, “You’re the only one I can ever imagine having a family with…you’d be a great mom.”

“Says the guy who has been a single dad of six since he was seventeen.” You retorted as you both shared a laugh before taking a sip of the hot chocolate to warm your bodies once more.

You leaned down to set your cup on the deck, allowing both hands to be free so you could rest them on Steve’s that still laid over your belly, “I can’t wait to have your babies…I think we’d make pretty good looking humans if you asked me.”

Steve grinned, nodding his head, “I think so too…what do you think about heading inside and us warming up in a different way?”

The wiggling of his eyebrows made you burst out in amusement, but not stopping the twists that were happening in your stomach. He just sat there, shaking his head with a smile on his face, trying to act as if it wasn’t the corniest thing he had said all week, “Ok, c’mon, it wasn’t supposed to be funny, babe!”

“It was pretty funny!” You quipped, poking at his sides, making him flinch, almost spilling his drink.

He “oh’d” with a laugh, leaning over to set him down on the deck beside yours, then finally lifting you up into his arms.

“Stevieeeee!” you squealed, weakly attempting to wiggle out of his gasp as he walked you two up the deck.

“I feel your temperature dropping, babe! We gotta get you warmed up, quick!” He joked dramatically, feet running heavily on the wood, as you could do nothing but laugh and hold on to him tightly with every step he took.

You quietly unlocked the front door to the Harrington residence, toeing your sneakers off and leaving them at the front door as you made your way through his house. Today’s lecture required you to stay back a few hours longer, needing some extra tutoring in order to fully grasp the concept that way you wouldn’t fail the upcoming test that you so badly needed to pass in order to get an A for the school year. That sadly meant leaving Steve alone for a few hours, but you assumed he could manage, considering the fact that this wasn’t the first time you had to stay on campus a little longer. Usually he’d come home and take a nice nap after work while he waited for you or other times he would hang out with your friend group until he received a call that you would be heading home.

But today was different.

You stumbled into the kitchen and found a note stuck onto the fridge with one of the smiley faces magnets that littered the silver appliance.

“hi baby, I left some soup for you to heat up on the stove. not having a great day, a lot on my mind, don’t want to worry you though. I’m upstairs napping. Make sure you eat first before you come to bed. I love you, sweetheart.” - your stevie

A frown covered your face as you turned to the stove and saw a small pot of soup and a bowl and spoon already laid out for you. But Steve should’ve known better that you wouldn’t be able to eat without checking up on him first. He would always be your number one priority. You left the food there, and walked up the stairs, heading straight to his bedroom where you softly knocked on the door, just to let your presence be known as you twisted the knob and let yourself in.

There he laid under the comforters on his stomach, snoring quietly while the gently breeze of wind came in through his windows. You sat your bag down on the floor and made your way over to him, sitting on the small space that was left and rubbing a soothing hand over his clothed back.

“Hi handsome…I missed you.” You said loud enough for him to wake, kissing the space beneath his ear.

He mumbled out a few incoherent words, before finally shifting around to face you. His sleepy red eyes, evident that he may have been crying a few hours before or even rubbing them a little too hard. It worried you.

“Did you eat?” He asked, and you shook your head, reaching out to fix the messy hairs that danced on his sweaty forehead.

Steve groaned, scolding you for not without using his words, “I couldn’t after what I read in your note. Is everything OK? You want to talk about it?”

You knew your boyfriend like the back of your hand and that included knowing that he had a soft side that not many people knew about. Sure, he expressed his protective and loving side for his close friends, but rarely did he ever expose his true inner feelings. He only did that with you. And you were honored to be his person that he could be his true self with, without worrying about being judged for feeling such deep and emotional things.

“Life is just…. a lot.” He sighed, looking down sadly in his lap, feeling defeated and lost in what was the weird transition to adulthood and still holding on to being a young adult.

You scooted closer, mirroring his body language, but wrapping your arm around his shoulder and the other on his wrist, getting him to feel some sort of comfort during this time.

“I understand, babe… life can be a lot, but I hope you know that you’re not alone—I’m always going to be here.” You reassured him with your calming voice and slow circles that you rubbed on his wrist.

You could feel his breath hitch and his back crouch lower falling almost away from your touch if you didn’t chase it, “Hey, hey…I’m here baby, talk to me…what’s going on? How can I help?”

“I get scared that it’s all going to disappear.”

The sentence was clear, yet his voice was shaky as some of the words slipped off his tongue with a breathy tone.

“D-disappear?”

“You.” he clarified, staring back up at you with tear-filled eyes, threatening to spill over any second now.

You could feel your heart rip into a million tiny pieces just looking at the love of your life like this. It was something you had never witnessed before, at least not like this. How could you ever disappear from his life when you two practically needed each other to survive? He would be crazy to think that, but right now, you needed to reassure him that you weren’t going anywhere.

“Steve.” You whispered, retracting your hands from their initial placement and bringing them up to cup his cheeks. Swiftly your thumbs moved to swipe the tears that finally fell when he blinks, those brown orbs coated with a cloud that you hated to see.

“I…I’m never going to disappear, alright? I love you, so so so so much and I can’t even imagine living a life without you….what makes you think I’d ever want to leave the person I love so dearly?”

“I dunno…” he sniffled, closing his eyes briefly, before opening them up again and staring into his favorite pair of eyes, face covered with concern, “sometimes I think that I’m not enough for you…that you’ll get tired of me, maybe find someone better than a stupid guy who works at a vhs store.”

He shook his head shamefully in your hold, as you could do little but bite your lip and laugh lightly, causing his brows to furrow, “It’s not supposed to be funny—“

“Baby.” You whispered tugging his face closer to yours, just inches apart now, “I couldn't care less about the job that you have…hell you could work as a damn plumber and I would still feel the same about you because I love you.”

He swallowed, not chancing this moment as he watched your lips move swiftly with more words leaving them.

“I love the fact that you take the time to memorize all my weird little quirks. I love it when you leave little notes around the house and in my bag to read throughout the day because you know I miss you too much. I love when you wake me up in the morning and pepper me with kisses because it’s the only way to get me up. I love that you make me mixtapes and I never get tired of listening to them. I love that you have the biggest heart and the kindest soul. I love that you would do anything for the people that you love.”

Steve could feel his sad little heart sparkling with happiness as he listened to your meaningful words.

“I love you, Steve Harrington, because of what’s in your heart. I mean it every day when I say that I love you and nothing is ever going to stop me from doing so…especially not your job. Please know that I’m not going anywhere, not ever, ok?”

He didn’t waste time with words, only pressing his lips to yours, letting them rest on each other in a soft touch before finally moving gently against one another. Everything and all his fears were lifted away with you here telling him that everything would be ok…that it was all in his head.

“Thank you for always reassuring me.”

You smiled against his lips and nodding, foreheads slightly bumping each others making you both laugh and pull away.

His eyes were no longer clouded with sadness, but now glimmering with love.

“Always, baby.”

So maybe it wasn’t the brightest idea for you and Steve to host a sleepover movie night at his place on a Sunday knowing he had work the next day and you class—but it was the only day everyone was free, so fuck it…right?

You tucked your face deeper into Steve’s chest, inhaling his scent combined with the morning air that suffocated the living room as the warmth of the sun bled through the thin curtains and onto your exposed skin that wasn’t covered by blankets. It wasn’t odd for you and him to crash in the living room. Sometimes the two of you would be too tired to walk up his flight of stairs or you would both would fall asleep in each other’s arms during movie. But this is the first time you had been awoken by snores…some of which you weren’t familiar with, they didn’t sound like Steve’s snores…they belonged to your friends…the ones you let sleepover—

“Fuck! Steve wake up! We overslept!”

You instantly shot up, arm blindly reaching out to shake Steve awake whose eyes snapped opened quickly, watching as you threw off the blankets in a pile on the floor. A few of your friends squirming from their places on the air mattress and opposite couch who woke up to your loud shrieks.

“I thought you set the alarm,” He mumbled out, snapping out of his initial concern and rubbing his eyes with his fingers.

You got up, racing towards the digital clock that sat on the coffee table, “Batteries were probably out…stupid thing!” you smacked it harshly as if that would do you both any good as he stifled his laugher and finally got up.

“Go shower, I’ll handle get started on coffee.” He said patting your bum and pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, watching as you nodded running up the stairs loudly, not caring if you woke your friends.

You worked quickly, rushing around Steve’s bedroom as you brushed your teeth. Pulling out some clothes from your drawer of things there, gathering some school appropriate pieces that you know would match since you didn’t have much time. You had thrown them onto the bathroom counter, reaching into the shower to warm up the water before rising from your mouth and practically ripping off your clothes and hopping in for a quick rinse.

Steve was working just as hurriedly downstairs. The kettle was on high and the two pieces of bread had been put into the toaster. He had gotten each of your mugs ready with a spoonful of coffee grounds and the sugar pot already waiting beside them for the end. The eggshells littered the bottom of the kitchen sink as he vigorously whisked and seasoned them before pouring them in the hot pan. He worked the spatula around the mixture, setting it down and rushing towards the fridge to grab the bread, peanut butter, and jam to get started on the lunches you two would be packing.

“Babe your turn!” You were rushing down the stairs with his toothbrush in hand with a fresh line of toothpaste already on it.

He turned, thanking you with a quick smile before shoving it in his mouth and rushing up the stairs.

It was easy for you to take over. The eggs were nearly finished and now plated. The kettle had been done boiling, so you poured the hot water into your cups, watching as the dark brown slowly take over, adding in two scoops of sugar into each cup. The toast popped up. You turned around grabbing them with quick fingers and drizzling a squiggle of honey on them for sweetness.

The sandwiches had been already made and only needed to be cut and placed into ziplock bags. And so you did that, grabbing a clementine and bag of chips for each of you to have for lunch.

“I have your backpack, sweetheart.” You turned your head and saw Steve heading down the stairs with your bag in his hands that he placed down at the floor of the front door.

“Thanks handsome! Breakfast is ready!”

You turned, setting your coffees down on the table, being greeted with a peck on the lips as you giggle, nudging him away jokingly, “eat or we’ll be late.”

He rolled his eyes, checking his time on his watch, “We’ve got approximately six minutes and thirty-five seconds to leave the house before either or us are late…we’re fine.”

Steve casually takes a bit of his toast and picks up bits of the scramble eggs with his fork before eating them. You do the same, but with a bit more of urgency remembering you had forgotten your scarf and a few pieces of jewelery you usually sported upstairs.

“Be right back!” You mumbled with a full mouth of toast, as you scrambled out of your seat and back up the stairs.

At this point, all of your friends had woken up due to the loud ruckus and unbeknownst to you and Steve, they were watching you two run around, absentmindedly helping one another with small tasks like a cooperative relationship.

Steve had gulped down the last remnants of his coffee and begun placing the dishes in the sink to give them a quick wash. You came down the stairs, fingers securing the earring backs to the small jewels that Steve had gifted you for your birthday one year ago—his green vest loops over your arm as you crept up behind him and nudged him slightly.

“Almost forgot this.” you smirked, holding it out for him to work his arms through.

“You’re the best.” He mumbled sweetly, handing you your cup of coffee to finish as he brushed down the flyaway hairs at the top of your head with his palm.

You swallowed the rest of the semi bitter caffeine, handing him over your cup then walking over to your lunches, quickly adding a smiley face and heart to his brown bag with the thick sharpie.

“Ready to go?” He asked, wiping his hands clean as you turned around and nodded, handing him his lunch as you two walk out of the kitchen and went to the front door quickly slipping on some shoes and grabbing your respective car keys.

You slung your backpack over your shoulder and pecked his lips, “Remember you need to fill up your tank, you’re almost on E.” you reminded him as he nodded patting his pocket to make sure he had his wallet, which he did.

“Call me during lunch if you have time? And I’ll see you here at 3?” He proposed, and you nodded, giving him a hug.

You two were almost out the door when he remembered that your friends were still over.

“Hey dinguses! Lock the door on the way out and make sure you fold the blankets!” He reminded with a shout before shutting the door.

They all turned to each other with sleepy smiles, heading over to the nearest widow to watch the couple part ways.

“They’re like a married old couple.” Dustin commented, as you two shared another kiss before getting in your cars.

“I think it’s kinda cute.” Max said, nudging El, who giggled and nodded.

The boys rolled their eyes, except for Eddie, who walked away and stretched his arms out, “They love each other, it’s no surprise.”

“More like infatuated.” Will jokes, smiling as he listens to the car horn beep. Steve lets you drive off first, then him following behind.

“It’s the little things that make their love sweeter.” Lucas says, moving towards the coffee table and finding a polaroid of you and Steve, from a few nights ago, sitting around and watching sitcoms.

“Small acts of affection are what they call it.” Robin says snatching the photo from the young boy to admire herself.

“Guess we ought to take a note or two.” Mike shrugged as everyone agrees.

It couldn’t be clearer that you and Steve were head over heels…not because of the grand gestures, but mostly because of the small and meaningful ones. The times where Steve would show up after a mentally grueling day without being asked to. The acts of service you would complete to help him get a load off his plate. The thoughtful gifts he would make for you without any special occasion. The one-on-one moments you spend together without bother, letting each other’s touch fill the gap. The appreciative words of affirmation and assurance that would fix a heavy heart after a long day. And the togetherness you both would feel, even on a hectic morning like today.

It would always be the simple acts that would make your love for each other grow.

A/N: I've been in the steve mood so I decided to write this sweet little quick thing up for you all! I am a whore for domestic fluff so yeah...let me know what you think!

#MunsonsReputation #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington stranger things #stranger things fluff #stranger things #steve stranger things #steve harrington x you

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uchihaharlot · 6 months

Note

How would Shisui react if his wife gave birth to triplets instead of just one?

Oh nonny,

I’m sorry this took so long. What a cute idea 😩🥹❤️

I see you’ve chosen choas this particular morning lol and I too often wake up on the side of lunacy. I think if any one particular Uchiha was destined to have triplets—it would unfortunately be Shisui. I can’t even imagine Itachi with twins, he is patient but lacks the energy for it. And Sasuke…well. We’ve seen how he was with just one. (Don’t hate me I love Sasuke 😩🥹 He was my original Uchiha boo, but damn was he an absent father for so long..)

Mostly sfw, a few lot of suggestive and descriptive—maybe more than just suggestive ideas here and there. This also got waaaayyyy more detailed than I intended but, I’ll take it 😍❤️

Well let’s see here, Shisui is a man of many qualities. Exceptional talent, generous lover and his undying loyalty to the village and its people. He’s an amazing man all around. Did I say generous lover already? The baby making sex was hot, ok? Like really hot being folded up like a pretzel as he rutted into you with such passion…

But for fucks sake when the sonogram showed not just one, not two but it three of his fucking tadpoles bouncing around inside his wife’s poor womb. He’s definitely going to, and very silently, go through the stages of grief. Just momentarily. He is elated of course, no doubt. This is what they’ve wanted!! It also didn’t take as long to fall pregnant but the surprise of three of his Uchiha little spawns is a bit, well, too much for even him.

This escalated even further than he could have imagined. The pregnancy phase is probably his favorite, doting on his wife as she grows their cute little babies 😩🥹 spoiling her rotten with foot rubs and such. Taking advantage of her not being able to get up at some point and just eating her soft pussy as she giggles and then moans. Those sort of things he’s going to take full advantage of before these little hell raisers are bestowed upon them.

They are blessings no doubt, I don’t see Shisui as an overtly religious man. But I mean, he was gifted with Kotoamatsukami. The man thanks the Gods damn near every day for you, his family name and these sweet little angels you made.

There is no way around it, they’re born via cesarean section. As much as his wife wanted to have a natural birth, the babies have Shisui’s head and yea. Which also comes with mops of curls. And despite Shisui having seen and been drenched in the blood of his enemies. Seeing his wife split open, and not in a good way, almost makes him falter. But he perseveres through this for her, with her. She’s so out of it too, says the cutest things while under the knife and on a copious amount of drugs.

All babies are of course healthy. Two boys and one girl. Which is great, she will have mini protective brothers from the start! Funnily enough, the first out the center cavity was the little girl. 😩😍 So she’s automatically the queen between the three siblings. They all almost look alike. The boys are identical twins and the girl was her own embryo. The doctor had joked it was most likely she absorbed her twin; but they won’t mention that. Ever.

Yeah so, this is a lot. The five days in hospital are some of the most intense and painful days for his wife. They eventually go home and it’s not entirely easy for them. Triplets is a lot of work. Feedings, diapers. Not a single one of them are on the same schedule for the first few weeks. And while Shisui is hardened by battle; three babies waking up hours apart at night does wear out a man. His wife is the same; and she is recovering.

Let’s say we’re a few years into it now. 😮‍💨 These toddlers are some of the most high octane in the world. Shisui often considers what he’s done to deserve such blatantly bad children at times. Though he’s being mostly dramatic, they’re pretty well behaved…except when they’re with him. Shisui of course is the kind of father to be a child with his own. Having been robbed of his, this is the perfect excuse to be a little bad himself. And he sees so much of him and his wife in these beautiful little people.

If he prompts his wife for another baby. She’s gonna laugh and ask how many since it’s clear they’re not having just one at a time, but full litters. Luckily. The last baby, is a singular baby. The finale.

#uchiha clan #uchiha headcanons #shisui uchiha #shisui headcanons #uchiha shisui #shisui is a babe #I love Shisui Uchiha #let me have his damn babies already #idc #I’d have his twins #triplets #quintuplets #all of them #like John and Kate plus 8

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i-magines · 2 years

Text

Wildest Dreams: Chapter 7

Pedro Pascal x fem!Reader

synopsis: You’re an assistant director in an indie movie set and fate makes sure you keep crossing paths with a certain Chilean actor.

disclaimer: This is my first Pedro Pascal’s fictional work + the first fanfic I write in English, as it isn’t my first language. Unfortunately, I do not own Pedro and this is all a product of my imagination.

rating: M (keep scrolling if your under 18 please)

warnings: age gap, mature content, eventual drinking and drugs, fem!reader, smut every once in a while, a little angst, protective pedro, panic attack (not detailed), just he being an angel mostly.

n/a: thanks for last chapter’s comments! they always put a smile on my face :D

word count: 1,751

After the extra days off in Berlin, life back at the movie set was not your cup of tea. New director, new schedule, new dynamics. You weren’t able to spend as much time alone with Pedro anymore, because they were redoing a big part of the movie and keeping the same end date for the shootings — that meant no more night sneakouts for both of you, not on working days at least. You still texted all the time and kept staring at each other every time you were in the same room, but you just missed how things were at the beginning, especially with this sparkle happening between you two. You eagerly waited for your off day announcement, hoping it would match Pedro’s for the first time in almost a month. When you got the paper, it upset you. Later, on the same day, you asked Pedro to come over to your cabin for a little, which he happily did.

You could see how tired he was, 3 months into the shooting. This was an ungrateful industry, for sure. You were tired yourself, being just an assistant. You hugged him once the door was closed.

“I’ve missed you so much, mi princesa”, he whispered in your ear. “This filming schedule will end up killing all of us.”

“Yeah, I’m not looking forward to the final month, we are so behind…” You couldn’t help but worry about all the extra hours to come, but you didn’t want to spend your time with him talking about work. “I was wondering, I will have the day after tomorrow off. I saw you don’t, but maybe you could ask for it?”

“I can try”, he said, giving you a quick peck on the lips. “There’s something I’ve meaning to tell you about.”

Your anxious ass was already nervous. You stared at him, waiting.

“Donna asked me about the nature of our relationship”, a little pout on his face. “I didn’t give her an answer, but I guess people have been gossiping about it.”

“We don’t even get to spend that much time together anymore”, you felt upset. “That’s just so fucking unfair.”

He held you closer into his chest, giving you a little kiss on the top of your head.

“You’re the only thing keeping me sane, sweetheart”, Pedro promised, as you got caught up on hearing his heart pumping hard inside his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault, P”, you said softly. “That’s the one thing you can’t protect me from, I guess.”

Pedro breathed out strongly, feeling frustrated.

“I just wish we could come clean”, he confessed. “I feel hiding it just makes it look worse for us, and I really don’t think we’re doing anything wrong.”

“People already give me these dirty, judgy looks only being suspicious of it”, you replied. “Picture if we come out, my life here would turn into hell and probably none of these people would put out a good word about me for a next gig.”

“I hate how they choose to pick on you, not me”, Pedro touches your arm with affection. “What do you want to do?”

“It would be lovely if we got the same day off, as a start.” You loved how he was always asking your opinion. “Maybe we could go back to that pub in Berlin, just get out of this place for a bit.”

“I will make sure it happens, promise”, he showed you his pinky. You smiled and took it, kissing him briefly on the lips — there’s no time or energy for more than that.

The next day, you get early to the common area and, before you get to say anything to let them know you were there, you hear Pedro and Donna mentioning your name. It looked like they were having an argument.

“This will fuck your career up if you don’t drop it”, she said, getting an angry look from him. “I did everything you asked: Dave’s out, I kept her on the crew and I will recommend her to future jobs, but that’s what you’re getting from me.”

“You’re talking like she was a kid or something”, Pedro argued with a frustrated tone.

“You know it’s fucking wrong, otherwise you wouldn’t have kept it as a secret until now”, Donna told him, making you fell incredible bad. You should make a sound or something, but it felt like it was too late. “A scandal like this can ruin the whole movie campaign, the award season, every single thing is on the line here. For what? A twenty-something old pussy? Please.”

“I won’t ask you again to watch your fucking mouth when you talk about her”, he was controlling himself, the tension on his body showing.

“You can have your fucking day off Pedro”, she shaked her shoulders. “I wash my hands, but if this backlashes against the project or the studio, I might not be able to do anything about you, but she is fucked.”

“Don’t you fucking dare”, he warned her.

“You heard me and you better make sure she knows what she is getting into”, Donna didn’t seem intimidated. “That’s if you’re even keeping her after we’re done here.”

Pedro didn’t reply and she went away to the opposite direction, her last statement still floating in the air. Fuck, that didn’t look good. You didn’t want him to know you just heard all of that, so you quietly sneaked back to your cabin. That conversation was everything you were able to think about during the day, as you did your best to avoid being with both of them. Later, Pedro texted you to come over with your bag packed for the day away. Once you got there, he greeted you with a tired smile and occupied himself with packing his own luggage.

“I heard you and Donna today”, you confessed. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before.”

Pedro looked at you, a worried look in his eyes.

“Which part?” He asked, using his hand to invite you to sit on his bed with him.

“The last one”, you frowned. “Was she right?”

“About what?”

“You don’t keeping me after.”

He breathed out slowly, running his hands on his face.

“I don’t know what life will bring, sweetheart”, he started, but your heart was already racing. That’s definitely not what you wanted to hear. “Of course I care about you, but I told you before, I can’t make long term promises right now.”

It just broke you a little bit — at least, he is being honest, you thought. But it didn’t help the sinking feeling you felt inside.

“Thanks for making things clear”, you whispered, doing your best to hold back the tears. “We should get going… Let’s enjoy the month we have left.”

“Baby girl—”

“It’s fine, Pedro”, you didn’t let him finish. “Let’s just go.”

So you two did. The drive to Berlin was absolute silence and, once you got there, you went straight to the same pub/night club from the first time you went out together. Pedro’s friends were waiting for you there, but your mind just wasn’t in it. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but that wasn’t it. You felt heartbroken to the point you couldn’t pretend everything was fine and just be around him, so you decided to sit at the bar by yourself. He didn’t come after you at first, and when he did, you were already kind of drunk, full of all these feelings.

“You okay?” He asked, getting on the seat by your side. “I hope you got what I meant—”

“Do you do it in every project?” You interrupted him, popping the question that was killing you. “Am I just a thing for this one, and next one is another girl?”

“I wouldn’t— Y/N, I never meant that”, he looked worried that you were thinking that about him. “Please, don’t even go there, it’s nonsense.”

You nodded, unsatisfied but unable to start a proper argument.

“If you aren’t having a good time, I would rather just get a hotel room and spend our free time together”, Pedro said after a few minutes in silence.

You didn’t reply, you only stood up and shaked your head at the exit’s direction. He guided you, holding your hand. He opened the door for you and you didn’t expect the flashes and yelling. Scared, you almost stumbled on your own feet, but Pedro held your arm, side-hugging you and using his jacket to protect your face from the paparazzi. You felt a panic attack coming, feeling unable to move. Pedro held you even closer, doing his best to protect you.

"Who is she?” A pap screamed.

“Pose for a pic, Pedro!” Another one did the same.

“Please you guys, give us space”, Pedro asked politely, he could barely see where he was going, the strong flashing lights taking his sight away.

“New GF, Pepe?” They kept trying to get a good picture of both of you. “Let me see her cute face. C'mon, man!”

“Fuck off, asshole”, Pedro pushed his way through the group, getting you inside the car and telling the driver to go. “What the fuck just happened?”

You still couldn’t move, your eyes hurting from the lights and your dizziness wasn’t helping. Pedro held your hand tight and kissed your cheek.

“You okay, baby, I got you”, he promised.

Your breath was irregular and you hid your face against his chest.

“I’m so, so sorry— I don’t even know’, he touched your hair nicely. “Try to focus on your breath, sweetheart. You’re safe, you’re with me.”

You did as he asked, trying to pay attention to his beating heart, as it always brought you confort. He reached for a water bottle and gave it to you. You slipped a little bit, being able to regain control of your breathing. Your whole body still shaking.

“Fuck”, he whispered, running his hand thought his hair. “It’s okay, we’re okay.”

“What the hell was that?” You spoke with a weak voice, still regulating yourself.

“Fucking paps, I don’t know—” he tried to explain, but you could see they caught him off guard as well. “Let’s get you to bed, I’m gonna call my agent. It will be fine.”

He did as he promised. He helped you undress and change into your pajamas. You brushed your teeth under his careful look and he tucked you into bed, giving you a long kiss on your forehead.

CHAPTER 8 AVALIABLE NOW

TAGLIST: @kyuupidwrites @omg-its-typical-aesthetics-fan @vivibabiez @ivyohmy @sebastianstansimp @tubble-wubble @28cnn @3zae-zae3 @technicallysassyfox @bellatrixyoass @mandolover86 @eliffluisa @one-sweet-gubler @anaxmcu @untitledarea @shesa-riott @chloelmao67 @majesticjellyfishzombie @adriennemichelle98 @januarycolor @lxdyred

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro x reader #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction

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mxomo · 2 years

Text

eating at home ♡ ︎miya atsumu

How Netflix & Chill goes when Atsumu feels like showing off. c/w: dick sucking, mild exhibitionism a/n: i reread hq final arc and this came out. i’m not sorry. i’m not.

He’s finally fallen into a routine with you now that the season has started and your projects have steadied, so you were both super busy still but your schedules lined up more which meant you got to spend more time together

Unfortunately that time was usually after a long day of work, so your default date night became splitting collection responsibilities for food/drink and then meeting on the sofa nest after a quick shower and decanting food on plates for either movie or game night

The process of picking something to watch included bickering about scrolling through the watchlist every single time before you eventually settle on the first thing you both considered when the food is all done

You thought it was pretty funny after a few of these date nights how you’d spot a third limb in his trousers every time you hit ‘play’ on whatever you’d decided on for the evening

“I hope you’re still hungry,” Atsumu says almost every time, waggling his eyebrows suggestively (/comically) as he boldly pulls down his sweats enough to expose his jewels to you (who said romance is dead?). Sometimes he will take the base of his cock and wiggle it at you as part of his seduction, winking salaciously to top off his attack which served as a great excuse to touch himself when he was extra horny.

“You’re an idiot,” you say dryly in return, rolling your eyes at his pouting but shuffling down to settle your head comfortably in his lap as he beams at you. His cock swells when he spots you licking your lips, focused on him entirely as warmth blooms between your legs.

One such date night was interrupted by a consistent buzzing from the setter’s phone, every five minutes like clockwork until he finally checked his messages, frowning as he held your head in place as his mood would only worsen if you were interrupted in your delicious suckling.

Sakusa demanding that Atsumu make his presence known at the bar the team had been dragged to by the sunshine duo (Bokuto & Hinata) - how dare you ditch without telling me and leave me in the presence of these sunshine psychopaths?

Atsumu tutted, staring down at you as he considered his options.

On one hand, he always enjoyed being out with the team, even if his social batteries were dead afterwards. It’d been a while since they’d been out and there had been talks of other teams showing up, so it would’ve been a fantastic evening. Bokuto and Hinata never failed make a good time for everyone. Sakusa would provide endless entertainment in his discomfort and likely pay for Atsumu’s last drink and ride home with him if he did show his face.

On the other hand, your cheeks were flushed pink and your mouth sloppy as you feasted on his cock like a starved woman. Your hands cradling his balls as your tongue spun circles around the tip, the sight of his member disappearing into your mouth and your skillful massage of the base with your tongue as your throat contracted around him. The hard ring of muscle into your throat made his breath catch with every bob of your head. Throwing his head back, Atsumu groaned ecstatically at the sensations and his circumstances, tangling his hands in your hair in a desperate attempt to keep himself from coming undone right there.

“Baby, hold still,” he breathed, quickly positioning his phone camera to capture the captivating sight of his cock buried in your throat, your hair hiding your face from being too recognisable but clearly capturing your tongue pressed hotly against his balls. Snapping a couple of photos, he switched to video and hit ‘record’ just as your need to breathe started taking over. Pulling your head back, Atsumu caught the moment his cock popped out of your mouth, slapping you in the cheek before you manoeuvred to catch him again in your next breath, never one to let him escape for too long, smiling slightly when you succeeded.

You settled into position, sucking straight in as you hummed at him, somewhat inquisitive about who was so interested in speaking to him that evening. Atsumu hissed as his member seemed to get even hotter, pulsing in rhythm to every motion you made.

Atsumu’s breathing getting heavier didn’t escape your notice as he turned his attention fully back to the phone, finally stopping the recording. “Omi-kun is upset that - ah - that I didn’t meet them, s-so I’m going to show him what I’m doing instead, okay? Jesus fuck, baby.. yes, just like that..”

Frowning at him, you shifted to sit up but was stopped by his hand holding the back of your neck, gently but firmly keeping you in place. “It’s nothing he’s not seen before, and you look so pretty.. you didn’t mind last time, did you? It’s just Omi-kun.” His hands started working the muscles in your neck - shockingly soothing when you remembered how long he’d been fucking your face for - before working his way down your back, digging his fingers into your sweet spots as he worked his way over the curve of your backside. His much longer arms had no issue reaching the apex of your legs, slipping two fingers into you as you spasmed in response to the unexpected intrusion, the blush on your cheeks deepening rapidly as you tried to moan around the obstruction in your mouth.

“So, I’m just gonna ask again. I’m gonna show Omi-kun proof that my evening is much better and that I’d be a madman to join him. You good with that, baby?”

You wanted to shake your head ‘no’, because how humiliating for his teammate to see you gagging for his cock. It was bad enough the last time Kiyoomi walked in on Atsumu fucking you stupid - you had barely registered when the door opened in your direct line of sight and you made eye contact with the spiker from your incredibly exposed seated reverse cowgirl position. You didn’t miss his eyes zeroing in on where Atsumu was thrusting diligently into you, unaware of your new guest (?), the slapping of your bodies connecting drowing out the small creak of the dormitory door. Your cunny registered his presence before your brain did, and you clenched hard.

Your thoughts were still trying to catch up to your brain and Kiyoomi was still frozen at the doorway when Atsumu pinched your clit and you lost your fucking mind. With a squeal, you broke eye contact with Kiyoomi as your pussy gushed juices harder than you ever had before, missing Sakusa by inches as he snapped back to reality and slammed the door shut with a curse. Atsumu had laughed for nearly ten minutes when you’d told him that Omi-kun had caught you both, a gleam in his eye as you hid your face in his chest and tried to ignore the tingle of him continuing to move in you, slowly. “So you came so hard because someone else was looking at you?” Atsumu teased, pinching your nipple when you shook your head desperately ‘no’. “Liar. You loved it.” Your boyfriend hadn’t let you live it down since.

Including now. “Oh, your pussy fluttered. I think your pussy would like me to show Omi-kun how pretty you look when you enjoy your dinner. What do you think?” Atsumu teased, twirling his fingers and massaging your g-spot expertly.

“Mmm,” you eventually nodded weakly, unable to form coherent words and closing your eyes shyly as you tried to push down the feeling of humiliation at your body betraying you. It was embarrassing, Kiyoomi seeing you like that, so why was Atsumu showing you off making you tingle like this?

“Fantastic,” Atsumu grinned cheekily, chuckling as another admonishment from kiyoomi pinged on his phone, demanding a response.

Yes, Atsumu would be a total fucking idiot if he went out over spending the evening in with you.

One photo of your cheeks stuffed full with his balls, the short video he just took with the message “baby wanted to eat at home” was sent to Sakusa, which was read immediately

“You piece of shit” is the only further message he gets from his dear Omi-kun which causes an odd tingle of joy to bubble in Atsumu’s chest

Atsumu ignores his phone for the rest of the evening in favour of piledriving you into utopia and Sakusa learns to never contact Atsumu on a date night unless his wank bank needs new material. (￣▽￣)

masterlist

#*writing #*hq #*smut #haikyuu one shot #haikyuu!#haikyuu! smut #haikyuu smut #atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu x reader smut #atsumu x you smut #miya atsumu smut #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu #smut #*nsfw #atsumu smut

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tightjeansjavi · 1 year

Text

𝕓𝕝𝕦𝕖 𝕛𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕟’𝕋𝕖𝕩𝕒𝕤 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤

𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟟

First Date Jitters & Cowboy Margaritas

♡ 𓃗 ♡

Pre! Outbreak Joel x horseback riding instructor f!reader

~word count: 4.5k~

Summary: Joel Miller, single father; total soft dad has an astronomically enormous crush on you, his daughters horseback riding instructor.

Warnings: soft! Joel, shy! Joel, horny!awkward!Joel, fluff, flirting, slow burn, feeling flustered, sexual tension, brief horny thoughts, bantering, teasing, no use of (y/n), (+18) minors dni !

blue jeans playlist:

Austin, Texas

Joel Miller called you every morning the following week leading up to your anticipated first date. You both were giddy with nervous excitement. He wanted this date to be perfect in every sense. Sure, he could take the typical route and wine and dine you but where was the fun in that? It was clear that neither of you were the conventional type and that was one of the many reasons why he was attracted to you. Despite your hectic schedule between taking care of the horses, teaching lessons, and bartending in between, Joel wanted to make sure that you had an enjoyable evening with him. By Thursday, he was a flustered mess. He had his doubts that maybe you would call and cancel on him. Maybe it was too soon for you, or on the off chance, he would end up being so nervous that he would end up chickening out on you entirely.

“You’re um–you’re still excited for Friday, right darlin’?” He held his phone against his ear, tapping his fingers across the steering wheel. He had just pulled into the parking lot of the jobsite he and Tommy would be working at for the next few days.

“Joel, I literally have not been able to stop thinking about our upcoming date all damn week. You know I almost ate shit yesterday cause I was too busy thinking about you? You’re gonna have to start paying rent if you wanna live in my mind like that mister.” You held your phone against your chin and shoulder as you were filling up Whiskey’s water bucket, leaning against his stall door while he happily ate his morning grain.

Joel felt the heat rise to his cheeks when you admitted that you had been thinking about him, and the date, just as much as he had been. “Well, I'm really sorry that my devilishly handsome mug almost caused you to eat shit darlin.’ I just..i’m nervous if i’m bein’ honest, and I know that ain’t what you want to be hearin’ from a man right now. Y’know I just have been off my game for so long and I just don’t wanna screw this up.”

You reached over and gave whiskey a light pat on his neck, threading your fingers through his silky soft cream colored mane. “Easy there now cowboy, I said you were handsome, not devilishly handsome.” You giggled. “Joel, its okay that you’re nervous. In fact, if you weren’t a little bit nervous i’d actually be pretty concerned. You’re doing just fine, okay? I appreciate your honesty. Not many men would be admitting to their first date jitters. You’re cute, Joel and I highly doubt there’s any way for you to screw this up.”

Joel softly chuckled as he rested his head back against his worn headrest in his truck. “I know darlin’ I was just teasin’ ya. Thank you for validatin’ my feelings. You’re a real peach, you know that? Also, I 100% will be thinking about you all damn day now just ‘cus you said i’m handsome AND cute. You see what you’re doin’ to me darlin’? Turnin’ my fuckin’ brain to actual mush.”

“Peach is actually my middle name, believe it or not. Good! Your brain should be turning to mush because you’re living in mine rent fucking free man.” You giggled.

“Wait, is it really? Darlin’..are you messin’ with me right now?”

“Oh, I absolutely am. I gotcha there huh?”

“I was believin’ you for a good second there hun. Listen, you know i’d love nothin’ more than to chat with ya all mornin’ but I gotta run unfortunately. Tommy and I got this big project to start on. I hope you have a wonderful day and say hi to the boys for me, okay?”

“No worries. I gotta get some shit done around here before my 9 o'clock lesson gets here. I hope you have a wonderful day as well Joel. I’ll tell the boys you say hello.”

“Talk to ya later darlin.’”

“See ya around, cowboy.”

Joel ended the call as he let out a soft, content sigh. He grabbed his tool box from the passenger seat as he hopped out of his truck. He tucked his phone into his tool belt around his waist before he clapped his younger brother on the shoulder.

“Wow. You’re early for once Joel.” Tommy said with a grin as he tightened the laces on his boots. “So, you all ready for your big date tomorrow? You’re not gonna be an ass and chicken out on this girl, right?”

Joel was tightening his tool belt around his waist so it fit more snuggly. “Oh, I'm excited alright. Nervous as all hell at the same time. I really don’t wanna mess this up. I uh–I actually just got off the phone with her. We talk every mornin’ and it's become apart of both of our routines.”

Tommy let out a playful gag as he straightened his back after tightening his boots. “Oh Christ. You really have just completely gone and turned into a fuckin’ sap. Never actually thought I'd live to see this day.” He chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah. You just wait till you get to meet her. You’ll see exactly what I'm talkin’ about then. Can you still come over tomorrow and watch Sarah?”

“Ohhh. So, you’re already thinkin’ about bringing her around? You’re down so bad big brother. Course I can watch Sarah. Love that kiddo man. Besides, she fills me in on all the important stuff.” He winked.

“Well..uh–I hope that I will eventually be bringin’ her around. You and Sarah are like two peas in a pod I swear.”

“I cannot fuckin’ wait to meet the bird that has taken my poor big brother’s heart! Sarah’s my favorite niece. What can I say?”

“She’s your only niece Tommy.” Joel corrected him.

“Shuddup. You knew what I meant.”

Thursday had flown by for both you and Joel and Friday evening had rolled around faster than either of you had expected. It was 5pm and Joel was puttering around his house, making sure he had everything ready. Joel was taking you to a local drive-in movie and he had gone as far to set up his truck bed with pillows and blankets. He wanted you to be comfortable. That was 100% his main concern was your comfort above all. He had even gone and picked up a bunch of snacks and placed them all in a cooler with a couple beers and water.

Just as he was placing the cooler in the bed of his truck, Tommy had pulled in the front of the house and hopped out of his own truck. He had the board game tucked under his armpit for him and Sarah to play. “What in god’s green fuckin’ earth have ya gone and done to your truck Joel?”

“Huh? What’re you–Oh. The pillows and shit? Well, I'm takin’ her to the local drive-in. Do you think it's too much?I just wanna make sure she’s comfortable..”

“Oh my god, of course you’re takin’ her to the drive-in! You sly sly dog.” He chuckled. “Joel, I'm sure she’s gonna love it, and especially since you’ve put a ton of effort into this whole thing.”

“Hey! It ain’t like that Tommy. I was gonna take her to that one taco place in town..pick some food up and then we’re gonna go to the drive-in.”

“Brother, I'm just messin’ with ya! Relax. You are gonna kiss her at the end of the night right? She’s probably gonna expect you to.”

Joel rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He most definitely had not thought that far ahead yet. Was Tommy right? Were you going to expect him to kiss you by the end of the date? Was that something that you’d even want? “Oh..well I honestly haven’t thought that far ahead. Shouldn’t I be takin’ it slow?”

“My word of advice to ya is just to just see what signs she’s givin’ ya. I ain’t sayin’ y’all have to kiss or anythin’, but just to keep that in the back of your mind is all i’m sayin.’”

Joel let out a huff as he hopped down from the bed of his truck and closed the latch over the top as he dusted his pants off. “Okay, I'll keep that in mind.”

Tommy brought his arm around his shoulder, giving his brother a side hug. “Good man. Now, what’re you wearin’?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“Sarah and I will help ya find somethin.’”

After turning the horses out for the evening, you locked the barn up before heading to your apartment to quickly get ready. Your first date jitters were coming in full force as you quickly showered. You just wanted to know where your Texas tall glass of water was taking you for the evening. The possibilities with Joel were clearly endless. You had not felt this excited about a guy since the situation with your ex.

By 6pm, you were scrambling to finish getting ready. Your room, and bathroom were a complete disaster as you struggled putting an outfit together. You didn’t want to look sloppy and you also didn’t want to look like you were trying too hard. Ugh. Why was being a girl so difficult sometimes? Was Joel facing the same struggles as you were right now?

At 6:15 you finally decided on going with some simple light washed jeans, a cute top and a flannel, in case it got chilly. You paired it with a nicer pair of sneakers that didn’t have scuff marks all over them. Overall, you felt pretty confident in your outfit choice. You were torn between doing a full makeup look in the beginning but with the time crunch, you only had time to swipe a bit of mascara over your lashes and lip gloss on your lips.

Your phone rang loudly from the kitchen where it was charging. You raced to grab it, flipping it open as you brought it up to your ear.

“Hey darlin.’ I’m about to head on over. Are you ready or do ya need more time? There’s no rush or anythin–”

“Hey Joel. Yeah, I'm ready. See you soon?” You lightly chewed on the tip of your thumbnail. The butterflies were absolutely swarming in your stomach.

“Perfect. See ya soon darlin.’”

The call ended and you spent the next 10 minutes furiously looking over your appearance in the mirror. You checked to make sure you had nothing stuck between your teeth and even gave your armpits the sniff test just to make sure. As soon as you heard a knock on the front door of your apartment, the butterflies erupted again as you grabbed your purse and slung it over your shoulder. With a deep breath you unlatched the lock and opened it.

On the other side of your apartment door was your Texas tall glass of water. He had a bundle of fresh wildflowers grasped between his hands. You could tell he had picked them himself just by the fact that there was some brown twine holding them together. You both stared at each other for a long moment as you seemingly were taken in one another’s appearance.

“Wow.” He breathed out, letting his shoulders relax. “You look beautiful.”

“You clean up pretty well yourself cowboy.” You said with a small grin. Joel must have been in a nervous rush just like you because his T-shirt was very clearly on backwards. “Uh, Joel? I think your shirt is on backwards.”

Joel’s cheeks immediately felt hot as the realization dawned upon him. “Aw shit. Y’know I would have thought that my brother would have told me this before I left the house.” He grumbled quietly. “Oh! These are for you..I uh– picked them earlier while I was on the job-site. They kinda just..reminded me of you..I hope you like them.” He handed you the homemade bouquet of wildflowers and much to your surprise, he wasted no time to pull his t-shirt over his head. As soon as you caught a glimpse of his broad, tan chest, you inhaled a shaky breath. The exposure of skin was quickly covered with the shirt on the right way now.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you for thinking of me Joel. That was awfully sweet of you. Let me just put them in a vase real quick and then we can be on our way?”

“I would have gone to the store and gotten you roses or somethin’ but that didn’t seem like your style.” He leaned against the doorjamb as you headed into your cute little cozy kitchen. He watched as you grabbed a vase from a cabinet and filled it up with a bit of water before placing the bouquet inside. You joined him outside the door, locking it behind you before his hand was at your lower back, leading you down the stairs to his truck.

Chivalry was alive and well thanks to Joel Miller. He held the passenger side door open for you, and even gave you a little boost into the seat. Once you were buckled in, and he was situated in the driver's seat, he had placed his hand on the back of your seat as he leaned over the center console and checked over his shoulder as he backed out of the parking spot.

Why was that alone so fucking hot? He smelled amazing too. He was wearing an intoxicating delicious cologne and you would absolutely love to just bury your face into his neck–

“Did ya hear me darlin’?”

“What? No..I’m sorry I didn’t. I zoned out there for a second.”

“S’alright hun. I asked if you were a fan of tacos? There’s this place not far from here that has some good ones. Also, the best takeaway margaritas that Austin Texas has to offer.”

“You had me at tacos and margaritas.” You looked over at him from the passenger seat.

“Awesome. I had a feelin’ you’d be into it but just wanted to make sure, y’know?” He cleared his throat slightly as he had one hand on the steering wheel and the other was resting along the center console. “I meant what I said earlier. You look beautiful.”

“Oh, yeah. I love tacos. Literally my favorite food of all time.” You glanced down at his hand briefly as it rested along the center console. Before your brain could stop you, you boldly grabbed his hand and interlaced your fingers together. His palm beneath yours was warm, slightly clammy from the nerves, and you could tell he used his hands a lot just from the texture of calluses on his skin. These were the hands of a true, rugged man. Woof.

Joel felt his breath hitch in his throat the second his fingers were wrapped around yours. Man, you were ballsy tonight. “Well, you’re in for a real treat tonight darlin.’” He gave your hand a soft squeeze, glancing over at you momentarily. He quite liked the way your hand felt around his.

The casual small talk floated between the two of you in the confines of his truck. The radio was softly playing in the background as you told Joel about your day, and how Dieter tried to escape from his stall yet again. Joel was attentively listening to you as he kept his eyes focused on the road. He laughed as you told the story of Dieter, the mischievous Norwegian Fjord, almost escaped again. He truthfully could listen to you talk for hours. You were so animated with your words and it was so hard for him to not be drawn in. As cheesy as it sounds, he felt like he was a moth to flame when it came to you.

You were holding hands the entire drive to the taco place. It was a drive through luckily and he went ahead and placed an order for steak tacos for himself, and veggie for you. Along with chips and guac and two cowboy margaritas. He only slipped his hand out of your grip to pay, and grabbed the bag of food and the two styrofoam cups that contained the margaritas. Once everything was situated, he was reaching for your hand once more.

“What the hell is Cowboy Margarita?” You asked as you took a small sip from the straw.

Joel looked over at you with mocked disappointment written across his face. “Oh my dear, only the best fuckin’ margarita you can get your pretty lil hands on.”

“Oh wow. This is fucking delicious! Holy shit. Where have these been all my life?”

Where have you been all my life? He thought to himself.

“Told ya. Best margarita Austin Texas has to offer.”

You took another sip as you made yourself comfortable in the passenger seat. “So, where are you actually taking me cowboy?”

“Well, darlin.’ That would go and ruin the surprise and I ain’t about to do that.”

“Damn. You can’t even give me a little hint?”

“Afraid not hun.”

“Bastard.” you muttered under your breath with a light giggle.

Joel let out a chuckle as he drove a few miles down the road. It was a beautiful evening. There was a cool breeze that drifted in through the open windows of Joel’s truck. The breeze kissed your cheeks tenderly. He had pulled off into a field, where there were about 30 other cars parked in front of a projector screen. Joel felt his heart flutter out of his chest when you looked at him with the biggest grin. “No fucking way. You brought me to a drive-in? I’ve always wanted to go to one!”

He parked a few spots down from another truck with the bed of his truck facing the screen before he cut the ignition. “Course I did. I had a feeling that you’d really enjoy somethin’ like this. That ain’t even the best part. C’mon.” He hopped out of the driver's seat and you followed after him.

To your surprise, Joel had decked out the entire bed of his truck with pillows and blankets. You could tell he thoroughly thought this entire thing through and paid attention to all the little details. “You are unbelievable, you know that?”

“I know. I just wanted to make sure you were nice and comfy s’all.” He grabbed the two margaritas, and the bag of food and set it alongside the bed of the truck before he came alongside you, gently grabbing your waist as he hoisted you up.

His warm touch along your skin was enough to have your head spinning as you watched him effortlessly pull himself into the bed of the truck. “Take a picture darlin.’ it’ll last longer.” He shot you a wink as he grabbed the bag of food and handed you your drink before he scooted himself back against the pillows and patted the spot next to him.

You wasted no time scooting yourself over to him as he handed you your wrapped tacos with a few napkins. “What movie is on tonight?”

“The Parent Trap. You’ve seen it before?”

“Only about a hundred times. Easily one of the best Disney movies out there.”

“It’s one of Sarah’s favorites as well. I was hopin’ they were gonna show a horse film or somethin’ but this was the next best option.”

Once the movie started, you and Joel were comfortably eating your food. Your shoulders were brushing against one another along with your knees. You both were aware of the close proximity and yet, the butterflies had stilled in your stomach. The nerves had dissipated finally. Joel was a complete gentleman as he gathered up your trash and placed it in the bag and off to the side.

“Would it be alright if I–”

“Yes.” You didn’t even let him finish asking the question. You knew exactly what it was that he was about to ask.

“Damn, woman. Don’t go and gettin’ too excited now darlin.’ I’m just puttin’ my arm around ya is all.” He chuckled.

“Shh. This is one of my favorite parts.” You whispered.

Joel fought the urge to playfully roll his eyes at your remark before he brought his arm around you, gently pulling you into his chest while he stretched his legs out. What he wasn’t expecting you to do was ever so casually hike your thigh up over his waist as you made yourself comfortable. “Is this okay?” You whispered.

“Yeah. I’m good darlin.’ You comfy?”

“Absolutely cowboy.”

No funny business took place during the entirety of the film. Joel could hardly focus on the screen because of the searing heat he felt from your warm thigh stretched out over him. You were entirely clouding his senses. You were an absolute doll on helping him clean up and throw out the trash from your food.

The drive back to your apartment was filled with “Long Long Time” by Linda Ronstadt. The windows were down all the way and you and Joel were belting the lyrics together. He couldn’t sing to save his life but did he care? Absolutely not. He was just more than happy to be involved. This was by far the most fun he had ever had on a date. No, he wasn’t just saying that to sweeten you up. He meant it. He felt like he was a teenager all over again. (not that 34 is old in the slightest). You were just the breath of fresh air that he couldn’t get enough of.

He walked you up to your apartment door of course. The poor man couldn’t pick up on your signals as you leaned back against your closed door facing him. You wanted this man to kiss you so fucking bad and he had no clue. “I had a really great time tonight Joel. I don’t know why you were so nervous in the first place, cause you seriously knocked this one out of the park and I mean that sincerely.”

Do I kiss her? Tommy said I should keep that in mind but what if–

“I’m beyond happy to hear that darlin.’ This was the most fun I've ever had on a date. I’m serious about that too. I really had a great time with you. Is it safe to say that a second date is in our future?”

“Second, Third, Fourth. Indefinitely. You know how to treat a lady right, that’s for damn sure.” You were looking up at him expectantly. You were waiting for the moment that he would lean down and finally kiss you. Oh please, just fucking grab my waist and kiss me. Please. Please. Please. I have been wanting to kiss you all goddamn night Joel.

Joel was a complete deer in headlights. It was as if his mind had completely frozen over and he forgot how to function. “I’ll uh–see you soon darlin’?” He leaned down and finally—kissed you on the cheek.

Motherfucker.

Joel was already turning on his heel and down the metal steps when you had called out to him.

“Hey, cowboy? Will you fucking kiss me already?”

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

Joel had never moved so fast in his life. He nearly gave himself whiplash with how fast he had turned on his heel. His footsteps were moving faster than his brain process as he returned to you. Before you could get another word in, he grasped your face in his warm palms and finally kissed you. You could tell he was hesitant, and a little rusty, but you happily were there to guide him along as you let your arms drape around his neck. You finally got to feel just how soft this man’s hair was as you threaded your fingers through the back of his head. The tendrils of curls were silky soft. You felt your back press firmly against your apartment door as his lips moved against yours. His hands had dropped from your face and found purchase around your waist. “Is this–is this okay?” He mumbled into your lips.

“Yes, Joel. You’re fine. I promise.” You gripped his hair a little tighter as he breathed hot air into your mouth. You could taste a hint of tequila on his tongue as you breathed in his cologne. As soon as his tongue swiped across your lower lip, your lips parted open for him as he explored your mouth. His kisses grew desperate as the familiar feelings flooded back to him. Joel’s kisses tasted warm, sweet, and they were absolutely addicting. He melted on your tongue like fucking putty.

You let your free hand drop down to the door, you were already moving to push it open when he had stopped you. Your wrist was pinned up against the side of the door. Encaged in his warm grip. “No. Not tonight darlin.’” He rasped. “I want to. You’ve got no fuckin’ clue how badly I want to but you’re worth more than that. I wanna properly date you. I don’t want it to just be a one time thing. You deserve so much fuckin’ better than that.” His lips had detached from yours as his forehead gently rested against yours. His breathing was staggered and his heart was racing out of his chest, clamoring against his ribcage.

Your lips were swollen with his kisses as your lashes slowly fluttered open. The only visible light was from the shitty one above your apartment door. Your breath hitched in your throat when his freehand, that wasn’t engaging your wrist, came up to your face. His thumb brushed across your plush lower lip, tugging it down slightly. “Joel..”

“I know, sweet girl. I know. I promise that it will happen. I’ll take care of you. Every fuckin’ inch of you, okay? I’ll fuckin’ worship you darlin.’”

“Joel.” You whispered through the thick tension between the two of you. “Please kiss me.”

The gap was closed once more. This kiss was less desperate than the last. This was a sweeter kiss. A kiss enveloped in promise that was etched upon your lips. A promise that you meant more to him than just a quick fuck. A promise that he didn’t want this to be a one time thing. Joel wanted to date you. He wanted to properly date you so fucking bad.

A few more tender kisses were shared before he reluctantly pulled away. He hugged you to his chest firmly, lifting you off your feet momentarily as you brought your arms around his broad shoulders. “I’ll call you when I get home, okay? Get some sleep sugar.”

“You too Joel.” You felt his arms slowly loosen around you as he set you back down onto the ground. His lips brushed against your forehead in a soft kiss before you could no longer feel his warmth and when your eyes opened, he was already heading down the stairs.

You let out a deep sigh as you pushed open the door of your apartment and locked it behind you. You broke out into little lovesick giggles as you sank down against the closed door. You replayed the entire date out in your mind. Your Texas tall glass of water was something else entirely.

As soon as Joel arrived at home, he called you. You were waiting for him of course. Despite the fact that your eyes were struggling to stay open, you both wished each other sweet dreams once more.

tag list: @chaotic-mystery @peterhollandkait @soft-cryptids @dinsdjrn @bearsbeetsbeskar @beskarandblasters @lovers-liability @777-wonders @mirasantidotes @pedgeitopascal @atinylittlepain @dreamingofdaddydin @cutesyscreenname @loquaciousferret @korynnekorynne @kirsteng42 @bonglorddaryl @novemberrain-writes @sarahhxx03 @myrealmofchaos @finnsbubblegum @danilakozlovsky @pedrit0-pascalit0 @ssa-raye @pedropascalfan221 @missgurrl @leeeesahhh @yazsos @sunakochansama43 @casa-boiardi @last-girl @frankthesexualsadist @shatteredbaby @rye-flower @elliewilliamsno1simp @wonder-harley

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musings-of-a-rose · 11 months

Text

Falling Slowly - Chapter 2

Pairing: Tommy Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2400+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: This started as a simple idea for Tommy. He had different ideas and I can’t say no to those freckles and smile. Thanks to @mermaidxatxheart for helping me get unstuck. You always have such great ideas!

And a big thanks to @wyn-n-tonic for helping me form thoughts and give this a little shape. I hope I can be a quarter as talented as you one day!

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

**Reader is not described. Divider made by @benkeibear

Main Masterlist

Falling Slowly Masterlist

Tommy Miller Masterlist

<<Chapter 1<<

“Would you rather never be able to wear pants or never be able to wear shorts?”

Tommy laughs, his entire body shaking it with it. “What kind of question is that?”

I smirk at him. “Just answer it.”

“I think you know the answer.”

“You do love your Daisy Dukes.”

Tommy pokes my rib and I flinch, giggling as I pull away from him. “Hey don’t attack me!”

Tommy lunges towards me, fingers outstretched as I scream, not moving fast enough to avoid his waggling fingers. They find their way into my sides, tears streaming down my face as I giggle uncontrollably, my body twitching to try and get away, but Tommy just pulls me in closer.

“S-s-STOP!” I throw my entire body backwards on the couch to try and get away, but Tommy comes with me, pressing his body into mine. My laughs slowly subside as he stops tickling me, his eyes switching between mine and my lips. I swear he can feel my heart beating through my chest.

“W-would you rather be balding but fit or overweight with a head full of hair?”

“Way to kill the mood.” Tommy was smiling, but he lifts himself off of me, extending his hand to help me up.

“Which one, Tommy?”

He puffs out some air, eyes shifting up like he’s thinking. “This is a hard one. I mean, look at me.” He gestures to himself and I can’t help but look for just a brief moment.

“Yes, yes. Very hot. Answer the question.”

“Have you seen this hair? I ain’t given’ it up.”

“That’s fair.”

We resume watching the movie and I lay my head on his broad shoulder, hoping that he can’t hear how my heart still beats through my chest.

It’s been the week from hell. Any minor inconvenience happened, mixing in with semi major issues, all contributing to my stress levels being over the top, even more so than normal.

It’s Friday night and, like clockwork, Tommy knocks on my door at 7:30pm. He is annoyingly prompt. I’d almost cancelled tonight, but he's the one thing I look forward to every week.

“Hey Daisy!” Tommy is way too chipper for a Friday night after a week of hard work.

“Hey.”

He whistles. “That bad, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

“Good thing I brought this then.” Tommy holds up a case of beer. “I’ve cleared my schedule for a good hangover tomorrow if needed.”

I can’t help the small smile that creeps across my face. “Thanks. Pizza just got here about 5 minutes before you did.”

“Great. I’m starvin’. Oh, I managed to snag Gladiator for tonight.”

“Pop it in.”

We sit and eat, making commentary on the movie. But no matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to at least hide my frustration. Something that I was desperately trying to hide from Tommy - he doesn’t need to deal with my shit on top of his. Unfortunately, I’m not as slick as I think, and Tommy is way sweeter than he should be. Maybe laying on his shoulder wasn’t such a great idea. The movie quiets, dialogue happening between some of the characters, and Tommy leans his head on mine.

“You ok?”

I sigh. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t sound fine.”

“It’s just work.”

“Stressing you out again?”

“Just one of those weeks where anything that could go wrong, did. And anything that could take as long as humanly possible, did.”

“You need to let out some of that stress. It’s not healthy.”

I laugh. “Duh. Why didn’t I think of that?”

He’s quiet for a moment and I think I hurt his feelings. But before I can apologize, he speaks quietly.

“You know what you need? You need to get laid. You’re not getting any which really doesn’t help with the stress.”

What did he just say? Did he just suggest I get laid to calm down? Wait, is he offering?

“Yeah well, that may be, but in order to get laid, I’d have to have a boyfriend.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Are you suggesting I go find some random guy to hookup with?”

“N-no. Not some random guy.”

“Then who?”

He pauses. “Me.”

What?

I sit up, turning to stare at him, hoping my mouth isn’t hanging open like it is in my head. He chuckles nervously, eyes darting around the room, barely staying on me, his hands rubbing down his thighs over his jeans.

“You know what? That was stupid. I didn’t mean-”

"We'd have to set some ground rules."

Tommy's eyes snap to mine. "You..You're serious?"

"I am."

Tommy shifts in his seat, straightening himself out while trying to look chill and relaxed.

"Like, uh, like what-what exactly?"

"Hhmm… well, we still remain friends."

"That's a given."

“If one person wants to leave immediately…after, that’s ok. No obligation to stay.”

“Sounds good.”

"We can't get jealous if the other person wants to date someone else."

He’s silent a moment. “Seems fair.”

“And…oh, if either of us wants to call it off, it’s off. No hard feelings.”

“Oh, I can’t promise I won’t have hard feelings,” Tommy smirks at his joke as I roll my eyes, a smile on my face.

“Deal?” I stick my hand out.

Tommy looks at my hand. “Oh darlin’. That’s not how we’re sealin’ this deal.”

A rush of wet goes straight between my thighs and I try to swallow back the sound I just made.

Tommy chuckles darkly while he shakes my now sweaty hand. “Deal.”

He pulls me close, his large, warm hand coming up to cradle my cheek, fingers wrapping around the back of my head and winding their way into my hair. His lips are just above mine, his breath warm and hot on mine.

“Are you sure, darlin’?”

My head is full of desire, Tommy’s scent surrounding me, his hand grounding me to him, but I manage a nod.

“Yes,” I sigh.

He presses his lips to mine, soft and warm, tasting slightly of tobacco, as they gently push mine apart, his tongue sliding into my mouth. My hands slide up his broad chest, settling there for a moment as we both moan and get lost in a kiss that feels like we had both had been waiting for.

I throw my leg over his lap and straddle him, my hands sliding up to his face to tug at his curls at the back of his head. He moans and I do too, rolling my hips to get some kind of friction on my rapidly heating cunt. Tommy’s hands grip my hips, guiding me and helping me grind down more as I whine into his mouth and feel him harden under his jeans.

I throw my head back, gasping out his name as he kisses my chest, pulling at the hem of my shirt. I get the hint, yanking my shirt from me and throwing it across the room, my fingers already undoing my bra clasp before my shirt hits the floor, the bra joining it a moment later.

“Oh shit!” I cry out, as Tommy latches onto one of my nipples, sucking, licking, and nibbling as he still guides my hips to roll over his jean–clad erection. He switches to the other side, moaning when I tug his hair more.

Suddenly, he stands, sliding his hands under my ass as I wrap my legs around him, our lips finding each other as he marches down the hall to my room, kicking the door open. I giggle as he tosses me on the bed, grabbing my ankles and yanking me towards the edge of it. A quick glance up at me for a final confirmation, and my enthusiastic nod has him undoing my pants, quickly sliding them off and tossing them behind him. He stares down at my panties and I’m grateful that I actually wore cute ones today instead of my regular "I don't give a fuck" underwear. He reaches for my pant line but I stop him.

“Wait…you have entirely too many clothes on.”

He smirks, his eyes darkening even more. “You’re absolutely right.”

He sheds his shirt and while I knew how he was built, it was never in this situation. Outside of my fantasies, of course. He undoes the button on his jeans, sliding them down and off, balancing on each foot to take off his socks, both of us giggling as he nearly falls over in doing so. Then he’s back by me, fingers dancing at the hem of my panties for a moment before he hooks his fingers in, sliding them down and off, his eyes never leaving my pussy.

“Fuck, you’re prettier’n I imagined.”

He leans his head down, but I put my hand out to stop him. He looks up at me from between my legs, concern on his face.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Do you not want me to?”

I can feel the heat coming off my cheeks because yes, I very much want him to do that. “No, of course I do. Like, I really do….But we agreed to sex and you don’t have to do all of…this.” I wave my hand around, aiming it between my thighs.

“Darlin’, we agreed to be friends with benefits. Not friends with some benefits. You get my dick, but you also get my mouth too.”

And before I can say anything else, he licks up the center of me and I whine, my back pushing further into the bed as he pries my legs open wider, using his broad shoulders to hold them open. He licks at me like he’d been dying to do this the entire time we’ve known each other, sucking gently and nibbling at my inner thigh. His finger comes up to my entrance as he rubs slow, small circles there, gathering up my arousal before slowly pushing in. I cry out, hands fisting in the sheets as he pulls his finger out, adding another as he pushes in, curling his finger and tapping until he found the spot I desperately hoped he would find.

“There! Oh shit, there!”

He scissors his fingers, licking and sucking at my clit and my hand flies out, gripping those beautiful curls. I look down at him between my thighs and he must feel my eyes on him. He looks up at me and smirks, his tongue darting out to lick at my clit and that’s all it takes to have my thighs shaking, twitching under his shoulders as I cry out random words. Once I come down, he crawls up my body, leaving little kisses on my skin as he goes, sucking on a spot on my neck as he grinds his still cloth covered dick into my soaked pussy.

“You want it rough or slow, darlin’?”

“You have multiple settings?”

He chuckles. “Yes, ma’am. Now, how do you want to be fucked today?”

He’s going to kill me.

“Tommy, you can rail me as fast or as slow as you want, so long as you make me forget my hard week. I won’t break.”

“Fuck, darlin’, you may just kill me yet.” He pulls back, getting off the bed and reaching for the hem of his boxer briefs. “Safe word is tomatoes.”

Before I can question it, he slides his boxers down and kicks them off, standing upright in his full, naked, broad chested, well endowed glory. He smirks when he sees me staring at him. Tommy crawls up my body again, his lips finding mine as he slides his large cock through my folds. He pauses at my leaking entrance, pulling back to look at me. His hand comes up to grip my chin and when I look at him, he slowly pushes inside of me.

While he’s not porn star large, he’s definitely the most endowed man I’ve ever slept with and damn does he know what he’s doing. I can feel every inch of him filling me up, pushing at the back of me, his breath hot on my face as he watches it contort in pleasure. He pulls out and pushes in slowly a few more times to allow me to adjust before he snaps his hips, pushing himself inside even further and I cry out. He sets an increasingly rough pace, snapping his hips against mine, adding that extra thrust that I swear is going to bruise me and I don’t even care. He turns my head to the side and nibbles at my earlobe, kissing down my neck gently, in stark contrast to the rough, deep thrusts he’s fucking me with and it’s all too much and not enough, my legs wrapping around him, willing him to do more. He pulls back slightly, pushing my legs up and hooking them under his arms as he continues to rail me at this new angle, hitting multiple spots simultaneously.

“Oh God, Tommy!” I scream his name as I come, my hands fisting the sheets, head thrown back, nearly buried in the mattress.

He keeps the pace but brings a hand up to my clit, rubbing circles there, only needing a few moments before he coaxes another orgasm from me, this one harder than the last as I scream his name again.

“Fuck, Tommy, fucking come inside of me!”

“Fuck!” Tommy rams his hips into me a few more sporadic times as he comes, panting out heavy words as he fills me up, our heavy breaths the only sound in the near silent room.

He pulls out of me with a hiss, walking into my bathroom and getting a couple of washcloths wet. He comes back out and cleans me up, chuckling as my thighs twitch when he dabs at my overstimulated cunt. He chucks them in my hamper and comes back to the bed, sitting on it next to me, where I haven’t moved since he got off of me.

“You ok, darlin’? Forget your hard week?”

“Mmmhmm,” I say, my eyes heavy with post fucking bliss. “You’re amazing at that, Tommy.”

“Ah, I do alright.”

“A Fucking King.”

He laughs. “I’m making a shirt.”

He slides into bed next to me, pulling me next to him as he wraps his body around mine.

“You cuddle too?”

“Only when I’m cold.” I can feel him holding back a laugh.

“Well, if your cock gets cold, and I’m asleep, you have my permission to put it inside of me.”

I feel his dick twitch behind me. “I may hold you to that.”

Tommy did take me up on my offer, softly thrusting into me from behind as he rubs slow circles into my clit. I wake to an orgasm, quietly moaning his name as he comes again, biting my shoulder as he does.

But as we make breakfast, Tommy laughing and joking around, still trying to tickle me as we flip the pancakes, it hits me.

I am totally fucked, in more ways than one.

>>Chapter 3>>

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whatswrongwithblue · 4 months

Text

The Fire in the Sin

Chapter 6 - Little Sunshine

Word count: 4,227. Read on AO3. Series Masterlist. <- Previous Chapter.

Summary: Mina's POV of where she disappeared to at the end of the last chapter and a bit of backstory of what her job working for Abaddon in The Pit entails. TW: Canon typical violence and language, torture, gun violence.

Series Summary:

In the 1950's, Alastor met the woman he would eventually marry but unfortunately his Radio Demon persona went for her soul rather than her hand. He has to learn what it means to love, and cherish, without possessing and he does. Their relationship is beautiful, strong, unbreakable . . . but he carries a dark secret through their marriage for decades until eventually he has to face the consequences of that secret and leave her, without warning, for seven years. He returns, finding her at the Hazbin Hotel, and has to convince her to forgive him, while being literally bound to secrecy, unable to tell her any of things he now is desperate to explain to her.

(This is a duel timeline fic, timestamps will be a the top of every chapter.)

Chapter 6 - Little Sunshine

Present Day

Earth

A marbled tabby cat walked along the edge of a mausoleum roof, ears flicking back for a second, as it watched the group of humans below. Its green and gold eyes took a second to look around, finding a raven looking down from a nearby tree. On the eve of a nearby, smaller mausoleum, nearly imperceivable, was a tiny bat hanging upside down, but very awake.

A graveyard; how cliché.

One would think these demonic traffickers were amateurs for their choice of location, were it not for their impressive human disguises and the efficiency in which they were burning the bodies. Bodies that had belonged to real humans less than an hour ago.

These traffickers were a real threat if they were not only dealing up on Earth but causing violence and mayhem as well. Mina only cared because it was her job to care; to bring these criminals back down to Hell where they belonged. The human deaths were of no real concern to her, other than making this situation even messier, when she just wanted to get this job done and over with.

She had honestly meant to spend the night at the hotel.

After all, she had invited Alastor to come to bed with her. But as she had tossed and turned, sleep avoiding her restless mind, her phone had lit up the darkened bedroom walls, buzzing rhythmically against the top of her nightstand.

She groaned at first but when she saw the screen, she sat up, very awake.

“What is it?” she asked, concerned.

“I’m sorry to wake you, truly,” Abaddon’s voice said, “but the team needs you tonight. Again, I’m sorry for the short notice, but can you be here in 10 minutes?”

“I can be there in five,” she had said, and hung up.

Usually, her jobs were more scheduled than this but the ones that weren’t were always the most violent. Torture had become monotonous after so many decades, but hunting, especially when it required her to work as a team, was always exhilarating. She took it without thinking, the thrill of the idea getting the best of her, but now that she was in the midst of things, she was antsy and regretting her decision.

They had almost missed their chance of catching this group; luckily their informant among them had dialed Abaddon when their colleagues’ plans had suddenly changed.

It was three against five, but it was no matter, Mina could handle this group on her own; the back up was just reassurance and would help make this go by quicker.

The tabby cat stretched out its front legs, arching its back into a deep stretch, giving the raven and the bat the signal.

Lifting off from its branch, the raven began to fly in a circle around the graveyard. Roena was the ravens name, and she had the ability to create barriers, even in her full animal form. It would ensure none of the demons could leave by anything except a portal made of angelic fire.

Ro, and the bat, Alina, where much older than Mina, and had been very welcoming to her when she was promoted to their ranks. She admired and trusted them to have her back on jobs like this.

A flash of moonlight gleamed unnaturally from the graveyard below, catching her eye, and still in feline form, Mina switched from watching the raven work above her to down at the would-be-humans gathered around the gravestones.

Even her quick glance was too late.

A resounding bang made the cat flinch backwards, ears pinned back against the assaulting noise.

Black feathers burst in midair, and the raven fell from the sky. What landed with a final thud on the soft grass of the graveyard appeared to be a young woman, with large black wings sprouting from her back and black talons beneath her knees rather than feet.

The cat opened its mouth as an unnaturally loud roar erupted from it, and Mina shifted into her more human form, and fire shot forward from her outstretched hands.

Alina had also shifted into her natural state, large bat ears framing the sides of her face and snarling her teeth.

For the first time, Mina truly wished she was alone. She couldn’t use her voice here, her most powerful tool, not with Alina here in the crossfire. Her ears were too sensitive; even if she covered them, she would be susceptible to the magic and be rendered helpless. But she still had her speed and her claws, as well as the angelic fire that Abaddon infused into all of those that worked for them.

The demons they were after had also dropped their disguises and were fully fighting back now; even the half fox demon that was supposed to be their informant.

A double agent.

But the sly fox wasn’t the one wielding a Carmine angelic steel gun.

He came at Mina with a sword, swinging high, so she ducked low, allowing them to stagger forward awkwardly as he missed his mark. She caught the demon by his large fox tail and yanked him back, digging her claws into the underside of his sword arm, ripping apart muscle and ligament until he dropped his weapon. After a bite to his neck, she shoved him to the ground and picked up the sword. He had time to turn onto his back, showing Mina his pointed vulpine facial features twisted in fear before she shoved the tip of the sword under his jaw and out through the top of his head.

Another bang resounded as she pulled the sword free and Mina felt a punch to her shoulder. She stumbled forward from the momentum of it, trying to pull air into her lungs but if felt as if she had just fallen several stories and had the wind knocked out of her.

She turned, pressing her hand to her shoulder, not even noticing the blood yet, and saw the Hellhound with his gun raised at her. He hadn’t made a killing shot but the smile on his face told Mina that he was sure he wouldn’t miss a second time.

Alina had her hands full with the other three so Mina was alone, starring down the barrel of one of the few weapons capable of killing her permanently.

She felt the angelic fire burning in her fists, ready to strike out.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” the Hellhound said. “I’d have another bullet in you before you’d know it.”

“And I’d have you burning alive if you tried to pull that trigger,” she said cooly.

It was a stand-off.

A wet whack from across the graveyard and the Hellhound’s attention quickly went to the battle beside them, where Alina had just sunk an axe into the gut of crocodilian demon.

Mina used the second of distraction to shoot a jet of fire towards the Hellhound.

“Shit!” he yelled, and jumped out of the way, but not fast enough to save his arm from getting engulfed. He let out of a howl of pain as the bitter smell of burning fur and flesh filled the air.

Mina started to feel faint and looked down at her shoulder. She could barely move her neck that way with how stiff and sore she was quickly becoming, but her hunting clothes – black trousers, with an orange top, and black leather jacket – were completely soaked in her own blood. She swayed at the sight before she steadied herself. She still had to kill this mother fucker before she could allow herself to pass out.

He was down on the ground, having rolled out the fire on his arm, and was just sitting up. He raised his gun as she raised her fist to send another blast of fire his way.

The Hellhound’s hand that was holding the gun began to smoke and he screamed again before it burst into flame, forcing him to drop the gun.

Mina stopped, her hand still raised high to strike, because it was not her burning the Hellhound’s hand.

A blast of warm air put out the rest of the small fires that Mina and Alina had accidentally set during their battle. Mina closed her eyes and raised her hand against the wave of heat and small debris and when she lowered her arm, Abaddon was standing over the Hellhound.

“You dare use angelic weapons against my own?!” they said, their voice a much lower masculine octave than what they usually used. Their eyes were burning red, and they wore a crown of fire around their blond locks. Mina had seen this terrifying display used before, but she had never seen them look this furious. Even she was scared.

“Fuck you, man,” the Hellhound panted in pain, “I’m just trying to make a living.”

“You think I give a shit about your life when you just ended the life a soul old enough to have seen the building of Hadrien’s wall, you Hellborn scum?”

“Go ahead then, arrest me. You can’t torture my kind over and over again. I’m not a Sinner. You wont be able to do your worst.”

Abaddon snatched up the Hellhound's burned and mangled fist and with a touch of golden light, it was whole again.

“I’m an angel, you dipshit,” they said, and as quickly as they healed the hand, they crushed it between their fingers, the bones crunching audibly across the graveyard. The Hellhound screamed anew. “I can keep you alive for a very, very long time.”

Abaddon let go of the hound's broken hand and stepped back as a ring of fire opened up beneath his paw-like feet, and he fell screaming into The Pit.

“AS FOR THE REST OF YOU!” Abaddon roared, raising their arms and the four other Sinners lifted into the air, revived but still bleeding. “Let’s see how long you last in my lake of fire.”

Abaddon dropped their arms and each Sinner fell into the fiery portals below their suspended bodies.

Alina ran to Mina’s side and caught her as she finally gave into her wooziness. She was battered and bloody as well but hadn’t been shot with angelic steel like Mina had, and her wounds were already visibly healing.

The two women watched as Abaddon walked over to Roena’s fallen body and knelt beside her.

Mina could never have imagined the anguish on their face as they cradled Ro’s broken body. Tears spilled down their flushed cheeks as they brushed her hair back from her face, exposing her unblinking, dead eyes.

“Oh, my girl,” they cried, “my sweet girl, what did they do to you?”

Alina supported Mina as together, they walked over to Abaddon, and then left Mina braced against a tree as she also fell, sobbing at the corpse of her fallen friend.

Mina watched the display of grief and had to look away.

Abaddon was a better parent to Mina than her own had ever been, but Roena and Alina had been friends for hundreds of years. She felt the failure and the loss of Ro more than her bullet wound, but she still felt like an outsider in this moment. The other women and Abaddon had been family for centuries.

She closed her eyes, stubbornly fighting the brewing emotions inside of her, and wished she were just back in her bed at the hotel.

___

Abaddon had taken them back to The Pit, insisting that Mina’s bullet wound be seen to. Being in no state to refuse treatment, Mina complied, and Abaddon had accompanied her back to her old quarters.

“Thank you,” she said, as Abaddon helped her peel off her ruined and bloody jacket. She could barely move the shoulder on her own and the slightest bit of movement caused the skin to break open and bleed again. “I can’t go back to the hotel like this. Charlie will ask too many questions and Alastor . . . well, he’d lose his shit if he saw me like this.”

“I’m sure he would,” Abaddon said with disinterest. “May I?” they asked, gesturing at the shirt sleeve that needed pulling down to have access to the wound.

Mina nodded. Covering up her skin was an old habit of hiding the pattern of spots across her shoulder and upper back. Alastor had helped her get over her insecurities about the leopard like pattern ages ago, but she still didn’t like others to see it.

Abaddon was family though, and willing to help her with the intense pain she was in, so she didn’t hesitate to allow them to gently slip the sleeve off, exposing the bloody skin between collar bone and bicep.

Carefully then, they placed one hand on either side of her, covering the entrance wound, and the much larger exit wound.

“I’m sorry, Mina, but this will be unpleasant at first before it gets better.”

“I can handle it,” Mina said, and Abaddon pressed down. They didn’t use a lot of pressure, but it still felt like they were cranking a vice against her sensitive, wounded flesh. A glow of light luminated in the corner of her eyes and then a tingling sensation tickled through the path of destruction in her shoulder before it was replaced with a sudden intense burning.

Two seconds later, though it felt like much longer, Abaddon removed their hands. The flesh now completely healed; they tenderly pulled the orange sleeve back into place.

They stood then, getting a wet rag, and using it to wipe her blood off their hands.

“Take your time here. Clean up, get a fresh set of clothes, make yourself good as new. But then I think you should go back to my niece’s.”

Mina stood as well, still feeling the effects of the blood loss, but no longer sore or stiff.

“Yeah,” she agreed, exhaling, “that was the plan. Can’t be gone from there very long these days, anyway.”

“I mean for you to stay there.”

“W-what?”

Abaddon sighed, and came over to her, putting gentle, parental hands on each of her shoulders.

“You need to take some time off. You’re pushing yourself too hard with this job and what Alastor’s been having you do at the hotel-“

“Alastor’s not-“

“You’re distracted,” they said firmly. “And I can’t have a repeat of tonight.”

Mina’s head spun at their words, and she felt her ears flatten pathetically to their sides.

“You think this was . . . my fault?”

They pinched the bridge of their nose and sighed again.

“It’s not that, not entirely at least. I blame myself as much as anyone. Mostly, I can’t lose you, too. It’s my job to look after you, and ever since Alastor’s return, I’ve been putting you in a position to choose the hotel over me and it’s too much for you to bear, I can see that now. It would be irresponsible of me not to give you this. Please, just take some time and we’ll see where things are at in a few months.”

Mina pulled herself up to her full height, leaning into her anger and indignation, rather than give in to how much this rejection stung.

“Fine, I’ll be out of here in a few minutes.”

“Please, sweetheart, don’t be angry,” they said, as she turned away and headed for her bedroom.

“I’m not angry,” she lied, and flung her door open, feeling like a teenager being asked to leave the dinner table.

“Mina,” they said, stopping her mid motion as she was about to slam the door shut. “Remember. Even when you leave this place, you are never alone. You can always reach me.”

They vanished then, in a glimmering ball of light, as warm and soft as sunshine on Earth.

Mina slammed the door behind her even if her adoptive parent was no longer there to see it.

She cleaned herself up, changed into the same style of sundress - always orange - and knitted sweater - always black - and opened a portal directly into her bedroom at the hotel.

Well, at least Abaddon hadn’t stripped her of her powers. And if they really thought she was responsible for Roena’s death, then what was one little inappropriate use of a portal going to hurt?

Once she was in there and realized how late it was, the exhaustion of the evening hit her like a freight train. She had lost hours of sleep and probably half the blood in her body. It took the last of her strength to strip out of the clothes she had just put on and change into her sea green nightgown.

She flopped unladylike onto her bed and threw her comforter over herself, too exhausted to even cry, and fell asleep in seconds.

___

1917 – 1952

Abadon’s deal was simple.

Work as a Torturer in The Pit and get paid in housing and a comfortable stipend. The job offered safety, which Mina desired above all else, and didn’t require her to sell her soul. It was as straight forward as employment could get. She could quit whenever she wanted, no strings attached, and no coercion tactics to keep her there.

She hadn’t agreed right away, of course. Abaddon had graciously shown her around the workplace, so to speak. Mina was allowed to observe several sessions to see if she really had the stomach for it, which she easily did. They encouraged her to speak with the other demons who would be her coworkers, and each of them had wonderful things to say about the fallen angel who would be her employer and the quality of life the job gave them.

The lodgings were impressive. A chain of apartments that were as magical as they were macabre. Black brick walls and twisting vines on the outside and dark but cozy furnished rooms on the inside. What drew Mina to the apartments the most though, were the large garden windows that faced the lake of fire that the row of buildings surrounded. It burned eternally and Abaddon said it was their own personal torture device, something they used on those souls that had personally affronted them. Mina thought it was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

After being shown everything there was to see and having gone over the terms of her potential employment once again, she was given a couple days to mull it over and when Abaddon returned, she had already packed the few possessions she had acquired.

Mina noticed that almost all the people who worked for Abaddon were women and the few that weren’t were either clearly homosexual or they were androgenous like the angel. It was just a point of interest to Mina, who was from the early 1900’s, and so the commonality of the queer community there in Hell still surprised her a bit. It didn’t take her long, though, to realize she felt much more comfortable in that kind of company than she did around the straight men she had been forced to socialize with while alive.

She had asked Abaddon about their preference in employees once and they had smiled their kind, knowing smile.

“Hell hath no furry than the scorned, darling. It’s one thing to employ violent sociopaths to do such bloody work but it’s another thing when it’s truly cathartic for those dealing out the torture. They are the ones that are best at it, can hold out the longest before the job wears them down, and best of all, they aren’t so far removed from their humanity that they aren’t pleasant to be around . . . for the most part.”

Abaddon really treated the people they hired like their family. It was years before Mina witnessed them interacting with other Overlords or the higher echelon of Hellborn. They rarely even spoke of their most famous brother, Lucifer, though she got the impression the two were close, just private. It really seemed like the people they were fondest of were those that lived and worked in The Pit and they doted on Mina like she was their own flesh and blood.

It was several weeks into her job, and she and her new friends were sitting out on the fiery lakeside, enjoying the end of their day. Shoes off and toes pressing into the black sand that was so pleasantly warmed by the multitude of flames in front of them, she sipped her wine and basked in her newfound luxurious life.

Abaddon came and sat next to her, taking her glass and returning it a second later, mysteriously refilled.

“What is it about this place,” she asked after a sip, “that lets souls respawn?”

Abaddon raised an eyebrow at her.

“You know,” she said, gesticulating at the lake in front of her, “is there some power source or is it your own abilities to heal, that lets souls come back from the dead? Because I’ve been torturing the same fellas over and over again and they have definitely died on me. Then I come back the next day for a new shift and there they are, magically put back together again.”

Abaddon started laughing so hard they had to set their glass down in the sand.

“What?!” Mina asked, not amused by her question being laughed at.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” they said, taking a moment to catch their breath, “I suppose you adjusted so quickly I forgot how new you still are to all this. My dear girl, souls do not die here in Hell. I thought you had realized that.”

Mina frowned, “But I . . .”

“Well,” they held up a finger, “not permanently at least. You could grind a Sinner into a pulp, and they’ll feel everything, but eventually they’ll respawn anew somewhere else. The only magic here is that The Pit makes you respawn right where you died. The real power is held in the human soul; your kind’s essence is truly immortal, not so unlike us angels. It’s a gift from our Father. All of us that come from Him cannot be so easily wiped from existence. And that’s why the more common Hellborn get lighter torture sentences for their crimes. Some of them . . . many of them, can be killed.”

Mina thought back to all those she believed she had killed before she came here, like the couple at the park on her first night, which she suddenly felt a smidge better about. It gave her a sense of freedom, knowing she didn’t have to hold back as much anymore when using her power. She could kill guilt free now; it wasn’t like it was permanent.

But then she remembered the one person she had very much intended to kill and felt extremely bothered.

“You’re thinking of Johnathan, aren’t you?”

Mina sipped her wine. “His name had crossed my mind.”

“Ah, well, I hope this isn’t awkward but consider it a ‘Sign on Bonus.’ You’ll never see him again.” Mina could only stare in response, unsure of what to make of what they had said. “I said we cannot be so easily wiped from existence. I didn’t say it was impossible,” they said and lifted an open palm to her eye level. A small, unnaturally golden flame burned in the air an inch above their skin, fueled by some unseen force. “Angelic fire, one of few devices that can destroy a human soul. I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of dealing with all your exes when you agreed to work for me.”

“All of them?” Mina asked.

“You didn’t think the other men you killed while you were alive would end up in Heaven, did you? Not when poor souls like us aren’t even allowed there?”

“Did it hurt them, when you did it?”

Abaddon studied her for a moment before answering. “Immensely.”

Mina nodded. “Good.”

They closed their fist and extinguished the flame, before giving her a small smile, looking prouder of her than either of her parents ever had.

“The power to wield it will be yours someday if you stick around long enough. And something about you tells me, you will.”

‘Long enough’ turned out to be just over twenty years but two decades to someone who was thousands of years old and saw the creation of Earth wasn’t much time at all. Mina sometimes wondered how Abaddon could see her and the other Sinners as anything but mere insects when their scale of time was so incomprehensible to her and yet, they never treated her like she was beneath them.

Eventually, Mina had fully come into her own. It had taken decades, but she had slowly become a well-respected member of Hell, to those who could recognize her for what she was. She was armed with her own Siren powers and the ability to wield angelic fire. She wasn’t on anyone’s leash, she didn’t deal in souls herself, and she stayed out of the politics of Hell completely. And yet she, and those she trusted enough to associate herself with, were some of the most powerful souls in Hell.

At that point in time, she had been living a quiet, easy-going life as a single lady of Hell.

Until she unwittingly caught the attention of the Radio Demon.

Next Chapter ->

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor fanfiction #alastor the radio demon #alastor x oc #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfic #alastor fanfic #the fire in the sin

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irwinsblender · 4 months

Note

hi!!! i saw your neurodivergent fic with ashton and absolutely loved it! this is totally okay if you don’t wanna write another one , but could you possibly write one about neurodivergent s/o and having a meltdown one day and he helps you through it and its very fluffy and cute:(

totally okay if not!!! i love your blog so so much:)

thank you for sending this in! i’m sorry for taking so long to get to this request! i slightly rushed this one because i really wanted to get it out and i’ve unfortunately been dealing with writers block again, so i apologise if it’s not the best.

—

meltdown

pairing: ashton x nd!reader

summary: things are busy when ashton comes home from tour and you get overwhelmed, but ash is there to help you through it

warnings: autistic meltdown, autistic overstimulation

word count: 3.5k

✩ ✩ ✩

for the most part, you handled your autism just fine. ashton had become used to it, learned what your triggers were and how to help you out of being overwhelmed from certain things.

however, there were still days that things became too much for you and even comfort from ashton didn’t always help at first.

today was one of those days.

you had been trying to stay positive for ashton’s sake, he came back from tour a mere three days ago. as much as you loved him being back home with you, it had shaken up your routine big time.

the same as when he first left for tour, you were uncomfortable for a few days while trying to navigate a new schedule without ashton being there. it took a while of phone calls and texts, trying to find a way for you to deal with the change. you got there in the end.

you’d hoped that when ashton came home, it would just be you and him for a while. you’d mentally prepared yourself for that to be the only change, having him back home within your schedule again. of course, things weren’t that simple.

the band had decided they wanted to continue making music whilst on tour, jotting down ideas while on the road, figuring they’d meet up once back home to do more writing and recording at the studio.

this meant a different thing happening every week, a different thing almost every day. it was a lot for you to get used to.

some days you’d wake up snuggled together with ashton, get up late, have breakfast together and enjoy each others company all day. other days, ashton would be up early, the guys would come over to work in the home studio, additions of other friends would be there to help with music. sometimes people you’d never met before would be there, catching you off guard. it was a lot to adjust to.

today was another busy day. you were woken up with ashton kissing your cheek, whispering that he loved you and that breakfast would be ready in the kitchen once you wanted to get out of bed.

you heard some noise not long after that, the front door slamming shut, lots of talking and laughter, what sounded like the tv in the living room, before footsteps going back and forth between the home studio and living room.

it was a good two hours before it stopped. that’s when ashton decided to come upstairs to check on you, to see if you were awake or not to let you know about new plans for the day.

he quietly walked inside the bedroom, seeing you were awake, laying on your side in bed with the blankets still covering you. he smiled softly, making his way over to you.

“afternoon, baby,” he kneeled down next to where you were. “how are you doing?”

“i’m okay,” you reached towards him, running your hand through his fluffy curls. “had a lot going on already today?”

“oh, yea, sorry about that,” ashton sighed, he’d hoped it hadn’t been bothering you. “i told them to keep it down multiple times, i didn’t meant to wake you up.”

you shook your head, telling him not to worry. “that’s why i wasn’t gonna come down until i knew they were all gone,” you shrugged. “knew it was the guys anyway.”

ashton stood up, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to where you were laying. placing his hand on your shoulder to run it up and down your arm soothingly. he took a breath, as if preparing himself for the next words to leave his mouth.

“we were thinking about going out for an early dinner tonight, if you felt up to it?” he asked.

“we? as in not just the band? me as well?” you needed to make sure that’s what he meant. on such short notice too.

“i know i'm not giving you much time, and if you don’t want to go, i’ll stay home,” he reassured, not wanting to leave you here alone. “it’ll be the guys and their girlfriends. that’s all. just a little post tour celebration that they thought might be nice.”

you didn’t say anything for a few minutes. thinking things over in your head. it’s still morning, you had until tonight to prepare yourself. it would be you, ashton, the guys, their other halves, everyone you knew. most likely at a restaurant you’ve been to multiple times in the past. it shouldn’t be too bad.

“where?” you questioned.

“that semi fancy restaurant in the middle of town,” he confirmed. “the italian place.”

“okay, um, sure, yea,” you hesitantly agreed. “just let me have a shower and then i’ll come down for some late breakfast.”

late breakfast, as in your routine is to get up, shower, then have breakfast. you always had a shower before breakfast, so that would stay the same today. you needed one thing in your schedule to be the same as it always is.

“are you sure?” ashton asked. not wanting you to feel like you had to do this.

“yea, it’s fine,” it really wasn’t fine. “just give me like… thirty minutes. i’ll be quick.”

“alright,” he leaned down, kissing your forehead softly.

after he left the room, you got to showering right away. finding your towels, undressing in the bathroom before switching the shower on to try and get it to the exact temperature you liked it at. warm, but not too warm. if it was too warm, it almost felt like it could burn, but if you felt any ounce of cold water you’d have to get out of the shower and practically start over.

once you finished up, you got dressed into your loose fitting jeans along with a plain brown tee which you left untucked. you picked up a pair of socks from your drawer, going downstairs with your hair still wrapped in a towel. it’d air dry by the time you have to leave for the meal out.

when you entered the living room, ashton had a warmed up croissant and a cup of coffee ready for you on the table, smiling as you walked inside. he patted the couch beside him, inviting you to sit down.

you sat there, unmoving for a moment as you took a deep breath in, calming yourself now you’re here and ready for this only part of your routine to be the same.

“thank you for warming this up,” you picked up your plate, croissant cut in half for you to eat.

it took a few times for ashton to remember, but if you were going to eat a croissant, it had to be warmed up. just enough for it to still be soft, not crispy. if any of it flaked off, or if you got crumbs stuck to your hands, you absolutely hated it. with it soft, that didn’t happen as often. you appreciated it every time.

“of course, baby,” ashton sat back, holding his arm out for you to lean against him.

you started to eat your croissant, ashton’s arm around your waist while you leaned on your side, always happy to be close to him like this. although, with time ticking by, your mind couldn’t help but focus on the event happening not so far away.

“how loud was it in that restaurant last time we were there?” you asked.

“the music is normally pretty quiet,” ashton reassures you. “and the time we booked is normally quieter than later on, so it should be okay.”

you went quiet again, ashton was for a second before sharing an idea, “we can bring your headphones just incase—“

“no, no, it’s fine,” you shook your head. “i don’t like having to wear them in front of everyone, it’s embarrassing.”

“baby, it’s not embarrassing,” ashton sighed, sitting up to look at you properly. “it’s nothing to be ashamed of, it’s okay for you to need them to help make sure you’ll be okay and not get overwhelmed.”

you knew he was right, but it’s still taking you time to warm up to wearing them around your other friends. there’s nothing wrong with it, it’s just hard at times.

“i’m sure i’ll be fine.”

ashton accepted that you wouldn’t bring them, hugging you softly before he stood up, “i’m gonna go get changed,” he told you. “i’ll be down in a while.”

that while definitely went fast, as well as the time flying by before you’d be having to leave the house. your hair was dry, having been out of your towel to air dry for long enough. ashton was dressed, hair with his curls hanging slightly over his forehead, wearing black jeans and a button up shirt.

you’d be leaving for your early dinner in around thirty minutes. you had become slightly worried for this meal. you didn’t want to ruin things if the environment was too loud, too busy. that had happened too many times to count, and as much as ashton tried to tell you it didn’t matter, you felt like it did.

sat in the car, you couldn’t help but fiddle with your hands, watching where you were driving to. you knew the restaurant well enough, not entirely sure you wanted to be going there.

when you reached the parking lot, you didn’t move. you didn’t reach to take off your seatbelt, didn’t go to open your door. you sat bouncing your right leg up and down after seeing the amount of cars around you. why was it so busy, it’s not normally this busy.

ashton placed a hand on your knee, stopping it from bouncing as much, caressing his thumb back and fourth for comfort. you looked at him, chewing on the inside of you lip in the process.

“it’s gonna be loud in there, isn’t it?” you had a fearful look on your face, ashton sighed

“maybe we should go home,” ashton suggested. however, you shook your head. you weren’t about to let your autism ruin everything again. “why don’t you wear your headphones, baby, it’s what they’re for.”

he reached to the backseat, holding the headphones you’re sure you told him not to bring.

“everyone will stare, ash,” you leaned your head back against the headrest. “just— i’ll be fine. i’ll be fine.”

he took one last breath, nodding his head as he placed the headphones down. he was first to get out of the car, walking around to your door to open it for you. he took your hand after locking it, starting to walk over to the restaurant.

the second you stepped foot in the door you could hear how loud it was. music laying, almost completely full. a long table filled with people celebrating a birthday party. they were causing most of the noise. why today of all days.

ashton squeezed your hand, making you look at him, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you took more and more steps through the restaurant, finding the table where the band were already sitting at.

you didn’t greet them, didn’t even look at them, you couldn’t focus, your mind was racing. they understood that you didn’t deal well with loud noise or busy spaces, so this was not ideal for you at all.

the waiter brought everyone over some glasses of water, asking if you needed more time to decide on food. ashton answered for everyone, telling him you’d need more time.

you stared in front of you, whoever was there you were too overstimulated to care about that at this point. you were about to take a deep breath, when the loud noise of a group starting to sing happy birthday to someone at the table behind you started.

that was the last straw.

your hands started to sweat, your vision becoming blurry as tears welled up in your eyes. you couldn’t handle this. why did you ever think you’d be okay after so many things in your life changing over the past week. you had to get out of here, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“i can’t— i can’t be here,” you whispered, voice almost breaking. “i have to go.”

you frantically got up from your seat, trying not to lose your balance as your legs carried you to the door leading to the garden area at the back of the restaurant, hoping it would be quieter out there.

thankfully, it was, closed off to the public for whatever reason. you didn’t care right now. there were tears streaming down your face as you paced back and fourth on the wooden deck, hands locked into your hair as you tugged at the strands. something you did when you were way too overwhelmed.

you were mumbling to yourself, incoherent sentences that even you didn’t understand. your mind was racing, barely in control of your own actions.

it wasn’t long before ashton appeared outside to find where you were. seeing you, he walked over cautiously, leaving space as you continued to pace, the tugging on your hair getting worse as you cried out. he didn’t make any sudden movements, sitting himself on the seat nearest to you.

“i shouldn’t have suggested coming here, i'm sorry, baby,” ashton apologised whether you could hear him or not. “your headphones are in the car, and there’s a weighted blanket in there too.”

as he spoke, your mind started to calm, ashton was the only person who had ever been able to get you to settle in these situations. however, you shook your head as your feet slowed down for you to almost stop walking back and fourth.

ashton held his hand out in front of him, giving you the option to take it when you were ready. you managed to remove one hand from your hair, placing it in his. he squeezed softly, trying to give you some pressure to focus on.

“it’s okay, love, we’re gonna get you home, okay?” he calmly spoke. “can you give me your other hand? i don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

your hand tugged a couple more times, eventually you calmed enough to stop. but you didn’t place your hand in his, instead you took a step back, causing him to release your other hand. all you did was hold your arms out, making grabby hands at him. your way of asking for a hug when you weren’t able to verbally ask.

he stood immediately, slowly and gently wrapping his arms around your shoulders, resting his head on top of yours as he held you tight. you placed your arms around his torso, feeling his body enveloping you was one of your favourite feelings, one of the only things that could help make you feel better.

ashton felt your chest rising and falling at a fast speed, knowing you still needed some time to calm down. sometimes it took a while, sometimes it would be fast. he wasn’t sure how today would be.

“can you breathe with me, sweetheart?” he asked. “in and out, feel what i’m doing.”

as he took the first breath in, holding it for a few seconds before releasing, he thankfully felt you copying soon after. taking as many deep breaths as he did. when he realised you didn’t seem to be calming down, he knew he’d have to try and get you back to the car.

“we should get you back home, baby,” ashton kissed your head, letting go of you to take your hand instead.

he pulled you along with him, around to the front of the restaurant where the car was parked. he opened the door, helping you inside. leaving your door open, he found your weighted blanket in the back, grabbing it out to bring to you. he draped it over your legs, pulling it up to cover to your shoulders.

he rushed around to the drivers side, wanting to get back home as soon as possible. the drive was stressful, he knew it would be. you cried, gasped for air in your state, it pained him that he even brought you out. he rested his hand on your thigh above the blanket until you were pulling into the driveway, knowing you’d be inside soon.

“we’re home now,” ashton switched the ignition off, turning to you. seeing you were much calmer than before. “ready to go inside?”

you nodded, letting him wipe away a few tears from your cheeks. he helped you out of the car and up to the doorstep, unlocking the door in front of you. walking to the sofa, ashton helped you to sit down against the pillows, getting you comfortable before doing anything.

“do you need anything, baby?” ashton asked, kneeling down in front of you. “your headphones? or i can get you one of my hoodies to put on too?”

you didn’t reply for a moment, but nodded your head, not speaking. but he’d asked two questions, about to ask if you meant the headphones or hoodie, when you answered quietly.

“hoodie,” you mumbled.

ashton stood, rushing upstairs to find your favourite hoodie of his. he brought it down to you, helping you to pull it over your head and slip your arms into the sleeves. he adjusted your top underneath, making sure it wasn’t twisted or caught up in a way that would make you feel worse again.

finally, he sat down next to you, pulling you to lean back against his chest with his arms wrapped around you. your weighted blanket covering you, keeping your mind occupied with the feeling, ashton squeezing you helped too.

you sat in silence for a while, not sure how much time passed, but it was more than it normally is. a mixture of ashton having to leave for tour, and then him coming home from tour to make more music, all causing your routine to change too much for you to cope with.

ashton felt bad. he always hated when you became overwhelmed like this. he hated it even more that he felt it was his fault. he knew how you were with your schedule, and yet he asked you to come to dinner anyway.

you started feeling better, ashton never letting you go until you told him to do so. you leaned your head back to look up at him, smiling softly. he leaned down, pecking your lips a couple of times.

“i’m sorry,” you apologised. mostly for ruining dinner but also for the way you reacted.

“baby, you don’t need to apologise, there’s nothing to be sorry for,” ashton shook his head. “after so many things going on since i came home, i shouldn’t have asked about going out, we should’ve stayed home.”

you shrugged. you didn’t want him blaming himself. it’s not his fault that you get overwhelmed over the most simple things. he shouldn’t have to change the way he does things because of you.

“you got home, made some music,” you started quietly. “not a lot has happened really.”

“we’ve talked about this, my love,” ashton tucked your hair behind your ears. “it’s okay if anything becomes too much, i don’t mind taking things slow until you’re used to me being home again.”

“you shouldn’t have to.”

“but i will,” he told you. “as long as you need, it’ll just be me here from now on, whatever you need or want to do, just let me know, okay?”

“okay,” you mumbled.

you turned onto your side, snuggling up to ashton beside you. he kissed your cheek, holding you as close as he could. he’d do anything to make sure you’re okay, he just wished he’d realised from the start that he should’ve waited longer for you to adjust.

“how’re you feeling now?” he asked.

you shrugged at first. still not feeling like yourself. mostly tired, exhausted from being overwhelmed with too many things going on.

“how about we watch a movie?” ashton suggested. “try and distract yourself a bit more.”

“tangled?” you asked.

“course, baby,” ashton shuffled himself, reaching for the tv remote.

he knew you’d pick that movie, he would put anything on for you if it meant you’d feel a little better. tangled always made you feel better, one of your teenage comfort movies which carried with you as you got older.

as soon as the movie started you were fully engaged with it, fiddling with ashton’s hand in yours at the same time to give you more to do. your weighted blanket helped too.

you leaned your head on ashton’s shoulder, feeling tired after a while, closing your eyes. you let out a breath, finally letting yourself relax.

ashton looked down at you, glad to see you were finally able to get some rest. he kissed your cheek, noticing you’d dropped his hand into your lap, clearly having fallen asleep quite fast. you needed this and he’d let you sleep as long as you needed with him here.

“i’m sorry for today, tomorrow will be better, i promise,” ashton whispered. “i love you.”

✩ ✩ ✩

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