#for making me think about this forever. like yeah whatever i’m grateful I GUESS but holy FUCK

[boyobjectifier]

me: man why do i have so many things wrong with me and why do they usually translate into kinks

me, after arguing with my literal mother and talking it out with Bee: oh

[ludwigplayingthetrombone]

Finally finished the first part of gai’s 8 gates coma and how kakashi dealt with it rewrite people have been requesting. [tw blood, injury, coma, death discussions, grief]

Kurenai: Kakashi Kks: Ah. Kurenai and...baby, what’s up? Kurenai: You mind if I come in a moment? Kks: Uhhhhh I-

Kks: So what did you need to speak about? Did something happen? K: No, Nothing’s happened. You haven’t gotten to properly see and bond with her yet. Here Kks: You know I’m not fond of kids. K: That’s why I didn’t ask. Hold your arms out. Ok, now, don’t look absolutely petrified.

Kks: She’s ok, I guess [YELP] Oi! Don’t pinch me while I’m holding your baby! K: You wouldn’t drop her. Asuma would haunt you forever! Kks: Terrifying thought, Mirai.... How are you feeling? K: Exhausted. Do you really want to hear how horrifying having a baby is? Kks: No, please don’t tell me.

K: I came over to check on you as well. Any news? Kks: No. He’s still the same. K: Is that why it looks like this in here? Kks: ...Yeah. Doctor said he may never wake up. Since we’re eachother’s medical contacts, Tsunade told me I had to prepare to make hard decisions should it come to that.

Kks: With the council breathing down my neck over a job I don’t want, I had... A bit of an outburst. K: I don’t even blame you. That’s... That they expect you to carry on like normal. Still grieving. The person you love most is gone. But you’re still here. Don’t let them just dust you off and move on again. I’ll always have your back. Kks: You and Asuma always did. Even when I wasn’t grateful for it.

Kks: I can’t tell if they just don’t care or didn’t realize, Gai’s the one who held me together all these years. Only reason I’m still here at all is because of him. I don’t think tenzou, the elders, or the village are prepared for what’ll become of me if I lose him. So, I don’t care anymore. Let them be mad. I won’t give up on him. K: You should talk to him. Kks: huh K: Talk about anything! I’m sure the sound of your voice will help him find his way back. Especially if you sound sad, Kks: uuh

K: I can hear it now, “My eternal rival is sad? Not on my watch!“ Kks: Pretty accurate impression. K: There’s been lots of source material! Kks: Maaa, Your mom’s a huge dork K: Oi! [kakashi chuckles]

K: He’ll be so upset he missed her birth Kks: Oh, devastated. I can’t wait to see the look on Gai’s face, Mirai, when I tell him /I/ held you first! When he wakes up

Kks: Hey, Gai. Kurenai said i should talk to you.

Kks: Feels weird. Most of the people I’m used to talking to like this are all... Dead.

It’s so eerie how silent you’ve been for so long. you’re not even this quiet when you sleep. Your kids come everyday to see you. Naruto and sakura when they can. Lots of others. I’ve been telling them embarrassing  stories from when we were kids since you keep making them wait. Do you remember when I came over while you and Dai were making supper

Dai: Kakashi! Good to see you, my boy! Kks: Id Gai home? Dai: He’s helping with supper! Go on, inside, you’re always welcome! Kks: Ok Dai: Atta boy Kks: Hey, G- !? ummm? Gai: OH!! Rival!! Kks:  Is that a lid?! Gai: Correct!! It stops me from crying while cutting onions! A win for me!!

Kks: Against.... the onions? Gai: Yep! KKs:[snicker] Gai: Laugh all you want! Not everyone can comprehend innovation. Kks: Whatever. You forgot this at the training grounds. I know it’s yours there’s a turtle on it. Gai: See! You’re already tearing up! Kks: Am not Gai: Also, thankyou so much! Kks: Bye, I’m leaving. Gai: Could it be? You’re scared I can cut much faster than you! Kks: I am not scared. Gai: Good, I think we have another lid! Kks: YOU-!

Dai: Great to see growing boys with such a hunger! I’ll never have to prep onions again! Kks: I think about that everytime I chop onions now. You’ve altered my brain with all the ridiculous things you’ve done. Can’t even look at the toys you’ve gotten the dogs without getting emotional

Kks: Just knowing you’re here still, I can barely function. It’s pretty pathetic... Your hair’s getting long. Turning into your dad.

[gai’s heartbeat] Kks: Gai

[gais heartbeat continues]

[gai’s heartbeat continues] Kks: If anything should happen to me, you’ll rush over, right? Gai: Damn right, I will. Dont you worry about that.

[Gai’s heartbeat]

Kks: I miss you

[buckera]

Wip Word Search 🔍

rules: use this generator to generate three random words (or however many you'd like to do) and share the lines where they show up in your WIPs

my words: affect, great, opposed

1. affect from the mudslide fic ☔️

He watched as Eddie got up from the couch, carefully depositing Christopher’s legs from his lap before turning back to him and planting a soft kiss onto the top of his soft curls. He was getting too old for these kinds of affections when awake and — as much as he couldn’t wait to see Christopher become his own, independent person — Buck desperately wanted to halt time. It wasn’t a fair thing to think; Chris wasn’t exactly his kid to begin with and regardless of what Eddie’s will said would happen after his death, Buck's place in their lives wasn’t set in stone, so he savored every tiny moment he could. Somewhere along the last handful of years, Eddie and Christopher became Family, with a capital F. Buck loved Chris like he was his own and his feelings for Eddie were clear as day — only if not for the man himself. It was better that way, Buck reasoned. He probably wouldn’t let Buck hang around all the time, if he’d have known. Eddie probably didn’t think of them that way anyway. Buck ran his fingers through the curly hair tickling his cheek and pulled the kid’s small frame just a fraction closer, relishing in the moment of stillness.

2. great from the jealous eddie fic 🧇

“So uh t-tell me about yourself, you know, hobbies, pets, family, whatever.” “That’s pretty broad.” Jason chuckled and Buck felt his cheeks heat up immediately. Wow, he really hasn’t been on a proper date in such a long time that apparently he lost the ability to make conversation. Great. “Sorry I—” “Relax, Buck. It’s alright.” His shoulders sagged a little at that. “I guess cycling is a hobby, right? I’m not allowed pets at my place and uh… Two sisters, parents live in Nevada.” “Uh great, that- that’s great! I have a sister too, my parents live in Pennsylvania though.” Jason assessed his face for a long moment before he leaned back in his chair with a small sigh. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you seem much more nervous than before. Is everything alright?” “Uh yeah— yeah, I’m fine, just…” Buck sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Eddie, my uh my partner at the 118, he’s been acting kinda weird about us going out. I just… I don’t know, I guess I got a little into my head about it.” A disapproving frown tugged at the patch of skin between Jason’s eyebrows for a moment, before it disappeared with a sigh. “So he’s one of those guys then.” Buck knew what he meant instantly; the type of guys who were just too macho not to feel threatened by even the mere mention of two men dating. Of course, it couldn’t have been further from the truth —  and Buck was quick to make that clear. “N-no, not at all! He’s a good guy, great actually. He’s my best friend.”

3. opposed from the breeding kink fic 🛏️

“You might be right,” he breathed, leaning over Buck and slipping his hands under his thighs for more leverage, “maybe we should just stay here like this forever.” Eddie’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment when he bottomed out again. It wasn’t a plausible or in any way realistic idea, really, but Eddie found that he still wasn’t opposed to the fantasy of it. Especially not when Buck’s warmth enveloped him so perfectly, while he got to watch his chest rise and fall quicker and quicker, listen to his quiet whines and grunts as Eddie sped up his movements until he hit a steady rhythm and smell as fresh sweat broke through the lingering scent of their shared body wash; tea tree and mint. His hair was still damp from their shower and that was one thing they didn’t share; the shampoo — and god, Eddie was grateful that it never became something that he’d lose on the account of getting used to smelling it on himself, so now he could let the fruity and fresh scent of green apple, and something that uniquely belonged to Buck wash over his senses.

tags under the cut 💛

I was tagged by @hippolotamus @theotherbuckley @daffi-990 @jamespearce9-1-1 @fortheloveofbuddie and @wikiangela thank youuu 💛

✨no pressure tagging: @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @jeeyuns @eddiebabygirldiaz @nmcggg @thewolvesof1998 @ladydorian05

[jslittlebirdie]

“Ya want ta’ crawl in bed with me? Well come here then, silly birdie. I’ll cuddle you forever, ah… and always, my love. Doze off, if you want, uh, s’just me. Y’re not clingy, my little limpet. You just need - c’mere - ya need to get in my arms so I can hold you close, hm? Lemme just - *J pulls you close to his body, scooping you up in a soft but tight and comforting way to hold you.* There we go. Much better. Now, ah… I want my wife. I want her. I want ‘er! I want my Sue Napier. I know you’re tired, love. Y’re beautiful face is turning a little pink, hehe. You sure ya’ain’t blushing? Ha! Sorry, dove. Thought that might make ya laugh a little. Just curl up like a kitten, if ya need it. Come closer. Thaaat’s it, goo~od. You know, ah… if you want to hear my voice, I can talk to you for a bi-t. I know how much you like it, heh. Truth is, ah, I love yours too, Sue. And I’ll scare off all those little nightmares of yours, hmm? I promised I’d protect my darling wife from anything and everything, didn’t I? It’s not right. My birdie needs rest. Heh… I guess I do too. Would you, ah… care to help me with that? Hm? I know, sweetheart, I know. I’ve missed you too. I think I’ve been out for too long. I’d rather stay here with mein Täubchen. Heh, s’it alright if I call you that? I know I’m butcherin’ it, bu-t…truth is, it makes me a little, uh… soft for ya. Hehe, my sweet dove. Mine. No, no, no, now, ahh, no more hiding, silly birdie. Not from me. Too many games of hide and seek, toots. Aaand, ah… I think I need to wipe those tears of yours off that pretty face. *J’s thumbs lightly wipe the tears from your cheeks as he cups your face gently in his hands. His brown eyes soften as they connect with yours.* I know I don’t say i-t, but… I hope you know that I love you, Sue Napier. So damn much. Ya make me the happiest man alive. Now how’s about I return the favor? Mwah!”

- J

Hi J, I love you very much. At first I'd like to ask you if you could get me the hell out of here. I would appreciate it a whole lot. I'm annoyed and grumpy and tired. I hate everything. Well, you know what I mean. So maybe we could go home and then crawl into bed together? Please? I am clingy and my grabby hands are even worse today. I'm sorry. Pretty please hold and cuddle me forever. I want my husband too. I want him! And you're right. Thank you for making me smile. Maybe it's a mix of both, pink cheeks because I'm tired and because you're just...too handsome, hehe. I think I really need to curl up like a kitty. Just like Gunpowder, right? Hehe. Maybe you could talk me to sleep? If I'm not asking for too much. Your voice is just so very soothing and calming. And you always keep the nightmares away from me, I really hope I can do the same for you. I will do whatever you need, J. I mean it. You and your well being are so incredibly important to me. Like I said...we could doze off together, you could sleep in and I'd bring you breakfast in bed. If you like. I just want to take care of you. Yeah...I miss you so much lately... Oh, and you didn't butcher it. I like to be your Täubchen and your dove and your silly birdie omg. It makes me soft too. I know I don't have to hide from you and I love it when you're gentle with me, J. Thank you very much. I know, my love. And I hope you know that I love you so damn much as well. You make things easier and better for me and I'm endlessly grateful for you.

Ahhhh, dearest J anon🥹🥹 I'm sorry it always takes me so long to answer your messages. But I stare at them and try to figure out the best responses. I keep everything you send me and these asks give me so much love and comfort. I can never thank you enough for everything you do for me. You're always so kind and caring, I love you loooots😭💜 I just want my J and I wouldn't let go of him for a very long time. I really am a clingy limpet because I miss him so badly. So yeah, here's a super long answer. And I could hear and even see him. You write him so beautifully. Thank you so so much🥺

[luminnara]

Breeding | alpha!bakugou x omega!reader 18+ ONLY

Summary: deep down, all katsuki wants is to be a father. He’ll never admit it, though.

Just a short lil somethin somethin I wanted to get out of my system!

18+ ONLY AND I MEAN IT

Warnings: smut, pregnancy, knotting, a/b/o, heat/rut

Your heats were always strong enough to kick Katsuki into a rut the second he smelled the change in your pheromones.

You had stopped taking any kind of heat suppressants when you met him, partially because you hated that they tended to make you nauseous and partially because he got grumpy whenever you brought them up. It hurt his ego a little, you figured; after all, Katsuki was about as alpha as they came, with ruts that were so wild and explosive they were practically legendary. He was a big, tough, desirable alpha, the number two pro hero, and despite what seemed like an entire fan base of omegas throwing themselves at his feet, he had chosen you.

You weren’t a hero, or even a sidekick. Your quirk didn’t really lend itself to big, valiant acts of heroism, so you had just foregone that route and chosen a much different career for yourself instead:

Fashion.

That’s actually how you had met Katsuki. You worked for his mother as an assistant, listening to her go on and on about her pro-hero son every day. At first, you just nodded and smiled, going along with whatever your boss said, but as time passed, you started to get...almost invested. You looked forward to listening to her gush about him, and whenever she managed to convince him (against his will, apparently) to grab lunch with her, she would come back carrying faint, lingering scents of campfire and marshmallows, and as time passed, she began to notice the way you tried to drink it in. 

Then, one thing led to another, and Mitsuki was introducing the two of you. The rest was history. 

Now, you had been a mated pair for quite some time, living together in a nice penthouse thanks to Katsuki’s hefty checks from his hero work. You spent most of your free time together, frequently hosting friends and enjoying their company. You had grown used to the boisterous pros your alpha hung out with, and you enjoyed having the likes of Kirishima and Kaminari around. 

Except when you were in heat, of course, and Katsuki made sure that you were completely hidden from the world, that you were his and his alone. He was possessive under normal circumstances, but with a mating cycle involved? Oh, he was incessant. 

“Who d’you belong to, baby?” he cooed in your ear as he rubbed himself against your slick entrance. 

“Y-you, alpha,” you breathed out, voice hitching. Sweat was plastering your hair to your face, your skin feverish as you whined and begged for him. 

You’d been like that all day. You had known your heat was coming up, of course, but not just because of the usual symptoms like nesting and cramps; no, you always knew exactly when you were due to begin thanks to Katsuki. He was better at keeping track than you were, going so far as to mark it on the calendar so he’d know when to take time off from hero work. 

At first, you’d told him it was fine. He didn’t need to stay so on top of things, and he definitely didn’t need to push his work aside for you. But Katsuki wouldn’t even entertain the thought of leaving you home alone to deal with your heats, and ever since you had first gotten together, he spent every single one taking care of you. He’d fuck you senseless, of course, but he also loved bringing you food and water, determined to keep you from accidentally starving yourself, and he always helped you bathe when you eventually got tired enough to take a break from his dick. 

It was incredibly domestic of him, and you were grateful to have such an attentive alpha around...because, after all, when you were in heat, there was really only one thing you could think about. 

“Alpha,” you whined, gripping the sheets. “P-please, alpha, please...”

“Want my cock?” he teased, nudging the head inside. You were dripping wet, slick running down your thighs, and as he felt how hot your pussy was, he let out a low groan. “Fuck, kitten, not gonna last long in you...”

“D-Don’t care,” you moaned, desperate to feel him stretching you. “J-Just want your cock, alpha, please...”

Well, who was he to deny you, especially when you asked so sweetly?

He rolled his hips forward, pushing into your hot core and immediately moaning. “Fuck...”

You took him so well. You always did. It was like you were made for him. 

As he thrusted in and out of you, Katsuki lowered his head, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. Taking you from behind was his favorite way to fuck, but if he kept looking at the way your ass bounced when he pounded into you, he knew he would lose it. He wanted to make you cum at least a couple times before he filled you up, but at the rate things were going, that wasn’t going to take very long. 

Whenever you were in heat, orgasms seemed to wash over you whenever your alpha was fucking you. Just the feeling of his cock ramming into you was enough to have you crying his name, more slick gushing down your thighs. There was nothing you loved more than the feeling of your alpha, and Katsuki was a very, very good alpha. 

“That’s it,” he said, breath hot against your skin. “Gimme another, baby, cum on this cock...”

He reached down, his calloused fingers finding your clit. The moment he touched it, you let out a loud whine, your pussy squeezing around him desperately. 

It was going to drive him mad. 

“T-Tell Alpha what you want,” he managed to choke out, trying to focus. 

“Fill me up,” you moaned, clawing at the sheets. “Breed me, please...want your pups...”

The thought was just too much. Katsuki lost himself, grabbing your hips roughly as his knot began to swell. Picturing you growing round with his pups, your tits heavy with milk...fuck, he just wanted to fill you up over and over again and never let you go.

So that’s what he did. 

A few weeks later, you were pacing around the apartment, nervous as all hell as you chewed your nails. It was a bad habit you had been trying to kick, but right now, you didn’t care; Katsuki would be getting home any minute, and you weren’t sure if you were petrified or ecstatic to tell him the news. 

When you heard the door open and his scent came wafting in, you nearly jumped out of your skin. 

“Hey, babe,” your mate called lazily, kicking the door shut like always before shucking his boots off. 

“H-Hey,” you squeaked, standing in the kitchen doorway. 

At the sound of your tiny voice, he froze, nostrils flaring as he took in your anxious scent. “What’s wrong?”

“I...uh....” you gulped, looking at the floor. You were too scared to make eye contact, even with the man you loved so much. 

“Babe?” he asked, approaching you. His normally rough voice was softer now, red eyes full of concern. 

“Remember my last heat?” you asked, daring to glance up at him. Fuck, he was so big...you were starting to understand why other alphas were so scared of him. 

“Course.” he chuckled. “How could I forget? You were so fuckin’ wet, baby...”

“Y-yeah, well...um...” you turned, heading for the kitchen counter. You didn’t know how to use your words anymore. Maybe showing him would be easier. 

Katsuki followed at your heels, reaching for your wrist. He managed to catch you, but not before you grabbed something and spun back around to face him, the item hidden behind your back. 

“You have to promise not to be mad.” you said, voice wavering slightly. 

“I’m never mad at you, babe.” he growled. “But you’d better fuckin’ show me what you’re hiding.”

Nodding quickly, you squeezed your eyes shut and held your hand out towards him. 

When you didn’t hear anything, you peeked up at him. 

He was staring, his eyes wide. His gaze was focused on the pregnancy test in your hand, chest rising and falling with every breath. 

You immediately panicked. 

“I-I’m sorry!” you blurted, backing up until you hit the counter. “I-I didn’t expect this to happen, it never has before, I don’t know what--”

“Omega.” he interrupted, chest vibrating with a loud purr. “Is that test positive?”

You nodded, tears springing to your eyes. 

Then, the widest smile you’d ever seen lit up his face, and he was sweeping you off your feet. 

“You’re pregnant?” he asked, spinning you around. 

“Y-yes,” you answered, chest still tight with anxiety. 

“Finally.” he set you back down on your feet, his arms still tight around you. “Been waitin’ so long...”

“Wh-what?” you asked, wiping at your tears. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” he scoffed. “Why the fuck would I be mad? I’ve always wanted pups with you. Just didn’t know if you were ready or not.”

“Oh.” you let out a laugh as your chest finally loosened up a bit. “I guess I am...”

“Hey.” he leaned his forehead against yours, that purr still rumbling in his chest. “I’m gonna take care of you. You’re mine forever, ‘n don’t you fuckin’ forget that.”

[disturbedbydesign]

Take Me Home - Part 1

PAIRING: Dennis Baker x Reader

SUMMARY: It’s been nearly a year since your ex-boyfriend dumped you and left you with a laundry list of insecurities, and you haven’t been able to really put yourself out there since. But when Dennis shows up at the adoption fair you’re running for your job at the animal shelter, there’s just something about him that makes you feel like you’re ready to try again.

WORD COUNT: 6K

WARNINGS (more to come): Body Issues (Dennis and Reader), References to Past Animal Abuse, Emotionally Abusive Exes (Dennis and Reader), Eventual Smut. 18+ only, no minors.

A/N: @littlelioncub43 you asked to be tagged in this mess so I’m sorry in advance for *gestures wildly* whatever this is.

Series Masterlist

Part One

It’s 11pm on Friday night, and you know you need to be up at dawn but you can’t sleep. Part of the problem is your roommate having very loud and enthusiastic sex with her latest Tinder date, but that’s not really the crux of it. Your mind is racing, thinking through all the possible things you could have screwed up or forgotten to do. The rational part of your brain knows that everything is all set for the adoption fair tomorrow. You’ve been planning it for months and your many extensive checklists (which have been a source of both amusement and irritation to your coworkers) have covered everything that needed to be done, but you still second-guess yourself. You’ve worked at the shelter for over two years now but this is the first event that you’ve been totally in charge of. You need it to go well—not just for you, but for the animals. You scratch your mutt Badger behind his right ear, in that spot that makes his back leg shake a little, and you ask him, “I’m gonna do good, right bud?” But he doesn’t have to answer—you know he’s your #1 fan.

The sun has only just started to brighten the sky when your alarm goes off, and you groan as you throw off the covers and shuffle to the bathroom. Badger is still sprawled out on your bed, and he gives you a look that says that not even the promise of breakfast could get him out of bed this early. He’s still lazing around by the time you’re dressed, but he’s got no choice—he needs to eat and go for his morning walk early today because you need to be at the park by 8am to set up.

As you put on his harness and leash, Badger looks at you with the big brown eyes of betrayal. You know he takes comfort in routine—that the first few years of his life were awful in ways that you will never fully know—and you do your best to keep his daily schedule pretty consistent. But today you’ve got to find forever homes for other dogs and cats just like him. If he knew, he’d understand.

When you and Badger return from your walk, your roommate Mal is brewing coffee in the kitchen.

“Made you a to-go cup,” she says, handing you your travel mug. “Good luck today!” You take it from her with a grateful smile as she scratches Badger behind the ears. “You need me to feed him? I know you’ve got to get going.”

“That would be great, yeah,” you reply, taking a sip of your coffee. It churns in your stomach, which is roiling with nerves. “I’m freaking out, Mal.”

“It’s gonna go great,” she says. “You’ve been working so hard. You always fucking do this.”

“Do what?”

“Assume the worst.”

You sigh because she’s right but you don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing it. “So,” you say, “is your guest still here or did you kick him out?”

She laughs. “He’s gone. The dick was good, but it wasn’t stay-til-morning good.”

“I’d take anything at this point,” you tell her and she shakes her head.

“Don’t say that. You deserve only the highest quality dick, especially after dealing with your piece of shit ex for so long.”

You don’t want to talk about Brad and it rankles you a bit she’s brought him up, especially this fucking early when you’re already half losing it. It’s been almost a year since he broke up with you for another woman and you’re still not over it. Well, you’re over him, but not the many insecurities he left you with. You’d only dated for a few months, but in that time he’d managed to break you down and leave you a shattered version of yourself—not that you were the most confident girl to begin with, but over the course of your relationship, Brad had turned you against your own body and mind. He made you feel clingy and needy and crazy, made you feel like your body was nothing but a compilation of flaws to be tolerated. He made you feel like a charity case that no one else would ever want to take on.

You’d been on a few dates since the breakup, and one of the guys you’d actually really liked, but you never got past the third date. You’d allowed him up to your apartment for a nightcap and a makeout session, but even though you wanted more, you’d stopped him when he tried to undress you. You couldn’t bring yourself to be naked in front of him, to let him see all of you—all those pieces that Brad had convinced you were ugly. Your date was sweet about it, told you that he would take things as slow as you wanted, but you ghosted him after that.

You weren’t ready. You didn’t know how you ever could be, at least not without a bunch of plastic surgery you couldn’t afford. Every time you look in the mirror, all you can see are the things you want to fix—your nose, your breasts, your tummy, even the size of your labia (which you hadn’t even known was a thing until Brad came along and made you feel like even your pussy was hideous). You’d never had any complaints before, but now these imperfections are all you see, and the idea of exposing yourself to a new man for judgment is just too terrifying.

Of course, Mal doesn’t know any of this. You’re too embarrassed to tell her why you’ve stopped going on dates and haven’t been laid in forever. You think that, if you tell her, she’ll just say nice things to make you feel better about yourself (because that’s what friends do) but none of it will actually be true. Because you know what your body looks like—you don’t have perfect tits or a tight body or a pretty pussy. You’ll know she’ll feed you that “all bodies are beautiful” bullshit, but that’s easy for her to say because she’s fucking gorgeous and has men lining up to get a piece of her.

“I gotta go,” you say. “Can you take Badge for a walk around noon?”

“You got it,” she replies.

You blow Mal an air kiss as you freshen up Badger’s water and turn on the TV for him. For whatever reason, he’s obsessed with HGTV, so you throw on House Hunters International as he settles in on the couch.

“Wish me luck, Badge,” you say as you head out the door, but he’s fully engrossed in some annoying couple’s tour of an Italian villa.

As you head out, you wonder (as you often do), whether Badger’s inexplicable love of House Hunters is a not-so-subtle hint that your apartment is a piece of shit. He’d be right, of course, and you’re working hard to save money for a house so he can have his own yard. But you just can’t afford it yet—not on your shelter salary. Your parents have been bugging you to find a better-paying job but you just can’t leave. You absolutely love what you do. These days, it’s about the only thing that makes you feel good, so obviously you’ve turned it into your entire life. It’s often emotionally challenging and it’s always hard work, but it’s so rewarding. You feel good at the end of the day. You feel like you’ve made a difference. You’ll never find that kind of satisfaction working as a mid-level manager at some company that doesn’t give a fuck about you and contributes nothing of substance to the world.

You’re the first to arrive at the park, which is good because the problems start almost immediately. The table and chair delivery is late, and when it arrives you discover they forgot the tents, which are an absolute must so the animals can stay out of the sun. Two of your workers, Jack and Betsy—an adorable couple who volunteer at the shelter together and make you want to puke with how in love they are—call in sick with the flu. When the sound system shows up, it’s not working properly and you are hopeless when it comes to technology. Things are absolutely falling apart around you, but at least the decorations look cute and there’s some good buzz going on your socials. You were able to get a few of the local businesses on board to promote and support the fair: the pet store donated a ton of supplies, some of the local restaurants are sending food trucks, and you even managed to swing a partnership with one of the smaller pet insurance companies trying to build their social media presence (and they donated almost all the money you needed to cover the event costs).

All of that means that attendance should be good, and the more eyes you get on your little cuties, the better chance that they find their forever families today—and that’s all you care about, really. The fair starts at 10 and the animals start to arrive at 9:30. That, at least, goes smoothly. You and the volunteers get everyone set up in their pens with their adorable little pictures and bios displayed in front. Of course you want every single dog and cat here to find their family today, but there’s one dog in particular that you absolutely have to find a home for.

Jax is a 4-year-old German Shepherd mix who was brought in about 2 years ago in absolutely horrific shape. It was only your second week of work and you’d never seen anything like it. He was found by an older couple, dumped on the side of the road like trash. The poor thing was skin and bones and so weak he wouldn’t have been able to walk even if his front leg hadn’t been completely shattered by who knows what. The vet took one look at it and knew it had to be amputated immediately. But even through all of that—and the months of rehab that followed—Jax has always been the absolute sweetest, smiliest, goodest boy. You don’t understand how he hasn’t found a home yet, and you would have taken him in a heartbeat if Badger was good with other dogs.

As you approach Jax’s pen, he stands up on his back two legs and flashes you that big smile of his. You take a look at the sign with his picture and bio, which you made a point to create yourself, and everything is as it should be. You decide that today is the day—you will find this dog a home if it’s the last fucking thing you do.

“It’s gonna happen for you, Jax,” you tell him, tossing him a treat that he catches in his mouth. “I can feel it.”

The people start trickling in at 10:15 or so, and you’re initially discouraged by the turnout, but by noon it is absolute chaos. There are people everywhere, over 20 of the animals have applications in already, and more and more people keep coming. You briefly check the event hashtag on Instagram and see a fuckton of pictures from the event, and the insurance company, Purrs & Wags, has already started adding them to their story. You search the feed for any pictures of Jax but there aren’t any, and when you look over at his pen, he’s all alone—just smiling at everyone who walks past.

It breaks your heart. It really does. Everyone wants a puppy or some young adult with no major issues. But that’s not how it works—with people or pets: no one is perfect, everyone has flaws and baggage and scars (emotional or physical), but they deserve to be loved just the same. You’ve basically given up on finding it for yourself, but you won’t give up on it for Jax. It makes you so fucking angry sometimes, like right now when you have a thousand other things to focus on. You decide you need a break and you sneak off behind one of the food trucks to have a smoke.

The cigarette takes the edge off (and you’re going to quit soon, you swear), and when you return to the fair, you see a man kneeling down in front of Jax’s pen. You rush over, practically sprinting because you have to make sure that this man, whoever he is, knows exactly how special the dog in front of him is. Not many people will stop to greet a tripod like Jax, and you know before you meet him that this man has a good heart.

You stop about ten feet from Jax’s pen to compose yourself and then saunter over.

“I see you’ve met Jax,” you say to the man. “I think he likes you.”

The man stands up and turns around and he’s much taller and broader than he looked from a distance. He looks at you nervously from behind his glasses.

“Uh, y- yeah. I think I like him, too.”

You introduce yourself and reach out to shake the man’s hand and he wipes his palms on his khakis before taking your hand in his.

“I’m Dennis,” he says. “I, uh, I work for P&W.”

“Oh!” you exclaim, slightly disappointed that he’s probably just here as a company rep and not interested in adoption. You need to keep it professional though, keep it all off your face. “I had no idea they were sending someone! Thank you guys so much. We would never have been able to do this event without your help.”

“I didn’t have much to do with it really.” He stares at his feet as he replies. “I work in legal, but I wanted to check it out. I’ve been wanting a dog for a really long time, I just could never have one…”

He trails off and sticks his hands in his pockets. You know there’s a story there but it’s none of your business. All you care about is that he’s here now and he is, in fact, interested in your boy.

“Listen.” You lean in toward Dennis like you’re sharing a secret. “I shouldn’t say this, but Jax is my favorite. You won’t find a sweeter, more fun-loving dog in this place.”

Dennis shuffles his feet and turns his attention to Jax’s bio. “It says here that he’s been at the shelter for two years?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Most people can’t see past the leg, but he’s perfectly healthy and he gets around great. I can barely keep up with him, honestly. And he’s just the happiest, most affectionate little guy. I really hope we can find a home for him today.”

Dennis looks at a smiling Jax, and when he reaches inside the pen to pet his head, Jax gets up on his hind legs and does a little spin. Dennis smiles wide at Jax, and you see his face absolutely light up, but when he looks back at you, he’s all nerves again.

“So, uh, w- what exactly do I have to do? To adopt him, I mean.”

Your heart is practically bursting from your chest and you know the excitement is written all over your face. You want to jump up and down and squeal and wrap your arms around this man and give him the biggest hug ever, but you have to keep it professional.

“OK,” you say, trying to keep your cool, “well first I need to ask you a few questions so we can make sure you boys are a good fit for each other.” Dennis looks crestfallen but you don’t want to lose him now. “Don’t worry,” you assure him. “I’m sure that you’re gonna make a great doggy dad. It’s just a part of the process.”

Dennis nods as you give Jax a scratch on the head. “Be right back, buddy,” you say, and then you take Dennis over to one of the tables.

“So first thing, what’s your current living situation. House? Apartment? Trailer?”

“House,” he says. “Got a nice big backyard. All fenced in.”

“Perfect,” you say. “And how many people are in your household and what are their ages?”

You see Dennis look down at his hands and you can’t help but notice the slight indentation on his ring finger—the ghost of a wedding band perhaps?

“It’s, uh, it’s just me,” he says softly, and he gives you a sad smile.

“Well,” you reply, looking back at Jax smiling in his pen, “I don’t think it’ll be that way for long. So, what are your hours like at Purrs & Wags?”

“Usual 9 to 5,” he says, “but I can work from home sometimes, too.” His leg is bouncing and he’s got his hands clasped in his lap. “That’s what I’ll do when he first gets home… I mean, if I can bring him home. I don’t want to assume-”

“Dennis,” you interrupt, “relax. I still have to process your application and go through the motions, but I’m confident that Jax has found his forever home with you.”

“Yeah?” Dennis asks, and you can see his blue eyes start to water.

“Yeah. I’ve been waiting a long time to find someone special for Jax, and I always told myself I’d know them when I saw them, and when I saw the two of you together, I just knew.”

Dennis lets out a huge breath and takes his glasses off to wipe his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says. “God, I don’t know why I’m crying. You must think I’m such a loser.”

“I don’t think that at all,” you say, on the verge of tears yourself. “I think that you’re a kind person with a good heart and that you and Jax are gonna make each other really happy. That’s what I think.”

“Thank you,” he says, sniffling a bit. “So what next?”

“Well, usually I would need some references, but since you work for P&W I think it’s safe to say that you’re someone who cares about the well-being of animals and understands what pet ownership actually entails, especially the costs involved.”

“Oh, I have lots of money,” he says, and then he shakes his head and mutters to himself, “Jesus, Dennis. Get it together.” He looks back up at you. “That didn’t come out right. What I meant to say was-”

You laugh because he’s all red in the face and just so adorably flustered. For the first time, you’re really looking at him, and it occurs to you that Dennis is a very handsome man.

“I get it,” you say. “You’re in a good position financially to take care of Jax.”

“Yeah, that sounds much better. Let’s just pretend I said that.”

Dennis rubs his hands up and down the thighs of his khakis and you notice just how massive he is—his thighs and his arms are fucking huge and practically bursting through his clothes. He’s dressed like a total nerd with his pink polo shirt tucked into his pleated pants, but you can’t help but think to yourself this guy is ripped. His face isn’t hard on the eyes, either. Between his pretty blue eyes and those insanely long lashes and that plump, pink bottom lip he keeps biting…

No. Stop. You have a job to do. Operation Find Jax A Home is in progress and you can’t let the weirdly attractive man sitting in front of you throw you off. You see Dennis staring at you and realize he’s asked you a question you didn’t hear.

“Sorry,” you say. “I was… uh… I just got distracted for a second there! My bad. What did you say?”

“I asked when I’ll be able to take him home.”

“Oh! Well, barring any complications, you’ll be able to bring him home in a few days.”

“And do, uh, do you need to do a home visit? I heard some places do that.”

“We do sometimes, but that’s mostly if there are young children or other animals involved, or if the applicant lives somewhere that might not be dog-friendly. Why, do you want me to come over?”

You freeze as soon as the words leave your lips. Why the fuck did you just say that? What is wrong with you?

You laugh it off. “Sorry, I.. I have no idea why I just said that! Let’s pretend that I didn’t?”

Dennis smiles awkwardly at you. “I wouldn’t mind. I mean, if you need to check it out. For Jax.”

Now you can feel your cheeks heating up and you have absolutely no idea what to do. You can’t remember the last time you felt like this around a guy. You don’t do flirting, because what’s the point? It’s not like it can really go anywhere because you won’t let it. Still, you don’t know what it is about Dennis, but he’s got you all kinds of worked up, and for what? All this nice man wants is to adopt the world’s sweetest dog and here you are acting like a complete fool. But really, who gave him the right to walk around in a shirt that damn tight with his pecs busting out and biceps that look like they could crack walnuts.

Oh my GOD. Jax. Focus on Jax.

“So, um, I’m gonna get your paperwork started and the whole process going and we’ll be in touch in a few days. If you can just take this form and fill out all your info and the best times to contact you, then you’re all set.”

He takes the form from you and you try not to stare at the veins in his massive hand or how small the pen looks in it. You look over at Jax to distract yourself and when you see him intently watching you and Dennis, you give him two thumbs up.

“Here you go,” Dennis says, handing you the paperwork. “That’s my cell number. You can call anytime… or, I mean, anyone can call anytime. So if I have questions, do I just call the shelter or-”

The words come out before you can stop them. “You can call me if you want.”

“Uh, ok,” he says, and he sounds a bit taken aback. “Yeah. That would be great. I mean, because I know that you and Jax… you’re like his mom basically.”

You smile at him but you’re screaming inside because you have no idea who this person is that you are being right now. You don’t just give random guys your number. Dennis isn’t even hitting on you. He wants a dog not some woman who hasn’t been laid in so long she’s practically feral at the sight of a dude’s arm muscles. God, you’re so fucking pathetic and desperate. No wonder your ex left you.

You write down your cell number and hand it to him before you can think yourself out of it. The whole time your brain is screaming what the fuck are you doing you don’t even know this guy, but you do it anyway. He has a gentle, non-threatening way about him. Of course, that’s what they say about date rapists and serial killers, but you can’t think about that now.

You can see his hand shake a bit when he takes the slip of paper from you and it’s obvious that you make him nervous, but as he walks away you tell yourself that it was a perfectly normal and professional thing to do. Jax is your baby and you want to be involved every step of the way. It’s nothing more than that.

But you know that’s a lie, because over the course of the next few days, you can’t stop staring at your phone and wishing that Dennis would check in. You even think about texting him to update him on his application process even though there really isn’t anything to say—everything is progressing as it should, there’s no real reason why you’d need to contact him. But you can’t stop thinking about him and you don’t know why. He’s attractive, sure, but there’s something more there that you can’t put your finger on. You think that maybe it’s because he just looked lonely and so terribly sad. It’s a look you know well. You wear it every time you’re alone.

***

Dennis Googles you the second he gets home from the adoption fair. He only knows your first name, but the shelter website has your full name in your bio and a picture of you with Jax that makes his heart skip a beat. He fell for Jax first, but you were a close second. He’d never seen such a beautiful woman before, but it was your kindness and your spirit that had him gone for you almost immediately. He feels a bit like a stalker as he scrolls the shelter’s Instagram looking for pictures of you, but there are a lot of them and he just can’t stop. Each one is more adorable than the next. You’re that perfect combination of cute and sweet and sexy and Dennis is practically drooling like one of the shelter dogs just looking at you.

He finds your personal Insta but you’ve got it set to private. He almost sends you a follow request, and if he were a braver, more confident man, he would. But Dennis does not feel brave or confident; Dennis feels like the most worthless, pathetic loser than has ever walked the earth. He knows you’d never look twice at a guy like him, that you were only nice to him (and… was that flirty?) because you wanted to find Jax a good home. And that’s ok. Dennis was happy just to spend that half-hour in your presence. He knows you only gave him your number so that you can stay in the loop on Jax, and he shouldn’t use it unless he has to.

But he wants to. He wants to call you and ask how Jax is doing and how your day was and what you did and what you ate for breakfast and if you want to have dinner with him. He won’t do any of that, though. He’ll just sit on his couch watching ESPN and pining for a woman who probably laughed at him the second he walked away.

Dennis is slogging away at work on Wednesday afternoon when he gets a text notification. No one really texts Dennis anymore. He doesn’t have any friends—not since the divorce—so his heart soars thinking it might be you with a Jax update. That bubble is burst instantly when he sees that he’s got a message from his ex-wife. These days she only texts him when she needs something (or occasionally when she’s drunk and feeling cruel). It’s too early in the day for her to be drinking, so he assumes (correctly) that it’s the former.

I need you to come fix the dishwasher.

That’s it—no “please” or “sorry to bother you,” just a demand. He’s not surprised, but he knows he’s going to do whatever she says because he always does. It’s not because he still has feelings for her, though; it’s because it feels good to be needed, even if it’s just for manual labor. He texts back immediately.

Ok. I can come over after work tonight.

I have a date tonight. Come in the morning.

Dennis agrees because it’s pointless not to and he doesn’t want to get sucked into an argument with her. He hates confrontation; he just wants to be nice to people and have them be nice back, but that’s not how the world works. The world is full of cruel people who hurt people because they think it’s fun. Of course his ex couldn’t resist telling him she has a date. Just like she couldn’t resist telling him how many guys she fucked while they were still married because of how terrible he is in bed and how unsatisfied he left her. What even is a “bad penis”? Dennis still doesn’t know, but apparently he has one.

He’s been too terrified to put himself out there again since his wife left him. The fear of rejection and the deep insecurity about his sexual prowess (or lack thereof) is just too much for him to overcome. His therapist says that it will take time to build his confidence back up, but Dennis never had any confidence to begin with. He can’t remember the last time he felt good about himself. He works out for his health, but he doesn’t feel good about his body—how could he when there’s one thing (the most important thing, some would argue) that he can’t fix?

He sighs and pulls up your number, and it’s not even about you in this moment—not really. Dennis is just lonely and sad and he wants to hang out with his (hopefully) soon-to-be dog. With Jax, there’s no judgment. He won’t look at Dennis and think what a pathetic loser this guy is, what a joke. Dennis finds something like inspiration in Jax because he could easily have come out from his trauma afraid of the world and ready to lash out at any moment; he could have let it turn him nasty, but he didn’t. He just let it roll off his back and stayed the happy gentle boy he was born to be. Dennis doesn’t look at Jax and see a broken dog; he sees a creature far stronger than he is. He needs some of that strength today, and Dennis’s palms start to sweat as he sends you a text.

Hey, this is Dennis from the adoption fair. I’m not sure if this is allowed and if not that’s totally fine but I was wondering if I could stop by the shelter today and see Jax, maybe take him for a walk? If not I understand.

Dennis tries to return his focus to work but really he’s just waiting and hoping to hear back from you. It’s two torturous hours before he hears that longed-for ding.

Hi Dennis! So sorry. I was in a staff meeting and just got your text. You can absolutely come by and take Jax for a walk! He would love that. When were you thinking?

Dennis barely finishes reading before responding.

You just tell me when and I’ll make it work.

How about 5:30?

I’ll be there.

Great! See you soon :)

Dennis spends an inordinate amount of time staring at the smiley face at the end of your text, thinking of your actual smile and how he gets to see it in a few short hours. The workday has never felt longer and he cuts out a bit early to head over to the shelter.

When he walks in, he sees a woman at the front desk who is not you talking to a man holding the world’s smallest Chihuahua. They are so wrapped up in each other that they don’t notice him standing there. Dennis is used to that, though—being invisible. He clears his throat and the woman turns to him.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! How can I help you?”

“My name is Dennis Baker and I’m here to see-”

“Jax! Oh, you’re Jax’s Dennis! We’re all so excited for Jaxy to get to his forever home. But wait, you’re not taking him home today, right? Because-”

“He’s just here for a visit,” you say, popping around the corner and smiling at him. “Gotcha day is on Saturday.” You turn to him. “I was going to text you you’ve been approved but I figured since you were coming by, I’d tell you in person.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Dennis says, and he feels his throat tighten.

He tells himself goddammit Dennis do not fucking cry in front of her again and he manages to keep it together, focusing instead on how pretty you look. He’s only ever seen you in your work clothes—a black shelter t-shirt and jeans—but you manage to make it look like you’ve just waltzed off a red carpet somewhere. He finds himself wondering what you’d wear for a date but he stops just short of thinking about what you’d look like in nothing at all.

He hears you say, “Dennis?” and he snaps back to the present.

“Sorry,” he says, “I was just... I’m just happy.”

“We are too. So, you wanna take your boy for a walk?”

“I’d love to,” he replies, and the question just comes out. “Are you gonna come?”

You smile at him and it’s like sunshine after a rain. “Of course. He’s my boy, too.”

Dennis paces as he waits for you outside. He knows he’s going to have to make conversation with you and there are so many things he wants to know about Jax, but he also wants to know about you. For example, are you single and willing to go out on a pity date with a pathetic anxious loser? He knows he’s not going to ask you out, but he lets himself think about how he would do it and the things he would say if he were a different type of man—one with the balls to just go for what he wants.

Your sweet voice rings out. “Here he is!”

Jax practically drags you out the door as he runs toward Dennis and jumps up on him. Dennis catches his front paw in one hand and pets his head with the other.

“Hey Jax! Hey buddy! You wanna go for a walk?”

Jax barks his approval and Dennis hears you laughing.

“That’s a big ol’ yes,” you say. “He really does love you, Dennis. It’s like he already knows you’re his dad.”

“I can’t wait to get him home. I’m so happy this worked out.”

“Me too. You have no idea how much. We’ve been waiting for you for two years. Where the hell have you been hiding?”

“Well,” Dennis says, focusing on Jax’s smiling face because looking at you is like staring directly into the sun, “my wife… shit, no, my ex-wife… she doesn’t like dogs so I could never have one. We just got divorced a few months ago so… yeah… here I am.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you say, but then you drop the social niceties. “Actually, fuck that, no I’m not. If that’s what got you here, then it was supposed to happen.” Dennis watches out of the corner of his eye as you shake your head, and when he finally looks at you, you’re slightly apologetic. “I’m sorry, that was… aggressive. But who doesn’t like dogs? You’re better off without her.”

Dennis laughs and looks back to Jax, lifting his back leg to piss on a tree he’s deemed acceptable. “I like your logic,” he tells you. “It’s a much better approach than me feeling sorry for myself all the time.”

You ask him, “Are you dating?” and Dennis is a bit shocked, not by the question itself but because he isn’t used to bluntness that isn’t laced with cruelty. You backtrack before he has a chance to answer. “Wow, that is totally none of my business! I should shut up now.”

“I’m not dating. I… uh… wouldn’t even know where to start with that.”

“Well, Jax is a total chick magnet,” you say. “I mean look at that face. One trip to the park and you’ll be swimming in ladies.”

Dennis lets out a nervous chuckle. “I seriously doubt that.”

“Why?” you ask. “You’re an attractive guy. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble getting back out there.”

Dennis shoves his hands in the pockets of his khakis and smiles at you but he can tell it looks like more of a grimace. He’s uncomfortable with you now, because you’re just saying that to be nice. You must be. You couldn’t possibly be attracted to him or interested in him beyond the adoption process. You’re way the fuck out of his league, and even if you weren’t, he knows he’d only disappoint you in the end. It’s cruel of you, he thinks, to tease him like this. Maybe you’re not the nice sweet girl he thought you were.

But then you ask him “Do you want to get a coffee or something?” and your tentative voice and the hopeful look in your eye tells him that maybe you’re actually for real. “There’s a place about two blocks up that’s super dog-friendly and…”

“I’d love to.”

PART TWO >>>

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

De(railed) +18

Summary: The canon episode "Derailed" reimagined where Reader is sent on the solo interview and Spencer, recklessly, decides to save her. Plus, the aftermath.

CW: mommy kink sub! Spencer x dom! female (she/her) reader, cum play, penetrative sex, light degradation, praise kink, light choking (mentioned), edging, calling him a slut (please let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 6 K (this is the longest thing I've ever written!)

Author's Note: Special thank you to @shemarmooresfedora for reading this for me because I was very nervous about the smut portion. And a very special thank you to @notanotherreidgirl for inspiring this idea! this was my ask so yeah, this is a little out there for me so be kind (*dips into the shadows*). Also I either really hate or really love this title :)

Taglist: You can join the taglist here!

De(railed)

Sitting on the train, headed towards Virginia for the custodial interview, you tried to remind yourself what Spencer said to you the previous night when you dropped him off at his apartment. You had his hands in yours and you could feel him shake with nerves when he spoke.

He told you that he believes in you. Even when you think that Hotch and Gideon are sending you out to the solo interview too early, Spencer believes in you. If only you’d believe a little bit in yourself, then maybe you’d be able to figure out a way off this train, but an armed man and innocent passengers proves that a little challenging.

The man passes the train up and down and you tell yourself to relax. In hindsight, it seems like a horrible series of events that lead to the man shooting the train attendant. You’ve done your best to keep him calm until the police can see him off the train. Looking outside, you see SWAT, local PD, and FBI lined up 50 yards from the train.

Continuing to wave his gun around the train, the unsub rants about wanting to talk to a higher authority. To yourself, to wish that Spencer was here with you. He’d have figured out exactly what was wrong with the man by now. For less than professional reasons, you’re forever grateful that he’s not here- that he’s safe on the other side of the train.

“He’s out of his mind,” the man holding a bottle of whiskey says, “You gotta do something, lady,” he says, taking a swig of his drink. Your eyes dart to him and back up the doctor, the unsub’s psychologist, looking for a way out.

You breathe deeply, hoping that the BAU would come up with a plan. Knowing FBI protocol, you expect them to try to initiate a line of communication. Glancing over at the unsub, you think that he’ll want to talk to someone who looks like they are powerful. That would be either Hotch or Gideon. Selfishly, you’re grateful that Spencer still looks like an underpaid TA with a toy gun attached at his hip.

“No! Please, don’t hurt me!” the young woman screams, trying to release herself from the man, Ted’s, grip. He releases her, throwing her to the ground when his phone rings.

Gideon.

On the phone with Gideon, the man demands for something to be removed. You can’t hear what he’s saying to the unsub, but you place the little faith you have left into hoping your team can save you.

***

His vest is much too big for him.

That’s all you can think of when you realize Spencer is the “technician” that they’re sending in. His tie and shirt stick awkwardly and there is a gap in his shoulders around the vest. The straps are pulled so tight that they nearly fold over. His hands aren’t shaking when he carries the small black box, but his eyes look terrified.

You want to reach out to him, maybe hold his hand or brush the strands of hair that have fallen into his face, but you can’t. You have to sit there and pretend that this is the first time you’ve met him. It’s excruciatingly sick and mildly amusing in an equally twisted way. The first time you’ve come to terms with loving Spencer, you both can very well die.

“I’m here for the chip,” Spencer says, holding his hands up, “the higher authorities sent me,” he claims, feeding into the unsubs delusion. You shield your glance, unable to trust yourself from launching yourself in between Spencer and the man with the gun.

“That’s far enough and drop your weapons,” Ted says, holding the crying woman by her neck, “and take that vest off. I want to see you,”

“I don’t have any weapons. They don’t authorize them for-”

“I said take it off!” the man shouts, throwing the woman to the ground.

Spencer complies, taking off the much too big vest and tossing it to the ground. He holds his hands up, playing the part of the unsuspecting underling well. He reaches out to Ted, showing him the tools that he’ll use to take out the “chip”. You wonder how Spencer will pull it off, but you know he will in the end.

Spencer digs into the man��s skin with the scalpel. You can’t catch the sleight of hand, but you know that’s what he used.

“I have to leave, the higher authorities need the chip-”

“Turn it on,” Ted orders, “Turn it on!” he screams, his voice booming in the small train.

Spencer’s eyes dart to yours thinking of ways that he can get out of here. He looks almost sorry, and you feel a wave of intense regret. The thousands of times you could have said those little words seem so simple now.

“I can’t turn it on,” Spencer says, “I can’t turn it on,” You hate how scared he sounds, and you hate even more how you have to pretend that you don’t know him.

“Why!” the unsub yells, thrashing the gun around, “You’re one of them!”

Thinking quickly when you see him point the gun at Spencer’s face, you jump to your feet. You push Spencer out of the way, terrified that he’ll do something rash. You can’t lose Spencer, not when you’ve hadn’t had the chance to have him yet.

“It needs to be implanted to be activated,” you say, “I know this stuff Ted, I’m a Fed. Only me. Everyone else,Ted is just innocent. Just let them go, Ted,” you plead, “Just let them go,”

“No!” he yells, shooting up into the ceiling of the train, “no!”

The windows are closed, but you suspect that Hotch and Gideon have the train surrounded by now. Spencer moves closer to you, staring at the man as he scratches his upper arm. He drops his hand towards yours and squeezes, like he’s saying sorry and saying goodbye all in one touch. You don’t realize this before it’s too late.

“Doctor Brier,” Spencer says, standing up with his hands near his head, “you’re right, there’s more-”

“Just make it stop!” the desperate man pleas, “Make it stop!”

“I know what it’s like, Ted. The voices, they’ve been talking to you since you were a kid. They don’t stop. I know what it’s like Ted,” Spencer says, inching closer and closer to him, “Leo? Why don’t you let him think for himself?” Spencer says, trying to use the man’s delusion against him.

“Don’t! Stop, you’re trying to trick me!” the man begs, whipping the gun around too close to Spencer’s face, “stop!”

You always listen to Spencer. Whatever he talks about, you listen. From Russian cinema to Star Trek to the Birch and Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture, you listen to him. It’s not that hard and it’s easy to get lost in his eyes or the way his hands move when he talks. But the seconds leading up to when the gunshot goes off, you’re not listening.

Because without Spencer, there isn’t much worth listening to.

***

Your eyes are squeezed shut so when a large hand hovers over your shoulder you jump at the touch. It takes you all of ten seconds to realize it’s Spencer. You look him over, searching for signs of mortal wounds that will rip him from your clutches, but there isn’t any.

“You’re okay,” you say, wanting nothing more but to kiss him or yell at him, or maybe a mix of the two, “you’re okay,” you repeat, not fully believing it the first time.

“We’re okay,” Spencer says, hugging you tight as you collapse into his arms, not caring if the rest of the team watches.

“I haven’t been fair to you, Spence,” you say, breaking from the hug to caress his face. You stop, holding his face in your hands, soaking him in, “you’re not someone who gets strung along, baby. I fucking love you and you-you mean so much to me. And I hate-I hate that it took you almost dying for me to realize that,” you cry, unable to care anymore.

“You love me?” Spencer whispers, unable, himself to care that they have an audience, “You love me back, but I’m, I-I,”

“Spencer,” you tell him, pausing to kiss him fully, “I,” you plant another kiss, on his right cheek, “love,” left cheek, “you,” forehead.

“You do, don’t you?” he says, looking at you with a proud smirk, “I guess that’s good because, I love you, Y/N. I don’t go risk my life just for everyone,”

“Watch yourself, baby,” you remind him, channeling the surge of pure life that runs through your veins, “you’re in for it later, my darling,” you tell him, whispering into his ear so only he can hear.

***

You didn’t even give him time to breathe before you pushed him up against the wall. Spencer’s hands still held yours, you don’t think that he dropped them since you two safely exited the train. He whimpers through the kiss, his breathy moan only serving to spur you on. His hands broke from yours, clinging to your waist. Spencer tries to peel your clothes from your skin, but he's much too distracted by your lips that travel across his cheekbones and down to his neck. He’s breathless and panting, but you don’t let up. If he’s breathing, he’s alive and that’s all that matters now.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry,” Spencer pleads, the desperation in his voice causing you to pause from your attack on his neck, “I-I, Y/N,” he stutters, feeling empty without your kisses.

“I’m not mad, sweet boy. I’m not mad at you,” you say, laying on a sweet voice as your fingers skim through Spencer’s hair. He’s shaking slightly and closes his eyes, looking like he’s grateful to be alive.

“You’re not, but I wasn’t good,” he whispers, “I wasn’t good for you, Mommy,”

You do everything in your power to keep your composure, but after a day like today, you’re ready to melt into him. He might be the one begging at your feet soon, but there’s no doubt in your mind that it’s you who's wrapped around his finger. He looks up at you, with his back leaning against the wall; his face flushed pink and marks littering his neck.

“You scared me, Spence. I thought- I just let me take care of you,” you request, dropping your hands from his hair and grabbing onto his hand as you lead him to your bedroom. You’ve made it a habit to go to your place after cases; Spencer claims that the sunlight that dips into your bedroom in the morning is more pleasant than his view of the street, but you know he just prefers your bed and the attention he gets at your place.

“Please, Y/N,” he begs, following you into the bedroom. He’s at your heels and burrowed deeply in your heart, exactly where you want him.

You drop his hands, guiding him so his knees hit the edge of your plush bed. He kicks off his shoes and starts to undo his tie and shirt, but you stop him before he gets the chance.

“Let me do that for you, baby. I’m taking care of you tonight,” you say, feeling your heart swell as he looks up at you adoringly, “Mommy’s got you, my brave boy,” you tell him, your fingers grazing over his cheekbones, his nose and eyes. His eyes close as you continue to draw shapeless shapes over his skin.

“Thank you,” he mutters, saying it like a pray as he relaxes for the first time today, “thank you, Mommy,”

You smile at the name, enjoying how pliant he is as you unbutton his shirt and loosen his tie. His flushed cheeks lead down his equally flushed chest. You place both your legs over his body, hovering over him as you straddle him. The proximity eggs him on and the minimal friction near his pants causes him to buck up words. Mercilessly, you chuckle at his attempt to get off. You want nothing more than to put him out of his misery, but watching him squirm for the tiniest bit of affection— your affection makes you nearly as desperate as Spencer.

“Patience, sweetheart,” you tell him, harshly pulling off his shirt as you nibble on his ear. He whimpers out in desire, already unable to form coherent thoughts even though you’ve so much as kissed him.

You stop touching him, sinking down to your knees before him. Spencer looks down at you, his pupils blown and his hair messy from being pushed up against the wall. His breathing is erratic and unmeasured, but he’s heart is still beating. You smile, unafraid and not caring that it breaks character as you give his thigh a squeeze. You bring his hands to his buttons, motioning for him to unbutton his pants for you.

“I can’t do all the work now, can I, baby?” You question rhetorically, quite self satisfied that he nods eagerly. He quickly undoes his pants, kicking the heavy corduroy trousers near your bathroom door. If the moment wasn’t so tense and erratic, you probably would have teased him for his excitement.

“I want to touch you, please? Mommy” Spencer starts, his hands holding your face as you kneel. He holds your face so delicately and gently, it’s a contrast to the sinful way he’s squirming above you.

“Not yet,” you tsk, slipping your finger under the waistband of his boxers. The bulge in his underwear looks very uncomfortable, but Spencer clearly tries his best to behave under your strong stare. You peel back the underwear and let it drop to Spencer’s feet. His cock, now exposed, is painfully hard. He concentrates on his breathing and trying to remain composed as your fingers travel up his leg and towards his groin.

“There’s my pretty boy,” you coo, grabbing Spencer’s jaw and making him look down at you. He lets pitiful whine at your words, “Come on, make my fingers nice and wet,” you order, sticking out two fingers that he sucks enthusiastically.

“What a good little slut I have, you’re sucking Mommy’s fingers just as if it’s my strap, aren’t you sweet boy,” you say, gently resting your other palm loosely around his neck. You don’t apply any pressure, but let it serve as a reminder of what could happen.

Happily, Spencer sucks your fingers, moaning around them and bucking his hips up in frustration. Marred by impatience, you remove your fingers from his mouth and kneel back down on the floor. Loosely, you grip his cock with your wet fingers. Spencer whines at the friction that’s nothing close to enough.

“Tell me how that feels,” you demand, “Tell Mommy how I makes you feel,”

“I-I feel,” Spencer starts, concentrating intently, but unable to truly articulate the passion you ignite in him, “Mommy, you make me feel so good,” Spencer says, finally finding the words, even though they barely scratch the surface.

“That’s all I want, baby. You deserve to feel good. So let me take care of you, my love,” you tell him, watching as he simpers at your words.

For a second there you let yourself think that maybe it’s calling him my love that prompted his reaction, not the promise of his cock in your mouth. You know after tonight there’s no tip toeing around it anymore: you’re unequivocally in love with him and you’re a little disappointed that it took the pair of you nearly dying to figure it out finally.

Looking back up at him, you abandon your plans for a moment. You kiss him hard. Normally, you’d hate the way your teeth clash against someone else’s and how the kiss isn’t really a kiss. It’s hard to pace yourself when he’s whimpering below you as you grind down hard on his crotch. The fabric of your pants provides much needed friction, causing Spencer to cry out in a twisted mix of pleasure and pain. He paws at your work short, silently begging for you to shed your layers as well.

“Good boys wait,” you tell him, kissing his forehead and sinking back down for the last time. You’ll never be done teasing him, but for now you intend to put his needs first.

“Such a pretty cock that only I get to see,” you coo, running a finger up his length, relishing in how he shudders at your touch. You’ve touched him so many times, yet he reacts each time as if it’s the first. He’s leaking precum as his breathing becomes more and more strained. This is far from your first time with Spencer and you’re well aware of the signs of his release.

Smiling up at him, you lazily wrap your hand around him, giving him the smallest bit of friction and attention that he needs to come. You drop him once he’s close to the edge, his pleading, begging eyes turning glazed over when he realizes you’re taking off your shirt. By the way he’s looking at you, you’d think you’d be wearing your best lingerie. Quickly, you’ve learned that with Spencer you could be wearing your ratty college tee shirts and he’d still look at you like you were dripping in gold.

“Mommy,” he pleads, “I’m a good boy,” he says, no trying to convince himself to hold back from his release, “please Mommy. I’m gonna-“ Spencer says, the flush on his face deepening as he throws his head back in ecstasy. However, he summons enough energy and will to reach out and palm your boobs. You don’t hide your moans as he rolls a nipple in between his thumb and pointer finger. It only encourages him, but nowhere can you find in yourself to care.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” Spencer whimpers, unable to hold himself up anymore and collapsing on the bed. His chest heaves up and down as he tries to collect himself. He comes all over your chest, staining your lavender bralette and looking very proud of himself. Spencer learned quickly as well that coming before you’ve even touched him earns him quite the praise.

“Such a good boy,” you praise, choosing to ignore him coming without permission, “such a messy boy though,” you chastise, squeezing his thigh and crawling your fingers up his chest.

“Mommy, please, I want to make you feel good too. I love you,” Spencer begs, his eyes droopy with exhaustion from the long day and glazed over with his orgasm. His words slur together as if he's drunk off something potent. His eyes meet yours, but flit down quickly. He scans your soiled chest, licking his lips unconsciously as his eyes rank over your breasts covered in the lavender lacy and stained with his cum.

“Do you know what good boys do?” You ask, expecting Spencer to answer the question without hesitation.

“They clean up their mess, Mommy,” he says. In a moment of bravery, he grabs your hand, guiding you to lay down on the bed. He twists his hands around your back, unlatching your bra from your body and tosses it on the ground.

Above you, Spencer lowers his face so his chin barely grazes your chest. His tongue darts out onto your skin, licking up the messy cum that fell on your chest. You place your hands in his hair, gripping firmly. It’s not hard enough to cause any pain, but it’s tight enough to remind him to stay put. Spencer hums contently, lapping up your chest, but keeping his eyes trained on yours. You pull him up by his hair, pieces fall over his blissed out eyes. He smiles up at you, his chin glistening with cum, but looking pleased with himself.

“That’s a good boy,” you praise, pulling him up to kiss him deeply. His tongue swirls around in yours and his large hands cup your face. You can feel him moving in your lap, more and more desperate for attention and friction as you continue to hold him off, “I love you, baby,” you say, hoping that he’ll hear enough times for it to stick and for him to start living his life like he wants to stay alive.

“Just for you, Mommy,” Spencer mumbles, already sucking and marking the valley between your breasts, “Can you? Please?” Spencer asks, still embarrassed, after all these months to put to words his desires.

“What, baby? You need to use your words,” you tell him, scooting up in the bed and smirking to yourself as Spencer practically chases you up the headboard, “You need to tell him what you want me to do, baby,” you say, talking slowly as you rub circles into his skin. He’s still hot to the touch and flushed all over.

“I want to make you feel good,” Spencer begs, licking his fiery red lips that are swollen and bitten from your earlier treatment, “I want you to feel good,” he says, attempting to buck his hips against your legs.

“Are you sure about that, Spence?” you ask, teasing him with your wandering hands. One stays latching in his hair, exposing his criminally bare neck and the other sneaks down to his cock, but hardly satisfies his burning need, “Because it seems like you’re an insolent little slut who only cares if he gets off. Do I need to remind you that I have needs as well,” you chide, increasing your grip on his hair as your lips nip the sensitive skin of his neck. He shudders in response, unable to fully articulate a sentence.

“But you’re lucky, you’re beautiful, Dr. Reid,” you say, dropping his hair and letting his head fall onto your chest. Knowing your expectations, Spencer doesn’t hesitate to kiss and nip along your skin. You feel your panties dampen at the sight of him: his hair wild and messy, his neck marked with evidence of your mouth, and his chest is bright red, somehow still flustered and embarrassed by your affections. You find it bizarre that he still doesn’t fully believe just how head over heels you are for him. He’s too good and pure for this world, and you’ll happily spend the rest of your life reminding him just how deserving of goodness and pureness he is.

“I love you,” Spencer whimpers against your skin, his breath is hot as he pants, “but please fuck me,” he begs, flipping around on his back so you can be on top.

“Don’t worry, sweet boy, Mommy will take care of you,” you remind him, balancing yourself so you can hover over him, “Now, I’d normally want you to be quiet, but I want to hear everything. So use that pretty mouth of yours and tell me how you feel, sweetie,” you instruct, maneuvering yourself so you’re lined up with him.

“Give me a second, please,” Spencer asks, pushing himself up so his back rests against the headboard, “You make me crazy, I just need a moment to think,” he says, quietly, staring off nothing in the bedroom. You take the opportunity to grab his hand, that’s gripping onto your floral patterned sheets, and kiss his scars on his knuckles. Some are new and fresh, while others are old, from longer ago than working at the BAU. You kiss them over, as if your lips are able to help the evidence of his physical pain.

“You make me crazy too, Spencer,” You say, growing more and more unhinged as he moves underneath you, “I love you so much, darling,” you tell him, kissing his eyes, lips, nose, anything you can reach.

Slowly, so slowly, you sink down onto Spencer. You watch his microexpressions, but you know how he’ll react. He squeezes his eyes shut, as if he’s willing himself to hold off. He breathes in and out, teetering on the edge. You wait for his nod, for his sign of approval that you can move. He whines and peeks open his eyes. Spencer’s hands dig into your waist, his strong, large hands searching for any skin to grab onto.

“Please move, Mommy,” Spencer begs, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he starts to plead with you to have mercy on him, “I need it, Mommy,” he moans.

“Don’t be greedy, darling. You’ll take what I give you, but don’t you want to make me feel good too, baby,” you ask, guiding his nimble fingers to your slick core. His thumb and pointer finger begin to rub quick circles around your clit. You bite your lip, trying to keep your composure as you feel the pressure build. Between the heightened tensions of work and Spencer's hot breath against your neck, you know that you’ll come soon. Spencer’s breathy moans get more and more desperate.

“Are you already going to come again, love?” You ask, increasing your pace. His other hand grips your thigh, drawing shapes into your soft skin. Following suit, you match his sweet movements on his cheek. His breath is his shaky as you stroke his cheek lovingly, “Make me come first and then, maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you come inside me,” you promise, already knowing that you’ll let him come inside you.

“Watch you disappear inside me, baby. Watch your pretty cock slip inside my pussy. It’s just like you were made for me, darling,” you cry, your voice getting slightly breathy yourself. You watch yourself as his cock goes in and out, red with overstimulation. Spencer’s eyes, littered with small tears, looks transfixed.

“Fuck,” Spencer says, “I’m so close, Mommy. I-I, you make me feel so good. You’re so beautiful, I-I-”

“So needy, you’re so fucking needy,” you say to him. You can tell he’s growing more and more impatient by the moment. His hands lurch towards your chest, pawing at your boobs. Spencer’s sloppy movements bring you closer and closer to the edge.

“So good, so good,” he repeats, his sweaty forehead rests on your collarbone. You pull him up again his hair, relishing in the pitiful moan that he lets out. It’s raw and pure sin, it should make you want to fuck him more, but it only makes you want to love him more.

You’re drunk on him. Drunk on his moans and whimpers of pleasure. You’re drunk on the way his skin sticks to yours and how his hands roam around your body, always finding a spot on your torso and legs that makes you approach the edge closer and closer. You wonder, for a second, if you’re being too hard on him. If you should just whisper that little sentence and let Spencer feel the wave of pleasure.

“I need it, Mommy,” Spencer pants, kissing lined up your chest and collarbone. His face is pressed up against your face and moves up and down as you continue your pace, “I-I, Mommy, I want you to-”

“What do you want, baby? Hmm? Tell Mommy?” You ask, your voice sounding sickly sweet. The noise of moans fills the room, Spencer’s moan akin to whimpers and whines and your’s more like praises and words of approval, “you’ve been such a good boy, baby I’ll give you want whatever you want, my love”

“Please, please let me make you come, Mommy. I need you to come, Mommy. I need it,” Spencer whines, looking up into your eyes and latching onto them in the darkness.

It’s sinful how the filthy words contrast with his sweet, shy tones. He looks so innocent, but enthralling with his face between your hands, but his own hands rubbing small circles on your clit. His moans grow more high pitched. You kiss by his ear, ready to whisper the words of approval that you’ve neared your release.

“Oh god, Spencer. God. You have no idea what you do to me. My sweet boy,” you murmur, pressing Spencer’s face further into your chest. You can feel him heave and his breathing grow more and more unsteady, but he still has enough sense to continue rubbing your clit.

You kiss him, wanting to feel him everywhere when you come undone. Kissing him is desperate and full of gasps of air. His skin is so soft as you slide across his mouth, up his cheeks, and over his jaw. His helpless moans spur you on, giving you the strength and energy to thrust down on him another time before you feel yourself come undone.

“It’s your turn, baby. Come on, sweetheart. Come inside me and maybe I’ll have to call you daddy? Hmm?” you chant, halting your movements to torture him a little longer.

“Please, Y/N. Please let me fill you up,” Spencer begs, his voice hoarse and scratchy from being so vocal, “I’m yours. I love you so much,” he calls out, wrapping his arms around you so your chests are pressed up together. He holds you sweetly and you kiss his shoulders and his neck, choosing to leave a large red welt as a reminder for him.

“You like that? Hmm you like if I call you Daddy and let you fill me up? Come on, Spencer. You can come. Don’t you want to be a good boy for Mommy?,” you say, giving him the permission that he’s been desiring all night.

He tightens his grip on your upper half as he meets his release. Spencer’s strangled moans turn into sweet whimpers as he looks down into your laps. Quietly, you ride him through the rest of his orgasm, letting him come down from his high peppered with light pecks along his freckled shoulders and sharp jawline. Spencer smiles into the kisses, his eyes are shut and his cheeks are dusted with a light pink flush. For the first time today, he looks relaxed and safe.

“Thank you, Mommy,” Spencer says quietly, mirroring your motions and kissing your shoulders and neck as you slow your pace, “Can we stay like this. Just for a moment,” Spencer asks, burning for the feeling of being inside you for even a couple more minutes.

“Of course, baby,” you tell him, squeezing him into a tight hug, “you did so wonderful for me. Such a good boy. I love my sweet boy,” you tell him, brushing the stray hairs from his face. His neck is marked by your mouth and his eyes are glazed with sleep and desire.

“I love you,” Spencer says again, his forehead falling against yours and his breath hitching as you move slightly with him inside you, “and I’m sorry. I’m sorry about today,”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart and then we’ll talk about it,” you suggest, taking the opportunity to kiss his lips as you pull yourself away from his lap.

Spencer doesn’t say much in response, but nods silently. He groans slightly as you separate your bodies and he tries to chase your lips with his as you climb out of the bed and into your bathroom.

“Please come back,” Spencer says, sounding like he wasn’t sure if you’d keep your promise.

“I’m right here, Spence,” you reassure him, returning from the bathroom dressed in an old tee shirt and carrying a warm, damp washcloth and a pair of clean underwear for Spencer.

“Can you please hold me? Please, Y/N. I need you,” Spencer says, reaching out to you in the dark. That’s one request you know you’d never deny.

“Of course, Spence. Just let me clean you up and I’ll hold you,” you tell him, gently dragging the warm towel over his skin. He’s quiet as you clean him up, but his soulful eyes look lost and sheepish, making him look smaller and more vulnerable than he actually is. You drop the towel to the floor, not caring that the water isn’t good for the floor.

You lay back down on the bed and Spencer, like a magnet to another magnet, crawls in close. He’s still undressed, except for the underwear that you gave him. His eyes are droopy and his breathing is still shaky, but steadies out as your hands draw circles on his back. You pull the covers up to his chin, making sure he’s covered before you start what you know all too well is a difficult conversation.

“Spencer,” you croak, “Why did you do that? Why do you think that’s okay?” you ask, still trying to make sense of why Spencer would risk his life like that so recklessly. You hold him tighter, squeezing his arm as he breathes out, ready to tell you what he’s never told anyone before.

“Bec-, because- I don’t matter,” he says, the words choking out between cries of years and years of pain, “because it doesn’t matter to anyone if I don’t come home. I don’t have anyone to come home to,”

“You’ve always had me,” you say quietly, “I’m your person to come home with, Spence,” you tell him, hoping with all the faith in your body that he’ll believe you. You hold his hand, weaving your fingers in his. Looking at your hands intertwined together, you’d think that your hand was made for it. It’s a little cliche, but Spencer is the kind of man that makes all those cliches seem like wonderful possibilities.

“I-I, I never had someone before,” Spencer says, “I mean, I had my mom, but it’s gotten harder. But then, then, I met you. And I never thought you’d like me like that, Y/N. I never thought you could love me,”

“Spencer,” you say, twisting around so you can hold his face in your hands, “Spencer, I love you. You are so much more than your job. You’re worthy of being loved, Goose. And I’d spend the rest of my life making you realize this”

“You want to spend the rest of your life- the rest of your life with me?” Spencer asks, sounding like he can’t believe the words that you say.

“Spence, I’ve loved you since I’ve known you,” you say, dragging your hands through his curly hair that’s matted against his forehead, “You would have realized that if you weren’t too carried away with making me your future history,”

“I think I have a habit of doing that,” Spencer confesses, kissing your forehead sweetly, “You’re- I’m sorry that I worried you like that, but for so long, for so long this is all I’ve had. And before that it was school. I throw myself into academia or work because it’s all I had,”

“Had,” you repeat, “as in the past tense. You’ve had some much more than too, Spence. We all love you. Elle and Derek. JJ and Hotch. Penny and Gideon. We all love you, but I love you the most,”

“Good,” Spencer replies, turning his head down to kiss you, “because I love you the most,”

His lips glide across yours, moving slowly at first and faster as he grows more urgent. There’s no sense in rushing through. You could kiss him lazily in your bed all night and continue until it gives way to morning. There’s no time limit, no buzzer that’s going to go off and force Spencer to whole himself back up into his past. He smiles through the kiss, knowing well that there’s more to come tomorrow, or maybe even tonight. His lips were warm and soft, maybe still a little tender from before, but still eager to feel your lips against his. Breathing together, savoring that you both are breathing, you smile yourself, fully ready for whatever comes next.

***

Taglist (not my usual taglist because I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable bc this is smut. You can join the taglist here!)

@shemarmooresfedora @just-another-persona123 @folkreid @idonotexiste @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @fandomfriend33 @spencersrose @strawberryspence

[scarletslippers]

PREVIEW OF I’M WITH YOU 

Coming next week!! --- Ace’s perspective of the alternate universe, through the curse and beyond. *Affectionately known as ‘sorbet fic’ if you’ve been following it.

Bess made him read some book about love languages forever ago. He didn’t retain much, but now he feels like he could argue back. Like he would have some fair points to make in her discussion about which language each member of the crew uses. 

Nancy - physical touch, obviously. Bess had side-eyed him as she said it and he’d felt left out of the joke, even though it was only the two of them. 

And Bess would likely grumble at him now, something about gift giving and acts of service, but she’s wrong. 

There’s a sixth love language. And it’s sorbet. 

The pint of cherry is cold and slippery against his palm and he adjusts his grip to hold it from the lid instead as he knocks again. Carson should be at the office, and Ryan texted him earlier about helping out at the youth center, so he’s pretty sure Nancy’s home alone. 

Which is why no one is answering the door.

Clearly Florence being parked out front is enough of a deterrent. 

Ace knocks once more, firm and insistent to be sure she hears it before carefully placing the sorbet on the welcome mat. Hopefully Nancy retrieves it before it becomes a soupy mess. 

Returning to Florence, Ace unlocks the car and pulls his phone to his ear as he climbs in. 

“Bess, I need you to do something for me.”

“Good, because I need you to do something for me. I have been tolerant of whatever has been going on between you and Nancy but you need to step in and fix this.”

“Bess -“

“Have you seen Nancy lately? She looks awful. She’s not eating, she’s not really talking to anyone, she turns down half my calls and the ones she does take she hangs up after a minute on average.” Bess sighs worriedly over the line. “You’re the only one who can get through to her. She needs you.” 

“And I need her, Bess.” He leans forward to press his forehead to the steering wheel. “But she won’t see me. Won’t talk to me. Something is wrong, and she’s trying to carry it alone.” He sighs and straightens, tucking his hair back anxiously. “I think she’s in trouble. And for some reason she can’t say. Can you do some digging?”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” Bess sounds relieved to have a course of action. “I’ll start now. Let you know what I find.” 

Ace can hear her begin to hang up and scrambles. “No, wait, Bess! That’s not why I called.”

“It’s not?”

“No. Well partially, I guess. But I need you to do something else. I’ve uh, I’ve been bringing Nancy sorbet. Every day for the last week. And she hasn’t been home or she’s avoided me so I’ve given it to Ryan or Mr. D, but -“

“But you’re worried she didn’t get it?”

“I’m worried she’s throwing it out. Can you check the freezer for me and let me know if it’s there? She won’t let me close. I know she’s home right now but she didn’t answer the door. I had to leave it on the mat.”

Ace runs a weary hand over his face, grateful for Bess right now. Grateful for someone to listen and help him in this. Someone who loves Nancy as much as he does. 

“I did see her last week. She showed up at my apartment. And I tried Bess. Tried to reassure her that the future isn’t anything to be afraid of. Tried to tell her that I would be by her side for all of it. If she’d let me.”

He barks a short laugh, hurt. “I thought she was going to kiss me, but instead she lied, saying she didn’t have feelings for me. But I know her, and her face…she was so scared, Bess. If this is the only way I can support her right now, I’m going to do it, but I just -“ He stops, not exactly sure anymore what he just. 

Bess lets the silence sit for a moment, formulating a careful response. “Ace, why wouldn’t she eat it? Why would she get rid of it?”

“I don’t know, I just have this vision of her letting it sit there, filling the freezer, until one day…” He trails off and shakes his head to clear it. “I don’t know, Bess. Call it paranoia or residual feelings of worthlessness, I just - will you check?”

“I don’t need to check, Ace.”

“Bess -“

“She’s eating it. Ryan keeps making comments on how unhealthy it is, as if he’s the poster child for a nutritious diet. Just last night I asked if she wanted to watch a movie and instead she retreated upstairs with a carton and a spoon.”

Ace lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, tears springing to his eyes unexpectedly. “Okay, good,” he says in relief. “You’ll start looking into things?”

“Right away.”

[saltybaltic]

AYO YOU AMAZING WRITER YOU💖 Can you write an nsfw Natasha x reader sex pollen fic where r goes on a mission with everyone and is the only one that gets hit with the sex pollen and thinks nothing of it until they get back for the debrief and r starts feeling the effects during the meeting with the rest of the avengers in there like the fever and aches and is super turned on and humiliated and everyone is confused trying to figure out what’s wrong then Bruce says the only thing that can help is sex and she picks Nat to help her out? Something super smutty 😳

Natasha Romanoff X Reader - EXPOSURE

Natasha Romanoff / Black Widow X FemReader Fanfic

Synopsis: On a mission you seem to be the only one who’s been hit with this air borne drug. Fortunately you have a great team mate to help you through it

Warnings: 18+ content, f/f sex, sex pollen so the usual dub-con for this trope

Words: 2345

You’d really thought nothing of it until you’d gotten off the quinjet. Even the whole journey home you had felt fine, brushing off everyone’s concern with a flick of the wrist as if it was nothing. You really had felt fine. The exposure to the gas back at the enemy base had been minimal, barely a few seconds, and after a brief once over by one of the SHIELD medics, you had been given the all clear that it was probably fine.

It wasn’t until you were walking towards the briefing room to have the post mission meeting that you started to feel anything unusual. Your skin was starting to itch with a burning hotness that was impossible to ignore. When you had parted ways with the team to quickly get changed out of your combat gear before the brief, you had treated yourself to a very cold shower but if anything it only seemed to have made you even more aware of how hot you were feeling. Washing at all was starting to feel like a total waste of time, your hands already clammy with sweat and the hair by your temples beginning to dampen and cling to the side of your head. Your brain felt fuzzy but at that same time it was like you were thinking with perfect clarity. It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before.

Looking around the briefing room as you entered, it was as if you were wearing tinted glasses, everything not quite the way it should be and with a tinge of deep red or orange. You could feel every beat of your pulse against your skull, every hammer of your heart in your chest. Your throat felt dry yet you couldn’t stop running your tongue over your lips to prevent your mouth from watering.

It wasn’t until Natasha sat down beside you that it became apparent that something was very wrong. The smell hit you like a bus and it only intensified everything you were already feeling. It was like your senses had been dialled up threefold. You could take her all in as if it were carefully arranged layers just for you to enjoy; the coconut of her shampoo, the sweet smell of the lotion she’d applied after the shower, the laundry detergent on her fresh clothes, the smell of her perfume.

Maybe it wasn’t the most subtle reaction you could have had if you were hoping not to attract any attention, but jumping up from your seat so violently that your chair fell backwards with a loud crash certainly ensured that everyone’s eyes were now on you.

“Are you okay?” The concerned voice of Bruce from the other side of the room hit you but you could barely focus on what he was saying.

Standing up from her own seat to look at you more closely, Natasha cocked her head to the side as she examined your flushed skin, heavy breathing and blown out pupils. She turned back to the others in the room with a frown, “See, I told you she wasn’t alright.”

“But the medics checked her over.”

“Oh like they know everything.”

“Well they know more than you!”

“It was only a minor exposure and we don’t even know what it was.”

“She said she was feeling fine on the quinjet, I mean this could be something else.”

“Sure, it’s just a huge coincidence that she feels like this after being gassed.”

As the team descended into an argument, you couldn’t really hear what they were saying. Nor, did you care. You felt restless and fidgety, tapping your foot up and down against the ground as you rubbed at your forearms uncomfortably. Your jaw was clenched tight, tilting your head from side to side to work the muscles in your neck as you tried to get your breathing to return to normal. It felt like an adrenaline rush, that feeling that hits you just as the rollercoaster is about to go over the big drop. But it also felt like a hunger, a craving for something like you were a predator that needed to hunt. It was too hard to put your finger on it, too early in the stages of whatever you were feeling to identify it yet.

The sound of someone calling your name broke you from your thoughts, looking up at the rest of the occupants in the room to see them all watching you expectantly.

“What?”

Sitting down by a laptop at the head of the table, Bruce pushed his glasses up his nose as he tapped a few keys before looking up at you, “I’ll have to use the database we have to try and identify what you’ve been exposed to. But I need you to concentrate and answer a few questions okay?”

You nodded your head, closing your eyes momentarily as a wave of heat washed over your body and you tried to remained focused, “Sure, sure, sure let’s do it.”

“So this gas ... could you see it? Did it have a colour?”

It was so hard to focus on the question, your brain working at a million miles a minute but unable to make sense of whatever it was that you were thinking about, “Erm ... I don’t ... it was kind of ... like a greyish blue, I guess.”

“And a smell? Did it have a smell?”

“It was ... sweet. I suppose. Yeah ... but like ... a dessert or something. Like someone had lit a vanilla candle.”

The questions seemed to go on forever, with the occasional interjection from someone else as they tried to help with the answers. Each question narrowed the possibilities down further, Bruce carefully inputting the information into the computer. By the time he got to the bottom of it, you could barely think straight any more, your hands balling into fists as you tried to process the discussion that was taking place around you.

“That’s ridiculous, they don’t actually use that stuff.”

“Well obviously they do because here we are.”

“If they don’t use it then how is it in their files? We only have the information because we took it from them.”

“But there’s never actually been a case of it being used before.”

“Until now.”

“I mean just wanting to have a lot of sex doesn’t sound that bad, there are worse ways to spend an afternoon.”

“Tony! Can you be serious for one second.”

“It isn’t that simple. This is like a real urge. It can be quite uncomfortable for the subject they-“

“The subject?! She has a name you know.”

“But she’s not gonna do anything crazy right?”

“Well no she won’t do anything she wouldn’t usually want to do but the need will be off the charts. It can drive people crazy if they don’t get some sort of relief from it.”

Finally you couldn’t take any more, clearing your throat loudly to get their attention and gesturing towards the door, “Yeah so this is pretty awkward, little embarrassing, bit too intimate to be honest so I think I’m gonna take off.”

“Wait, you should go to the med bay.”

You interrupted Steve’s statement with a laugh, already making your way towards the door as you used all of your willpower to ignore the powerful surge of hormones and need coursing through your body, “What are they gonna do for me there exactly?”

“I dunno, some of those nurses are pretty cute.”

Despite the fact Tony’s joke earned him a disapproving look from almost everyone, you were actually grateful for it, laughing again as you took his words as your cue to escape and hastily left. You were halfway to your room when you heard the sound of feet hitting the ground behind you.

“Wait up.”

God even the sound of her voice was getting too much now.

“Nat. Please, I really really can’t be around you.”

Despite your statement, the red head fell into step just behind you and followed you down the corridor, “I wanted to make sure you got back alright.”

“And while I appreciate that, you’re way too hot to be this close to me.” your eyes fell closed at your words, the effects obviously starting to hit you stronger now as the confession fell freely from your lips. You never spoke to Natasha like this, you wouldn’t have dared on a normal day for fear she’d knock you to ground. Whatever you’d inhaled earlier that day didn’t seem to share your reservations as the arousal started to make itself known.

Natasha pursed her lips, not wanting to embarrass you as she was fairly certain you would never have normally said something like that to her. Certainly not so blasé. “It’s okay. I know this must be ... overwhelming.”

You snorted, “That’s one word for it. But seriously ... I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here.”

“Well I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone.”

Stopping outside your bedroom door, you looked back at the other woman and immediately had to close your eyes and turn your head away instead as a strong pang of arousal hit you, “Jesus.”

“What? Does it hurt?” the concern in Natasha’s voice was obvious, watching you carefully as your eyes bunched closed tighter and you pushed out a shaky breath.

Shaking your head frantically from side to side, you went to grab the door handle from behind the other woman, “It’s uncomfortable. It’s way too intense. I just wanna ... fuck ... I need to get inside ... I need ... I need you to move, please.”

The sensation of Natasha’s hands coming up to rest on your cheeks caused your breath to catch in your throat. It was almost too much, the feeling of her soft skin on yours was like electricity, a shiver travelling the length of your spine and a heavy drop hitting your stomach. One of her thumbs brushed over your cheek before she spoke, “Let me help you.”

When you opened your eyes to look at her, the feeling that came over you was like nothing you’d ever felt before. It was as if someone else had taken control of you, like you were watching from the sidelines as your body acted of it’s own accord. The moment your eyes had locked with Natasha’s, everything you’d been fighting to control took hold of you and in three brisk steps forward you had the other woman caged between the door and your body, one of your hands coming up to rest on the wood beside her head.

“Natasha.” You paused to wet your lips, ignoring the huskiness to your voice as you scrambled around in your head for the smallest ounce of restraint, “You really need to leave now before I do something I can’t take back.”

If you had been expecting any reaction from the other woman, what she actually did would have been somewhere at the bottom of your list. Over the year or so that you’d worked with Natasha you’d had a mostly professional relationship, though that wasn’t to say you weren’t friendly with one another. However the forwardness of her next move was new territory all together.

Moving her hands from your cheeks, she ran them slowly down to either side of your neck. You could do nothing but lean into the gesture, goosebumps rising and flesh searing at the feeling of her fingertips digging into you. You were so lost in the sensation of her touch that you hadn’t realised she’d leaned closer until her hot breath hit the shell of your ear and she spoke in a low whisper, “But just think how good it would feel if you let me help you.”

Her words actually pulled a growl from the back of your throat, the ever growing heat between your thighs magnifying significantly at her words, “Nat ... last warning.”

Instead of backing down, Natasha tilted her head enough that her lips could attach to the side of your neck before speaking again, “Stop fighting it, I know you want me.”

That was enough. You couldn’t have prevented it no matter what had tried to stop you, pushing the door open with one hand as the other gripped the back of her neck and pulled her into a searing kiss. Practically falling through the door together, Natasha’s hands found your waist and all you could do was groan at the relief of the full body contact. Feeling the way her breasts pressed up against your chest, her tongue slipping into your mouth, her hands around your waist as yours slipped down to grope at her ass. God it was intoxicating and still you wanted more

If you had any control over the urges that were powering your body you’d probably have wanted to take your time. Your attraction to Natasha wasn’t something you were particularly ashamed of or desperate to hide. However you’d barely got as far as building up a friendship with the red head and so jumping straight into sex seemed like you were skipping a few important steps. Not to mention the fact that you were fairly certain this was not going to be a terribly slow or tender encounter. No. With the way you were already pulling her clothing from her body and tearing at your own, you both knew that this was something else all together.

Fortunately for both parties Natasha really didn’t mind. Of course after Bruce had explained the effects you would be feeling, what else would she be expecting really? But in the time the two of you had been working together she had come to care for you and the idea of you struggling alone wasn’t something she cared for. Also she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about you in a sexual way before, granted she never thought this would be how it happened.

In all your haste to get Natasha undressed you actually fumbled several times with the fastening of her bra, sure that you’d be embarrassed under normal circumstances but currently too frustrated and impatient to care. You were relieved when Natasha wordlessly reached around and undid the clasp herself, throwing the item across the room before wrapping her arms around your body to do the same with your clothing.

You could barely register what was happening as the two of you staggered backwards into your bedroom, barely managing not to trip over the clothing and shoes that you’d discarded on the way. You were too lost in her to bring yourself to care about being careful. Just kissing her was absolute heaven. Her tongue sliding over yours, lips working frantically together. You had expected Natasha to be a good kisser and maybe it was just the effects of what you had been exposed to but it was like a sparks were flying, a warm wave washing over your body and a pang of arousal with every soft moan from the red head that vibrated against your lips. The way she would occasionally suck your tongue more harshly into her mouth made you feel wobbly on your feet, and the sensation of her nipping your lower lip between her teeth had you desperate for more.

It didn’t take long for you to be pinned on the mattress beneath her, both naked now and lips still moulded together as she settled herself on top of you. Already you couldn’t stop yourself from grinding down against her thigh, desperate to relieve some of the pressure that had started to build. If anything you needed it more now, the arousal bordering on uncomfortable as you became acutely aware of just how wet you were against Natasha’s thigh.

The other woman didn’t need to be told, evidence of your arousal already coating her skin. She finally broke the kiss to lean down, but she had barely attached her lips to one of your nipples when you pulled her back up with a frantic shake of your head and a groan, “Please Nat, I can’t wait any longer, just fuck me already, please.”

You felt on the verge of crying you wanted it so bad, the whole experience completely foreign to you. It was bizarre to be overwhelmed with such a primal, animalistic need. Every time you found yourself in bed with a woman you enjoyed everything about it; lavishing her body with attention, the anticipation, the teasing, wanting to take her to the heights of pleasure over and over. This was nothing like that at all. You really just wanted to fuck. More than anything you wanted to come and you were fairly certain if you didn’t soon then it would be the death of you.

Nodding her head in understanding, Natasha pressed her lips to yours again as she propped herself up on one of her elbows, “I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

You were so soaked by now her fingers slipped easily inside of you and all you could do was lie back and release a loud moan. You weren’t sure whether it was in relief or pleasure but either way you were certain that Natasha’s fingers had to be one of the most wonderful things you’d ever felt in your life. Just one thrust of her digits already had your fingers grabbing at the sheets below you, heels digging into the mattress and head thrown back against the pillow in bliss as finally, finally you were given what you had been craving.

“Good?” asked Natasha, her fingers having stilled inside of you almost immediately as she waited for some kind of signal from you that what she was doing was definitely what you wanted.

Nodding your head hurriedly, you brought her mouth down to meet yours again, mumbling frantically against her lips between kisses, “So fucking good ... keep going.”

Natasha grinned, happy to oblige as she started to move her hand again and picked up a steady pace. Almost immediately your hips were moving of their own accord to match her, grinding down against her fingers as she worked them inside of you. Every thrust was heaven, the woman above you seemingly knowing exactly what you needed as she began to push into you harder and faster with each stroke.

Everything about it was satisfying the urges that had been threatening to overwhelm you. The brush of her hardened nipples against your chest as she moved above you. The frantic pants for breath into your mouth between heated and messy kisses. The intensity of how she was watching you and the subtle smirk on her lips as she knew how much you were enjoying what she was doing. When her thumb came up to brush over your clit you wanted to be embarrassed at the groan of pleasure that rang out in the room but you were too far gone now to care.

All of it was perfect. She was perfect. You could feel your head getting foggy, that faint twitch to your limbs as the pleasure was building in the pit of your stomach. As you tightened around Natasha’s fingers you craved the release that you knew was so close. The way her eyes were locked on you almost made you melt under her gaze, the darkened green eyes and pink tinged cheeks making sure you definitely wanted to have your way with her after this.

You could feel it happening, allowing the sensation of your orgasm to consume you as it started to hit with another brush of your clit and a curl of Natasha’s fingers. A loud cry of her name echoed off the walls at the action, your teeth sinking into the side of her neck in a failed attempt to muffle the noise. You couldn’t catch your breath at the feeling of satisfaction that finally swept over your body, hands gripping at her shoulders and toes curling into the mattress as you relished the moment. Your thighs quivered slightly and you could feel your pussy clenching around Natasha’s fingers, the red head groaning in quiet appreciation at the sensation. It was exactly what you needed.

And just as her fingers were beginning to still, you could already feel the arousal rising again. The tingles of pleasure had barely subsided and you hadn’t even had a chance to catch your breath before you were hungry for more. Natasha seemed to notice it at the same time you did, not missing the way your eyes had clouded over with lust again.

You were filled with relief when you caught her smirking and her fingers started to slowly move again.

Yeah, Natasha was definitely the right person to help you with this problem.

—//—

Find the morning after HERE

[littlemisslipbalm]

“Harry’s stylist, right?”

Summary: Harry and his personal stylist are great collaborators, on screen and off. She helps his visions come to life and in turn they’ve become close friends. As she helps him to bring his fashion dreams come to life during the Fine Line era, will some other dreams come to life as well?

or

Harry and his stylist go from colleagues to friends to lovers because they’ve been in love with each other from the jump

this fit is very important to this part lmaooo - I literally have no idea what to call this lol, anyway I've been sitting on this for forever and I wanted to get something out for yall and i love this story there will be a part 2 when i get to a writing mood. I love this story bc its my literal dream - anyway!! pls enjoy and reblog and lmk what you think :)

Word Count: 14k | Warnings: swearing, drinking, tame for now, should be smut eventually - aka slow burn (what else would you expect from me at this point i guess)

part 2

-

“Hey, H, I just had a question about one of the SNL outfits? Do you have a sec?”

Harry looked up from his phone and raised his brows at his stylist, Y/N.

Y/N had worked with Harry previously. In photoshoots for Another Man magazine and his most recent Gucci campaign. As well as some other random times, such as one-off award show looks and specific appearances. However, this past summer Harry had hired Y/N to work fulltime for him, exclusively. He had told her that he was planning on releasing his second album in the winter and he wanted someone there to help him plan his clothes for music videos, award season, interview appearances, as well as tour outfits.

Y/N stood just inside the doorway of the room, leaning her back against the wall, looking expectantly at him. Her eyes were wide and her lips were pursed. She was dressed simply in a white satin skirt and a matching cropped button-up, they both had cream flowers embroidered on, paired with horsebit slim Gucci mules. Her style was eclectic, but she had definitely noticed an increase of Gucci in her wardrobe since starting her employment with Harry.

Y/N’s passion in life was fashion and clothes and she constantly worried that one of Harry’s outfits wouldn’t deliver as much as she wanted it to. He was quick to tell her not to worry so much though, as long as they both were happy with it, how could anyone else not love it. Plus, he’d always add, it didn’t really matter what anyone else thought. But as more and more events began to crop up, Y/N’s worry over her work grew. She had only been the head stylist for Harry on projects that were still underwraps - except for Lights Up which had been released a couple weeks ago now.

The first project she ever worked on with Harry as his full-time personal stylist was the Lights Up music video. She had never worked so closely with one person for so long on just one project. Harry was insistent in vision and came in the first day filled with ideas, what he imagined for the video's concept and how he wanted to incorporate clothes. She had been happy to make his dreams become reality.

The two of them spent hours at his house for weeks, pouring over every detail of every outfit he planned to wear. They both wanted it to be perfect. And eventually, it all came together, exactly how they had planned. All of the garments for the video took up two entire garment racks. Y/N had made Harry pose in every single outfit for polaroids that she dated and then put into a lookbook she started for him. She had told him she planned to document every outfit she styled for him and Harry had been so excited. The outfits he wore in the video were received with praise when it was finally released, and Harry and Y/N were overjoyed. There was already a party for its release, but they both were especially happy that night. Throughout the evening, Harry and Y/N would gravitate to one another and fall into side conversations about the outfits and what people had been saying. Even if Harry said it didn’t matter, he and Y/N both knew, at the end of the day, they loved when people were happy with their work.  

“Sure,” he bounced to his feet, but Y/N made a hand motion telling him that he could stay seated. He settled back down as she crossed over and sat beside him on his couch.

She was at his house in London today planning his next few appearances that were promotion for the upcoming album, Saturday Night Live was next. Harry had been taking a break from their work until she had come in.

It wasn’t unusual for Y/N to be at his house, they had been working together for months now. First, it had been for his outfits in his music videos that were filmed in late summer and early fall, like Lights up, but also a few other ones. Now, it was clothing for promo appearances, interviews, and listening parties. Next, it would be tour outfits, which she had already started planning, but officially, they hadn’t started discussions yet. Harry had helped her to get a flat closer to his house in London just for her to be able to head over and help with the planning or fitting of his outfits more easily. She also was constantly traveling with him to his appearances, making sure outfits were perfect right before whatever show it was or making last minute adjustments in case either of them decided something wasn’t right.

While Harry was a big guy, his waist was far trimmer than a usual man built to his size, this meant she had to take in a lot of his trousers at the waist. As well, with his shirts and coats, she’d have to take them in or out depending on how Harry wanted the fit to be - either perfectly tight or perfectly oversized. He was particular, but she appreciated his drive for fashion and how he cared for his appearance. Before performances, she often had to take things in or out based on any body fluctuation that had occurred since the initial fitting.

She was looking at her sketchpad that held all of her notes on his clothes - which was different from the lookbook of polaroids - including patches of the actual colors and little Harry figures dressed in what he was going to wear. Right now, she had the pad opened to a page titled “SNL Opener - November 16, 2019”.

“So I was thinking with your opening monologue outfit, it might look better to have a different colored blazer? A matching yellow would be great, but if you did more of a toned down - maybe light tan or beige - blazer with gold embellishments, you’d elevate it to look sophisticated and stylish, rather than just stylish. It’d be exactly like the runway look - which I know you sometimes don’t like, but I think it’s what looks best.”

She ran her finger between two swatches of what she thought would be the better blazer color and the one Harry had originally wanted. He wet his lips and gazed at the page as he thought about what she said. Normally, she liked monochrome on him, but she thought the deep blue underneath a completely yellow suit might wash him out on the stage.

“Yeah,” he pointed to the top beige swatch, “I think I do like this better.” He paused and turned his head to Y/N, looking in her eyes before asking, “Is that all?”

“Er...no,” Y/N ran a hand over her unstyled hair, slightly fluffed by her constant musing of it. She often fiddled with it while she worked, better than biting nails she always said when confronted about her tick. After a sigh Y/N continued, “I was just on the phone with Jane from Gucci and she said that for Look 57 they could only send your technical size, for some reason they can’t custom make it. Meaning, I’ll have to tailor the whole thing to you when it arrives. Is that alright? Or do you want to choose something else?”

She flipped to a page that said “SNL WS.” Harry followed her hands and nodded realizing she was talking about the Gucci suit he wanted to wear for Watermelon Sugar. It was a watermelon’s inside red. When he had found out the suit came in that color, he had danced around the dining table for what Y/N had felt like was an hour, humming the tune of Watermelon Sugar excitedly. Finally, she had coaxed him to sit back down and get back to their other work, which was still picking out clothes.

“No, that’s fine,” Harry shook his head and used his thumb to scratch under his lips absentmindedly, “It really needs to be that color.”

She nodded, she knew what his answer was going to be, but she also knew he still liked to make the final decision.

“Alright, we’ll just have to meet for longer when everything arrives, to tailor that one. Then the rest of them should just be making sure the fit is perfect.”

She rose up from her seat and patted Harry’s shoulder, leaving him to his thoughts, as she went back to finish up the calls with Jane and the designers.

He caught her hand in his before she completely walked away, “Thank you, Y/N.” He was so grateful he had hired someone who was as driven as he was and understood his fashion sense and wanted to help enhance what he was thinking, rather than someone trying to control him or just going along with whatever he said. Neither would be productive or helpful, thankfully Y/N loved her job and cared to do things right.

She grinned before exiting, “H, you’re going to be this century’s style icon if it’s the last thing I do.” He laughed as she walked out of the room, leaning back on the couch to continue his lurking on Instagram.

-

One week later

“I’m here, H! I come bearing Gucci and more!” Y/N said as she shuffled through Harry’s front door, she held a deconstructed rack and a garment bag filled with heavy suits and things. Inside were Harry’s four most important outfits for SNL, some other garments for SNL, and some clothes they had talked about for his upcoming listening sessions later in the month. Y/N needed to check the fit on all of them and begin tailoring the Watermelon Sugar suit. The key Harry had given to Y/N, previously, had let her in, but she assumed he was home. He said he’d be.

When Y/N rounded the corner she found another empty room. Confused, she set down her large items and went to search for Harry. Y/N literally needed him to be here for this part. It was the only real time she actually needed to see him in person - but that was beside the point.

“H?”

She wandered through the different rooms of his home. Normally, Y/N didn’t go into the other rooms, she was always mainly in his lounge area, the dining room, and a little casual office room he had - sometimes the kitchen for water, his bedroom once. Still not finding him, she decided to venture to the furthest door, Harry’s bedroom, she remembered.

Harry groaned at the sound of a knock on his door, he rolled over in his bed. After a few moments of hearing nothing else than his groan, Y/N felt like she had to go in and check on him.

“H, it’s 12:30 and we agreed we’d meet at noon. Are you feeling alright?”

Y/N moved into the room and found a shirtless Harry surrounded by rumpled sheets, clutching at a pillow. He groaned into his pillow again in response. Her legs bent at the edge of the bed and she reached out to smooth some of his chestnut hair out of his face, “What’s wrong?”

He moved his head to allow his eyes to look at her, “‘M so tired, don’t know why. My stomach kind of hurts too…” Y/N looked at him quizzically, before running her hand over his tan forehead once more, this time checking for a fever. “You don’t have a fever. When did you go to sleep? Have you eaten anything today?” With her help, Harry moved into a seated position, head tilted back against the bedpost. He sat silent for a moment before blowing air out of his mouth. “Went to sleep kind of late for me, I guess...Haven’t eaten.”

“Ok, you’re just tired from staying up late, you old man, and you might be a little dehydrated and hungry. Listen, I’ll go make you some food if you get up and prepare yourself for the day. We need to get all your clothes fitted so that I can fix anything before next week.” Y/N was always good at getting Harry back on track when he got distracted - or even out of the station, when he wasn’t in the mood to work on something. She slid from her perch on the bed and walked to almost the edge of the room before Harry called her back.

“Can you pick out my clothes for me?” His soft, tired voice whined. “So hard...and you’ve got the best eye. Pleaseeee,” he pleaded softly.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N sighed and made her way back into his room. Crossing to the door that led to his walk-in closet, she set to work. As silly as he was being, she could never pass up on a chance to pick out an outfit for Harry.

“You’re literally going to be changing the entire time, H, you could have just thrown on sweats,” she called back to him once inside the smaller room. He repeated how she always picked the right thing, even for just around the house. Again, Y/N rolled her eyes at Harry, but she also couldn’t hide the warm smile on her face that was due to his compliment.

She couldn’t believe how dramatic Harry could be sometimes. Right now, he was a lesser form of hungover and he was acting like his life was ending. Y/N had made a note a while ago to never agree to a meeting on the day after any partying. She learned the hard way one particularly terrible Sunday. She had come round his house at a similar time, noon-ish and found Harry dead asleep, backwards in his bed. When she had roused him, his only responses were grumbles and groans. She had to not only pick out his clothes, but also help dress him. Then, after providing water and aspirin, she moved all their work into his bedroom so they could work from there. Harry had proved to be a baby when it came to hangovers.  But, she hadn’t realized he could get like this even without being truly hungover.

After settling on his live aid t-shirt, that Y/N was eternally jealous of, located at the front of his drawer and his favorite corduroy trousers, she walked out and threw them in the direction of his toned, but slumped body. “I will not get you boxers, that is most definitely not in my job description, Boss.” Y/N sent a pointed look in his direction, moving to finally leave the room. While he was technically her boss as her employer, their work relationship was extremely collaborative and it never felt like he was in control of her, she just liked to give him shit for being a drama queen.

“Guess I’ll be going commando. How’s that going to work with me changing in front of you a bunch of times?” He teased right back, taking the clothes you had thrown at him and giving them a onceover. His teasing signalled that he was already feeling better.

Y/N shook her head and walked out of the room, “For the love of God, Harry, please put on underwear before you come out and continuously strip in front of me!”

The words he shouted after that were muffled, but they were something along the lines of how the human body is beautiful and shouldn’t be covered up. Unbelievable. As she set to work on making both of them some lunch, she finally heard Harry begin moving around. They had a lot of work to do as it was and whenever Harry was in a mood, whether it be a good mood or a bad mood, they always seemed to have a hard time focusing.

One night, that could be seen as the poster child for Harry and Y/N’s procrastination, was during the planning for the Adore You music video. Harry was in a super good mood that day and he had brought that energy to their meeting at his house. Y/N was supposed to be fitting him for the various outfits, but Harry, in his mania, ordered an overzealous amount of Chinese food. It took her and Harry hours to even make a dent in the food. And while they passed the time with eating, Harry and Y/N got further and further from their tasks, opting for conversations that included more fun topics than work. They had gossipped about some of the other people they worked with, Harry had begged for “the tea” about some of his other staffers and Y/N was happy to oblige. As much as Y/N would hate to admit it, she loved when they got off of work subjects and talked about how their day’s had been and what has been on their nerves lately. It was a nice way to decompress, it was like hanging out with a friend, except it wasn’t, not really.

Harry shuffled into the kitchen wearing what Y/N had picked out for him. Her smile grew knowing that he hadn’t changed what she’d picked. His confidence in her and her abilities never failed to feel like the biggest compliment.

“Go sit at the dining table, I’ve made us some little sandwiches and then we can decide the order we want to go through the outfits in.”

Before following Y/N’s orders, Harry continued his shuffling around, first to the cabinet for a glass, then to the fridge for water. At the end of the table, she set the plates between the head of the table’s spot and the one to its left. Harry took the side spot, so Y/N was on the end. After a bite of his food, Harry moaned loudly in contentment. This caused an amused look on Y/N’s face, there had been nothing special in his house so she had just made what was possible. This meant that Harry’s satisfaction was a little over the top.

“You’re acting like you haven’t eaten in a week. What did you do last night that got you in such a twist?” Y/N asked as she took a sip of her own glass of water. Harry nibbled at his lower lip after swallowing, trying to understand why he was particularly tired today.

“I guess I forgot to eat properly yesterday and then I went out running. And I stayed up late on the phone with,” he paused, eyes flashing to Y/N and then away again, “someone for SNL.”

Y/N hummed at his words before going back to her own eating. She didn’t understand why he hesitated about telling her he’d been on the phone last night, it especially irked her that he wouldn’t even say with whom. Professionally, it wasn’t really her business, but Harry was never secretive with her. Plus, it seemed to be work related so why was he being so flighty about it.

Moving forward, Harry peppier from eating and simply moving around, the pair set to work. They decided on trying on everything else first and then saving the Watermelon Sugar suit to the end. The other three main pieces for the night fit perfectly, Y/N had to only do minor reworks of certain areas.

“H, I need you to hold still…” Y/N interrupted Harry’s ramblings as she was crouched beside him.

She had to take up the hem on the pant legs so right now she was trying to pin them in the place she and Harry had agreed upon, without messing with the pleats.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, straightening out his back to stand taller.

He stayed quiet for a bit until Y/N popped back up, she looked at her notebook for reference on what she still had to tailor.

“Okay, next, the pants crotch is looking pretty fitted, so I assume you want it taken down a bit,” Y/N said as she got back into her crouching position. “Look in the mirror and tell me where you think letting it out looks best, I don’t have the best vantage point when I’m up this close…” she trailed off, placing her measuring tape directly on top of Harry’s crotch and running it down his leg a ways.

Once done with her first attempt at where she thought was best to let the pants out, she turned her eyes to the mirror that showed Harry in his suit with Y/N on her knees before him. Harry cleared his throat as he looked in the mirror, seeing Y/N with her eyes wide in anticipation in the position she was in made him want to run and hide. Her hands were extremely close to his dick, but it was literally her job, he knew he had to shake the thoughts that were running through his mind.

“Maybe just a bit further up actually, as much as I like the high waist with dropped crotch, I want this suit to have that specifically tailored look,” his hands motioned for Y/N to bring the drop up a ways.

Her hands then brought the measuring tape up, once again grazing over his area. Again, Y/N looked at Harry through the mirror for approval, and this time he gave it and she placed a single pin in the place where the pants would be let out to.

Standing up, Y/N hoped Harry didn’t notice the blush gracing her face. She was a stylist and used to being around naked bodies as well as touching around a man’s crotch when working. But Harry in this suit must have been magic, because she had felt extremely vulnerable on her knees in front of him in it. She had felt flushed the minute he hadn’t liked what she had done initially and she hated that she felt that way for some reason. Beginning to work on the sleeves of the suit set her at ease, Y/N was thankful to no longer be kneeling or in such close proximity to what was under Harry’s pants.

“Anything on your mind of late?” Harry broke the silence.

Y/N hummed with a pin stuck between her lips, folding up the suit jacket’s right sleeve. Plucking it from her mouth after a few silent moments, she said, “Not really, haven’t had time to do much else lately. Always thinking about you,” Y/N flushed as she realized what she had just said. “I mean, thinking about you like about your clothes and when they’re going to arrive and what I need to do about them, not you personally, sorry that came out wrong,” her blush intensified as she rapidly fumbled through her last sentence.

“Ow!”

“Oh my god!”

While Y/N had gotten flustered with her words, she managed to stick the pin she was using straight into Harry’s flesh. She immediately removed the pin from where it had stuck him.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, H, we’ve got to get this off. I need to make sure you’re not bleeding onto the suit.”

Y/N rushed around to Harry's backside and began slipping off his suit jacket as Harry chuckled and began to unbutton the shirt as carefully as possible.

“‘S alright, Y/N, if there’s any blood on the shirt it’ll blend in, blood is practically the same color.” She glared at him through the mirror and Harry continued to laugh, “That is not funny, H, I shouldn’t have stuck you in the first place.”

“No, no,” Harry hushed Y/N as she began to slip off his shirt from one side to the other, taking off the sleeve on the side she hadn’t poked, “you’ve got so much on your plate with all the planning for the upcoming events. Then you worked yourself up over a little slip.” As Y/N carefully unbuttoned the cuff of the sleeve to try and slip off the shirt with the least amount of blood on it as possible, Harry finished with, “I wouldn’t mind if you were just thinking about me, though, an’ not the clothes.”

This time, Y/N was very in control, not willing to let herself slip up a second time today. She didn’t know how to respond to what Harry had just admitted. It wasn’t like this hasn't happened before. Both of them were guilty of making little comments that made it sound like they were interested in each other in a way that was a little different than professional or friendly. But every time the other person always had the responsibility to shut the idea down or completely blow past what their counter had just said.

“Harry…” She began, it was soft and pleading, like she was saying she couldn’t entertain that idea. Examining his forearm, after pulling the shirt completely away and resting it on a nearby chair, she saw a little spot of blood protruding from the pin prick she had caused. “Where do you keep your bandages?” Y/N decided that it was best to brush past Harry’s words this time and went off to find his first aid kit. Harry stood there, shirtless, staring at the blood on his arm. It really wasn’t a lot and it wouldn’t have done anything to the suit, but Y/N was always so careful and never wanted to ruin any of Harry’s clothes.

On her return, Y/N came upon a shirtless Harry perched on the edge of the table, with one arm crossed and his other - that was bleeding - being held slightly away from his body, as if Harry was afraid to touch it. His posture was slumped so Y/N could see his spine curving beneath his tanned honey-soft skin and his shoulder blades slightly flexed. While most of Harry’s body was covered in tattoos, she noticed how the closest tattoo to his back was the small line drawing of a guitar on the back of his left shoulder. Other than that his smooth back was bare. Y/N found it interesting that Harry had never chosen to ink his back. She jogged lightly back into the room and Harry’s head turned to watch her approach. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth as he regarded her. She noticed he was being particularly quiet, but she had no idea why. Maybe he was still tired.

Y/N set to work on finding the correct tissue, neosporin, and bandage for Harry’s small wound. As she worked on fixing up her mistake, Harry’s eyes followed her movements. Green eyes flickering between her hands on his arm and her own eyes focusing on her task.

“After this, I actually can just head home and finish the rest of the work,” Y/N said as she unpackaged the bandage, “I already know where I need to take in the suit sleeves and the shirt’s sleeves were looking fine. So, I can get out of your hair and you can get to sleep early tonight.” She placed the nude toned bandage over Harry’s arm, she was a little sad to find he didn’t own fun bandages. That was something that she expected from Harry, but she resigned that maybe she didn’t know everything about Harry.

Before Harry could speak, Y/N continued, “Don’t rehearsals for the show start tomorrow? When are you flying to New York?” She ran her hand over the bandage, smoothing it in place. Her hand lingered there as her eyes looked up and met Harry’s. Harry twitched his arm away from Y/N’s touch and scratched his nose slightly.

“Yeah, I’m flying out tomorrow morning. When are you set to fly out?”

“Friday. I’ll get in before the final dress rehearsal and then I’ll be there for the show.” Y/N stepped back and began to rehang the suit jacket and shirt that they had discarded in her haste to not get blood on them.

Then Y/N stood there staring at Harry. He looked at her slightly confused by her doing nothing when she said she was leaving. “Pants, H.” She said finally when she realized he had forgotten he was still wearing the suit pants. “Oh! Sorry,” Harry exclaimed as he began to unbutton and remove the pants he was wearing. He handed her the pants and she exchanged them with his live-aid t shirt. He took it graciously before slipping it on and disguising his toned body beneath it. Then he took his pants from earlier and fully redressed himself.

“Damn!” Y/N said and Harry’s head flipped to watch her as she began to put all of the clothing back in their garment bags and take down the rack.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just pinched myself with the rack, I’m all left feet today.”

“Here,” Harry chuckled as he walked over to help Y/N, “let me help you with all this. Just in the boot of your car, yeah?” Y/N nodded and smiled in appreciation for Harry. He grabbed her keys laying on the table and then took the rack and a garment bag. Even if things sometimes got tense between them, for whatever reason, he was always quick to move past it and be thoughtful and kind in the best ways for Y/N. After shaking her hand out, she grabbed the last garment bags and followed Harry out to her car. Harry shut the back of her car softly and turned to face Y/N, she stood beside her car door, ever so slightly leaning against it. He walked to her side and smiled.

“I’ll see you in a week,” he said before wrapping his arms around Y/N’s much smaller frame. His body was radiating heat and it felt good against Y/N in the crisp night air of London. She pressed into his hold and wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him hard. “Less than...Can’t wait to see you make an absolute fool of yourself out there.” Harry protested her tease with a small, “Hey!” but mostly focused on his hands on her back and the way her hair felt especially soft under his chin. Finally, Y/N pulled away, “Kidding! You’ll be amazing and you’ll look killer while doing it.” She winked before opening her car door and driving off. Harry was left with the lingering scent of her perfume and shampoo mingling in his nose.

-

It was the Saturday night, November 16th, 2019.

Harry and Y/N were in his dressing room before the show started. His outfits for the night were lined up, except for his opener one that Y/N had just dressed him in. His first change would be for Light’s Up, then a couple skit outfits that had to be moved elsewhere for quick changes, then the Watermelon Sugar suit, and then finally his end of the show casual look. The opener looked incredible, it’s fit was impeccable and Y/N knew people were going to love it.

She stepped back from Harry to give his whole body a once over, the SNL hairstylist had just blown out his hair and given him a sort of middle part. It definitely looked good and paired with the suit - Y/N could already tell it was going to be a hit by all accounts. Harry grinned back at her, doing a little dance to show just how much he was loving his clothes and how excited he was.

Grabbing the lint roller, Y/N gave the lapels of his suit jacket a once over and then moved it slightly out of the way to roll the big collar of Harry’s shirt and the bits of the body of the shirt that were showing underneath the jacket. Basically, Y/N was lint rolling over Harry’s clothed abs. Apparently, that was a ticklish area for Harry because he began to squirm and giggle under the tool’s touch.

“Seriously, H?”

She smiled as she said it, so excited for Harry that she couldn’t be mad at his relestness.

“Can’t help it. ‘M so giddy. Plus, I’m a wee bit ticklish.”

Y/N gave him a single laugh before removing the lint roller and smoothing over the shirt against his stomach and then over the lapels when she put the jacket back in place. She adjusted the Gucci reader’s she was wearing today, that were more for decoration than anything, but she liked to pretend they made her see better.

“You look smashing, Mr. Styles. Absolutely gorgeous, if I do say so myself.”

“Are you talking to me or the suit?” Harry asked as he flipped to look in the full length mirror in the dressing room.

“Can’t it be both?”

“Sure,” Harry said, he noticed the clock and realized it was his time to get in places. He leaned down and placed a small kiss on Y/N’s cheek, “It’s my time, thank you, Y/N.” She blushed at his words and actions. As he walked out the door, she called after him, “Break a leg, H!” He sent a final air kiss in her direction before completely disappearing.

She looked at the clothes hanging on the rack in the room and palmed over the fabric. Checking the lapels and brushing the lint roller over the, she finally stepped back and was happy with how they looked. When the show was just about to start, she flitted to the part of backstage where she could watch Harry perform. She giggled along to his monologue and grinned whole-heartedly when the crowd would roar with approval. Y/N had heard all of the jokes already because of the dress rehearsal yesterday, but it didn’t matter. Harry was killing it. She also took time to appreciate how good Harry looked in his suit on stage. In front of the lights and all the people, his suit shined brightly with the pops of blue and yellow and the oversized grey-iege jacket. His soft chestnut hair billowed perfectly to frame his forehead as he sipped from the faux martini. Y/N bit her lip to stifle her laugh. The fact that Harry, her boss and friend, was up on the Saturday Night Live stage with pink and blue nails sipping from a faux martini, it was perfect.

When Harry came back for his first performance change Y/N was right there waiting for him.

“Hi, that was really good,” she smiled up at him as he began to take off his coat.

He smiled brightly back at her as he exhaled a hefty breath, “You think so?”

“Yes! C’mon, everyone loved it. You delivered it all perfectly…” she took over undoing the buttons on the shirt because Harry was moving too slowly. “I’m in a man band now…” Y/N mumbled under her breath before chuckling.

“Did you just imitate my accent?” Harry said, now pulling off his sleeves.

Y/N moved around his back to take the shirt to hang and grab his Lights Up outfit. They worked like a well-oiled machine together, constantly taking over roles to get things done more efficiently, but never stepping on each other’s toes.

“Nope,” she winked before handing him the black sequin jumpsuit and exchanging it for his yellow pants. After rehanging the pants and bringing over Harry’s different set of boots, Y/N said, “Y’know, I’d have to say that your hair is giving your suit a run for its money.” She placed the shoes on the table beside Harry and began to fix into the place different parts of the jumpsuit, moving to zip up the back and then coming to the front to smooth it.

“What do you mean?” Harry looked in the mirror and delicately touched the edges of his hair, considering Y/N’s statement.

“No one ever really sees it how it is, nicely blown out but not too much product so it falls to frame your face. What’d you tell the hair person you wanted?” Y/N stepped back to allow Harry to change his boots from one Gucci pair to another, like he did with most of his wardrobe.

“Just told them to make me look mature. You think it looks good?” He looked up at Y/N when he asked the question.

“Think it looks sexy, that’s what I’m saying, no one’s gonna be able to focus on your clothes with how good your hair looks.”

“Ah,” he deftly runs his hands down his suit as he looks in the mirror.

Y/N just stares at Harry, checking him over one more time. She wasn’t lying about his hair, it was sexy and she wanted to run her hands through it to feel how soft it was. In a complete friend way of course.

“I like it…”

“It looks like you just rolled out of bed, but the bed was made of angel feathers.”

Harry laughed at Y/N’s description. He shifted his body to face her more and moved closer to her in the process.

“Alright, you should probably get back out there,” Y/N closes the gap between them and adjusts the chain of his jade and silver crosses and brushes over his broad shoulders.

They’re professional touches, but her movements hold an undercurrent of intimacy that neither of them realize. If anyone had been looking on, they would see how Y/N’s fingers delicately caressed Harry’s skin right before she cradled the pendants to move them in place. They would also see Harry instinctively lean forward into her touch and breathe slightly deeper to take in her scent. When she brushes over his shoulders, he straightens up at the touch and shows he’s ready to get back out there. It’s as if she prepared him to go.

Harry sings Lights Up and the crowd loves it. Sarah kills her drumming and Mitch eats up lead guitar. The backup singers bring out a different tone to the song. It is all around an amazing performance.

As Y/N clapped along with the crowd from backstage, Aidy Bryant approaches her.

“You’re Harry’s stylist, right?”

Y/N turns her head at the woman next to her, “Yeah?”

Aidy smiles, eyes slightly gleaming, “Well, you’re wonderful at your job.” As Y/N is about to thank her, Aidy continues, “And Harry knows that too, he talked about you all week. We all thought you were his girlfriend at first.”

Y/N laughed lightly and had to keep herself from letting her jaw drop at Aidy’s words. She even choked a bit on her own spit and had to cough slightly before even being able to think of a response, “Well, um, yeah...no, H, Harry is just my employer and...friend. No dating, we just get along well. Which is important since we spend a lot of time together - for work of course!”

Aidy smiled sweetly at Y/N, “Yeah, Harry explained that when Beck asked him how long you’d been together. At first he had said a couple months and then said ‘wait, Y/N is just my stylist, we’ve been working together for a couple months’ and then we all felt really dumb.”

“Don’t feel dumb,” Y/N reassured her, unsure why she was actually continuing this conversation, “He loves to talk about clothes and that’s where I fit in to his life, so I’m sure my name would come up a fair bit. Was that it?”

“Yeah I guess, but-” Aidy began to say more, but Y/N cut her off.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry, but Harry’s finished and I’ve got to go help him change for his next song.”

Aidy was left in Y/N’s wake, chuckling to herself, fully reassured about the reason that they had all thought Harry had been dating Y/N. Because they already acted like a couple. And they were both helplessly in love with one another and neither of them knew.

The rest of the show went off without a hitch. Harry continued to wow the crowd and Y/N sent him off from his dressing room always looking fabulous. Just as he was about to walk back on stage for his final farewell, Y/N noticed a tiny string on his trousers zipper. Unable to stop Harry and unable to grab at the string without looking odd, she had to let him walk on stage with it. It wasn’t actually a big deal, but Y/N sighed in annoyance because she knew that string was going to bug her for the rest of the night.

“Treat People With Kindness!” Harry finishes off his farewell.

Applause begins to sound and the cast is out front hugging and chatting, while Y/N is watching from the side still fixated on the string on Harry’s pants, now simply dangling. Finally, they begin to clear the stage because it’s time for the after party. Y/N knew there was no stealing Harry away to fix the problem that was now fixated in her mind. Every cast and crew member was trying to talk to him, congratulating him, hugging him, anything to spend time with the incredible man. Y/N couldn’t blame them, but she also wanted to be able to go some place quiet and debrief with Harry about his outfits. She wanted to look up what people were saying about his clothes and discuss the critiques with Harry. She also wanted to start discussing what was coming next with Harry. But most of all, she just wanted to hang out with Harry.

What Y/N wanted wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, which she knew, but it still only grew her annoyance with that string. If only she could get it off of him, maybe then her mind would be able to relax a little.

She meandered backstage, resigned she wouldn’t be talking to Harry for a while. There she went to find the band’s dressing room, knowing she would find Mitch or Sarah who she’d be happy to talk to. They weren’t ones for the spotlight and no one ever really seemed to want to brownnose with them at events like this. Y/N had met them a few times.

The first was when Harry had asked Y/N to meet him in the studio in mid July, Mitch and Sarah had both been there helping Harry finish up something for the album. Y/N never asked what, she liked music quite a bit, but when it came to the technical part of it, it went completely over her head. Harry had introduced them both and they seemed lovely. After that, she had seen them around for an event or two of Harry’s. It wasn’t much, but it was more than any of the other people around right now.

Just as she was about to knock on the door it swung open, revealing Harry’s entire backing band. “Hey,” Y/N said sheepishly, “Harry’s being fawned over by the masses and I don’t actually know anyone else here. Is it alright if I hang out with you all at this after party? I doubt there’s going to be anyone really dying to meet the stylist.”

She smoothed her own clothes as she spoke. Y/N wanted to look professional tonight because sometimes when she was dressed in more fun or “young” clothes she got mistaken for someone who had snuck in. The only thing that got people to not question her authority to be where she was, was a card that read ‘staff’ that she would clip onto whatever she was wearing at places like this. Tonight, she chose a pair of purple plaid pants, a sleek lilac tank underneath a cream knit shawl, and cream Gucci mules.  Ever since Harry took an interest in Y/N’s pearl necklace, she had largely stopped wearing hers because she hoped never to be photographed matching with him. However, she had known the pearls would have completed the look, even putting them on in her hotel room, twisting a pearl in her hand as she looked in the mirror, and then taking the necklace off again and settling on a different silver necklace instead. The ‘staff’ card was clipped to her pants pocket tonight.

“Of course!” Sarah said as the band began to file out of the room, “You might want to take your tag off now, though, you’re done working for the night.”

Her laughter rang sweetly through Y/N’s ears and she smiled back before removing her identifying card. She hated the piece of plastic and was glad to take it off, it never went with her outfits, but she had gotten tired of taking out her business card every time someone asked what she was doing. Y/N was sure that during the tour she’d be fine without it, but as Harry’s show appearances were beginning to ramp up she knew it would be helpful to have.

“Thanks...you all were amazing out there tonight. Second time on the SNL stage right?”

The group of you began to walk in the direction of where the after party was being held. Mitch piped up, “Thanks. Yeah, I love their box stage setup, it’s pretty cool.” Y/N was happy that she had people who were easy to talk to so that she wouldn’t be alone tonight.

Arriving in the room of the party, they were all quick to grab the alcohol that was being provided at the pop up bar. Y/N wasn’t normally a fan of drinking at events like these, mainly because she was not usually invited to this part of the night and when she was she wanted to be alert. But she figured there wasn’t much else to do so she took a hearty sip of the champagne. It was a little sweet, her face scrunched.

“Too sweet?” Mitch questioned when he saw Y/N’s face.

“Just a little for my taste.”

“Harry’s not going to be drinking tonight then. So particular about his alcohol,” Mitch continued.

Y/N laughed, “Well I’m glad, then I don’t have to deal with him being a baby about his hangover tomorrow.”

Mitch quirked an eyebrow at Y/N’s statement. Sarah and the others in the band had dispersed to mingle with the SNL party goers, leaving Mitch and Y/N to their conversation.

Realizing what she said could be seen as slightly weird out of context, Y/N quickly started again, “because I’m supposed to go shopping with Harry tomorrow. He wanted to go to Gucci and a couple other stores here before flying to LA. I’m going back to London until the listening parties, so we need to figure out the finishing touches for those and..” Y/N trailed off trying to remember which looks weren’t completed yet for the next few shows, Mitch waited patiently, “a few of the suits for the Late Late Show. He’s not happy with one of them so we might switch it. But anyway, you know how he is with a hangover. Proper child.”

Mitch threw his head back in laughter at Y/N’s serious look that she gave him. “Yeah, he can be...a lot. I meant to tell you, Harry looked great tonight. All of the clothes were fantastic,” Mitch added.

He was kind and Y/N appreciated him sticking with her. The two of them had rested themselves against a wall near the bar, sipping their champagne and enjoying each other’s company.

“Thank you.”

Mitch opened his mouth to say something else, but Heidi Gardener, another SNL member interrupted.

“Y/N, right!?”

Y/N and Mitch both turn to her, equally taken aback by the sudden burst of energy from this person they didn’t really know. Y/N nodded.

“Oh my gosh! You have to tell me where you got the jacket Harry is wearing!”

Heidi even goes as far to point in Harry’s direction. Y/N knows what she’s talking about, but her eyes still wander to where she pointed. Harry stood in a clump of people, surrounded by Ben Winston, James Corden, and the Gerbers who had all come to watch. She sighed as she watched his eyes shine as he laughed with a smile on his face. She hoped that by now the string had fallen off his pants by now, if not she was going to kick herself later.

“Oh, it’s Bode,” Y/N’s eyes coming back to meet Heidi’s happy face, “but it’s custom made from a vintage blanket. There’s only two that exist.”

Y/N and Mitch watched as Heidi’s face dropped.

“And I’m pretty sure the designer owns the other one,” Y/N added, “Sorry.”

Heidi smiles and jokes, “Know any ways I could possibly get Harry to give me his?”

“He loves that coat. I have no idea what you could possibly do to convince him he didn’t need it anymore.”

“Sex, probably,” Mitch says under his breath.

Heidi doesn’t catch it as she walks back off and Y/N turns to swat him with her free hand.  

“What? He always gives away his clothes to girl’s he has crushes on.” Y/N rolls her eyes at Mitch’s words.

“Probably best if you don’t inform the masses about that,” a new voice says.

Unbeknownst to Mitch and Y/N, Harry had broken away from his entourage to steal a few minutes with his two friends, his best friends if he was being honest. They laugh together as he wraps his arms around their shoulders and pulls them both into his chest. Y/N feels the warmth radiating from Harry’s body as she snuggles into his side. Her hand wraps under his jacket and around his waist to squeeze right about his hip bone. His face is gleaming with a small sheen of sweat, but his smile is so big she barely notices his perspiration as he looks down at her.

“Heard you were talkin’ shit?”

Mitch quips, “Us? Never.”

Harry scoffs, “Come off it!”

When he releases Y/N and Mitch from his grasp, Mitch straightens up while Y/N’s eyes immediately go down to Harry’s crotch. She’s not paying attention to their conversation as she tries to make out in the dim light whether the string is gone or not. The men realize she’s not listening and they both follow her gaze.

Confused, Harry asks, “Y/N, any particular reason you’re staring at my dick?”

Her head shoots up, eyes wide and cheeks flushed from embarrassment.

“I wasn’t!”

Mitch laughs and decides he wants another glass of champagne right then, mumbling something about how that was his cue. Harry smiles, knowing she wasn’t doing what he had said, but still intrigued to know what was going on in her mind.

“You had a string right on your zipper and it’s been bugging me since you went out for your outro. This is the first time I’ve seen you on your own and I couldn't exactly go up to you in a random crowd and grab at your crotch. But now I can’t see in this light…” Y/N bit at her lower lip and furrowed her brow still trying to see if the string was there.

“Have you really been thinking about it this whole time?” Harry asked, slightly concerned.

“Yes...I know it doesn’t matter, but I just want your clothes to look perfect.”

Harry takes a deep breath as he makes a small smile at Y/N. Then he brushes over the front of his pants, hoping he removes the string if it's still attached to him. “There, I’m sure it’s gone now. I’m sorry you had to worry about that. Just know everyone I’ve talked to has been raving about the clothes.” He placed his ring-clad hand on Y/N’s upper arm and squeezed it.

“You did an amazing job,” Y/N said.

Harry pulls her into his chest one more time. This time without Mitch so both of Harry’s arms go around her shoulders and both of hers go around his slender waist. Again her hands disappear under his coat and thumb over his warm white t-shirt, her face resting on his chest right next to the word ‘Sex’. His arms tighten around her back as they rest there for a while. Y/N always has to make herself pull away, knowing that Harry will stay there for as long as he can - in anyone’s embrace - and remembering they’re in a public setting, she didn’t want anyone to assume things, even if she had already been made aware that people had.

“We’ll debrief more later tonight, yeah? The champagne is terrible so I won’t be drinking,” Harry said.

Y/N laughed under her breath as she smiled at his words. Mitch and her knew Harry too well. She nodded about getting together later, “Alright. Get back to your fan club.” Harry narrowed her eyes at her words, not sure if she was trying to sound sarcastic or not.

-

Hey, I’m back at the hotel. Just let me know when you want to debrief :) x

Y/N texted Harry the minute she got back to the hotel, she had no idea if he had left before her or was still at the after party. All she knew was that it was late and she was starting to get tired. Still, it was important for them to talk about their plans for tomorrow and she also really wanted to just be with him alone. Whenever they would debrief after big events Harry and Y/N would laugh at all the outrageous stuff they had seen go on throughout the night.

When she was still a freelance stylist she had helped Harry to plan his Camp outfit at the Met Gala. That night, they never even went to bed and had to debrief about the clothes the next afternoon over tea at the Palace. Both her and Harry were recovering from their exhaustion and nursing equally terrible hangovers. But there they were, sitting in the center of the dining area of the hotel, being served some of the nicest tea and sandwiches Y/N had ever had. It was amazing. Y/N had never felt that rich in her life before and Harry had told her the craziest stories about the most famous people in attendance. It was almost unbelievable what these people would reveal to Harry and Y/N was happy to listen to all of it, promising to never tell anyone else. That outing was probably the first time Harry realized he really liked Y/N and wanted to work more closely with her.

While tonight wasn’t quite as wild as the Met Gala had been, Y/N was still excited to hear any funny stories Harry might have in addition to their clothing talk. They really hadn’t had much time to chat since she had gotten to New York yesterday so it would be nice to just be alone together. Even if Y/N chalked their debriefs up to ‘shop talk’, she was always very excited for them.

As she reached her hotel room door, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry.

I’m still out, but should be heading back soon. Up to you if you want to wait up or we can just debrief in the morning while we shop. x H  

Y/N sighed at the message, she wanted to wait up and debrief before tomorrow, if not for alone time with Harry but professionally for being able to plan out their shopping tomorrow. Where Harry was carefree, Y/N was meticulous and planned out. She liked to have fun, but she knew when she had to get her work done, even when Harry was off in his own mind. Their work styles mostly coincided, Harry could be serious and focused, too, but often when he was surrounded by all his famous friends he had a hard time saying ‘no’ to whatever came up. So Y/N knew that Harry’s definition of ‘soon’ could range from actually soon to almost dawn. She really hoped he actually meant soon, so she shot him a text saying:

Just knock on my room and if I open it we can debrief lol x

Harry smiled down at his phone when Y/N’s text came through, slightly chuckling before double tapping and placing a heart reaction of her text. Then he was pulled into the limo that one of his friend’s had gotten them and was handed a flute of champagne.

Back at the hotel, Y/N threw her phone on the bed and decided to change and simply settle in for the night. If Harry made it back, he made it back and if he didn’t she’d wake up well rested.

Maybe thirty minutes into scrolling on her phone, Y/N heard a rough knock on her door. She was actually quite surprised that Harry had indeed been back soon. Rising from her snuggled place in the bed, she shifted around her night clothes and padded to her door. There stood, rather hung, a slightly disheveled Harry. His hair was whipped into disaster, something was smudged on his face, and she noticed a stain on his t-shirt that hadn’t been there the last time she’d been with him.

He slurred her name as he stumbled through the doorway. Y/N closed her eyes and sighed in exasperation. She was in awe that somehow Harry hadn’t gotten off his ass in the past hour and a half.

“What happened to not drinking tonight?”

She walked beside him and helped shove him into a sitting position on her bed. He flapped his arms, chaotically trying to get his plaid jacket off. Throwing her phone in the direction of her pillow, she moved to help Harry with his jacket. After quite a bit of strugglings, Y/N finally got the Bode jacket off of him successfully and threw it onto the nearby chair. Sighing, she settled beside him.

“So, Harry, care to explain?”

“Hi, Y/N…” He swayed slightly, attempting to face Y/N more. She threw out a hand to his shoulder, gripping him tightly to try and steady him.

“We went in this limousine, and they had champagne - good champagne - and I drank a bottle or so pretty quickly.”

“Or so? Oh Harry...I mean you’re free to make your own choices, but I don’t know if this was one of your best.”

“Wasn’t...wasn’t my idea. I was planning on just going back to the hotel. Then James convinced me to come out for a bit. Then the champagne was looking good so I went for it.”

“Like I said, you can make your own choices,” she patted his arm and went to the en suite bathroom to wet a washcloth to clean off his face.

“So, is it champagne on your shirt or am I going to have to go through hell to get the stain out?” She called.

Harry groaned and leaned back on the bed, fingering at the crisp white sheets. “Champagne,” he finally muttered as Y/N reappeared into the dim room, only the outside world and the light in the bathroom lighting this area.

“And on the face?”

She climbed onto the bed and kneeled beside Harry’s prone body, beginning to swipe at the smudge on his face. He tilted his head to face her, bringing the cheek with the dirt to lay facing perfectly up. His jawline showed perfectly and she felt the strength that laid beneath the skin she was washing.

His eyes flitted up to her face, trying to stop the spins he was currently experiencing. He hadn’t thought he was that drunk until he had been required to find his way up to their floor on his own.

“Lipstick?”

She sighed, running the washcloth over his cheek once more, and tried to push the image of some woman (or man who wore lipstick, she guessed) with her lips all over Harry’s face. She didn’t want to know who it was or why it was. It was too hard, especially after the day of people asking her about Harry and her relationship and insinuating things about him and his romantic life. She just liked to keep the words Harry and romance apart as much as possible, it made her life easier that way.

“It was only from-”

“It’s ok, Harry, I don’t need to know who you were…” She stopped herself, not even wanting to say ‘kissing’ or ‘snogging’ or even worse ‘shagging’. Adults were human beings and they could do a lot in an hour and a half. And again, she didn’t want to know.

“You keep doing that. Are you mad at me?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Calling me Harry, not ‘H’. Is it because you’re mad at me?”

“No,” she sighed, shifting to sit more casually, “No, I’m not mad at you. I just wasn’t expecting you to show up at my door like this. I try not to worry about you, but then when you show up like this, it kind of affirms I had reason to be concerned.”

She took a hand and smoothed over Harry’s tousled hair, he rolled his head back to face the ceiling. “Like I said, you’re an adult, capable of making his own decisions. And, I am just your stylist. I’m just glad you made it up here and knocked on my door. Probably would have given someone else a fright.”

He laughed, starting to sober up as the spinning in the room stopped. Her hands on his face and hair were soothing and sobering.

“Thank you for caring about me, love. And going beyond being just my stylist, you’re my friend Y/N.”

His eyes flickered shut and Y/N stared at his soothed features. His words were still slurred and she was sure the use of love was just his britishness slipping through his drunken state. The part about being more than a stylist, she tried to push it away, telling herself not to read more into it than her heart would like to. Even though he said she was a friend as well as a stylist and not anything more, it still sent so much joy through her body. He didn’t just see her as a work colleague and he had said it. But in his inebriated state, Y/N didn’t want to take everything he said as gospel.

She moved him up the bed with a little bit of his sleepy self’s help into a more comfortable position. It was pretty late now and she wasn’t going to kick him out. It would have been rude and unkind and that were two things Y/N rarely was. She went and grabbed the extra blanket from the cabinet and draped it over Harry’s large body for extra warmth since he refused to get under the covers. She also slipped off his boots and stained shirt per his request before getting into the other side of the bed and falling asleep.

-

She awoke to a shifting body beside her and she sat up confused as to who it could be. Quickly, Harry showing up drunk at her door came flooding back and she turned to look at the groaning Harry beside her. His arm was thrown over his face as he moaned, just waking up as well and experiencing the first bits of his hangover. This was going to be a long day.

“Hullo,” his voice was especially low, groggy and hoarse from the night before. He peaked over at her from behind the crook of his elbow. His eyelids barely open and his eyelashes weighing them down so much so that she could barely see his sleepy jade eyes.

“Good morning, H. Have a nice rest?” Y/N sat up and began to ready herself for the day, rummaging through her suitcase for an outfit and moving about the room.

Harry’s arms went to his sides as he worked to sit up, eyes following her figure as she moved around, seemingly not groggy very much unlike him. “Erm...I’m sorry for showing up pissed.”

“S’fine, H. Just glad you didn’t end up in a ditch or someone’s bed - someone’s that you might regret…” She barely regards him, throwing a single glance his way before shuffling to the bathroom to change. She knows they’ll be photographed today, it’s almost inevitable right now. Everyone knows Harry is in New York and people are buzzing to see him after his performance last night. She slips on the 70s inspired dress, the v-neck and long sleeves settling perfectly on her frame, it hugs her curves and lands around mid-thigh. Rolling on the bold mustard yellow tights and strapping up the brown leather mary jane heels, she looks herself over in the mirror. She then tries to tame her hair and do the rest of her routine, knowing she needed to get on with the day, shopping first and flying home second. Making sure Harry was okay was also on that list, but she couldn’t pretend like she wasn’t a little disappointed in him after last night.

When she returns, Harry is sitting with his legs hanging off the edge of the bed, head hanging as he’s hunched over himself. “C’mon, you gotta get going, kid. Lots to do today.” She’s pacing over to Harry’s deflated figure to pick him up and prompt him to get moving. When she arrives by his side his head lifts and his now more awake eyes stare up at her.

“I’m sorry for yesterday, really. I mean it.”  

“I told you already. It’s fine.”

“It’s not - or it wasn’t. You called me ‘Harry’ last night. I don’t think I’ve heard you call me that to my face since we started working together. I took your answer last night because I was swimming in it, but now, thinking about it. I know you were upset.”

She huffs, taking a seat beside Harry on the bed, choosing to not look at him, slightly confused why she had been so upset and why he was pushing it. “Ok, yeah I was annoyed, but I was also genuinely worried. I didn’t know you could physically get that drunk in that small amount of time. And then you show up at my door with somebody else’s…” Y/N falters, catching her slip up and deciding to fix her gaze on her shoes and their intricate design built into the leather.

“You’re upset that I had lipstick on me?” He’s trying to meet Y/N’s gaze, but her eyes are really interested in her shoes. His tone is confused, he’s trying to understand what’s going on in her mind.

She scoffs, risking a glance to Harry but then returns quickly back to her dress this time. “Please...it was just inconvenient for me, okay? Thought we were going to debrief and stayed up late for you. Then I had to take care of you after you hung out with your famous pals and I had barely even seen you all day. Felt a bit used.”

Harry shifted in the bed, turning to face her by tucking one leg beneath him. He places a hand on hers that was placed on the end of her dress. Her eyes finally meet with his and she feels her breath slightly catch in her throat. His eyes are piercing, his gaze intense, maybe even a tinge of anger. “Y/N, I would never have come to your room if I even had an inkling that this would be how you’d interpret it . Even though I was drunk, I wanted to see you, that’s why I came up here, because I wanted to be with my friend, one of my best friends, not because I just needed some pushover to care for me.”

She sighs, feeling icky still about the whole situation. She sometimes found herself in fights that she never intended, she wished she hadn’t said anything at all. But she also knew that wasn’t healthy either. Flipping her hand, she intertwines her fingers with Harry’s and smiles for the first time that morning. His expression softens at it. “Look, I’m sorry too, H. It honestly wasn’t that big of a deal, but I appreciate that you’re such a great guy and boss to want to truly apologize and make sure I’m comfortable and happy… Oh, and I promise I’ll never call you anything but H from here on out - unless you tell me otherwise.”

He cackles unabashedly at her words, before suddenly clutching at his temple with his free hand. “Fuckin’ hangover,” he mumbles. She smiles and stands up, beginning to throw his shirt and shoes from the end of the bed at him, “You need to get ready. Go pop some advil or whatever. My flights at 5 so we haven’t got all day, H.”

“There she is,” Harry grins, beginning to put back on the stained ‘Sex’ shirt.

As he hustles out of the room, shoes in hand, she calls to him one last request, “When you’re in fresh clothes make sure you bring me that stained shirt. Gonna have to spot clean it when I’m back in London!”

“Of course! And we’ll debrief as we shop, yeah?”

“Yes!”

The two of them were shouting to each other as the door continued to close on them. Chuckling to herself, she begins to pack up her room, knowing she had to check out before they left. Her spirits already lifted, she doesn’t even notice as she throws Harry’s forgotten Bode jacket into her suitcase with some other items that had been on her chair. She wouldn’t notice it until she was back in London unpacking from the trip.

Shutting the case, she springs back up from her crouched position and walks to look in the full length mirror again. Her fingers run the length of her dress, leafing over the slightly darker brown embroidered flowers that were woven into the tan fabric. She squints as she turns sideways and pops a heel up behind her. It looks good, but something is missing. Rummaging through her carry-on she pulls out her old butterfly bandana she used as a head scarf and begins to fix it into place on her head. Placing large sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, she feels like the look is complete and gives herself some poses in the mirror; a peace sign, an air kiss, a Marilyn Monroe. She laughs at herself.

A knock on the door shakes her from her childish fun. Straightening up, Y/N saunters over to the door, swinging it open with ease. “H?”

“You ready?” Harry stands in a fresh pair of Marni trousers paired with a striped orange and mauve Marni sweater. He, like Y/N, had this thing about wearing the brand you planned to shop at. He didn’t always stick to his rule, but he usually didn’t like to wear Gucci when he shopped at Gucci.

“Yeah, just need to check out and drop my baggage at the front to be held for later.” Y/N slips through the door and notes how his outfit compliments hers. She wouldn’t mention it, but it's something to think about since he had known what she was wearing. She wasn’t sure why she noticed things like that, if asked, her answer would probably be that it was the stylist in her, just her job.

-

Stepping out of a black town car on the side street next to Gucci to go in the side entrance would never get old for Y/N. She had never really enjoyed the idea of fame, but from a young age she had known she wanted to be able to afford the finer things in life. Going into the Gucci store now, especially with Harry, was like going to the candy store once you’re a grown up and can buy whatever you want rather than what your parents will allow you to.

Today, Harry and Y/N didn’t have as much time as they would usually like to spend in the store, but they were just happy to be doing what they loved. Y/N had been ecstatic to find out Harry found shopping to be an essential part of his life and that he liked to do his outfit shopping in person rather than online. Trying on clothes and picking out things you liked just was so much more fulfilling when you were in the physical store. Then make that all happen with Harry Styles as the buyer, then it was a real party. The stores liked to pull out their Champagne and clear the store to allow him privacy, specifically when it was for clothes for projects under wraps. In the beginning of her employment, it was only ever Harry who would do the trying on of clothes, but as the two of them got acquainted and comfortable with each other, she found herself trying things Harry would pick out for her. At first, she would veto some items saying they were too expensive for her, but eventually she learned that her new salary covered whatever it was. She had always enjoyed designer labels and choosing to be a stylist meant she had nice clothes, but only working for Harry had caused her closet to double in size and triple in value.

“So we are looking for some trousers today,” she tells the worker at the store, reminding them of what she had already called ahead about. The employee nods and proceeds to lead them into the room where they had laid out an assortment of pants for Harry to pick from.

“What do you think of these?” Harry walks out and strikes a pose, popping one of his hips to the side and his hands on his hips. The pants strain around his thighs, but fit practically perfectly everywhere else. His slim waist is perfectly encircled by the fabric and he’s decided the sweater he was wearing didn’t match them and he’d rather go shirtless. This choice technically should allow her to solely focus on the pants, but it actually makes her focus that much more diverted. She makes a spinning motion with her pointer finger as she purses her lips. He takes a quick spin and the boot cut slightly flares with his movement. The pants are a dark brown with a single plaid crossing in a lighter brown. They are only lightly flared, which she prefered to the extreme flare that some of Harry’s suits had. She narrows her eyes at the pants to keep her gaze from shifting to the taut muscles of Harry’s arms and torso or the dark ink that licked over his skin in the beautiful designs of his choice.

“They’re nice,” she pulls up a picture of the top part of the outfit he was planning on wearing, “Do you think they match with this though?” Harry walks over to her seated position and bends to look at her phone. His skin radiates heat and the smell of his cologne and she sniffles slightly with her sensitive nose. His eyes flicker to her face when he notices her little noise, but returns to looking at the phone when she doesn’t spare him a glance. She felt his gaze on her, but couldn’t bring herself to look from the phone. She knew his proximity would make it even harder for her to keep her eyes off his naked torso. The expensive smell of Harry mixed with the expensive smell of the store was a lot to handle.

“Yeah...no. You think they’re not right,” she widens her eyes at Harry’s words when he pulls away. He turns to the mirror in the open dressing room and fiddles with the waistline of the pants. “I agree,” he finishes before stalking back into the room and shutting the heavy velvet curtain that worked as the door to it.

He tries on five more pairs of trousers and finally settles on two pairs for the two different listening parties. A heavier, wool-tweed pair that was dark brown and then a lighter brown tweed pair. He was still in the lighter pants as he stared into the mirror. He beckoned to Y/N, and she quickly set down the flute of Champagne she had been sipping at lazily as he admired himself.

“Is it possible for you to take it in a bit more,” he says in a hushed tone to her, not wanting the workers to overhear. They were helpful but if they overheard they would wait for the store to tailor the trousers and he preferred for Y/N to do it. He rubs at the waistline again and she moves closer, her hands going to his sides. Her fingertips graze the naked skin above the trousers and Harry shivers at the coldness of the new touch. She ghosts softly over the waistline herself and smooths the fabric until she’s pinching a small amount on each side. She hums, pulling back from Harry and looking at the fit of them now, examining whether that makes them look better.

Then she nods and smiles up at Harry, “Ever the slender waist,” he grins right back as she admires him. She knew how much he liked praise and she was happy to give it to him, especially when he was so deserving. “I’d say size down, but then your thighs and bum might strain the fabric too much.” His face turns to a smirk as she blushes at her words. She releases the fabric and takes a hand to pat Harry’s smooth chest before walking back to her seat on the lovely couch.

“You sure you don’t want to try anything on, Y/N? Saw some killer boots when we walked in that screamed you.” Harry calls from behind the curtain, presumably getting redressed. Her laugh comes through the curtain slightly muffled, yet still a sweet melody in Harry’s ears.

“Definitely not now, we’re leaving any minute. Plus, I’ve got plenty of Gucci boots, don’t even show me them or I’ll be tempted.”

His laughter rings through the curtains, loud and unrestrained. She smiles to herself, unable to discourage the pleasure that weaves through her at the sound. His presence in all the different ways she experienced it was instantly comforting.

-

When she arrives back to her London flat, she practically flops on her couch once she’s inside the door. Her luggage forgotten at the door, as she shrugs off her coat. It was around 7 am because she had chosen to take the red eye for some reason. She groaned as she thought about the day ahead of her. Even though Harry was halfway across the globe, she still had plenty of work to do. She had to finalize the outfits for the listening parties now that they had the pants to complete the looks. Then she had to start thinking about Harry’s December appearances. She had sent ahead his Late Late outfits that he had needed in Los Angeles for the pre-filming, but she still had to deal with the outfits for the live part of the show.

Today, she was set to go pick up the other pieces needed for the listening parties as well as items for the Graham Norton Show and Jingle Ball. She was most excited for her travels because that meant looking at brand new clothes that were perfect and gorgeous. She also knew she needed to spot clean Harry’s shirt, which didn’t spark as much joy in her tired mind.

The idea of the shirt staining with alcohol was what brought her out of her snuggling with her comfy couch. Sure, it couldn’t get that bad, but still she was a worrier and it would pain her if the iconic shirt got ruined. She padded back over to her luggage, now without her jacket or shoes. Her major suitcase got flipped on its side and she began to unzip it. It came open easily seeing as it was stuffed with her clothes and various items. She had to rummage a minute for Harry’s shirt that seemed to have run away inside the bag. Finally, the large white shirt made itself known and she grasped it happily.

As she looked over the stain near the collar of the shirt, her eyes traveled to a piece of fabric peeking out of her suitcase. It was a familiar blue, cream and white. A specific fabric she would never misplace, would never not recognize. Harry’s plaid Bode jacket. It was iconic and she loved it, but why did she have it in her suitcase. She definitely didn’t mean to have it, it’s genuinely just one of Harry’s jackets so it wouldn’t make sense for her to bring it back with the show's wardrobe. She tries to think back to yesterday, when she was still in New York. Thinking about why she would have it, she places the memories of Harry coming to her room, taking off his coat, and accidentally leaving it in her room all fit together. She must have just absentmindedly placed it in her suitcase without even realizing. She’s sure Harry wouldn’t mind, she’d shoot him a text, though, to tell him she had it. So he wouldn’t worry about whether he’d lost it or not.

When she gets ready for the day, she finds herself being drawn to blue and cream. Her outfit is understated and she just knows the jacket would finish the look. She loved that jacket and now that she had it, would it be a big deal if she wore it out. She figured it was fine. After she grabbed her purse, keys, and other essentials, she slipped on the coat. Harry was very broad shouldered and it hung oversized on her. She loved the look and snapped a selfie in the mirror before she headed out. While it felt a little narcissistic to constantly take photos of herself, she felt like as a stylist it was important to document her looks just as much as she documented her clients.

What she didn’t think about is just how much the rest of the world liked to document her client and those who were seen with her client. She didn’t think about how she had just been seen with Harry yesterday. That thought didn’t even cross her mind as she walked around the streets of London picking up her work. As she saw some photographers out and about (whom she assumed were for famous celebrities, not her). How it might seem with her wearing the Bode jacket Harry had worn on SNL two nights ago. The Bode jacket that there were only two of.

None of it crossed her mind. Not until it was the end of the day and she had a whole slew of texts from Harry’s manager. A few from Harry, and others but the other fifteen were solely from Jeff. She was a bad texter so as she walked into her flat and finally looked at her phone after putting down all of her garment bags her eyes went wide.

Please tell me you’re not out in London right now!

What are you wearing??

That cannot be Harry’s jacket Y/N

Seriously?

Please call me.

CALL ME. NOW.

      - All from Jeff.

She grimaced. The others from her friends including Harry would have to be ignored right now. Even if Harry was her boss, Jeff was who she had to deal with when it came to public appearances and it didn’t seem like she could get around this one. Normally, she never had to deal with him, but it seems today wasn’t normal.

- 

part 2

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 14) - Keep Close

Summary: The Ackles have the Padalecki’s over for dinner and let it slip that they’re engaged. Things seem to be going well but the anniversary of the accident is coming up and the reader comes up with the Ackles taking their first vacation together as a means of distracting Jensen as well reconnecting with Ray...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 4,800ish

Warnings: language, mention of sex, mention of a dead parent/spouse, anxiety

A/N: Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

________

“I’m stuffed,” said Jensen that night, the kids running around playing soccer in the yard after dinner. 

“I need that chicken recipe,” said Jared.

“I’ll write it down for you guys,” you said, sitting back in your chair. “You can do it with breast too if you like that better.”

“I want exactly this like, everyday from now on,” said Jared. Gen rolled her eyes and Jensen pulled out his phone. “Want me to take a pic?”

“I don’t need your freakishly long arms just yet,” chuckled Jensen. He turned around and took one of the four of you at the table before handing off his phone. “Mind getting one of us?”

“Your mom harassing you for engagement photos already?” asked Gen.

“By the time we were leaving they were both asking for photos and being obnoxious. Better than they were though,” said Jensen, smiling beside you. Jared took a few more and handed the phone back. 

“I still can’t believe your parents would act like that,” said Gen. “I mean obviously I’m super happy it got fixed but that’s so unlike them.”

“They made a mistake is all,” you said with a smile. “I don’t know about you guys but I’m going to finish this beer in the pool.”

“I think I’ll join you,” said Jared. He stood up and had a look on his face you caught too late. Before you knew it he had you picked up and was jogging over to the deep end and jumping in with you.

“Jared!” you said when you popped up. He giggled and swam off to the shallow end. “After I helped pick up the plates ya big lug.”

“We got it,” said Jensen, carrying over two beer cans and handing them to you. “We’ll join you guys in a few.”

About ten minutes later Jensen was leaning against the side of the pool in his bright red swim trunks, handing you the other half of his cookie cake piece.

“So any big plans for the wedding?” asked Jared, sat on the pool steps with Gen.

“I have a thought,” you said, turning to Jensen. “I haven’t discussed it with Jensen yet.”

“Vegas. Shotgun wedding,” he laughed. You shook your head and he grinned. “You’re thinking the farm, aren’t you.”

“What do you think? It could be outdoor or indoor, whatever it needs to be depending on the weather.”

“I’d love that,” he said, giving you a squeeze. “That’d be perfect for us.”

“You own a farm?” asked Jared. 

“Yeah, ten minutes from the brewery.”

“Dudes. You can open bar with your own beer. Oh and dibs on being a groomsmen.”

“Like that wasn’t gonna happen,” said Jensen.

“I don’t know on that,” you said. Jared’s face fell and you shook your head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that you wouldn’t be one. Of course you would. I just don’t have a lot of close girlfriends. I think it’d be weird if Jensen had a ton and…”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” said Gen. “We didn’t have an even number at our wedding.”

“We got time to figure that stuff out,” said Jensen, holding your waist. You finished the last bite of cookie and hummed. 

“So you two having a kid?” asked Jared. Gen whacked his chest and he shrugged.

“Jesus, Jare. Don’t ask that.”

“They’re our best friends and godparents to our children...although I guess Y/N didn’t know that she inherited that until now but come on, I know you’re wondering too.”

“Shut up,” said Gen, crossing her arms. “Obviously if they decide, they’ll tell us when it happens.”

“Yeah, I think there’ll be at least one,” you laughed. Gen lit up and turned to Jared.

“Last time they said they were having a baby guess what we did? I can’t handle no more babies,” said Jared.

“Can you even get that thing up anymore?” teased Jensen, sipping on his beer.

“You’re one to talk, old man.”

“That shit still works just fine.”

“Just fine?” shot back Jared.

“Oh my God. You’re both good at sex. Y/N be grateful you’ve missed this same conversation over and over for the past sixteen odd years,” said Gen. 

“I’m still taller,” said Jared with a smirk.

“I can last longer,” said Jensen with one of his own. They narrowed their eyes at one another and Jared stood up.

“Go wrestle on the grass,” groaned Gen. They both huffed and got out of the pool before starting to playfully wrestle. “See, what you may not realize yet is you have another child right there.”

“Yeah but he’s hot,” you said, Gen laughing while you sat beside her. “Do you guys really talk about sex with each other?”

“Yes and no. The boys are you know, boys. They’d combust if they didn’t tease each other. I wouldn’t say there’s like, intimate details or anything ever shared. They’re both pretty private about that sort of thing. Dee and I would talk but more so say we had fun the night before. Shit we probably talked about sex toys more than anything.”

You stopped mid sip of your beer and she laughed.

“When your guy is thousands of miles away for that long out of the year, you gotta get off on your own. You get pretty good at phone sex too. You’re lucky. Jensen won’t be staying away so long ever again he said.”

“No, no. But uh...before Jensen I’d had the same boyfriend forever and he was as vanilla as could be. We didn’t do that stuff really together.”

“I can text you some links to stuff. It’s not like you have to go in some scary store or anything. It’s discrete and I think a small vibe would be great to start with. You can use it during sex or foreplay or whatever. Just you know, have fun.”

“Jensen and I kinda got busted by the cops a week or so back for...activities in the backseat,” you said. She started to laugh and you groaned. “Thankfully it was his friend that caught us so he let us off the hook but...it was kinda fun.”

“Good,” she said, sighing as Jensen pinned Jared down. “Hey so yeah about that wedding thing. Jared had two more groomsmen than I had girls. It doesn’t have to be matchy, matchy, you know?”

“I know. I don’t know if…” you trailed off. “I lost my friend group when I broke it off with my last boyfriend. We’d been together for over ten years and I kept turning down his proposals and they didn’t like that. I have some nanny friends but not a lot and no one I’m really close to. I don’t know if I’d even get more than five people to come for me. Everyone else is his family and friends and I didn’t think about that until just now. I mean what would they think, seeing that? I don’t know if I even want anyone there now.”

“I think what they’d see is someone they care about marrying someone he loves. Just because we’re Jensen’s friends doesn’t mean we’re not your friends too. I know we’re still getting to know each other but we’ll be as close as those two eventually. Ruthie was texting me and we’re having a girls night the next convention in Dallas. You literally have a built in crew ready to go from the show, the girls and the guys. You are so coming with me to the next night I have with my local girlfriends and you got our family. You even got Dee’s parents. You have more than you know, sweetie.”

“I never had a best friend growing up except for my mom. Until Jensen,” you said. “I’ve never really been good at the friend thing.”

“Were you bullied in school?” she asked quietly.

“Don’t tell anyone besides Jared but my dad wasn’t a good person. He hurt me and so I was afraid of getting in trouble so I didn’t talk to other kids all that much until I got old enough to understand what he was doing was wrong and that’s how I ended up being adopted.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Can’t do anything about it now. But I can have it not control my life too. I’ve been pretty good since I was nine in that department. My mom dying sucked and things have been up and down but I like where I am now. This is easily the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.”

“Jens’s not perfect.”

“I know. But he’s good enough. He gave me a certain confidence to live my life, like really live it.”

“He’s alright,” she smiled. “You know I have an idea about this bridesmaids thing you might like.”

“You?”

“Oh I would for sure but I meant more so I know two little girls that wouldn’t mind. Maybe there’s a boy too,” she said.

“I’m gonna need you to be my wedding planner at this rate,” you said.

“Job accepted,” she said. “I say we go farmhouse modern style.”

“Gen. I got engaged like two weeks ago. We have time,” you said. “We don’t even have a date.”

“At the very least can we go dress shopping?” she asked.

“I’m going to regret this,” you sighed as Jensen stepped back in the water.

“Get yourself a stronger man, Padalecki. That one is weak,” he said. Jared followed him right after and went to tackle him when Gen caught his arm.

“Boys, not in the water,” she said.

“Chicken?” asked Jensen.

“Losers pick up the tab for when we go out this weekend for dinner. Deal?” asked Jared.

“Well in that case, you’re on.”

Two Weeks Later

“Jensen,” you said, carding your fingers through his hair while he absentmindedly burnt some eggs. “You okay babe?”

“Yeah. We ought to pack up the kids, get on the road soon if we’re gonna hit the beach.”

“I’m gonna drive, okay?” you asked. He nodded and you got out the eggs again, making up a new batch. “Do you want to talk to Ray?”

“Why?” he asked quietly, leaning back against the counter.

“Anniversaries of traumatic events can be triggering,” you said. “My mom died two days ago. Well, you know what I mean.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked.

“Because it doesn’t trigger me anymore. But it did and this is the first time...the first one is the roughest.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I ought to talk to him.”

“Eat your breakfast. I’ll give him a call and get the kids ready while you guys talk, okay?” you said.

“Thank you,” he said. You kissed his cheek and hugged him before you went upstairs for your phone. It rang a few times but Ray finally answered, noise in the background.

“Y/N. Everything alright?” he asked.

“Hey. Yeah. We’re...we’re pretty good. Today’s the first anniversary of Jensen’s-”

“Ah. I understand.”

“Listen, I know it’s a Sunday and you don’t work the weekends but would you mind talking to him for a few minutes? We’re going down to Galveston for the week in a bit but he’s off this morning.”

“I’d talk to him even if he wasn’t your fiance but especially because of that. You know we’re actually down here ourselves for a few days. Just got down yesterday. If you guys are around...maybe we could get together for that swim.”

“I’d like that. You okay?” you asked.

“I always get a little down on the day but Sarah understands. You understand.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna put Jensen on and um, maybe we can meet at Arillo’s for dinner?”

“We got a reservation there ourselves tonight. How many in your crew? Five? I’ll call and ask for an update.”

“Yeah there’s five of us. Um, Ray?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry for being so horrible as a teenager after mom. You loved her as much as I did.”

“Thank you but you don’t have to apologize for that. You got too much pain in your life. I’m glad you found the good stuff too.”

“Are Geroge and Taylor there?” you asked.

“Yeah kids are here. Taylor’s got some internship but she does it online half the day and George is some research assistant thing for one of his professors but same kinda deal. We leave them to work in the morning while Sarah and I have some fun. Want me to let them know you’re coming?”

“Probably a good idea. Not sure how they’ll react,” you said, Jensen poking his head into the bedroom. “Here’s Jensen.”

“Okay, sweetie. We’ll see you guys soon.”

You handed the phone to Jensen and finished up packing while he sat on the bed. You tried to leave him be but couldn’t help listening in.

“Yeah I’m anxious...I don’t want her to drive down today...you know why...I guess...probably...I don’t want to be freaking out for three hours in the car...because it’s today...I know...I know...so I have to suck it up...I don’t want to have a panic attack in the car with the kids...no I haven’t...I’m scared I will though...yeah...I understand...dude that sounds so stupid...that’s not medically anything...no I don’t have my doctorate...I don’t wanna ask her...I said I don’t want to, not that I wouldn’t...I know...I will...maybe I’ll try that too...yeah, Y/N said the first year is the roughest too...I’ll let her be in charge until we get down to the beach today. I think I’ll feel better after the car...yeah I kinda figured out what she was doing planning a trip on today of all days...I need it...really? Yeah, I’m looking forward to meeting up down there too...thanks Ray.”

You finished with your suitcase and had his open for him when he walked into the closet. He swallowed and handed your phone back.

“All good?” you asked.

“Ray thought it might be a good idea if I had something of yours with me on the way down, to keep on me since I’m...anxious this morning about being in a car.”

“Something of mine…” you said, looking at your side of the closet. “Why don’t you pack up and I’ll get you something before the road, okay?”

He nodded and twenty minutes and about three bathroom trips later the SUV was packed up. You hopped behind the wheel, Jensen tapping the arm rest from the passenger seat. 

“Here,” you said, reaching into your pocket, pulling out a bracelet. It was fabric, the kind made from craft string, white, rusty orange and a light tan color mixed together. 

“I’ve never seen this,” he said as he held it between his fingers.

“I got it on vacation with mom and Ray. Last one we went on,” you said, tying it around his wrist. “You have it.”

He stared at you as you turned the engine on, watching you backout. 

“This is too important for me to take,” he said quietly.

“It’s fabric. I want you to have it, okay?” you said, pulling onto the street and closing the gate. He nodded and you turned the radio on low. “Coffee run?”

“Yeah. Coffee sounds good right about now.”

You were only about fifteen or so minutes away from the beach house you’d rented. The kids were either taking naps in the backseats or watching a movie on the ipad. You risked a glance at Jensen, his fingers absently toying with the bracelet while he looked out the window, the radio on low. 

“How you doing big guy?” you asked as you pulled off to the exit ramp. 

“Pretty good now,” he said softly. 

“Mind navigating for me?” you asked. He hummed and picked up your phone from where it sat in the console the past few hours. About twenty minutes or so you were stretching outside of the car, Jensen opening the front door of the house with the code you’d been given. The kids climbed out and were good about each taking their own backpacks while you and Jensen gathered up the rest. 

“Come here,” he said, leaving the bags by his feet and kissing you against the side of the car. You grinned and he picked you up in a big squeezing hug. “I love you.”

“I know,” you said. He set you down and kissed you again. “You seem like yourself again.”

“I needed that push, get over that fear. But now, I can enjoy my day with my girl and my kiddos and apparently we are having dinner with Ray and his family tonight?” he asked.

“If that’s alright,” you said.

“One hundred percent,” he said, Arrow jumping up and down nearby. “Honey, go use the bathroom in the house if you have to go.”

“No I’m excited!” she said. “Can we go play on the beach? Pretty please?”

“Hm, give daddy fifteen minutes and then we can go?” he asked. She turned to you and grinned.

“We’ll go really soon sweetie. I promise.”

“Hey guys,” said Jensen an hour later, the five of you down on the beach and mostly watching them build a sandcastle together. “Y/N and I want to tell you something.”

“Is it that you guys are getting married?” asked JJ, patting some sand with her shovel. You glanced at Jensen and he shrugged. “You were talking to Aunt Gen and Uncle Jared about it last night, right?”

“Well, yes we were,” said Jensen. “I suppose we were a little louder than we thought. But yes, Y/N and I have decided to get married. We’re not sure when exactly but in the next year I can say.”

“So we have a mom again?” asked Arrow, fixing her corner of the castle that kept caving in.

“Well you guys are kinda lucky. You’ll get two moms,” he said. “How’s that sound?”

“We missed mom’s day,” she said with a sigh. “Right?”

“We’ll catch it next year, promise,” said Jensen. “Do you guys have any questions or anything you want to say?”

“Do we call you mom now?” asked JJ. 

“You guys call me whatever you want,” you said.

“Can we call you mom?” she asked. You nodded and she went back to playing in the sand. 

“Anything else guys?” asked Jensen.

“Can I get a giraffe?” asked Zeppelin while he figured out how much water to add to the sand to get it to stick together.

“No sweetie. They wouldn’t fit at our house,” said Jensen. 

“Darn it,” he said.

“I can tell you’re all so invested in this topic,” chuckled Jensen.

“Oh! Can my flower girl dress be purple?” asked JJ. 

“Your dress can be whatever color you want it to be,” you said.

“Awesome,” she said. “Or black and purple. With lightning stripes.”

“Ah, I knew the classic rock would finally pay off,” said Jensen.

“Maybe Daddy’s suit can be black and white stripes, like a tiger,” you said.

“Like a White Snake music video more like it,” he laughed. “We’ll figure all that stuff out. We wanted to make sure you guys knew was all and if you have any questions or were nervous or anything you know you can ask either one of us.”

“Mom makes you happy again. Of course you gotta marry her!” said Arrow. “Oh and get her a pony. Girls like that.”

“Would you care for a pony, sweetheart?” asked Jensen as he shook his head. 

“Are we talking mustang kind of pony?” you asked.

“That’s my girl,” he said, wrapping an arm over your shoulders, kissing your cheek. “Let dad get a picture of you guys. We’re on vacation after all.”

Five Hours Later

“Jensen,” you said, changing into a light summer top and a pair of denim shorts after your shower. He was standing by his suitcase undressed, trailing his finger over his scar. “Honey?”

“A year ago was the worst day of my life and today was a really great one. I get to meet Ray more and even Sarah and the kids who all sound great and...I’m really happy I’m still here to see all this.”

“Me too,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. “Wear your red underwear.”

“Is that a request?”

“I like how you look when you take it off,” you said, gently smacking his ass as you went to go fix your hair.

“I am so grateful I found you,” he said to himself. You smiled and brushed your teeth quickly before checking yourself over and taking a selfie. You sat up on the counter and opened instagram, still silently grateful you’d always had it on private. There was nothing bad on it but Jensen and Jared had tagged you before and all of the comments always seemed to be negative.

“How do I look?” asked Jensen, walking in wearing a short sleeve navy button down and his red underwear.

“So sexy,” you giggled, Jensen digging through his other bag and finding his khaki shorts. 

“Can I get away with sneakers and a backwards baseball cap at this restaurant?” he asked.

“Totally. We always eat outside. It’s near the pier,” you said, putting up your post.

“Taking more pictures I can show off of you again?” he asked, grabbing your brush and getting some control of his damp hair back.

“Nobody even sees my instagram hardly,” you said.

“You know the internet knows we’re dating, right.”

“I’m pretty sure your fans still aren’t okay with that fact, even if they know.”

“Oh you’re mistaking the nutjobs for actual fans. The real ones, those guys are cool and nice. I actually got a lot of care packages and things from them last year. Still do. They really are good people. Those other ones that leave nasty comments? Fuck them. That shit don’t bother me anymore.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying family and friends know. Can I show off the woman I love to the world?” You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him in front of you, his head cocking. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Better late than never.”

“Okay,” he said. “For now though, I’m looking forward to this dinner.”

“I hope it goes well. It’s George and Taylor I’m more worried about. They were kids when I decided to stop coming around. I only knew them maybe two years, if even that. I know they were upset.”

“Give them some credit. Ray raised them too after all.”

“I’m all set!” said Zeppelin, walking into the bathroom with his paw patrol shirt and nothing else on.

“At least I was gonna wear underwear,” chuckled Jensen. “Little dude. Get some undies on and shorts in the next two minutes or else…” he trailed off as he came in and hugged Jensen’s leg. 

“I love you, daddy,” he said.

“I love you.”

“Can we get a giraffe now?” he asked. Jensen rolled his eyes and you released him.

“Let’s go finish getting you dressed, buddy.”

“So you guys were Sarah’s fosters?” asked Jensen towards the end of dinner, all three kids passed out asleep in the stroller or on the bench besides you while you picked at your shared dessert. Neither George or Taylor had said much aside from introducing themselves. 

“Guys,” said Ray, nudging Taylor. “I’m sorry for our children’s rudeness. I was afraid of this.”

“Shut up,” they both said, Sarah sighing.

“The kids were both big fans of Supernatural. They grew up watching it with me. It was something we bonded over at first in fact,” she said. 

“Oh,” said Jensen, a smirk forming on his face. “Sam or Dean girls? George come on buddy, it’s okay.”

“This isn’t happening,” said Taylor, her eyes squeezed shut.

“So you guys don’t want to hear about the movie, gotcha,” he said, both of them snapping their heads up.

“He really is a dork,” you said. 

“Movie?” asked George.

“Someday. You can count on it,” said Jensen. “Maybe I’ll go easy on you guys and ask what mom was?”

“You boys are a little young for my tastes but honestly the guy who played John was very attractive,” she said.

“Even I’d hit that,” said Ray, Sarah laughing to herself.

“You can see Ray wins his ladies over with his charm,” you said, glancing at Taylor and George. “Like you guys could literally ask anything you ever wanted about the show and get an unfiltered answer if you want.”

“Did you really keep the car?” asked George. Jensen nodded and held up his finger.

“When we’re back in town, you guys come over and you can take a spin in it,” he said.

“Okay, he’s cool with me,” said George. You cocked your head and he smiled. “That was the car from the show I always told you about.”

“Oh. I thought you were talking about batman or something,” you said, pursing your lips. “Sorry I wasn’t…”

“You always sucked at pretending to be happy,” said Taylor. You looked down and nodded. “We get it. You had to do your own thing.”

“Don’t hate me for leaving?”

“Maybe when we were little,” she said. “But we’re older and we get that you probably felt like a fifth wheel.”

“Yeah. A lot really,” you said. “It worked out though.”

“She’s a Dean girl by the way,” said Ray, cracking up as Taylor whacked his arm.

“Dad! Oh my God no I’m not! I like Sam!” she said.

“Want to talk to him?” grinned Jensen. Her face went red and you heard a quiet chuckle at the table. “You’re right, we’ll save that for in person.”

“You basically are marrying Dean Winchester without like, the trauma,” she said. Jensen tensed up but kept a smile on his face. You knew Ray caught it when he gave him a simple nod.

“Trauma’s not inherently bad,” said Ray. “Everyone at this table has gone through some.”

“I know, dad,” she said quietly. She looked at George and he nodded. “Our parents were in a house fire. So were we. I was five and Georgie was four.”

“She carried him out and went next door for help,” you said.

“I was in a car accident last year,” said Jensen. You turned your head. It wasn’t public knowledge that he was in the car. He’d flat out told you that aside from family and a few friends, no one besides you knew. “I almost died. My wife did but for other reasons. You can still have trauma and a really good life.”

“Very good point, Jensen,” said Ray. “You two rugrats wouldn’t be around if mom and I had moped around in our misery forever.”

“Was he always such a sap?” asked George.

“From the day I met him,” you said, Jensen grabbing your hand under the table. “Would you mind watching the kids for a second?”

“Not at all,” he said. You excused yourself and brought Jensen along with you, walking out to the beach area, the breeze cool but light.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. I can talk about it now. I went from having the worst year of my life to one of the best. Nothing bad’s gonna happen for saying what really happened. I want to let all that shit go and have the rest of that really good life I was talking about.”

“For someone who keeps a lot inside I sure have noticed a difference in you the past few weeks.”

“To quote both of the loves of my life, I gotta let that shit out more regularly,” he said. You smiled and wrapped your arms over his shoulders, giving him a kiss. 

“You know that’s what we call growth, babe.”

“I very easily could have gone the opposite way this year.”

“But you didn’t, cause you tried even though it sucks sometimes. I love you but I extra love happy you and you’re definitely a happier guy now than when I met you.”

“So are you, honey,” he said. “Must make a pretty good team or something.”

“Oh yeah, maybe that’s it.”

“We should honestly get like, married or something, you know?” he teased.

“First I have to know though, are you willing to do cookie cake for a wedding cake?”

“I’m willing to make that sacrifice,” he said. “The real questions is, are you willing to deal with the eventual dad bod that will happen as a result?”

“I love this bod, but I don’t love you for this bod,” you said. 

“Thank you for today,” he said softly. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said. He grinned and kissed your cheek, hugging you tightly. “What are best friends for?”

“Everything?”

“Hell yeah they are Ackles.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 15 here!

[mystic-sky]

Summary: third-year Gojo’s first kiss with fem reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: mentions of marijuana, sfw aside from teen Gojo ogling at your tiddies.

A/N: I wanted to break from my heavy smut writing with something wholesome and sort of vanilla. Enjoy SSS trio and you on a summer night in August.

It was your second summer together, the summer before everything went to shit. The memory will forever be engraved into you, into Gojo Satoru. Forever engraved into Geto Suguru before his departure, and forever engraved into Ieiri Shoko, who had just discovered her newest infatuation with marijuana.

The moment feels ridiculously more ethereal than how you remember it. Suguru and Satoru snicker as you take your first pull. You’re coughing your lungs out, shoving the blunt back between Suguru’s fingers. He allows his laughter to die down before passing it between his lips (most effortlessly) to inhale.

“Like this,” he holds it for a moment, and releases a puff of the high into your face. Your throat closes and you heave again, squeezing your knees as you hunch over.

“You’ll get used to it,” Shoko says, taking hold of the blunt to take her own pull before passing it to Satoru whose just behind you, sitting on the railing. 

He’s blocking the setting sun, which you were grateful for in a way. You eventually got better at smoking before the thing burnt out, much to everyone’s dismay.

“Get us ice cream, oh handsome, honored one.” Shoko bats her long eyelashes at the snow haired male. She shoves an elbow at your side. You quickly join in.

“Oh dearest honored one, bestow us with snacks to cure the munchies.”

He hops down from the railing, and he’s still taller than the rest of you. “Hmm, say the handsome part again, won’t you? Then, I might consider it.” His sunglasses slide down his nose, and he’s more in your face than Shoko’s, even though you never exaggerated the handsome part specifically.

As nose barely touches nose, you’re a bit flustered by the heat of his body emanating onto yours. It was already hot outside, but you surely felt it.

“I’m the handsome, honored one,” you begin, sliding his sunglasses off of his face and putting them on your own. “And I am going to spoil my friends with ice cream— because I’m the honored one.”

“Cute,” he’s holding an loose, irritated scowl, whirling around and quickly walking up ahead of you lot, earning chuckles from the rest of the group. “Are you guys coming or not?”

“Oh we are, handsome honored one,” Shoko snorts on the handsome part again before cheesing at you. You’re imitating his facial expressions with the shades on— wow these things are pretty cool, you think. And clearly expensive. 

It’s a decent walk to the convenience store now that the sun is down, and no longer scorching the open skin of your back. Him and Suguru are snickering about something like usual, peering back immaturely at you and Shoko. The both of you are unamused, wondering if the two of you should pretend to mumble things about them too, just to rile them up. 

She asks you for your hair tie by whispering in your ear, and you stifle a fake laugh, earning raised eyebrows from the two males. You swiftly pull it off your wrist and hand it to her, watching her stuff what she could of her bob cut into a frazzled ponytail.

Stepping foot into the store was probably the sweetest relief of that night. The coldest air poured down your backs as the door chimed loudly upon entry. You slide the sunglasses up to rest on your head, realizing just how bright the in-store lights actually were.

You and Shoko broke off from the boys to choose what you pleased. She picked up a teen idol magazine as you paced just a few steps ahead. You’re grabbing a few snacks as well, something crunchy to fill whatever it was your stomach was feeling. 

The four of you meet again in the ice cream section, and Satoru doesn’t actually care that you and Shoko have picked out more than just ice cream. He’s got an armful of things you never even tried, so you ask him,

“What’s that? S’it good?” He’s distracted by your breasts being pressed together by full arms of snacks. A single strap of your tank top is falling off one of your shoulders, and it makes his gaze stutter about on your frame. Suguru snaps his fingers behind him, forcing a response from Satoru.

“I’ll let you try some,” the response is quick on his tongue, and he scowls at his dark haired friend who had been mocking him in the back ground about his looming crush on you.

“All you get is chocolate stuff,” Shoko inserts herself between you both, analyzing Satoru’s snacks. “Can I get cigs too?” 

He shrugs. He hardly had any limits on his allowances. Money to him was limitless, and that’s why, especially with his sweet tooth, he had absolutely no discipline. He’s at the register minutes later, with more items in hand than the rest of you. He argues that since its the the last week before the summer ends, who knows when you’ll get another outing like this one. 

You are all back by the pier again, sitting on the railing you aren’t supposed to be sitting on because you could very well fall into the sea. Stomachs full of flavored corn snacks and sweets, the munchies are now gone and you’re all talking about... well, a whole lot of nothing.

Shoko, as seemingly spontaneous as ever, wants to dip her feet in the water. 

“I don’t wanna go alone,” she tugs at Suguru’s side. “Carry me there.”

“What? No.” He’s gnawing unapologetically on a bare popsicle stick. Her eyes plead, the same ones from earlier, and he gives in out of annoyance. The two them walk down the steps to the beach. 

You never asked her if she left you alone with Satoru that night on purpose, or what her goals might’ve been, but an opportunity it was, nonetheless.

“The blue one’s better,” he says simply, sucking on the flavored block of ice.

“Than the red one?” You peered at your own popsicle. “I guess it’s up to preference.” 

Your mouth pops off of the tip loudly before you suck again. He wishes you didn’t make it look so lewd.

You ogle at the box of flavors, the rest of them would surely melt by the time you all got back to the school. You turn your head back to feel white hair graze against your arm. He invites himself to taste your popsicle, prompting hard blushes from you. He imitates the loud pop you made just before. 

“Blue is still better,” he smirks at your sudden discomfort. He’s somewhat at eye level with you, and you swallow hard. He’s always flirting with you, messing with you— trying to get some sort of reaction out of you. 

“Just cause you bought it for me doesn’t mean you can invite yourself to taste it whenever you want.” You bring the pop to your lips and suck softly, looking directly at him. He’s blushing now too, but he tries so hard to hide it. He’s stuck on the way that you’re barely shy about it. You’re not telling him to back up like you usually would. Your eyes are sparkling as bright as they’re able with barely any sun left on the horizon.

“Your mouth’s blue,” you break him from his sultry thoughts. He licks his lips, feeling somewhat embarrassed about it.

“Yours is red,” he deflects, he’s definitely not prepared at all for what you say next.

“If we kiss, our lips are gonna be purple,” He’s all for it, but he’s still surprised when your cold lips entwine with his. It’s a sweet taste, but the feeling of the kiss is a cross between sticky and numb. Suddenly, some warmth blooms in the center of it, and you feel each other entirely. Your tongue doesn’t feel like he thought it would, but at least he knows why. You pull away, wrapping your mouth around your pop, nonchalant as ever.

“You’re just always in my face like you wanna kiss me,” you shrug, you’re analyzing him subtly through the corner of your eye. His expression is sort of deer-like. He’s always wanted to kiss you, yeah. Did he think it was going to happen like that? Not exactly. 

“Cause,” the response is seconds late, “I do.” 

He’s not so shy anymore, closing the space between your bodies.

“So just do it,” you look up at him, and his eyes are glimmering at you. He presses his lips to yours, warming them again against your soft and pillowy flesh. A sweet sound pours through his mouth, one he didn’t know you were capable of making. He wondered if all girls tasted this sweet— with the exception of the ice cream. You kissed him back so bashfully, despite your seemingly assertive personality before hand.

The kiss lasts longer than you both realize, prompting sticky ice cream to dribble down both your arms but neither of you care that much. 

Your wet mouths part, and surely there’s a bit of blue on your lips as much as there is red on his. You find yourself looking away from his piercing blue gaze, trying not to draw attention to the blush painting your face. 

“There isn’t anything to wipe my arm up with is there,” you mutter, watching the red juice slither down your arm. You’re tempted to lick it up to prevent it from traveling further but Satoru speaks again.

“We could go rinse our hands by the fountains if you want,” he says, cracking a goofy grin.

“That sounds like a good idea,” you look towards him. “Why are you smiling like that?”

He chuckles lightly as the fingers on his cleaner hand find your face, smooshing your cheeks inward and puckering your lips. “Well would you look at that,” he grins again.

“They definitely are purple.”

[heliads]

The Football Player (Part One)

Based on this request: “Bucky is a football player and you are a fan of the team but you're also really shy. Secretly Bucky also developed a crush on you. He sees you getting mocked by some idiots and he gets in between to stand up for you. Later then he asks you for a walk and he kisses you.”

masterlist / part two

According to every ounce of common sense still left in your body, you should be paying attention. You’re in school, might as well actually learn something, right? You have a test next period, and if you were smart or wanted to pass at all, you should be focusing right now, tracking every single word that your professor is saying. The only problem is that you’re not doing this whatsoever. No, your gaze is instead directed out the window, where a certain football team is just beginning practice.

It’s not like you were intentionally trying to get distracted. You had come to the classroom right on time, pencils lined up and notebook out, ready to start the day. Your gaze just happened to accidentally shift to the window instead, and when you saw number seventeen in red and gold, well, how could you focus on math at a time like this? You’d seen James Barnes around the school many times, but he never ceases to amaze you.

Honestly, even talking about him tends to light a fire behind your cheeks. You’ve seen this movie dozens of times before: shy, studious girl falls for the football player, hijinks ensue. However, this isn’t a Hollywood blockbuster. Bucky is a star member of the team, and you’re just a fan of your school’s football games. Whenever you do icebreakers in class and you’re forced to describe yourself in one word, you always reach for ‘bookish’ or ‘smiling’. Certainly never ‘superbly athletic’ or ‘on Bucky’s radar in any way’. Those aren’t even one word.

However, you never quite seem to let yourself be brought back to reality. Time and time again, you don the red and gold colors of your school- Mid-Capital University, or MCU, ready to go cheer on the team and your favorite player especially so. In fact, there’s a game tonight, you’ll be going with your friend. No matter how many times you laugh at yourself, though, you can’t shake your crush. You doubt it’ll be going away anytime soon.

The night is young, the shouts loud. You cheer with your friend and the rest of the school as the football team runs out onto the field. Their manager, a Mr. Stark, watches from the sidelines, yelling directions or complaining about how much the equipment is going to cost. The team jogs over to their captain, Steve Rogers, to huddle up and discuss final strategy. Steve is a senior, and you’ve heard rumors that he’s chosen Sam Wilson to take his place as captain next year. He’s Bucky’s best friend, so you’ve heard, although they pretend to fight often enough that you’d think they were rivals.

Bucky is here as well now, eyes glinting from underneath his helmet. He’d had long hair for the longest time, but when he’d cut it over the summer there had been more than a few desolate sighs from the cheerleaders. You had to smile at that- at least you weren’t head-over-heels enough to give up your crush based on his hair. You weren’t that bad yet.

As you watch, the team takes their position. They’ll be playing their rivals tonight, the Hydras. Steve heads to the back, Bucky and Sam on either side of him. Further along the team, you can begin to recognize other players- Scott Lang, a kid who’s scrawny off the field but seems to grow twice in size the second he puts on his gear, Peter Parker, the freshman who managed to make it on the team within his first few days, and Natasha Romanoff, the one girl on the team who’s got a death stare promising she’ll tear any objectors to shreds.

The whistle blows, and the teams are off. You watch with bated breath as Bucky darts left, right, catches the ball from Steve and takes off down the field. Apprehension grows across the student body until at last- touchdown, your school! You rise with the others, cheering in unison. Maybe you’re just being silly, but you could swear Bucky looked at you with a smile just as he started off back towards the line.

The rest of the football game is a breeze. Your school wins easily, and Bucky definitely did his part to secure the victory. The next day, everyone is still buzzing over the catches and near misses with their friends, not wanting to miss a single moment. You suppose it’s still on your mind, which is why you’re frozen in your tracks when your new lab partner sits down beside you in biology.

It’s Bucky. Of course it is Bucky. Of course, the one time you have to have a new lab partner in class, your teacher manages to have the terrible luck to place you with the one person who reduces you to a blushing mess every time he steps within ten feet of you. Bucky slings his backpack down beside his chair, offering you an easy smile like a flyer, free of charge.

“I’m Bucky.” He says, and you remember yourself. “I know. I saw the game, you were really good. I’m Y/N, uh, by the way.” Bucky’s smile grows even wider when you mention the game, if that’s possible. “You saw the game? That’s so nice of you.” You feel like you can’t form a coherent thought. “Yeah, I went with my friends. Your team won.” You want to slap yourself in the head- of course he won, he was there. You’re stating the obvious.

But Bucky doesn’t laugh at you, or act like you’ve said anything strange. He just nods, shoulders slumping slightly as he thinks about last night’s game. “It was hard. I guess every time you go against your rival school the pressure’s just ten times worse. It took a lot to just run out on the field.”

He stiffens slightly after he says this, like he wasn’t intending on sharing that secret just yet. However, you’re just grateful that you’re not the only one saying whatever pops into your head. “I can’t blame you. If it’s worth anything, though, I thought you were great.” Bucky’s beaming smile is back, brighter than ever. “It’s worth a lot from you.”

Maybe this sudden seating arrangement won’t be that bad after all.

Your friend catches up to you the second you leave the biology room behind. She looks back and forth between you and Bucky’s retreating form, something in between astonishment and a teasing grin lingering on her face. “Tell me I didn’t just make that up. Tell me you’re actually the lab partner of the one and only Bucky Barnes, the guy you’ve been crushing on for, like, forever.”

You shove her slightly, although you can’t help but smile. “It’s true. I don’t know how, but it’s true. Guess the bio teacher really liked me that period.” Your friend loops an arm around your shoulders. “It’s not just him who really likes you. Did you see the way he was looking at you? All through class, he kept stealing glances. I think Bucky Barnes has a crush on you.”

You stop in your tracks. “That’s impossible. He would never.” Your friend crows in victory. “But he did! You don’t stare at somebody like that unless you’re hopelessly in love with them. It’s the same way you stare at him.” Indignation rises in you like a spring. “I don’t stare at him. I just observe, casually.” Your friend snorts. “Well, you casually observe him a lot. Honestly, I just see this as a success. If you can get the star football player to fall in love with you, then I think I can win the lottery or something.”

Even after your laughter rises and dies away, you can’t help but think about what your friend said. Surely it’s impossible- Bucky would never so much as talk to you outside of class, let alone have a crush on you. But your friend wasn’t exactly lying. You had seen Bucky out of the corner of your eye, the way a smile lingered on his lips when he glanced over at you. That wasn’t just nothing, right? Honestly, this whole lab partners deal might be more pressing than you ever thought possible.

The only way to move on is to go through the next day, and the next. After that, however, you have biology again, and that means finding your place next to Bucky Barnes and pretending like your heart rate isn’t skyrocketing the second he smiles up at you, saying he’s glad to see you again. Your friend keeps stealing glances your way, eyes wide and thumbs raised in an expression of impressed awe.

As it turns out, your friend isn’t the only one to see something between you and Bucky. You make your way out of the bio room, unable to hide a smile, although your happy outlook disappears the second somebody blocks your path across campus. This somebody just happens to be Mandy Fleming, bottle blonde junior who thinks she owns the school, and her entourage of preening followers.

Mandy folds her arms over her chest, considering you. Her lip purses. Evidently she finds something lacking. “You know, I don’t think we’ve had a proper conversation in a while. We need to make a few things clear.” You force a smile, trying to step around her. “Can we do it later? I have places to be.” Mandy curls her lip. “I don’t wait. This can’t wait. See, you’ve developed the unfortunate habit of spending too much time around Bucky Barnes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “We’re lab partners. What, you want me to ignore him?” Mandy’s eyes narrow. “That would be preferable. Next class, you’re going to go up to the professor and tell him you want to switch partners. Make something up about wanting to be closer to the board or something, I’m sure he’ll believe it.” You can barely listen to her. “And why would I do that?” Mandy takes a step closer. “Bucky is mine, not yours. I’m going to need you to back off.”

You stare at her. “You want me to switch lab partners all because a boy you’re not even dating is sitting next to me?” Mandy’s head rears back. You’ve obviously struck a nerve. “Listen here, honey. This isn’t an issue about me, it’s an issue about you. What, did you really think Bucky would ever even give you the time of day? You’re a nobody, a nothing, somebody not even worth a fraction of his time. Honestly, I’m doing him a favor by getting rid of you. He doesn’t want to see you, not for a second.”

With every word, you can feel your confidence plummeting. Mandy notices this, a smirk burning even deeper into her lips. Sometimes, you swear she can smell fear just like an animal. “You’re worried because you know I’m right. You’re pathetic, really, and Bucky Barnes wants nothing to do with you.” Just as you feel like you want to go back to your dorm room and never see the light of day again, a voice rings out from behind you. It’s a voice you recognize instantly, and one that Mandy does too, as she shrinks back the second she hears it.

“You couldn’t be more wrong.” Bucky steps forward, taking a place next to you. Mandy forces a smile. “I, uh, don’t know what you’re talking about. Y/N and I are just having a little chat about homework. We had homework, right, a textbook reading and-” Bucky cuts her off coolly. “I heard every word. If you think I’d want to choose you over her, you’re wrong. She’s a hundred times the girl you’ll ever be.”

Mandy stammers, fishing around for words but coming up with nothing. It’s almost cathartic to watch. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Y/N and I have somewhere to be. And if I hear you trying to talk to her like that again, believe me when I say that this won’t be the worst I’ll say to you.” Bucky offers you a hand like a proper gentleman, and you take it, letting him steer you away from Mandy and her followers, who are still gaping at your backs.

The second you’re out of earshot, Bucky turns to you, apologies and regret written all over his face. “I’m so sorry about that. It’s all my fault- she’s been trying to flirt with me all semester, and I finally gave up and rejected her, and now she’s taking it out on you. I wish none of this ever happened.” You manage to force a smile. “Trust me, it’s fine.”

Bucky looks at you, concern still lingering in his eyes. “Are you sure? I can talk to them again if you think they’ll bother you.” You laugh at that. “Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly alright.” Bucky smiles at that. “Well, if you are perfectly alright, I was wondering if you were busy this Saturday. I saw this new park that opened, and it looked really interesting, but if you’re busy or something we can totally do something else, or nothing at all, whatever you-”

You cut him off, unable to hide a smile at his rambling. “I think that sounds excellent. I’ll see you there?” Bucky’s face lights up. “I’ll see you there.” He gathers his courage one last time, then leans forward to kiss you. He flashes you one last perfect smile before disappearing around the corner, leaving you with a smile and the memory of his lips on yours. When you look up, you see scores of jealous girls staring at you, but for once, the attention doesn’t bother you. Why should it? You have Bucky at last, and he doesn’t want anyone but you.

marvel tag list: @mycosmicparadise​

[miraculouscontent]

Anonymous submitted and said:

Here’s a Didn’t Need Burrow that I’m personally hoping for: the series DOESN’T end with Marinette and Adrien getting together.

Think about it: we know that one of the rules of Miraculous Ladybug is that Marinette Always Makes A Mistake In Every Single Episode.  (Even if it’s only HER mistake in the eyes of the writers and her haters.)  Why would that change for the finale?  Wouldn’t that instead be the time that she makes her Biggest Mistake Ever?

So, DNB that the series ends with Marinette Losing Adrien Forever, Oh Noes!  Whether that means that he dies, leaves Paris due to the whole ‘Father was a Wanted Terrorist and now that’s Publicly Known and Our Rep is Shot’ or whatever, that they never got together, that they DID get together and break up in the finale, or he simply rejects her because she’s not his Perfect Ideal Ladybug or some other such BS, they are decisively NOT together for the Grand Finale.

Naturally, this is presented as some Great Tragedy of Lost Love/Star-Crossed Shenanigans or whatever.  We’re not shown her rebounding onto Luka or Kagami or anything like that.  (ADRIEN might promptly hook up with somebody else to drive home that she’s Lost Him Forever, naturally, likely taking pains to show that he’s happy despite losing the girl he harassed for so long.)

The creators pat themselves on the back for 'subverting expectations’, crowing about how they’ve pulled off the ultimate curveball.  Diehard fans twist themselves into knots defending this decision or coming up with 'fix-its’ where Marinette grovels for his forgiveness.  And the rest of us just shrug and move on, quietly grateful that she was given a reprieve at the eleventh hour even if the fools don’t see it as such.

Oh nooooo~

So tragic. So sad.

Yeah, aw man, the show would be so right. Marinette doesn’t deserve Adrien and he should go be with someone who will treat him well. I guess Marinette will just have to go for someone lesser than Adrien like Luka or something~

(May I just say that I adore your logic, anon? I think I got another anon who said something similar too and it’s just... amazing.)

Reminds me of our reactions to “Furious Fu” and (on some level) the “Ephemeral” synopsis.

“Oh no! Marinette might lose being guardian and possibly her miraculous by extension?? Woe is us, now she’ll actually have time for herself and no one to nag her about how Paris needs her to fix their problems.”

[pot-of-terv]

FINALLY! It is here! The conclusion to my PuzzleJune series! Thank you so much for everyone who’s tagged along on this journey and thank you especially to @xauroraxborealisx for arranging this event. It’s been a wild ride for me because this is the first time I’ve ever done something this big so I’m incredibly grateful for everything ;__;

I might continue this story with tiny bits here and there but for the foreseeable future, this is it. Hope you enjoy!! 💗 (Please be sure to read the previous parts first if you’re new here :3)

PuzzleJune 2021, Week Four: Mind (School, Bond)

“Aren’t you hungry, Yuugi?”

The aforementioned boy startles, almost dropping his spoon into his soup. He looks at his grandpa and blinks.

“Uh, yeah, not really. Sorry.”

“Thought so,” Sugoroku nods and drinks his remaining broth straight from the bowl. “Give the rest to me.”

Yuugi blinks at him again, almost owlishly, and lifts his bowl with stiff arms to hand it over to the old man.

Sugoroku doesn’t waste any time and goes for the soup as soon as it’s in front of him. Yuugi smiles at him, amused, and stands up. He gathers up his spoon and glass and brings them to the sink.

“Thanks for the food,” he calls out as he leaves the kitchen. Sugoroku answers him with a grunt, probably already immersed in his crossword now that there’s no one else at the table.

Yuugi walks the stairs to his room slowly, silently thanking his grandfather for not making a fuss about his suddenly disappeared appetite. It’s been a quiet day but he feels tired and he’s kept zoning out. He blames it on the blistering heat of late summer but even to him, it sounds like a lie – the real reason is that he misses Atem.

He doesn’t bother closing the door of his room behind him and goes straight for the bed, falling onto it face first. It’s stupid, I know, he thinks and lifts his head enough to be able to tilt it to the side so he’s not smothered by the plush bedspread. He’ll be back soon.

Jounouchi had come to the house early that morning and asked to borrow Atem. He had reasoned that because school would start again in a week, he wanted to spend at least one day together with just Atem, doing whatever. Atem didn’t have to enrol, after all, so they won’t be able to hang out that much anymore after the classes start.

Yuugi understood him, of course – he will see Atem every day even if there’s a lot of homework, but the others don’t have that privilege. He had even joked that why aren’t their other friends waiting in line to get a turn, too, flustering Atem and making Jounouchi guffaw.

In all honesty, he’s really happy that Jounouchi would take the time to spend a whole day with Atem. They’d been going out as a group a lot after the first week and a half of Atem living (actually living) with Yuugi and while having all of their friends to hang out with is so much fun, Yuugi treasures time spent one-on-one.

It doesn’t change the fact that after being glued to Atem’s side for so long, Yuugi finds himself lost without him. His mind feels like candy floss, fluttery and sticky, and he can’t concentrate. He had tried to go through his deck in order to decide if it’s good enough (he and Atem need their own decks now, after all, so most of it is brand new) but couldn’t get past the first couple of cards. After that hadn't worked, he tried a few different games that he could play by himself but got no enjoyment from them. He’d just been going through the motions and realising that, he had decided to go down to help his grandpa at the shop for the rest of the day.

It’s not healthy to be so attached, he knows, and they really need to work on that – Yuugi is sure that Atem is fine with Jounouchi, but what about when they need to go to school and Atem stays home? He’d like to believe that the pharaoh will be much better off by himself than Yuugi is, but that is doubtful. They’ll have to have yet another talk soon – preferably today.

Yuugi bites his lip and sighs. There really is no coming back from the kind of bond that they’ve shared – through mind, heart and body – and Yuugi doesn’t want to imagine the pain that Atem’s departure to Afterlife would have caused when a simple day spent apart makes him unravel at the seams. Also, this train of thought could bring him to a place he most definitely doesn’t want to go now so to distract himself he turns onto his back and fumbles blindly to his left to grab the book he had left on the bed earlier that day.

- 

The sound of rustling wakes him an undetermined time later. He opens his eyes slowly, groggy enough to feel like he should just go back to sleep, but when he glances at the clock on his desk his stomach flips and he shoots up from the bed – the book he had attempted to read falling on the floor with a bang – and startles Atem who had been digging through a grocery bag.

“Ah! Yuugi!” he yelps and almost falls onto his butt from his crouched position on the other side of the desk. Thankfully he doesn’t send any of his purchases flying as he stabilises himself by quickly planting his other hand on the floor.

“Sorry!” Yuugi apologises quickly, his heart still racing. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep and he most definitely didn’t mean to sleep that late. It’s already seven in the evening, meaning that Yuugi had snoozed away for three hours. But – it also means that Atem is back, as evidenced by the boy currently looking up at him with concern written all over his face.

“I didn’t mean to wake you –” he starts but Yuugi silences him by shaking his head.

“No, I shouldn’t have slept in the first place. Really, I should thank you,” he says and pauses, then just looks at Atem. An unprompted smile makes its way onto his face. “Welcome home.”

There’s wonder in the pharaoh’s eyes and after a moment of silence, he returns the smile with such warmth it can almost be felt. “I’m home,” he replies, and Yuugi smiles wider.

He really is.

-

“Are you sure you’ll be fine?”

“Aibou, please,” Atem laughs and holds Yuugi’s face between his hands, squishing his cheeks. Jounouchi chortles from somewhere behind him and Yuugi frowns in his direction but doesn’t move away from Atem or try to pry his hands off of his face.

“But I worry,” he says, looking rightfully pouty as he shifts his gaze back to his partner. Atem laughs more and releases his face, patting his other cheek before crossing his arms.

“I’ll walk back home, help grandpa open up the shop and then it’s smooth sailing from there. You don’t have to worry,” he smiles at the still pouting teen in front of him. “I’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, and the day’s done sooner than you realise.”

“Yeah, Yuugi,” Jounouchi cuts in with a grin and drapes an arm around Atem’s shoulders. “Atem knows his way around the shop and we’re all here to take care of you. No sweat.”

“Honestly,” Anzu smiles and swiftly elbows Honda in the ribs before he can interrupt her. “We know it’s hard on you both but it’s just like ripping off a bandaid, right? It stings at first but it doesn’t last forever and even before you realise, you’ve forgotten all about it.”

“Y-yeah,” Honda says, rubbing his side, “what they said. We’ll be here, Yuugi.”

Yuugi stares at his friends, feeling his cheeks warming. How in the world did he get so lucky?

“T-thanks,” he mutters but can’t help smiling in the end. “You guys are great.”

“Hell yeah we are!” Jounouchi exclaims and does finger guns at him, his other arm still on Atem’s shoulders. Atem laughs but his eyes are soft when he looks at Yuugi.

“Go on, then. The gates are about to close, aren’t they?”

“Oh, shit!” Honda and Jounouchi yelp at the same time and the latter releases his hold on Atem. He ruffles the spiky-haired head before taking off after his best friend. “Stay crispy!” he shouts over his shoulder at Atem.

Anzu shakes her head, frowning. “These guys are too much. You don’t have to run yet!” she tries yelling after them but the duo is already too far ahead. She sighs but when she turns to Yuugi and tilts her head to the side, her eyes are twinkling.

“I should go after them. I trust you’ll be right behind, okay?”

And she winks. Yuugi flushes pink but before he can say anything, she’s already jogging off. There’s a chuckle next to him and he looks at the pharaoh who seems much too happy.

“That wasn’t fair,” Yuugi grumbles and that only makes Atem laugh harder.

“You’ve got amazing friends,” he says when he’s calmed down. Yuugi bristles at him but the pink on his cheeks takes away from his attempted glare. Just a little bit.

“They’re your friends too!” he reminds him and that makes Atem sober up. His voice is surprisingly quiet when he talks.

“They really are,” he says and smiles in that gentle way he's been doing a lot lately. Yuugi softens at his expression and they take a moment to just look at each other, wondering, smiling. There’s so much to be happy about, they both realise at the same time, and Yuugi takes Atem’s hand.

“I know you’ll be alright. I’m, just, I’m – I’m going to miss you.”

Atem smiles at him and squeezes his hand. “I’ll miss you too, Yuugi.”

It makes Yuugi’s smile widen and he chuckles. Of course he knew it but it feels good to hear it said out loud. He’s sure it’s the same for Atem.

“Well, I guess I should be going. Take care,” he says and without pause, kisses Atem on the cheek. “See you after school!” he grins and with one final squeeze, lets go of Atem’s hand and turns around to run after his friends. His chest is buzzing and he smiles the whole way to the building.

Atem is left standing at the curb, eyes wide, face red. He lifts his hand to touch his cheek and the skin there feels electric, as if that simple touch of lips had awakened a new sense that had been completely dormant until now. That feeling spreads across his skin, reaching the top of his head and the very tips of his toes and it’s so, so warm.

It feels really nice. Atem breaks out into a grin that matches Yuugi’s earlier one and turns around to leave, his hand staying on his cheek. He must look smitten as anything but he doesn’t care. He’s happy, so why not show it to the world?

As soon as he takes the first step, he almost collides with Ryou who had come running around the corner.

“Oh! Sorry, Atem. I overslept!” the white-haired boy exclaims and stops to give a quick pat to Atem’s shoulder. “Have a good day at the shop. I’ll come to visit if I can, after school!”

He grins and waves and dashes through the school gates before Atem can wade through the fluttery mess that is his mind for a greeting. He’s still reeling but Bakura didn't seem to mind his silence so it’s probably alright.

-

The walk back home doesn’t feel lonely in the least. After all, his partner is always with him, even when they’re apart. Hearts are wonderful like that.

And that, if something, is worth smiling for.

[bloody-bee-tea]

I'm sure someone has already suggested this but "I never feel like this grumpy asshole when you're around. I feel like... me. the real me... " from the grump/sunshine prompts for mingcheng?

Wavelength

Nie Mingjue knows that there’s something weighing on Jiang Cheng’s mind because he can see all the signs.

He had to read a lot of them in the beginning of their relationship—Jiang Cheng perpetually unsure and insecure—but he thought they had grown out of it. Had hoped so, really, but apparently not.

Because right now Jiang Cheng is staying uncharacteristically quiet during dinners, flinches when Nie Mingjue tries to touch him and he can’t meet his eyes for longer than a few seconds.

And it hurts Nie Mingjue to see.

He doesn’t know what caused this—though a treacherous part of his brain tells him that Jiang Cheng is finally fed up with him—and he’s not sure if he can ask. It doesn’t seem like Jiang Cheng is ready to share yet, and pushing him right now would probably only make it worse.

Instead he decides to wait it out for now; Jiang Cheng usually either breaks and tells him or he goes back to normal without saying anything, whatever issue apparently internally solved.

It used to work pretty well like that in the past, and Nie Mingjue is willing to go back to that no matter if it breaks his heart to see Jiang Cheng flinch when he reaches for him or not.

But when it continues like this for over a week—longer than anything ever really has—he decides that he has to say something.

It’s starting to seriously affect their relationship and Nie Mingjue doesn’t want to risk it. He needs to know, if only so that he can put Jiang Cheng’s mind at ease.

Nie Mingjue tries to ignore the little voice in his head that tells him that Jiang Cheng finally has had enough, that he’s going to break up with him like he should have done a thousand times over because if that is the case, then so be it.

He loves Jiang Cheng too much to keep him trapped in something that makes him unhappy.

“My heart, what’s wrong?” he asks one day over dinner, that they yet again spent in complete silence as Jiang Cheng pushed his food around the plate.

“Why does anything have to be wrong?” Jiang Cheng snaps out and that too, only shows that something is wrong.

Jiang Cheng stopped snapping at him with such malice a long time ago.

Sure, he still snaps and he’s still mean sometimes, but never like this. Nie Mingjue can’t accurately explain it, has never found the right words for it, but the way Jiang Cheng snaps at him is different than the way he snaps at people he genuinely thinks to be stupid, even though not many other people can see it.

“Because you’re acting strange. You’re not acting like yourself,” Nie Mingjue gives back, not rising to the obvious bait, and it only makes Jiang Cheng angrier.

“What do you know?” he hisses, but Nie Mingjue meets his gaze evenly.

“Yeah, right. What do I know after almost three years of relationship, after knowing you for at least seven years. How could I ever possibly know that you’re not acting like yourself right now. How stupid of me,” Nie Mingjue tells him and he watches as genuine regret flashes over Jiang Cheng’s face.

“I’m not—”

“Just tell me if you’re not ready to talk to me yet, but don’t pretend that I don’t notice these things about you,” Nie Mingjue tells him as he gets up to clear the table.

It seems like neither of them are going to continue eating at this point so what’s the use in pretending.

Nie Mingjue busies himself with putting the dishes away but he keeps an ear out for Jiang Cheng, who doesn’t seem to be doing anything besides sitting at the table.

It isn’t until all the dishes are put away, that Nie Mingjue rests his hands on the counter and drops his head.

“I know that you’re not angry with me, not really, but whatever it is it’s eating away at you and I guess I just want to—if you’re going to break up with me, just tell me, alright?” Nie Mingjue whispers, not able to meet Jiang Cheng’s eyes over that.

“Why would I break up with you?” Jiang Cheng asks him and he sounds genuinely confused, so Nie Mingjue dares to hope that he’s not going to do that.

“You’re avoiding me; my touch, my eyes. You’re not even talking to me over dinner anymore; I miss your rants about work,” Nie Mingjue huffs out with a small laugh. “I don’t know what to think.”

There’s a long silence in the kitchen, one that worries Nie Mingjue more than anything before, but then he can hear Jiang Cheng standing up, his chair scrapping along the floor and before Nie Mingjue can snap at him to properly lift the chair Jiang Cheng wraps his arms around his middle.

He presses close, presses his face right into Nie Mingjue’s shoulder and then he just breathes there for a moment.

Nie Mingjue dares to think that they will be alright.

“You don’t have to tell me yet, if you’re not ready,” Nie Mingjue tells him again, trying to reassure Jiang Cheng that he’s not going to pressure him over this, but Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“I think I do,” he whispers. “But—don’t turn around? Can I tell you like this?” he then asks and Nie Mingjue puts his hand over Jiang Cheng’s on his stomach.

“Of course. Whatever makes you comfortable, my heart.”

“I really don’t deserve you,” Jiang Cheng whispers but before Nie Mingjue can argue with him over that he goes on. “I know what you’re going to say, but you can stuff it,” he says and Nie Mingjue laughs.

“Alright, I won’t say it. Just—you say whatever it is you have to say.”

Nie Mingjue feels put at ease already, because if Jiang Cheng would be breaking up with him, he certainly wouldn’t hold him like that, so that worry is almost immediately put to rest.

“I love you,” is what Jiang Cheng starts with and that alone is almost enough to make Nie Mingjue turn around and kiss the living hell right out of Jiang Cheng.

“I love you, too.”

“No, shhhh,” Jiang Cheng immediately complaints, though Nie Mingjue can hear the smile in his voice. “You’re not allowed to interrupt me.”

“Okay, no more interruptions from now on,” Nie Mingjue promises as he laces their fingers together, squeezing Jiang Cheng’s hand for emphasis.

“Good. Now, listen. I’m just—I love you so much and I still don’t know how I got this lucky, but being with you feels right,” Jiang Cheng starts, and he sounds unsure, still, as if he’s looking for the right words.

“I know I’m brash and angry and hard, because that’s what everyone keeps telling me, but when I’m with you, I never feel like this grumpy asshole. I feel like—me. The real me, the one no one wants to see. The one who laughs himself sick at puppy videos and who cries over stupid romance movies and who snaps for the sake of snapping and not because I’m actually angry. It feels like we’re on one wavelength, because I know you do some things no one knows about you as well when you’re around me and I will forever be grateful that we simply can be like this around each other. That you don’t hold it against me when I have a bad day, or when work left me drained or when I want to put too much sugar into my coffee.”

Well, Nie Mingjue is not going to argue any of those points, because while he doesn’t cry about stupid romance movies, he damn well cries when Jiang Cheng tells him things like this.

And it’s about as much as Nie Mingjue can take as well, because he spins around in Jiang Cheng’s arms, not caring what he promised before, because he needs to look at him right now.

Marry me, he wants to say, because that is the only possible answer to a speech like this, but before the words can leave his mouth, Jiang Cheng slaps a hand over it.

“No,” he scolds him. “You said you wouldn’t turn around and you damn well don’t get to speak before I say so, understood?” he snaps and Nie Mingjue nods obediently, though he’s pretty sure Jiang Cheng can tell what he wants to ask.

“You’re it for me, Mingjue, because I never felt at ease or at home like this with anyone else, and there’s no way you’re getting out of this, do you understand me? I’m not letting you go ever again,” Jiang Cheng says and uses his free hand to pull a ring out of his pocket.

“This wasn’t how I wanted to propose, and I didn’t have my speech ready, but it is what it is, I suppose. And I’m also not going to ask you, because you don’t get a say in this. You’re stuck with me, and it’s your own fault, because you didn’t let me push you away in the beginning and now I’m going to stick like glue to you for the rest of your lives.”

Nie Mingjue can’t help it, the tears just flow faster, and even though Jiang Cheng didn’t ask him, he still has to say yes. He taps Jiang Cheng’s hand, urging him to take it away, and after one glare Jiang Cheng does.

“You’re an idiot if you think I’m ever letting you go again,” is what Nie Mingjue says the moment Jiang Cheng’s hand leaves his mouth and then he pulls him into a kiss.

It’s way better to agree to an engagement like this than simply saying yes anyway.

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