#so I can stop spending $50 on phone cases that I don’t really need

[bearsbeetsbeskar]

Etsy is a very dangerous place y’all cause look at HOW CUTE THESE CASES ARE !!!!

I love them so much 😭🙌🏼💖

[aritamargarita]

ATTITUDE || 012

tonight, you find out who this secret admirer is and more shenanigans ensue. like anon said, reader is slowly entering her dean ambrose era but someone(s) want to put a stop to it before it gets worse. i KIND OF had to like split things up im doin something important just stick around....hotel interactions next chapter!

poor reader getting dragged into team extreme drama is insane like omg. at leaaasstt she can get closer to jeff, YAAYYY. this chapter, something in the air shifted i fear….

RAW IS WAR // 6:37 PM

Monday came around quickly and yet again, you were back at the arena. Raw was a little different than Smackdown’s set up, but you didn’t really mind. The interchangeable brands, despite how much trouble it caused you, was somewhere you could easily call home.

You and Lita really drank too much, huh? You’ll both have to get those pancakes another time.

You remember Lita calling you and thanking you for allowing her to spend the night, but you couldn’t even respond with how loudly you were laughing once those memories came crashing down.

You swore off of drinking for a while. You also made Lita agree to never take you out to a bar again. At least not before eating anything. And next time, the destination would be IHOP instead of some sleazy bar.

Lita had to beg you to not tell Jeff what she said. In compromise, she said that you could meet her in the locker room before the first match to talk.

Today’s matches were as follows…

CHRISTIAN VS. JEFF HARDY (EUROPEAN TITLE)

RVD VS. D-VON DUDLEY (HARDCORE CHAMPIONSHIP)

TRISH STRATUS VS. STACY KEIBLER

EDGE VS. TEST (INTERCONTINENTAL TITLE)

WILLIAM REGAL VS. BIG SHOW

THE ROCK VS. CHRIS JERICHO AND KURT ANGLE

At least you weren’t on the card, but Jeff’s got a match with Christian? Looks like Stacy’s got a match too. Perhaps you’d be seeing them very, very soon.

That is, if you had time. The voice of that man over the phone replayed in your head, reminding the time you should meet him. 7:50? No, 7:20. NO, 7:30!

Now’s not the time to have a bad memory. This could be important. If they had some sort of “strategy” to keep Stephanie down for a bit, you wanted to hear it. You came earlier than usual just to ensure that you’d be there in time.

The hushed and murmured voices made you stop. You could hear them behind the door.

“Well, is she in here?”

“Ya’ think I know for sure?”

Okay, just by the tone of their voices, it sounded like Debra and Austin outside of your door. Their questions towards each other had turned into a small argument, something about who’s going to be the one to call you out first.

Why’d they show up? You knew Austin saw how mad you were the night of your match, so maybe he told Debra.

“Come on out, [Name].” Austin calls. “Just want to talk.”

You didn’t want to be chastised. It’s the last thing you wanted to hear, especially from him. “I’m not coming out.”

“Don’t make me break this door down.”

This time you got scared because you knew that he’d do it. So you slowly crack open the door. “Yes?” Of course, those cameras you loved so dearly were rolling. This must be good.

Debra steps forward, an apologetic look on her face. “We’ve been thinking...after what happened back on Smackdown…we think you should start looking into some anger management classes. You see, Mr. McMahon has offered it to certain people who were apart of the Alliance after a recommendation.”

Anger management classes??

It was one thing for Mr. McMahon to pour MORE salt in the wound after a crushing loss to your original team, but to even suggest anger management? You’ve gotta be fucking kidding.

“If I have to look into anger management classes, he has to look into them too!” You point a finger at Austin accusingly.

“Me? Anger management?” Shockingly enough, he seemed appalled at your words. “I don’t need a damn anger management class, goddamnit. All I need is a forklift.”

“You have issues!”

Debra can only shake her head. This is exactly why you should look into it. However, you made a valid case. The more she thought about it, she realizes the both of you needed to go. “That’s it then. I’ll be signing the both of you up for a class next week.” She briskly walks away, not staying around to hear you two’s outburst.

“Hey, no! What if I have a match or something? Debraaaaa!” You complain. Austin wasn’t too happy about this decision either. You walk after her, pleading to not let you go. “Pleaaasee?? Can’t you just send him alone? He’s an angry guy! Like way more angry than me!”

“My answer is final!” She asserted, making you take a step back. “If it makes you feel better, there are other people who you may know that are attending. Why don’t you make some friends?”

“Ughhhhh…” You groan. Debra softly rubs your shoulder.

Once Debra made her mind up, that was it. Looks like you’ll be taking anger management classes with Austin.

Pissed off wasn’t strong enough to describe how he felt about it. He comes closer to you two, rubbing his face. “I need a beer.”

“I don’t have anger management issues, I was just mad!“ You complain. “Throwing chairs at the walls aren’t even that bad! I could do worse. I could do way worse, right?!”

You turn over to Austin, who was simply shaking his head at you. For a split second he was going to say something, but decided not to. So far, the things he’s done in the past have been completely worse than what you’ve did in the last few days.

In an effort to take it off your mind for now, you look between the two. “Err, have any of you seen Jeff Hardy? I’d like to talk to him.”

“Not at all.” Debra shook his head. “Wouldn’t he usually be with his brother and that Lita girl?”

“Sort of, kind of. Not with Lita. They got into an argument or something, but right now I’m not sure if they’re cool. I really hope things blow over.”

“Why talk to him?” Austin just cuts to the chase. “Rainbow hair makes me sick. Him and that girl who can’t pull her pants up.”

You roll your eyes. Of course he had an iffy opinion on them. He’s so old school. You bet if you gave him a keyboard, he’d take forever to type just one word.

“I can’t tell you. But it’s really important.”

“Let the girl go.” Debra waves her hand. “The classes aren’t today. Besides, I need to talk with you about things, Austin.” She then looks at you knowingly, a mischievous glint in her eye. Did she kno—

“Why’re ya’ lookin’ like that??” Austin questioned, switching his finger between you two.

Debra feigns innocence. “Like what?”

“Ya’ looked at her with that look in your eye like ya’ got something planned.”

“We don’t know what you’re talking about!” You smile. “Listen, I’ll catch up with you guys later. I need to find Jeff.” This was very urgent. It’s a matter of life or death.

“Hey, kid, before ya’ go…” Austin holds out his hand, causing you to stop in place. “Almost forgot. We’re on commentary tonight.”

…You’re on commentary?! Seriously?

“Wait, for all the matches?”

Debra shakes her head, thankfully. “Just for the last match I believe. You two need to keep it together. No picking fights. If they start something with you, you walk away.”

That’ll be easy for you, unless, for some reason…someone decides to show up unannounced again. If Jericho decided to mess with you, then that’d be another fish to fry.

For Austin though, it may be a little harder. Incredibly harder.

The Rock was in the match. It was a no-brainer that they’ve always had some sort of tension. And Jericho was there too. Not to mention Kurt Angle. Those men have had problems with him in the past.

Who cares right now?! You had to figure out if you should make a move or not! If Jeff had a thing for you, you needed to strike accordingly, right? You walk back in the other direction towards the locker room.

You still couldn’t believe it though. Lita had really spilled the beans on that one. This whole time, Jeff Hardy may or may not have been interested in you.

If you were fast enough, you could catch him and Christian’s match. It would be best to change right now. Should you wear something nice? It’s not like you were going on a date in the ring or something. 

...Okay, maybe you’re thinking about this too hard.

RAW IS WAR // 6:50 PM

You were all set. New clothes, feeling energized, and most importantly, feeling confident. Tonight was a new night, so you couldn’t let anyone get you down.

“Hey, [Name]…you look nice…?”

The familiar voice makes you turn on your heel almost immediately. “Oh, you’ve got a lot of guts showing up here.”

Stacy holds out her hands. “Hey! I’m on your side. I don’t think you’ve ever asked me how I felt, huh? Before you try anything, just listen to what I have to say!”

Just this once, you’ll give her the time of day.

“I…I hate Torrie as much as you do.” She admits. “I don’t know how you didn’t realize. We’ve been at each other’s necks for at least a week or two now.”

“If it’s only been a week or two, you’ve gotta give me a break.” You sigh. “I’ve a lot of shit on my plate, Stacy.”

“I understand that!” She seems happy you hadn’t attacked her yet, clearing her throat afterwards. “But I just wanted to let you know before you came after me. Don’t forget, I’m your best friend too.”

Right. She is.

“Torrie’s been spreading some nasty things about you.”

You roll your eyes. This same song and dance. “I know. If it’s about the letters—“

“Oh, no,” Stacy shakes her head, folding her arms behind her back. “Not about letters at all. She says you’ve been sleeping around.”

“First of all, if anyone’s doing the sleeping around, it’s her. Last time, I remember her and Mr. McMahon had some sort of meeting. I hope she knows talent is not sexually transmitted…not like Mr. McMahon is talented anyway.”

Stacy comes over and hits your arm. “You can’t say that! You could get fired, what if someone’s listening?!”

“I’m just saying! Jeez.” You rub your arm. “By the way, you’re lucky you said something, because I was about to fight you right here.”

For some reason, she doesn’t seem to stop talking about Torrie, even if you thought it was over. “Did I mention she says you’re trashing most of the superstars? I mean, even disrespecting legends, wow!”

What? Disrespecting legends? What legends was she talking about?? Now, some of them deserved it. But who exactly?

“Wait, who?”

Stacy opens her mouth, but is interrupted by the door opening.

In comes Lita, surprised to see you two not mauling each other. Sure, it wasn’t Torrie, but it’s someone she associated with. “…You guys are still friends?” She stares at Stacy for a moment, fighting the urge to glare.

Stacy nods. “Of course. That’s my [Name]!” She gives you a tight hug. “I’ll see you later, okay?” Just like that, she was gone. Suspiciously quick.

You simply wave as she walks off. Lita can only scoff. “Her? Really? After I poured my heart out last night?”

“I just think you’re jealous.” You grin. “Litaaa’ss jeaaallouusss.”

Your sing-song tone made her smile as well. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever makes you happy.” She looks at you, then your outfit of choice. “Woah, that’s a transformation if I’ve ever seen one. You really want his attention, huh?”

It’s not like she wasn’t dressed up herself either. Her thong was literally saying ‘hello!’ to you. “You’re talking about me, but do you have a match I don’t know about?” You question, walking over to fold the clothes you decided not to wear.

….You’ve never folded clothes so fast, with shaky hands at that. Lita catches on quickly and takes a seat nearby. She doesn’t comment on it, but she damn sure notices.

“Just accompanying Jeff to the ring. Don’t worry, I’m not stealing him away from you or anything.” She prefaced. “..He just got really hurt at Survivor Series. And in the argument that Matt started, he didn’t want him to perform.”

She didn’t want you to be nervous. In fact, she could even sympathize. Maybe YOU were more shy than she thought, haha.

You take a breather, doing your best to offset the anxiety. “Oohh, I see. No wonder. So, it’s just you and Matt that are having issues.”

“No, no,” Lita shakes her head. “Jeff has problems with Matt too. Me and Jeff don’t have any issue with each other.”

Noooow you got it. She didn’t explain that in depth when you first asked her. She must’ve still been frazzled from the whole thing.

“I just have a feeling Jeff’ll do something risky. As much as I hate to say this, you’ll have to take advantage of that. I’ll pretend like it’s a complete surprise.” Lita pauses for a moment, taking a second to now stretch on the floor. “…If Matt by chance shows up, he’s not gonna be happy Jeff’s in a match tonight.”

You finish with folding things up, zipping your bag shut. “Fine with me. Hey, you’re not gonna screw me over, are you?”

Lita gives you a confused look. “Hell no. Why would I do that?”

“Just making sure.”

RAW IS WAR // 7:05 PM

You hoped this wouldn’t take too long. As much as you wanted to see Jeff, you had other obligations. You wanted to be in the parking lot at 7:30 sharp, no later than that. It’d be better if you got there earlier.

You’re backstage now, checking out the match on the television. It’s been going on for a while now. You giggle as you notice how Jeff’s shirt was stuck around his ankles. Him being shirtless was one thing, but you were immature enough to giggle at his shirt. You noticed how it limited his movement and Christian was really wearing him down because of it.

You’d ask him how things were going later. It makes you jump in surprise to see Jeff rebound with a enzugiri.

By this point, Matt’s already down to the ring, picking an argument with Lita. While they’re at it, you think it’s time to head down to the ring yourself.

With a pep in your step, you make your way to gorilla. You’d only stick around to check in on Jeff and give him help, but that’s it. Every little bit counts.

You push away the curtains and head down to the ring, catching Lita’s gaze. She fought the smile on her face, doing her best to look upset instead. The crowd cheers at your appearance.

Jeff notices you, confused as to why you’re out here in the first place. You don’t have anything to do with him. You wave at him.

Oh…

Did you come out for him? For some reason, a small grin appears on his face, but it’s quickly knocked off as Christian clotheslined him.

Christian notices you too. He comes over and even blows you a kiss.

He’s funny.

You cross your arms. You’re not out for him right now! Just for Jeff, but maybe you’ll keep that to yourself for now. You wave at him, feeling as if it’s rude to not respond.

Lita jogs away from Matt (much to his own confusion, a lot of it was going around..) right over to you.

“Started to think you wouldn’t come out here!” She raises her voice so you can hear her over the crowd. “Thought your dad was gonna stop you. I could’ve sworn he told me to pull my pants up!”

You laugh, raising your voice as well. “Yeah, right. Are things going okay out here?”

“Not..really.” She looks away, doing her best to not stare at Matt anymore. “It’s hard being here.”

“I get it. I’m sorry about that.” You turn your attention back to the ring, and Lita returns to her spot nearby Matt. Now you two were on opposite sides.

Christian begins to turn Jeff into the Killswitch, but Jeff reverses it into the Twist of Fate. Matt begins to scream at him to do the pin, but instead he climbs onto the top rope.

Even you thought it was a good idea to pin Christian. Was Jeff really going to be able to do this??

Matt comes over to your side yelling at him and you move further away. Christian, in the meanwhile, rolls out of the ring to safety.

But not for long. Jeff readjusts himself to do a high flying move, but Matt is still yelling. Taking advantage, Christian shoves Matt into the ring post, knocking Jeff straight into the mat.

You wince. That must’ve really hurt.

Christian gets right back into the ring and pins Jeff, retaining his championship. He points down at you with a smile.

You have to say, good for him. You clap, giving him some respect. You had nothing against him.

He rolls out of the ring and you roll right in.

“Jeff.” You get down on your knees, leaning over him. “Why’d you do that?”

He takes a minute to respond, breathing heavily. “Thought…ya’ might like it.”

Before you could say something, the referee shoos you out of the ring and you roll back out to give them space.

Jeff didn’t want that. He struggles to get up and slowly crawls out himself. “Wait.” He rasps, reaching out toward you. You come a bit closer to help him out and back up the ramp.

He’s holding his neck as you two go up, Matt and Lita trailing behind. This isn’t going to be good, you could just tell.

The closer you got to towards the medic, the thicker the tension had gotten. It got even worse after you entered the room.

No one was saying anything to each other. You and Lita could only exchange glances. The crinkling of the ice bag was the only sound heard throughout the room. One of the medics handed it over to you, and almost as if they knew something bad was coming, left the room.

You gently place it over the back of Jeff’s neck, making him quietly sigh. It must’ve been one of relief, because he sets his hand over your own.

“Jeff, how could you be so stupid, man?!”

And there it was. Matt stroked the fire.

“Stupid?!” Jeff immediately gets up from his spot, almost as if he had a jolt of energy. It startled you slightly, leaving the bag of ice in your hand.

“Yeah, stupid. I told you, you shouldn’t even have been wrestling tonight.” Matt got in his face. “But did you listen to me? No. And even when you went in the ring, I supported you. I told you what you should do. I told you; don’t take any unnecessary risks. I told you; do the Twist of Fate and beat him on the mat—“

Jeff interrupts him. “Who asked you, Matt? Who asked you to get involved in the match anyway, huh?”

“Nobody asked me to get involved. I got involved because I care about you. I got involved because I care about the team. Do you care about the team, Jeff?” Matt’s words were coming out almost a thousand miles an hour. It’s almost like this has been on his mind for a while.

You watch as they continue going back and forth for a while. You didn’t want to take sides, you were only watching from the sidelines.

Lita runs her hands through her hair. This was really getting to her. You felt really bad. She shouldn’t have to be in the middle of this.

“—Ever since we were kids Matt, you’ve been trying to run my life, you’ve been trying to control me.” Jeff accuses. “You’ve always thought you’re smarter, you’ve always thought you’re better..”

“I don’t think it’s a question that I’m smarter than you, Jeff. I think that’s obvious. And somebody—“

“Guys, relax, Lita is….“ You try to intervene, but you immediately get shut down by Matt.

“Look, shut up, please. She’s not in this and neither are you. I don’t even know why you’re here.” And now, his attention is on you. “Are you here just for yourself? Which one of us do you want to ruin first? Is it Jeff?”

Ruin? That must’ve been something Torrie must’ve spread. Matt must’ve considered you bad news.

But Jeff quickly stands up for you. “Don’t tell her to shut up. She came to help me, unlike someone I know. She actually cares.”

It goes silent again. You’re not exactly sure what to say.

This time, Lita speaks up. “…I thought you were in here cause’ you cared about Jeff. At the very least you could be nice to someone who’s trying to help. It’s pretty obvious the only thing you care about is yourself.”

She leaves, and Jeff glares at Matt. “Who feels stupid now, Matt?”

Matt ignores his comment, simply giving Jeff a scowl of his own. He calls after Lita and leaves the room.

Now, you and Jeff were alone. He mutters an apology, sitting back on the seat.

You say nothing, instead setting the bag of ice back onto his neck. He sets his hand back onto your own.

“You….look nice today.” Jeff compliments you, using his free hand to toy with his armband. He had no idea why he felt so on edge in your presence. Whether it was the atmosphere of the argument still lingering or just the idea of you taking care of him, he didn’t know.

“Hah.” You let out a strained laugh. “Thanks.”

It’s hard to bounce back from what just happened. And you didn’t know what else to say.

You had an idea though.

You let go of the ice and so does he. Jeff looks up at you questionably as you move to sit next to him.

No one was in the room, no one had to know.

So, instead of saying anything else, you take a chance and just kiss him. “I didn’t know what else to say, sorry.”

Jeff doesn’t have anything to say either, as his response is nothing more than returning his lips to your own. Again, and again. Each time, it was harder than the last. You hadn’t even realized how close you got to him until you felt his body against your own.

He sets his hand on your back, doing his best to keep you as close as possible.

You already felt like you couldn’t breathe. And just as you were going to open your mouth for him just a little more, he lightly pushes you away. Nothing lasts forever, you guess.

You still groan in disappointment.

“If we keep doing this, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.” He admitted. “..and my neck is killing me.”

All you can do is nod. At least he came to his senses, any further and you’d forget your meet up with your secret admirer. You were close to blowing him off.

You finally collect your words. “What time..is it?”

Jeff looks up towards the clock in the room. “7:20.”

Shit. You had ten minutes to get it together.

“I’ve gotta go.” You say, getting out of your seat. “There’s something I’ve gotta do. I hope you get better, sorry about earlier.” In order to not explode, you try to talk about other things. “You guys shouldn’t have to go through that as a team.

Jeff waves you off. “It’ll blow over. Thanks for staying with me. I’ll see ya’ later.”

RAW IS WAR // 7:27 PM

You were in a mad dash to the parking lot, trying to make sure you were on time. You had about 3 minutes to spare luckily, so here you were, just rubbing your temples.

“Over here, Nitro Girl.”

You turn over to the direction of the voice, a curious look on your face. The curiosity turns into shock.

“Hey, wait, aren’t you….?”

The man nods. He’s a little aggressive as he shoves the bouquet of flowers into your arms. “Hunter. You’re a bit early.”

You just couldn’t believe it.

…..Triple H? He’s the person who wanted to meet you out here? Was this some sort of setup so Stephanie could ambush you from behind?

“Is this a joke?” You boldly ask. “Out of all people, it’s you??”

“No joke..“ He doesn’t seem to be in the best of moods, but you don’t point it out. “I’m going to cut to the chase. I think Stephanie is sleeping with someone else.”

Huh?!

Your eyes widen. That was one hell of an accusation. “How do you know?”

“I haven’t been in the ring and she’s been going on about this whole spiel about becoming business partners with others while I’m away. Because you refused, I think your attack on Smackdown may have been planned. I know how she is.”

“Do you really think it was planned? The only other person I could think of would be Jericho, but there’s no way he would be on it.” You say. “I mean, he’s called her so many nasty names. I don’t get it. And there’s no way in hell it could be Austin.”

Hunter shook his head. “Jericho’s the only one that makes sense. He’s threatened by me and he knows as soon as I come back, I’ll be going for the title spot. He’ll do anything to take me down, even if it means associating with Stephanie.”

“Yikes.” You mutter, adjusting the bouquet of flowers in your arms. “So, what’re you asking me to do here?”

“How about we become business partners?” He suggests. “You want revenge. I want a spot in the title picture. It’s an even exchange, nothing less, nothing more. I want to see what she’ll do next. If it’s true, we’ll officially start. If it’s false, we’ll pretend like we never met. Do we have a deal?”

You had nothing to lose, so you agree. “We have a deal. I’ll let you know if I see or hear anything.”

Neither of you had the confirmation, but once you did, it’d be one hell of a week.

RAW IS WAR // 7:45 PM

You were able to put the flowers from Hunter away in the locker room. Austin was waiting for you outside to head out to the announcers table. In order to get by him, you passed it off as a secret admirer gift to Trish. Someone gave it to you, so you decided to pass on the message. You refused to elaborate any further than that.

“Let’s get goin’ kid, they’re waitin’ on us.” Austin rushes you out, making you groan. 

“I’m coming, hold on!” You close the door behind you. 

“Took ya’ long enough. I was gonna leave.”

Well, you’re here now!

Once you two hit gorilla, the sound of glass shattering was your cue. Austin walks down the ramp with you behind him. While he’s all serious, you wave to the crowd.

There’s a fan that reaches out a pen and a picture of you. Before you meet Austin at the table, you decide to sign it. You quickly write your signature with a smile and give them a final wave before you run towards the announcer table.

You take a seat nearby Austin, as JR and Jerry greet you before JR begins his introduction.

‘And we are back here on Raw, Raw Zone on the new TNN. At ringside, Austin and [Name] accompany us…..’

Jerry automatically has his attention on you. ‘You look great tonight!’

You gave a thumbs up at his compliment. ‘I take pride in my wardrobe!’

Austin isn’t too happy about you taking too long, complaining as soon as you put your headphones on. ‘She always takes her time gettin’ places because of her little wardrobe!’

‘I have to pick something out! And don’t even start, I was signing an autograph, okay! I was being nice! Debra told us to play nice!’

Before you can continue, the pop of pyro and Jericho’s music immediately gets you hot. You’re so sick and tired of him.

Lillian announces him in. “The following handicap match is set for one fall! Introducing first, from Winnipeg Manitoba Canada, weighing 227 pounds, Chris Jericho!”

‘Y2J told us earlier this night what was wrong with his game all along,” JR says. ‘He cared about the fans. Obviously, he doesn’t care any longer.’

‘Oh, whatever. He only cares about himself!’ You accuse.

Jericho enters the ring, turning his attention down to the announcers table. He smirks seeing you two, and you can only shoot daggers at him. ‘I fucking hate you!’ Of course, they bleeped your curse word out, but you meant what you said. You were still heated from your own handicap match. 

His music cuts off, changing into Kurt Angle’s music.

“Introducing his partner from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Kurt Angle!”

‘Austin, you and Kurt Angle will go one-on-one for the WWF title at Vengeance. The winner of that match will go on against either Y2J or The Rock to unify those championships. How do you feel?’ JR asks.

‘Gotta be nervous, huh? I mean, this is the undisputed championship we’re talking about!’ Jerry adds.

‘I’m not nervous about those sons of bitches at all. I’m coming out of Vengeance as the undisputed champion. Most importantly, I won’t be kissing Vince’s ass tonight.’

Wait, huh? You look at Austin curiously. ‘Woah, I’m confused. What’re you talking about?’

You couldn’t hear anything else after The Rock’s music hits, the crowd coming alive and screaming. ‘I have to say, I’m on Rock’s side! A handicapped match? I can sympathize how hard it is. This isn’t fair.’

“And from Miami, Florida, weighing in at 240 pounds, he is the World Champion, The Rock!”

JR agrees with you. ‘I can agree with you, [Name]. He’ll be lucky to survive this.’

Austin seems offended at your words. ‘You’re on his side? Really? Ya’ weren’t even goin’ in alone!’

‘I mean, can’t you sympathize sort of? The odds were—‘

Suddenly, Ric Flair’s music hits just as soon as the match is ready to begin. The crowd “woo’s”.

You snap your fingers. ‘Oh, I forgot! He bought our stock, huh?’

‘And he made a career of being fashionably late. The match already started!’ Jerry says.

Flair’s raspy voice echoes. “I don’t think my business partner will mind at all the fact that I am changing this handicap match into a tag match, WOO! Without further ado, The Rock’s partner, Kane!”

As soon as he says his name, an explosion of fire comes from the ramp.

Kane….

Kane was another story. You weren’t quite sure about him, nor have you seen him around. All you’ve heard was that he had a bad, bad upbringing. He was intimidating and you were almost scared. 

This match certainly was something else.

k temporary spacer thingy. i decided to kind of speed through the like last match since its not as important. what’s important is what comes after it sort of. sorry for cutting the jeff scene so short though, i kinda had to push myself out of my comfort zone since im not that experienced with likeeee all the serious romance stuff. there’s more to come next. btw i promise we’ll see some more superstars soon,,ones that left and all yes yes. btw “nothing more nothing less” my ass smh.

anyone been rushed out before by your parents? like them threatening to leave u if u dont hurry up?? yeah its totally stone cold and [name] lmaoo,,, them anger management classes about to go hard💯

also kane interaction anyone? no? ok i’ll leave…

[allywritesforfun]

hey i really enjoyed your nightly routine post with wilbur? i was wondering if you could do something similar but in the morning instead?

awe my love! I'm glad that you enjoyed the nightly the routine... here is the morning routine!

{Morning Routine} Wilbur Soot x Reader

summary: you and wilbur made a nightly routine video that blew up more than you have thought, so now its time to do a morning routine!

pronouns: not mentioned

word count: 2280

trigger warnings: swearing, mention of a knife for going chop chop, this was too cute for even me to handle and it came from my hands

a/n: my god is this long! I really got carried away. I could've made this into two parts but whatevs

a/n pt 2: takes place after the “Nightly Routines” but not directly connected 

regular masterlist

wilbur masterlist

You deeply groaned as you fluttered your eyes open. This was not a great time to wake up. You really wanted another hour of sleep, but you knew you had work to get done today.

You looked behind you. You smiled at the sight of Wilbur in his sweet slumber, his arm lazily draped over your waist. Wilbur very much loved to be in bed with you. If he could, he would spend all day there, just you in his arms and some soft lofi in the background. 

That was something very rare to get. Being a streamer and musician, Wilbur was busy almost all the time and rarely took a day off. Mornings and nights were dedicated to you. However, there were times that you would stream with him, or stop by the office to give him food, but nothing was compared to waking up with him.

“Oh shit,” You whispered, “We’re supposed to do morning vlog today.”

You looked around for Wilbur’s camera, which was no where to be found. You settled on stretching over to nightstand and unplugging your phone. You looked back at Wilbur to make sure he was still sleeping. You could tell he was by the gentle raise and fall of his chest and subtle “Ah-woo”. You just knew that was the perfect way to start the vlog. You recored him for about ten seconds of him doing his ‘not really a snore but definitely something’ and giggled almost the whole way through.

You would think that after living with him for two months and the multiple sleepovers that you’ve had with him, that you would be used to it by now. But even today you still giggled just like you did when you first woke up with him. 

You snuck yourself out of bed and made your way to the kitchen. Once arrived you did the intro, “Good morning chat! It is currently about 6:30 in the morning, and as you realize, I am the only one awake. As you saw, Wilbur is still sound asleep and that how it is every morning. So we’re going to vlog our morning routine today, which I promise is way more interesting than the nightly routine vlog. So, Wilbur is literally the best person ever and deserves the world. And his world, besides me of course, is his morning coffee. So I’m going to use our Keurig to get his coffee started.” 

You stopped the recording and decided to get some of your creativity out. You weren’t musical like Wilbur and can't draw for shit, so videography was your way of being creative. You set your phone the in the corner and opened up the blind to let a little bit of light through. It still looked basic so you moved your plant to the background, which added the perfect look. You started brewing and hit record. 

While that was going, you measured out the creamer and syrup and grabbed your sippy cup for your chocolate milk. No judgement here. We all know chocolate milk tastes better in sippy cups. 

The brew came to a slow stop and you grabbed the camera, “Wasn't that a satisfactory angle chat? Now, I am more of an iced coffee person, so in the morning I have water or chocolate milk, and today is definitely a chocolate milk day.” You raised your cup to the camera and fake ‘clinked’ it, cutting the recording when it was closest to the camera. You finished up making Wilbur’s coffee and set it on the living room table. 

You looked at the time, 6:50 am, now was a good time to get Wilbur up. You always let his coffee sit out for a little bit, that way he could drink it the second that he woke up. You threw some napkins under your drinks and moved another plant over there. You wanted your place to look aesthetically pleasing, even if it was a little bit staged. You did a transition with your cup, this time now on the table.

“Okay chat, we all now mr. simpbur is a snuggler so we don't have breakfast in the kitchen, instead we share on the couch, that way we can get all of our snuggles in before he has to leave for the office. I have everything set up, normally I would prepare breakfast too, but I feel like cooking with Wilbur this morning. We’ll do this about once a week for some bonding time, so let's go get him up,” You decided to keep recording, just in case Wilbur woke up from your loss of presence. 

You creaked the door open, Wilbur was still asleep. He adjusted his body for that he was hugging a pillow, who you assumed was your replacement. You laid down next to him and just took a moment to admire him. It was moments like this that you forgot that you were internet personalities. This was you. This was Wilbur. Both of you living your life without needing to exaggerate yourself. This was Wilbur at his purest form. He was all relaxed, not even aware that he was being recorded.

You scooted closer to him and intertwined your legs with him. You brushed his bangs with the back of your hands and gently placed your lips on your forehead. He stirred a little bit, but not enough to wake him up. You took the pillow from him and wrapped your body around his, “Wilbur, my love, it's about seven, you need to get up.”

You could tell he woke up by him pulling you closer and burying his head only you neck. You gently massaged his head and twirled his curls between your fingers, “Come on Will, I got your coffee made already. We need to start breakfast.”

He shook his head and kissed your shoulder, “Mine.”

You laughed, “Yes Will, and ‘yours’ is hungry, let’s get up and eat.”

He slowly nodded and pulled you closer, “Mmmm... I love you.”

“I love you too, simpbur.”

He snapped his head up at the nickname and saw the camera, “Fuck-that’s today?”

You giggled and detached yourself from, “Say good morning to chat.”

He shook his head and buried it in his pillow out of embarrassment. You stop recording and put your phone on the stand. Just seeing Wilbur all flustered was enough to make you go back to bed. You laid back down with him and pulled him on top of you.

“We’re gonna have to re-record that part,” Wilbur mentioned.

You rubbed his cheek with your thumb, which he happily leaned into, “No bubs, we gotta keep it in. It was a very cute moment.”

He shook his head aggressively, “No! That was embarrassing!”

“Too bad, it’s on my phone so I get to chose what goes in.”

He huffed and grabbed your hand, accepting defeat, “You said you made my coffee?”

You two got up and sat down on the couch. Wilbur took you into his arms the second he took his first sip, his personal way of saying ‘thank you, you’re the best person to ever exist’. 

“What are you feeling for breakfast?” You asked.

“You,” Wilbur joked, kissing your temple. 

You gently pushed him, “No actually, I really want yogurt, so pick something that goes well with that.”

“Can we just make a fruit plate?”

You excitedly nodded, if it wasn't for Wilbur, you would not be eating healthy. He really made sure that you were going to live as long as he did. Neither of you could live without the other. If something crazy didn't happen to you, you were going to die from a broken heart.

Wilbur grabbed your phone and started recording, “So um, good morning chat, I’ve had some coffee and more awake now. What you just saw- no you fucking didn't. We’re on the sofa right now and we decided on a fruit plate with yogurt this morning, trying to be a little healthier considering we had ice cream at one am last night. So we’re gonna make that off camera, because if you guys get us to six million subs, we’ll do a cooking stream!”

“Oh we are now?” You questioned. “I was never told about this.”

Wilbur laughed and kissed your temple, “Well you know now, that's good enough innit?”

You shook your head and placed your hand over the camera, Wilbur stopped the recording. You go the fruit out while Wilbur prepared the sink for rinsing and knives for chopping. 

You made the plate look all nice and took it back to the couch. Wilbur placed his arm back over you and grabbed the remote with is free hand while you centered your phone.

“Okay chat, we’re gonna eat and watch tv for a bit, then you're gonna get ready with us. Wilbur has a test shoot at the office today, so we gotta make him look all pretty and obviously personal hygiene is a must... so yeah, brb.”

You two set up another game show to watch, it sorta became your go to show. Especially because there was no storyline and you could talk when you wanted. This was a pretty chill morning, you two enjoyed each other's presence. 

When you finished up, Wilbur took the dishes and you went to the bathroom and cleaned up a little bit. You heard Wilbur go into his closet, so you started recording, “Okay chat, last thing we do before he leaves is actually get ready. Wilbur is getting changed right now so I’m gonna brush my hair out. I can get a little aggressive with the snarls and Wilbur always thinks I'm ripping my hair out so I always do it when he's not around to make sure he doesn't get worried.”

You set the phone in the corner and set it up to record a time lapse. You heard off in distance some light pop type of music, so you knew that Wilbur got his speaker out.

“Are you playing copyrighted music?” You called.

“It’s released Lovejoy!”

You smiled, you always got giddy seeing how happy Wilbur was able to make himself with his own music. You set your brush down and started to wet your toothbrush, Wilbur slid into frame, already jamming out to his own music.

You covered your mouth with your hand stifled your laughter. Wilbur laughed with you and tugged on your waist, trying to get you to dance with him. You aggressively shook your head no, you hated dancing. You would think by now that you would be used to Wilbur and his random dance breaks, but you never came around. 

You looked down in shame as Wilbur attempted to get you to spin around. Once you made it clear that you were not in the mood to dance, Wilbur turned down the music and waddle over to the counter.

You grabbed the camera, “If someone wants a very tall British man, you can come get him. Warning: not fun dance outbreaks.”

“Oh come on now, y/n!” Wilbur wrapped his arms around your waist and placed his head on yours, “Stop pretending like you don't like to dance.” “You know I hate dancing,” You reminded him.

“Well chat, apparently I’m not allowed to have any fun in the morning? But anyway, that was a joke, but- we do really have to get ready. Should we do this Disney Channel style?”

You laughed and shook your head, “No, I think I just want to make sure you don't miss your meeting.”

“That’s at nine! We have time! Please let me have fun with you! It’s going to be such a stressful day!” He pouted with the cutest puppy dogs eyes.

There was no way that you could say no to him, “Alright, what fun we having?”

Wilbur said nothing and prepared his toothbrush like yours, “Last one to finish brushing their teeth has to do the dishes tonight.”

You hated dishes. You were winning this one. You didn't even wait for a countdown. You instantly grabbed your toothbrush and turned on the water with lightening speed. 

“What?!” Wilbur yelled. “That’s not fair!”

You did your best to bump him away, but it literally did nothing. Both of you were laughing very hard but Wilbur quickly caught up. You both fought with your hands, trying to cup a decent amount water. You both managed to get the water into your mouth and you turned to face Wilbur, it came down to who could rinse the fastest. You two just stared at each other, wishing the water around. You were dead serious. You were not doing the dishes tonight. Wilbur kept flaunting his hands around trying get himself to go faster, which ended up in him completely breaking out in laughter and spitting all over your face. It took you by surprise and all that you could you do was laugh to yourself, you eventually spit the water out in the sink, raising your hands in victory. 

“I am so sorry, love!” Wilbur took your hand and guided you into his arms, gently running his hand up and down your back, “I didn't think that would be that hilarious.” “It’s okay,” You laughed and looked back in the mirror. You were completely drenched shoulder up, “It was fun. Better to happen to me than you, you look really nice today for the shoot.” “Thank you,” Wilbur blushed and turned you around, “I think that is enough recording for today. All that we have left to do is leave so... thank you for watching! Subscribe now and remember, cooking stream at six mil! Bye guys!”

[miekasa]

more boyfriend headcanons: love languages

↯ pairing: eren jaeger x (fem) reader

↯ genres and warnings: modern au, college au to some extent, fluff

↯ notes: i cannot stop thinking about him, so have 50 more head canons about this absolute menace. despite the title, he can and will turn anything into a love language, so beware.

annoying the hell out of you (quality time)

You’ve heard of girls sitting on their boyfriend’s laps and hugging them/falling asleep while they play games, now get ready for: boyfriends hugging you from the back while you attempt to do any mundane activity bc they miss you.

Because that’s Eren. About almost anything, because his physical affection, when not in the presence of other people, is absolutely on ten thousand and one.

The only public place he doesn’t mind cuddling up to you is the library. He doesn’t mind putting his arm around you or leaning his head on your shoulder, or even doing the sitting hugging thing in the library. Mostly because few people are there anyway.

Mind you, you’re the one who even showed him where the library was, and now he doesn’t know how to act. “Eren it’s not a ‘cuddling spot.’ It’s the library where I—and lots of other people, including yourself—go to do homework.” “If not cuddling spot, then why library chairs and study rooms cuddly?”

Particularly when it’s getting late and you’ve been crammed in the library for hours, and Eren just wants you to pack it up so he can drive you home. He’ll squeeze himself between your body and the back of your chair, wrap his arms around your stomach, and lay his cheek on your back.

Most times he falls asleep waiting for you to be finished. Sometimes he gets impatient and tickles you until you agree to leave. Either works for him.

He doesn’t not like holding hands in public, but it’s not his go to either. If you’re walking together, sometimes he’ll wrap his arm around your shoulder—usually after some cocky comment—or even walk behind you with his hands on your shoulders like it’s a two person conga line.

He doesn’t kiss you in public a lot, and never around his friends. They can see the literal hearts in his eyes when he’s around you though, so it’s not like he has to. On occasion, he will kiss your cheek. It’s kind of random, but you don’t question it.

In all honestly, whenever he gets affectionate or cuddly in public is all pretty random, even to him. Sometimes he’ll just be standing around you and he’s hit with the urge to engulf you in a hug and kiss your cheeks and he has to stop himself like, “....Why did I just think about doing that?”

Partially because he wasn’t outwardly hugged or shown affection a lot as a child, so sometimes he gets to urges children do to just want a hug. But he’s also pretty bad and/or new at processing his emotions like that so he mostly stands there like 🧍 looking at you with lovey dovey eyes instead.

Touchy when he’s drunk. But that’s not exclusive to you; anyone in a five foot radius of him will be subject to his arm slung around their shoulders, or him being slumped over their back, or random head ruffles.

Most commonly Armin, but I think we all knew that. Sometimes it’s Jean, and Jean is an even messier drunk, which results in the both of them actually being overly affectionate with each other in a strange, but endearing way. They both deny it to their graves when they’re sober, though.

Hovers around you. Constantly. Like a shadow. 

Does not leave you the hell alone when you’re in the kitchen. Will make it 100x more difficult for you to cook or just maneuver, which is ironic seeing as the most gourmet thing he can cook up is bagel with cream cheese. 

Sometimes Eren seems unaware of his size in comparison to you and your friends. It’s very sweet that he laughs with his whole body, but he’s got to realize that if bumps into you because of his sporadic laughter, that he might accidentally knock you into next Tuesday.

Likes when you touch his hair, doesn’t matter where or when, or who’s around. He loves it, all of it.

Will press his face against yours if he has stubble, just to be annoying. Like always.

If you hadn’t gotten it from everything else, he just likes to annoy you in general. But, like, affectionately. I keep saying it’s his love language and I mean it. Really—what it is is that he likes spending time with you, but he also likes annoying the hell out of you, too.

Bites. Not in a sexy way—well, unless you want him too—but, just because. Bites your shoulder when you’re not expecting it, bites your cheek while you’re in the middle of watching a show. Sometimes he takes your hand in his and your think it’s going to be sweet and he’s going to kiss it, but really he just brings it to his mouth to bite it.

Bites your ass, too. Again, just for fun. Because he thinks he can get away with it. Biting is a love language I’m telling y’all.

Likes to give you piggy back rides, even if you don’t ask for them or need one. You could be going from your room to the living room and Eren insists on carrying you there. 

And for some reason, he thinks that because he likes to hold/lift you, that that should apply to you as well?? Like he’s not 6′1 and big bodied, hello?? Eren you cannot just jump on top of people, you’re grown. 

He lets you dress him a lot. His fashion sense isn’t bad, and to be honest with you, I think he’d be a little bit of a hypebeast LOL. I don’t mean decked out head to toe in Supreme (god forbid...) but definitely has a bit of a sneaker obsession.

Not that he keeps them clean or is obsessive about creasing them he couldn’t care less. He just thinks they’re cool. Maybe even some accessories too, like those KAWS toys. Not a lot because they’re hard to get, but is really proud of his little growing collection.

But if you want to dress him up, he’s down for it. Would even let you buy him a pea coat so he can pretend to be a scholar. (He’s not BYE). He’ll tell you if something really isn’t his style, but he’ll wear it if you tell him he looks hot 🙄

Kinda forces his way into your life in little ways. Like, he’ll start adding his favorite snacks to your grocery lists. Moves a pair of your shoes from the door to make room for his own when he’s over. Basically claims two drawers for himself in your dresser. Annoying. Endearing.

Lowkey has his own intricate skincare routine, but he likes doing it with you more. He’ll make it a whole thing, and buy wine, and stupid drinking card games, and sit with you on your bed for 2 hours playing while your face masks dry. 

Texts you if you’re in the same room as him, but not paying attention to him. Especially if you’re doing schoolwork.

Throws pillows at you while you’re sitting at your desk to get your attention. He could just say your name, but it’s so much more fun this way (according to him anyway). It’s all fun and games until you smother him with one. 

Thinks arguing with you is cute, and sometimes says or does—or doesn’t do, for that matter—things just to incite an argument. Not a big one, or something serious, just petty things to rile you up so he can kiss and make up for it. For example, he’ll purposely putting the dishes in the wrong place, or hiding the remote from you, or putting his clothes in the wrong hamper.

“Eren, I swear to god, if you don’t stop putting the water bottles on the top shelf—” “What are you gonna do it about, pretty girl? Hit me with it? You can’t even reach—ow!”

being your loudest hype man (words of affirmation) 

The amount of pictures he has of you... criminal. From off-guards, to posed photos, to selfies, to screenshots, he has them all tucked away in a little folder with your name and a string of very inappropriate emojis after it.

Screenshots 90% of your snaps to him, even if his just of your eyebrows up. Sometimes because he thinks it’s funny, sometimes to save the picture because he likes it, but mostly because he knows you don’t understand WHY and that’s gives him the most satisfaction 😌

Loud and annoying in your comments on social media too. Hype man almost to a cringe fail level. He doesn’t care though, he has to let it be known. 

You could post a simple picture of you and Mikasa at lunch and Eren is in the comments screaming as per usual. @jaegerbomb: do i see TWO pretty best friends??? fuck it up besties 😫🥵🥵😜

GOD. HE WOULD RESPOND WITH “SO TRUE, BESTIE” TO ANYTHING ONCE HE LEARNS WHAT IT MEANS.

Oh, but he doesn’t take to it lightly when you call him bestie, or refer to him as your friend in any capacity. He’s your boyfriend, and would like to be labeled as such.

If you did that prank where you pick up the phone while you’re around him and say “Oh, I’m not too busy, I’m hanging with a friend right now,” he would pout about it for days. Days. Doesn’t get over it, and reminds you of your transgressions every two to three business weeks.

Tells you you look hot all the time, regardless of what you’re doing or wearing. He means it, too, genuinely, he thinks you’re hot. But he does get a kick out of how potentially embarrassed it makes you.

Tells you you’re smart and beautiful and his favorite person on the planet. He means it, always, even if the delivery isn’t romantic. Although, he would argue that telling you he would “tap that” is very romantic. 

for him: receiving gifts & words of affirmation

Eren would be really humbled and honored to receive a gift from you. He needs to receive physical affection, too—but something about you thinking about him enough to buy or make him a gift that he’ll love and cherish really hits home for him. He doesn’t have many people who would do that for him.

If you buy him anything, he’s using it the second it’s out of the wrapping paper. You buy him shoes? He’s wearing them the next day. A new case for his phone? Rips the old one off in an instant. A little trinket for his keychain? He can barely remember to carry his keys in the first place, but suddenly he can’t ever forget them now.

He just can’t get over the fact that you think about him and know him well enough to tailor your purchases to his liking. It’s almost an impossible concept to him, and really reassuring that you love him as much as he loves you.

On a similar note, he actually doesn’t mind couple items, as long as they’re not obvious and/or corny. Down to have a pair of matching hats or phone cases or even sneakers. You don’t even have to always/only wear them at the same time, just knowing you have the same thing at home kinda makes him feel fuzzy inside.

He also thinks it’s hot. He can’t explain why knowing his girl has the same kicks at him is hot, he just knows it is.

As much as he likes telling you how hot you are, Eren also likes to hear that you find him attractive—and that you like him, in general. For the most part, he gets that from your physical reciprocity and quite literally letting him hover around you like a fly, but it’s nice to be told with words every once in a while.

For as much as he knows it, he gets a little caught of guard whenever you tell him you love him. He knows you love him, but hearing it sometimes is a little surreal to him. Very reassuring, too, and everyone needs a little reassurance from time to time.

[athina-blaine]

50 Types of Kissing Writing Prompts: #36 - Starting with bunny kisses before moving on to soft kisses.

This got away from me.

~

“Ask me again.”

“Jon, you’ve practised these questions about 20 times just on the way over. I don’t think-”

“Just ask me again.” A beat. “Please.”

Martin let out a lengthy sigh, the kind that came from deep in his belly. It echoed down the corridors of the school hall alongside their heels clicking on the vinyl floor. “Right. Okay, so, how would you describe your teaching philosophy?”

Jon took a deep breath, chest puffing up. “My teaching philosophy is that all children are unique and deserve to have a stimulating educational atmosphere. I want to provide a safe environment where students are encouraged to share their thoughts and take risks.”

Martin smiled, trying not to giggle, but Jon’s voice inflected the exact same way every time he’d say “risks”- a sort of huffy pitch. It was hard not to be amused. “Very good.”

“Ask me the question about resolving conflicts in the classroom.”

“How do you intend to resolve conflicts in the classroom?”

“I would isolate the nature of the conflict in question and strategise accordingly. Compromise is the ideal resolution but in the event one cannot be reached, I will contact a higher authority than myself to mediate and help find a solution.”

“Perfect.”

“You don’t think it makes me look weak-willed?” Jon asked, brows furrowed with distress. “The part about contacting another authority figure? What if they want me to be able to handle the problem by myself?”

“I think it’s fine. You’re new. Shows you won’t let your ego get in the way when you need help.”

Jon let out a low breath, nodding slowly. His chest collapsed until he was nearly hunched over, and he tugged frantically at the strap of his briefcase. Martin had lent him that briefcase since it matched his nice navy blue jacket- he also figured it would help Jon feel more professional.

Martin wanted to say as much, lavish Jon in compliments on how scholarly and refined he looked, but every step they took closer to the school’s administrative office seemed to wound him up tighter and tighter until that briefcase strap threatened to fall apart. If Martin said Jon looked good now, Jon would just argue with him, citing the scuff in his shoes he hadn’t managed to buff out, or quadruple-guess the way he’d tied up his hair or something. The last thing Martin wanted to do was make Jon self-conscious; he’d just have to save all his gushing and lavishing for after the interview.

Martin’s restraint didn’t seem to matter, though, as, without warning, Jon stopped dead in the middle of the hall, digging into the recesses of his case. “I-I should practice the lesson plan one more time, the entire lecture phase is-”

“Jon.” Martin clasped his hands on Jon’s shoulders and turned him around. Jon stared up at him, eyes owlish and glossy with muted panic. “Please. Relax. It’s a part-time home economics class, not tenure for university English lit. You’re funny and charismatic and intelligent. They’re going to be begging you to take the job. The nice lady on the phone said as much.”

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t make promises you have no possible way of keeping,” Jon said, a sliver of ice snaking through his words. Martin lifted a pointed brow, and a dark stain flushed Jon’s face. He looked away. “No, I … Sorry. I don’t mean to snap.”

“It’s okay to be nervous.”

“It’s not that, it’s …” Jon sighed, shoulders sagging. “I just want this to work. I … need this to work.”

Martin tilted his head. This wasn’t the same frantic energy Jon had been carrying with him since he’d gotten off the phone with Principal Williams last week. This was something heavier. More sombre.

“Can you tell me why?”

“It’s silly.”

“Maybe.” Martin shrugged. “Most things are.”

Jon still wouldn’t meet his eyes, staring down at their warped reflections in the floor. Martin waited, rubbing his thumbs over the jut of Jon’s shoulders.

“I just …” Jon started, then paused to breathe. “I don’t know whether or not I can still … function out here. Outside of the Institute. It’s been so long and … what if I just … can’t?” His voice lowered to a dull murmur. “What if I can’t make the adjustment?”

Humming, Martin stroked his hands up and down the length of Jon’s arms. He pressed a kiss to Jon’s forehead. “I don’t think that’s silly.”

Jon sighed through his nose, tickling Martin’s collarbone. Slowly, Martin pulled away.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, so. Let’s pretend you don’t get the job. Which won’t happen,” he said quickly when Jon’s head snapped up. “You are absolutely getting this job. But let’s just pretend you don’t. What do you think will happen after that?”

Jon’s brow furrowed with quiet confusion. His mouth flapped for a long while before, softly, “I … don’t understand?”

“Here’s what I think will happen,” Martin said, cupping Jon’s face between his hands. “We’ll go home. We’ll order a pizza, half cheese half-Mediterranean. We’ll flip on the TV and finish that nature documentary series. We can polish off that bottle of wine and I’ll rub your feet.” Martin leaned in close enough to press his lips to the bridge of Jon’s nose. “And then we’ll try something else. I actually think that animal hospital nearby is hiring.” Martin smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone. “You’d make a really cute vet tech.”

Jon’s lips twitched, eyes brimming with some complicated emotion. Martin smiled, holding his gaze until Jon turned away, face warming again.

“It’d suck if you didn’t get this job,” Martin said. “You’d be fantastic at it and they’d be stupid to turn you away. But, whatever happens, you’ll be fine. We will be fine.”

Silent, Jon stared somewhere between Martin’s chest and his neck. Then, he swayed forward, leaning into Martin’s sturdy weight, and Martin wrapped his arms around him, pressing his face into prim, professionally styled hair. They stood like that for a long while, breathing each other in. Good thing Jon had them show up about a half-hour early for the interview, just in case.

When they parted, Jon opened his eyes again, calm and bright.

“We could also get killed by a rogue satellite,” he murmured. Martin’s eyes widened. “Just, you know, as a worst possible thing that could happen. Rogue satellite. Right on our heads.”

Martin snorted. “I don’t think I phrased it quite like that, but, yes, I suppose we should consider that a possibility.”

Jon took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly, just as Martin taught him. He rolled out his neck, cleared his throat, and tilted his head up. “Alright. Kiss me.”

Martin blinked. “Um. What?”

“Kiss me.” A beat. “For luck. Obviously.”

“Oh. Obviously.” Martin tried to smother his twitching smile. “I didn't realise we'd started doing that."

“Yes.” His eyes became pleading. “Please?”

Martin rolled his eyes, but kissed him, a chaste pressing of their lips. Jon’s eyes had slid shut and he took another deep breath.

“One more?”

Martin obliged. Jon’s eyes remained closed, his chin still tilted up. Martin provided another one without prompting, and then one more, for good measure, soft and indulgent. They were rubbing away at Jon's lip balm, but Martin's lips had been feeling a little dry anyway. The tension bled from Jon’s shoulders, and Martin parted with a breathy sigh.

“That’s all your lucky kisses for the year,” Martin said, earning himself a chuckle. “Spend it wisely.”

A cough drew their attention. An older woman stood idle by one of the classrooms. Through both of their embarrassed spluttering, Martin managed to note her and Jon had tied their hair in similar fashions.

Oh yeah. Jon was going to fit right in.

The woman stepped forward. “Mr. Sims, I presume?”

“I- uh, y-yes, ma’am.” Jon’s face was burning but the woman smiled.

“Glad you could make it. Mrs. Williams seemed really impressed with you after your phone call. Shall I walk you to her office?”

Jon nodded, squeezing Martin’s hand hard enough to break it off and take it with him. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, none of this ma’am stuff. We’re going to be coworkers, yeah?" She held out her hand. "You can call me Janice. I teach maths.”

“Yes, m- Yes, Janice. It’s a pleasure to meet you." Jon accepted her hand. "Um, you can call me Jon.”

After their quick handshake, she indicated towards the hallway. Jon nodded and looked over to Martin. “I, uh … guess I’ll meet you by the car?”

“Meet you there.” Martin gave his hand one more squeeze. “Good luck.”

Jon smiled, a delicate, fluttering thing, before he slid his hand out of Martin’s and allowed Janice to lead them down the hallway.

“So, you’re from London, yeah?” she asked. “Grow up there?”

“No, I’m from Bournemouth. I moved to London after I graduated uni.”

“Oh, really? I think I’ve got a cousin who lives by that area. Always wish I’d have lived somewhere more coastal.” She turned to him, her teeth pearly white. “I have to say, we’re all a little curious about you. Don’t have many city-people here. We’re really excited to have you onboard.”

“Oh.” Even from this distance, Martin could see the way Jon’s face flushed. “I … I see.”

“I’m sure the others will want to ask you all sorts of questions, but don’t let that put you off, the staff here is as sweet as can be. They’ll get used to you soon enough.”

Jon glanced over his shoulder back at Martin, looking fit to burst. Martin waved, sure that his own expression was as sappy and affectionate as could be.

Yeah.

They’re going to be just fine.

[luxwritesfanfic]

Green Light

John’s got the reader sweating and by the end of the night Mrs. Hudson will have flour where the sun doesn’t shine. Or, the one where John realizes Cupid’s got his work cut out for him when it comes to a certain high-functioning sociopath and his oblivious idiot. Enjoy!

Platonic!John/Reader, Sherlock Holmes/Reader

“What do you see when you look at him?”

You were contemplating between the mozzarella, sharp cheddar, and the Mexican four cheese for the baked ziti when you looked up at him. Mrs. Hudson’s birthday was coming up and she had decided she wanted to host a dinner party with all of her friends. That really meant her beloved tenants and /their/ friends. She had asked you to run to the store for her to get some ingredients and John being ever the gentleman agreed to tag along. “Huh?” You had no idea what he was on about and he could see it on your face as clear as day which earned you a pair of raised eyebrows and a grin that you only knew would lead to no good. 

He dropped the two salad mixes into the cart and braced himself against the other end of it. “Sherlock. What do you see when you look at Sherlock?” At the name drop you squint your eyes and tilt your head, trying to see what he was getting at. “I’m not sure I’m understanding.” John held your stare for a few moments before nodding dismissively. 

“Very well then.” With that, he turned on his heels to lead towards the meats, weaving his way between the other people and carts. You followed after him, murmuring your own apologies and pardons to people as you tried to keep up. You stopped the cart in the middle of the empty aisle and reached into your coat pocket to pull out the grocery list Mrs. Hudson had made for you. “So looks like we still need-“ “It’s just that we all look at him like he’s from Mars and it looks like you see something different. That’s all.” John interrupted as he made it seem like he was deep in thought trying to pick the best ground beef package. Rolling your eyes, you turned to the opposite side of the aisle and reached in one of the freezers to grab some boxes of garlic bread. “And what exactly would I be seeing, John?” “You tell me, dear.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, he was definitely challenging you and you had decided then that you liked John Watson a lot more when he wasn’t talking. Just as you were dropping the boxes in the cart and prepared to flip the conversation by asking how he and Sarah (or whatever her name was this week) were doing, you heard your phone go off. Out of biscuits. SH “And he’s got a special tone. It’s really like that, is it?” He throws a few packages of beef in the cart and takes control of it, pushing down the aisle while you’re still thumbing a reply. It didn’t take much for him to notice how much you cared about his best friend and he thought it was sweet. He just couldn’t let you know that without a little snark first. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You murmur nonchalantly and follow after him, making a point to grab a box of biscuits off the endcap as you turn the aisle. “Oh, of course you don’t. That would be too convenient.” He reaches out to take the biscuits from your hands and throw them in the cart for you all while making a beeline for the wine. That particular conversation finally dies off and you almost jump for joy. You and John spend some time picking out a few different wines to pair with dinner and a few to store away for a rainy day with no cases. You both agree that you should get Mrs. Hudson some flowers and spend some time building the perfect bouquet. “You should be a pro at this, John,” you teased, “you spend a lot of time buying flowers for different women. You must be able to read them like a book.” Not realizing you had just set yourself up, you wrapped the bouquet and smirked all triumphant and regained control of the cart. “Right, right. So then you see why I can read you so well.” Damnit. “Okay I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You win. Truce?” You batted your eyes and gave him your very best smile as you pulled out the list once more to be sure you two had gotten everything. “Since you don’t know what you see when you look at him, what do you think he sees when he looks at you like that?” John crosses his arms expectantly and raises an eyebrow and you curse him for still being able to see the fondness in his features. You throw your head back and groan. He was never gonna let this go. You sighed dramatically and shoved the paper back in your pocket and began the trek down the aisle once more. “I don’t know, John. The same thing you see, I guess.” “A hopelessly oblivious gal with a penchant for annoying dicks? Oh, sorry. I didn’t think the last lad you were seeing was that bad. A penchant for one annoying dick.” He was loving every second of this. “For the record, I was never seeing Bucky. We’re good friends, that’s all. He brings a sense of normalcy into my life and I need that with all I go through with you two.” You pointed at him and waved your hand to try and dismiss the conversation for the millionth time today and put a little more pep in your step to create some distance between you two. John could only smile at the fact that you never denied his first assumption and jogged to catch up with you. You had made your way to the self checkout and began to start scanning your items, relieved at the beeps and murmurs of the machines and other customers  to give you peace from the conversation. John moved to start putting the bags into the cart as you filled them. You two made a good team even with something as mundane as grocery shopping. He didn’t look at you as he spoke, more sincere than he had been all day. 

“I just want you to know I think it would work.” You hesitated and hoped it wasn’t as telling as you thought it was. The conversation was suddenly very real and you felt the air change around you. You kept swiping your groceries and hoped it would ground you so you wouldn’t get overwhelmed in the moment. 

“How?” You all but whispered, praying you didn’t sound as small as you suddenly felt. If John heard your weakness, he didn’t let you know. He continued to load the bags into the buggy. “Haven’t the faintest. I just know you’re good to him, and I think he could learn how to be good to you. If he understood what he was missing, he’d want to learn.” You nodded and couldn’t find it in yourself to respond properly. You swiped your card and grabbed the receipt and allowed John to regain control of the cart once more to lead you out. Once you made it out of the store, you walked side by side with him out onto the sidewalk and hailed a cab. “So how drunk do you this Mrs. Hudson’s gonna be tonight? You think she’s gonna disappear in the middle of the night to go get a sandwich?” John asked as he loaded the trunk of the taxi with your groceries and you couldn’t help but let out a genuine laugh. “You’re sick. I bet you 50 quid she’ll come back with flour handprints on her dress.” You pushed the cart back away from the road and back with the rest of them and got in the cab after John. His eyes widened and he slapped your knee as you settled in and fastened your seatbelt. “You’re sicker! And I wouldn’t have you any other way.” He smiled at you and turned to the driver. “221b Baker Street, please.”

[oreoambitions]

Would love to see supercorp “I’ve never been festive”! Glad to see you back on my dashboard!

The thing about Lena, Kara thinks to herself as she strolls down Main Street with her hands shoved in her pockets, is that she wants to seem tough. That's the problem in a nutshell. And anyone else here in Midvale would tell you that it's just a city thing, that all the city kids want to seem tough, that Lena is no exception, but Kara doesn't think that's true. Well, okay, she knows it's true. But with Lena, it's something else. Something deeper. Something maybe related to the way that Lena has withdrawn into herself day by day as Midvale has begun to dress itself up for the holidays.

But Kara can do I'm-so-tough. She can do I-hate-Christmas, and she can do I-don't-believe-in-fun because at this time of the year she can do anything and get through to anyone. A little bit of light, a little bit of magic... maybe a little bit of love. That's how Christmas goes, right? Especially in a place like Midvale.

Kara likes to think of Midvale as a postcard town: the kind of town folks are only ever passing through on their way up and down the coast, a scenic detour, a cozy place to spend the night or just the afternoon before you move along. It's a place where time seems to have come to a standstill or at least a crawl, where it was a big deal when the first (and only) Starbucks opened, where nothing at all is open after 8pm, and you'd be hard pressed to run any errands on a Sunday, and you'd better not let Mrs. Nal catch you doing anything untoward or you can expect you'll be the topic of every conversation in or out of church for the next week or so at least. Kara would know; she's been the talk of the town on more than one occasion.

But these last several weeks the talk of the town has been the young woman who pulled up one evening in a car worth probably more than every vehicle on Main Street put together and strolled into the aforementioned Starbucks in a beat up hoodie sporting red rimmed eyes and trembling hands to ask the barista whether possibly anyone had a spare phone cable. She didn't want to bother anyone, only she'd left Metropolis in a hurry and forgotten hers and without GPS she didn't have any idea where she might stop to purchase one. She'd slid a hundred dollar bill across the counter as payment for the manager's beat up old charger and rolled right back out of town before anyone could tell her just how far from home she was.

Only then she'd rolled back into town some six hours later and booked herself into the bed and breakfast. And then she hadn't left.

The Danvers have assured Kara that in all the years Eliza and Jeremiah have run the bed and breakfast, and all the years Jeremiah's parents ran it before that, stretching back all the dusty decades since Midvale was founded, they have never had a longterm guest, no sir. It has simply never happened before. Kara doubts the veracity of such a statement but it has been delivered to her with all the solemn weight of sacred fact, and so she's taken it in stride - something which Alex seems to have found suspicious. And, true, on another occasion Kara might have been found elbow deep in records on a personal mission to prove that Jeremiah has pulled this particular historical "factoid" from some place the sun don't shine, but, well, she's been a little distracted these past weeks. Distracted by sad green eyes and coy smiles and the overwhelmingly mysterious circumstances that have delivered Lena directly into Kara's home.

Unfortunately Eliza has strictly forbidden Kara from asking the hundred and one questions perpetually on the tip of her tongue, and Kara's objections that she's twenty four now and she'll ask her questions if she so pleases haven't actually outweighed the sense that, at least where Eliza is concerned, she ought to do as she's told. So she's restrained herself. And as the weeks have gone by, she and Lena have fallen into an amicable, if not entirely comfortable, routine.

Kara serves Lena breakfast in the dining room with the other guests at precisely 8:15 every morning: two poached eggs with avocado on a thick slice of Winn's sourdough bread, a cup of coffee (black, diluted with hot water), and a side of roasted vegetables (no potatoes). Every morning Lena invites Kara to join her at the table, though Kara only does so when there are no other guests around to serve. They eat - together or not - in a silence broken only by small talk and the occasional lingering gaze when one catches the other looking until, at precisely 9:15, Lena excuses herself to seek out Eliza and enquire after the availability of another night's lodging. She pays in cash, one day at a time, without fail. She and Kara see one another again on the stairs, Kara on her way out to work a shift at the library and Lena on her way back up to her room. A small smile passes between them, affectionate and familiar, and Kara thinks perhaps... But no, the moment has passed and they've gone their separate ways for another day.

Kara has resolved that this pattern will not repeat itself again. Not now, not when Midvale is draped in heavy golds and greens, when the smell of Christmas pastry is wafting through the streets, when the trickle of seasonal tourists is threatening to become a thunder which will by necessity pry Kara's attention away. Not now when Lena is withdrawing further and further, when those lingering glances at breakfast seem to be few and far between, and it seems the onslaught of Christmas cheer is threatening to drive Lena out of Midvale altogether. If Kara is going to get through to her, today is the day.

She swings into J'onn's diner with a determined expression, sidestepping the younger Arias who has eyes these days only for her iphone and not so much for where she's going. J'onn is predictably behind the counter; Kara isn't sure he's taken a day away from the diner in all the time she's known him.

"I need two to go mugs of Bad Day Danvers Brew," she tells him. "It's urgent."

He plops two large paper cups down onto the counter almost before she's done asking. "I thought your sister was on duty tonight."

"She was. Is. It's not- It's for me."

"I don't suppose this has anything to do with a certain green eyed young lady from out of town."

It's not really a question the way J'onn says it but Kara somehow still feels pressured to answer. She flushes, turns away, scans the room. The dinner rush hasn't quite arrived. J'onn bustles about behind the counter without further comment, though he does arch an accusatory brow when Kara meets his eyes again.

"You do know," he says as he slides the drinks across the counter, "She's going to leave this place. She may not be ready yet, but the day is coming."

Kara frowns at him. "Leave is a four letter word."

"L - e - a -"

"You know what I mean."

"Maybe you should consider it too. Whole world out there waiting for you, Little Danvers. Seems a shame not to go out and see it."

Kara thinks for a moment of this world as she saw it first: a little marble hanging in a black sea, so fragile and small, so far away from home. Midvale is home now, and she'll be damned if she's going to leave it behind. She forces a smile for J'onn's sake.

"I'm right where I'm supposed to be," she says. She tries to pay him for the drinks. As he has a hundred times before, he turns her money away. Kara slips the cash into the tip jar on her way out the door.

When she gets home it's to the smell of apple pies bubbling in the oven and the sound of some old 50's Christmas record playing almost too loud for Jeremiah's battered old bluetooth speaker and hardly loud enough to compete with Jeremiah himself. Kara creeps up the stairs two at a time, one Bad Day Danvers Brew clutched in either hand, quiet quiet quiet. If Eliza catches her she'll try to put her to work and Kara isn't sure she can explain exactly what she means when she says she's too "busy" right now to help out.

She occupies herself with that thought, thinking up excuses for Eliza, each one more improbable than the last, and then she finds herself standing in front of Lena's door. She feels suddenly grimy, foolish, clumsy. What she hasn't considered in all her planning for this moment is that with both hands occupied she can hardly knock on Lena's door, and with her heart pounding an urgent rhythm in her chest and her body trembling with something that is distinctly not fatigue Kara doesn't trust herself to tuck one of the drinks into the crook of her arm.

So she does what any sane person would do: she kicks the door. Gently. As gently as she possibly can, but it still feels brutish and Kara winces as the sound of it tumbles down the hall to clash with Jeremiah's crooning and the roar of the vacuum cleaner in the foyer. Grimy, foolish, clumsy. But then the door swings open and all such thoughts fall from Kara's mind.

She has words picked out for this moment but they don't come to her. Lena stands in the doorway in jeans and a cardigan and socks that have bumble bees on them and Kara feels like she needs just a moment but the moment is already passing. Green eyes search hers, curious, bemused. Kara wants to reach out and tuck that stray lock of hair away, but-

The drinks. Right. "I brought refreshments," she says, proferring the paper cups. "For us," she adds, in case it isn't clear.

Lena reaches out for one of the cups, hesitant, then pries the lid off to take a whiff. "Hot chocolate?"

Kara wants to melt on the spot but she sticks to her guns. "It's special hot chocolate," she clarifies. This is not how this conversation was supposed to go. She had this exchange all planned out, there were contingencies, it was all perfect and here she is muddying it all up. "I was thinking maybe we could go out tonight."

"Like on a date?"

Oh, Rao. Kara's eyes drops to Lena's mouth without her say so and then they travel a little further south to the line of that cardigan and she swallows. "No," she forces out, "like on a walk?"

There's a long pause and then Lena laughs. "You're really very charming, Danvers," she says, and Kara feels an unexpected thrill at the sound of her last name in Lena's mouth. "Let me just get my sweater."

"You're already-" Kara starts, but the door clicks shut before she can finish. "Wearing a sweater," she mumbles to herself.

Lena emerges some minutes later, just when Kara is beginning to get fidgety. She's thrown on a hoodie which is perhaps a size too big and a pair of converse rather the worse for wear and Kara isn't sure what she was expecting but it wasn't this. Which is not to say that she doesn't like it. Lena licks her lips and fixes Kara with a pointed look.

"There is whisky in that hot chocolate," she says.

Kara shrugs. "I did say it was special."

They make it down the stairs and out of the bed and breakfast without Eliza noticing, though Kara is all but certain Jeremiah saw them leave together and will have Questions with a capital Q about it later. The sun is just now sinking below the horizon as the two of them turn down Main Street, ducking around Mr. Schott who is occupying most of the sidewalk with a rickety old ladder in an attempt to install another strand of lights above the toy store window. Already the street lamps bear oversized red bows and long, heavy pine garlands, and it will be only a matter of days now before every storefront from here to the edge of town is bright and warm and magical. Kara takes it all in with a growing smile. Lena takes it in with an expression that borders on an outright scowl.

"So are we going anywhere in particular?" Lena asks. They duck around a knot of visitors asking after a table at the brewery and for an instant Kara is almost certain she feels Lena's fingers brush hers.

"We are," Kara admits. And then, because she doesn't want to give away their destination, she adds, "You don't like Christmas."

Lena grimaces and takes a long sip of the Bad Day Danvers Brew. "I wouldn't say that I don't like Christmas."

"But?"

"But I've never been festive. And this year..."

Kara's mind fills in the words that Lena doesn't say: This year it's hard. Hard to see the joy and the magic and the laughter all around when you're alone and far from home. Well, Kara knows a thing or two about that. She takes a sip of her own drink and, resolutely, carefully, looking straight ahead, she reaches out to touch Lena's hand, so gentle it could have been an accident.

"This year you have me," Kara says. She's shocked the line comes out of her mouth as smoothly as it does. Her heart is so far up her throat she almost fears she'll choke on it.

Lena steps in closer until Kara swears she can feel the heat radiating between them even through both of Lena's sweaters and her own Christmas flannel. They walk in silence for a block or so, shoulders bumping once in a while, before Lena asks, "Do you have any favorite holiday traditions?"

Kara shrugs. "I like the carols. Jeremiah and I always go out caroling on Christmas eve. Oh! And the cookies. Pie for breakfast on Christmas morning."

Lena laughs at that. "Pie for breakfast? Lilian - my step mother - she'd have a fit."

"Well you can have pie with us this year if you want; I promise not to tell Lilian a thing. If you're still hanging around."

Lena looks at her sharply and then looks away, leaving Kara to feel silent and small and a little rejected. But Lena touches Kara's wrist as they move through the crowd and then, when Kara doesn't pull away, she takes her hand.

"Christmas is always an important social event for my family," Lena says. She glances at Kara as if to check that she's listening and then away again so quickly that Kara almost wonders if she imagined it. "Everything has to be perfect. The food, the decorations, the music. The family. And it's beautiful, really. Imagine a pine tree towering up to the very rafters, all the ornaments carefully curated and arranged, and a cellist flown in from Italy perches in the corner playing O Come Emmanuel while the city's elite pass through pretending to enjoy bite sized Christmas pastries prepared overnight by a team flown in from France. I suspect it would feel magical if it weren't so much work. It's hard to enjoy the magic when you're a part of it. Especially as a child."

Kara frowns. Her fingers tighten around Lena's, tugging her ever forward towards the Christmas tree in the center of town. She's thinking of Krpyton, of a perfect family, a perfect people, and a perfect world crumbling under the veneer. But she can't say that to Lena, so she flashes her a bright smile instead and says, "In Midvale, everyone who wants to gets to put an ornament on the town tree."

"Everyone? That doesn't seem practical. There have to be, what, at least a thousand people living here."

Kara nods. "Yeah. Not everyone participates, but most people. And of course that means the tree isn't curated like your family's, but it's got a special kind of magic to it. The kind you get when you aren't trying to make magic follow the rules."

It occurs to Kara that there is a sort of comedic timing to this, as this is the moment Kara steps over the low fence with the sign that reads "do not walk on the grass" and tugs a protesting Lena after into the shade - or, in this case, the light - of the Midvale tree.

"Rules," Lena is saying, "Generally exist for a reason, and when you break them willy nilly you don't get magic, you get chaos. It's important to- Wait, is this your Christmas tree?"

"Yep," Kara says. She reaches out to press a hand to the trunk and then stares up at the tiny golden lights wound among the branches with care, ornaments dangling here and there, some homemade and some not. She's definitely not supposed to get this close to it but, well, it's Alex on duty tonight and she doubts her sister is about to arrest her for trying to make a move on a pretty girl. "This is the one."

"But it's an oak tree," Lena observes. She steps up beside Kara to touch the trunk.

"Couple hundred years old, or so they told us in middle school," Kara says. "She's a gorgeous tree, isn't she? Not a pine and not perfect, but. Our own kind of magic." Then she grimaces. "Sorry; I'm being terribly cheesy right-"

"Did you know that mistletoe often grows in the California oak?" Lena interrupts.

Kara falters. She did know that, but this tree is carefully tended. No mistletoe here. She opens her mouth to say so when Lena holds up a finger to stop her again.

"To be perfectly clear I'm suggesting that we kiss here under this tree. Because you're charming and a little over the top and I hate that I love your Christmas flannel and I would very much like to have pie with you on Christmas morning. So if you'd like we can pretend there's mistletoe in the Midvale Christmas tree. It would be a very reasonable mistake; mistletoe really does grow on-"

Kara kisses her. The surprised gasp that falls from Lena's lips almost makes her laugh, but this is a serious moment so she tries to keep it in. She's got only one hand to work with - the other is still hold her Bad Day Danvers Brew - so she slides it around Lena's waist to pull her closer, and it's her turn to gasp when Lena tilts her head to slide her tongue along Kara's bottom lip.

Someone on the sidewalk cheers, and that is when Lena drops her drink. And then they do laugh together there under the tree, spiked hot chocolate splattered over the bottom of Lena's pants, Kara pressing her own drink into Lena's hands, and the sound of Mrs. Nal nearby screeching about public indecency while James tells her to go suck an egg. The two of them will be the talk of the town for weeks. Certainly through New Years. Kara doesn't think she minds.

///

Merry Christmas to everyone celebrating; Happy Holidays and a lovely morning to everyone who is not! Thank you for this prompt! I expected to write a quick 800 words but it got away from me and took all month.

[pink-imagines]

snow day

request: Hi hi! Can I get a headcannon of needy Todoroki were Todoroki is in the ~mood~ 😏but his s/o is out shopping. But when they get back he’s all on them and pretty much attacking them w kisses and cuddles.

a/n: let’s just say for this fic’s sake covid never existed!! (stay safe ppl, try to stay at home as much as possible!) also hi! i’m back, i literally have no excuse now but i’ll be posting a bit more soon hopefully. (you can probably tell that i started writing this back in january)

warnings: mentions of something smutty that might go down but no smut and no other warnings!

masterlist

requesting rules

The snow couldn’t seem to stop falling. It had already been snowing for the past few days, but the weather didn’t change. It stayed the same and the snow piled on and on. You quite liked this kind of weather, somehow seeing people wrapped up in their scarfes with beanies dragged far over their ears made you feel warm - despite the cold weather.  Today was your day off work, so you had a wonderful lazy morning with a bath and eating breakfast while watching TV. The only thing you could think of that would make this better was if Shoto would be here. He was, unlike you, out doing work. You remember teasing him lightly about it yesterday, that you got to spend the day at home while he had to be working out in the snow. In reality you worried that he’d become sick or catch a cold, even though you knew he stayed safe.  Either way, you decided to treat yourself today with some shopping. It had been so long since you could actually go out to shop, so despite the cold you wanted to go outside.

You took the train to the mall and walked through the stores. The only thing you were planning on buying was a sweater, considering that you had been frequently stealing more and more of Shoto’s hoodies so you should probably get some of your own. When you saw the little jewlery shop you stopped dead in your tracks. Knowing that your wallet would start screaming if you walked in there you decided to keep it to window shopping. Earrnings, necklaces, bracelets... but most importantly rings. The memory of your mom straight up asking Shoto when he was planning on proposing came to mind. A smile grazed your lips, he had been so flustered that he choked on whatever he was eating. You had been trying to tell your mom off when he put a hand on your thigh and lightly brushed his thumb across your skin there. “No, it’s fine.. we’ll see in the future.”, he had said and had given your mom a soft smile. If it weren’t for the fact that people were around you would’ve started giggling, but you held yourself back and kept glancing over the rings. One in particular caught your eye, a simple silver one with a smaller diamond. You knew you couldn’t wear a lot of jewlery for your line of work so it seemed so perfect. For the sake of the memory that your brain decided to pull out from the dust, you took a picture of it and sent it to Shoto. -So... when’s it happening? :P You snickered to yourself and started walking again but your phone buzzed quicker than you expected. -You’re starting to sound like your mom A laugh escaped your lips at the message. However, it did surprise you that he could be texting you back so quickly since he was at work. -I was just joking.. aren’t you supposed to be working right now? The text bubble that indicated that he was typing appeared immediately. -Not on patrol today and I just finished my paperwork. I’m about to go into a meeting though -Is that a warning or a challenge? -Y/N. Do. Not. Yet another laughed made it’s way up your throat and you put your phone away again. He usually sounded cold over text, but you could always see right through it. Maybe that’s what four years spent together does to you. 

The hours passed by as you walked around in the mall. It was actually quite pleasant, as not many people were there considering the fact that it was a weekday. As you were trying on clothing in yet another store you found a sweater that you really liked. It was an oversized black sweater that went down you your mid thigh and the collar was a bit wider, almost creating an off the shoulder look. You smiled at yourself in the mirror. Under the sweater you had the black bralette you had tried on moments before. Both of the items fit you perfectly and together it created a very cute look. Without thinking you sent a picture to Shoto, asking him if you should buy it. Thinking he probably had his phone off during the meeting, you put your phone down and changed back to your clothes. When you had just finished up putting your pants back on you looked at you phone again to see Shoto’s messages... you forgot his messages are connected to his laptop as well. -Y/N I told you I was in a meeting! -I mean you look very pretty, I like the sweater.. but if you’re going to send me pictures while I’m at work please put pants on. This was not a funny situation, is what you tried to tell yourself... but that didn’t stop you from smiling at the thought of his ears going red in the meeting room. -Sorry, I forgot! I’ll make it up to you by making you soba, okay? It took a while for him to answer so you went out of the dressing room and put away the things you weren’t going to buy. -... fine. I’ll be home after this meeting, so maybe around 5. -See you then ;) Were you being cheeky? Yes, but it wasn’t anything that he hadn’t dealt with before. 

After making your purchase you looked at your phone and saw that the clock was nearing 4:45 pm, this meaning that it was time for you to go back home. You went over to the trainstation only to see that the train you were taking home was delayed by 20 minutes due to the snow. With a sigh you sat down on the nearest bench and took out your phone. Because of the 20 minutes it would take to arrive at your home station and the 5 minute walk home, you’d be home in about 50 minutes. Knowing Shoto, he’d probably already be home by now as he most likely managed to cut the meeting short - what was the meaning of staying longer when you had already gotten to the point? Even so, you decided to not call him just yet in case he actually still was in the meeting. 

Time passed and as soon as the clock struck 5:00 pm you got a call. “Hey, are you okay? I’ve been waiting for a few and you’re still not home...”, Shoto’s voice was slightly distorted over the line due to your bad connection but you were still relieved to hear his voice. “The train got delayed, can you believe it?”, you sighed heavily. “Yes I can actually, it’s been snowing all day.”, he said calmly, “Do you need me to pick you up? I can be there in 10 minutes.” “No it’s fine, the train should be here in 5 and then I’ll be at the station in just 20 minutes.”, you stood up and looked by the track for the train. “Are you sure? The train’s probably gonna be packed.” “It’s fine, I have headphones with me so I won’t even notice.”, you smiled at his tries to come get you, “Besides I can practically see the train by now.” “Okay... then I’ll meet you at the station.”, he answered, as if it was nothing. “No, baby, you don’t have to do that. You’ve been at work all day just rest please?”, you reasoned. “I’ll see you in 20 minutes, sweetheart.”, he hung up on you. You were taken aback by the usage of the nickname, he barely ever called you by petnames. Before you could think to much of it the train arrived and you put in your earbuds and got on quickly to find a good seat.

The train wasn’t as packed as Shoto had thought. Though there was a crying child in your cart. The mother who frantically tried to calm her baby down gave you an apologetic smile. You made sure to look friendly back at her to make sure she understood that you didn’t mind. The poor woman was trying to keep her child from screaming while also balancing groceries and a stroller at the same time.  “Do you need any help?”, you asked and took out your earbuds. “Please.”, the woman gave you a relieved look. You took her grocery bags and balanced them against some empty seats. Then you took the stroller from her hands so that she could properly care for her baby. “He’s just a bit hungry...”, she said and took out a bottle to give to the young boy. “... I’ve never understood how parents always know what their children want like that.”, you said mostly to yourself but the woman answered anyways. “I guess it’s an instinct.”, she said with a warm smile, “Thank you for your help. My husband’s working late so he couldn’t take care of the groceries tonight.” “Ah... I understand.”, you nodded. “Are you married?”, she asked and when she saw your shocked face she quickly apologized, “Sorry I didn’t mean to pry, I was just trying to make small talk.” “It’s alright.”, you stifled a laugh, “I’m actually not married... not yet at least, my mom’s been pressuring my boyfriend for a while now so who knows.”, you joked. “Oh, you have a boyfriend. Have you two been together for long?”, her demeanor had changed back to the kind and warm one from before. “A few years, actually.”, you nodded, “He’s a very sweet guy and-... that’s him actually.” Your phone started buzzing and Shoto’s caller-ID flashed up on the screen. His picture that you had chosen was of him holding a puppy husky that you had been thinking of adopting. Sadly, you ended up not doing that since you were both to busy to take care of a dog - let alone a puppy. You excused yourself to the woman next to you and answered. “Hi, babe, is everything okay?”, you asked. “Yeah, I just wanted to say that I’m by the station. Was the train packed?”, he spoke softly, which made it clear for you that he was in fact outside. “Not at all actually, it’s quite roomy. I told you that you didn’t have to wait for me though...”, you sighed. “I wanted to. It’s fine.”, he said and then added in a whisper, “Then I get to see you sooner.” Your face flushed up in all shades of pink as he said that. He was never usually this affectionate, but you couldn’t deny that you absolutely loved it. “You’re cute, Shoto.”, you chuckled. “Don’t laugh at me.”, you heard him huff slightly. “Sorry, sorry.”, you smiled, “I’ll be by the station in a few minutes if I’m lucky, okay? Thank you for waiting for me.” “No problem... see you soon.”, he said and hung up again. When you turned back to the woman sitting beside her you could tell she was holding back her excitement. “That was the sweetest conversation I’ve ever heard. That sounded like it was straight out of a story!”, she realized what she said and quickly apologized again, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to eavesdrop!” “It’s no problem, we all do it sometimes.”, you tried to control the blush that was creeping across your face but it was near impossible. “I bet he’ll propose to you soon.”, she said and looked back at her baby, “I hope he does.” “Thank you.”, you smiled and looked down at the baby, who was staring back up at you. You waved at the child and he let out a gurgling laugh that had your heart melting. Today was certainly a special day.

You and the woman just happened to get off by the same stop so you helped her get her grocery bags out of the cart. When you saw Shoto standing by himself you waved and called his name. He turned to you and smiled softly, almost longlingly. “He’s handsome too... wow, you’re lucky.”, she smiled to you, “Thank you for the help, miss.” “No problem!”, you smiled back and watch her walk away before turning your attention to the man walking towards you. “I haven’t seen you all day.”, he embraced you with a sigh. Hugs were normal for the two of you, but absolutely not in public. Your body stiffened in shock before settling in his arms and hugging him back. Eventually he let go of you and took a step back. “Who was that woman? Do I know her?”, he asked. “No, I just met her on the train. Let’s get home, it’s freezing out here!”, you said and took his arm in yours.

The two of you walked in silence, as you usually did, but there was one thing that was running around in your mind. “Do you ever think of having children?”, you asked out of the blue, your breath forming white clouds in the cold air. Shoto stopped in his tracks and looked at you. It wasn’t until then you had realized what you had said, maybe not directly but the question was floating around your heads. “Children, huh?”, Shoto took a deep breath. You peered up at him through your eyelashes, afraid that he’d look disgusted or even scared. He didn’t. His mind was somewhere else, you could tell by the far away look in his eyes. Shoto’s face was dusted pink but, just like yours, you couldn’t tell if it was because he was flustered or cold. “I’ve never thought about it, actually.”, he looked at you which made you look away, “Not against the thought of it though. Let’s talk it through some other time.” He said it so casually. As if this was obvious and not a huge step in a relationship. Then he just kept walking. If it wasn’t for your arm that was still wrapped around his, you would’ve forgotten to walk along with him.  “Don’t be embarrased about it, please.”, he said suddenly, “It’s good to bring up these things.” “I just thought about it... you know... the woman on the train and everything...”, you muttered. “Sweetheart.”, there was the nickname again, “I told you not to be embarrased about it.” After a few years you’d think he wouldn’t be able to make you weak in the knees anymore. That was wrong. You hummed in response to what he said and leaned your head against his shoulder. There was an urge in you to feel a sudden intimacy between the two of you and that was the first thing that came to mind. “Are you cold?”, he asked. “Not extremely...”, you looked up at the clear sky, “... maybe it’s not the best time for cold soba though.” “It’s always a good time for cold soba.”, he answered, completely serious but you still laughed. You laughed because it sounded like him. You laughed because it would ease the excitement stuck in your stomach from what he had said before. You laughed because at that moment you felt so incredibly wonderful - and who wouldn’t laugh at that?

When you got home you made yourself a cup of tea while Shoto stuck to heating up by the radiator. “Are you sure you still want cold soba? We could always make warm soba.”, you suggested as you poured the hot water into your cup. “I say we make cold soba.”, Shoto shrugged as he kept his hands on the warm radiator. His nose was still red from the cold. “Then we make cold soba.”, you nodded.

After eating and cleaning up you sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. Since you usually sat with a bit of space in between the two of you, you did so. However, this time Shoto scooched closer to you and put your head on his shoulder, only to then wrap his arm around your shoulders. “Is this okay?”, he asked quietly to not disturb the show playing. You could care less about the show, your heart was beating loud enough for you to not even hear it. No words would come out of your mouth so you hummed as an answer to his question. He had been acting very lovingly the entire night, something that he didn’t always do.  “Are you okay, Shoto?”, you asked suddenly, “Did something happen at work?” “Why do you ask?” “You just seem... more cuddly?”, you looked up at him, catching him staring but he didn’t look away. “I just missed you then I guess.”, he said, “... and you sent me that picture and that wasn’t very fair.” He looked away and now he couldn’t blame the cold on his reddened face. That’s how you remembered your sweater that you had bought. “Right the sweater!”, you exclaimed, “Can I show you?” “Sure.”, he said and watched you get up, “You seem very excited about this sweater.” “Yes! And you should be too, because now I won’t be stealing yours anymore!”, you took your bag and walked over to the bathroom. “But I like it when you wear my clothes...” “Then...I won’t be stealing your clothes as often anymore!”, you smiled before closing the bathroom door behind you.

You walked out of the bathroom, dressed just like you were in the picture, and walked up to him. He looked over at you, looked you up and down, and then stood up. “What do you think?”, you smiled as he pulled you closer by your waist so that you could wrap your arms around his neck. “I like it more when you wear my clothes... but this is also very nice.”, he leaned down and kissed you quick, “Let’s go have that talk about having children...”, he whispered and started guiding you to the bedroom.

-

permanent taglist: @theoceanphoenixhasrisen | @raven-r0ses | @darkbeautyswife | @sondering-thoughts | @gowoneandonlyone | @bnhabadass | @queenblackcat | @jayetheanimefreek101 | @witchy-anna | @cutest-celestial-princess | @missymysa | @karebear5118 | @weebartistinc | @crystal-lilac | @brithedemonspawn​ | 

[uncloseted]

What are some effective waya to become more productive?

what are some effective ways 2 be productive?

First things first, figure out what the problem actually is. Why are you struggling to be productive? Is it because you're a perfectionist and the idea of not doing the task perfectly stresses you out? Is it because you're lacking the motivation to do anything? Is it because you're struggling to concentrate, or because you're overwhelmed by the task, or because you don't know where to begin? There are tons of reasons why you might be struggling with productivity, and figuring out what the roadblocks you're encountering are can help you to find ways around them. Since I can't read your mind, I'm going to try and give advice that will work for most of the roadblocks you might encounter.

When it comes to big things, I recommend using the SMARTER & WOOP methods. SMARTER and WOOP are two tools that are really useful for behavior modification and other long-term goals you might have.

SMART(ER) is a tool to help you set the right goals for you.  Too often, we set goals like “I’m going to start exercising” or “I’m going to quit going on my phone”.  Those are great in theory, but without an action plan, it’s easy to not follow through.

SMARTER goals are ones that are:

Specific (simple, sensible, significant).

If your goal isn’t specific, you won’t be able to focus your efforts or feel motivated to achieve it.

Try to answer: what do I want to accomplish? Why is this goal important? Who is involved? Where is it located? Which resources or limits are involved?

Measurable (meaningful, motivating).

Having measurable goals is important because it allows you to track your progress and stay motivated by seeing how far you’ve come.

A measurable goal should be one that answers “how much”, “how many” and “how will I know when it’s accomplished”?

Achievable (agreed, attainable).

Your goal needs to be realistic in order for you to stay motivated and be successful.  If you’re aiming too high, you’ll become demotivated quickly because it doesn’t feel like you’re making progress.

An achievable goal requires you to ask “how can I accomplish this goal” and “how realistic is this goal based on other constraints?”

Relevant (reasonable, realistic and resourced, results-based).

Relevant goals are ones that matter to you.  Make sure that these goals are ones that are important to you, not ones that you think you should be pursuing.

A relevant goal is one that can answer “yes” to the following questions: “does this seem worthwhile?”, “is this the right time?”, “does this match my other efforts/needs?”, “is it applicable in my current socio-economic environment?”

Time bound (time-based, time limited, time/cost limited, timely, time-sensitive).

Every goal needs a target date so that you have a deadline you can focus on and work toward.

A time sensitive goal is one that answers “when?”, “what can I do six months from now?”, “what can I do six weeks from now?”, and “what can I do today?”

Evaluate

Every day, evaluate how you’re doing on your goals.  Long term goals can be easily ignored if they’re not evaluated every day, and if you don’t evaluate how you’re doing on your goals regularly, you might miss the things that are preventing you from achieving them.

Readjust

If you find that your approach isn’t working, you may need to readjust your goals.  That doesn’t mean that you’re failing at your goals or that you should quit; it just means you have to rethink the approach you’re taking.  Maybe the goal isn’t as relevant to you as you thought it would be, or it’s not as realistic as you expected, or your timeline is too short.  Identify which part of your SMARTER goal is tripping you up and readjust it.

The best goals are ones that include trying new things instead of quitting old ones.  Quitting things is hard; learning something new is easier and more exciting.  If you’re looking to quit something, replace it by establishing a new habit that takes its place.  For example, “I’m going to stop going on my phone,” is hard, but “when I feel like going on my phone, I’ll read a book for ten minutes instead” might be easier to maintain.

After you’ve figured out your SMARTER goal, it’s time to WOOP.  WOOP is something like the scientifically proven cousin of “manifesting”.  Just visualizing our goals or positive thinking on its own can be counterproductive, because it fools our lizard brains into believing that we’ve already achieved the goal.  By using the WOOP method, you can prevent that from happening and actually achieve what you want to achieve.

WOOP stands for:

Wish: Identify a wish that is challenging, yet attainable.  This should be your SMARTER goal.

Outcome: Imagine the best outcome as a result of your wish (as vividly as possible).  Really daydream about what your life would be like if you achieved your goal.

Ask yourself, what is the biggest benefit you could receive from achieving this goal?

Obstacle: Identify and imagine what obstacles will get in the way of your wish.

What might get in the way?  Thoughts, feelings, beliefs, old behavior patterns, bad habits, social pressure… identify as many as you can, then prioritize their likely they are to happen and how significant they would be if they did happen.

Plan: Create an if-then plan to overcome the obstacles you identified- “if [obstacle occurs] then I will [plan A].”  Do your best to pick the most effective path you can for each obstacle, and identify a few different plans in case your first plan doesn’t work.

For example, if you wanted to start exercising, your WOOP might look like this:

Wish: Go on a run 3x/week after school/work for a month.

Outcome: Better energy, confidence, and health.

Obstacle: Feeling tired and hungry at the end of the day…Not wanting to go.

Plan: Pack a snack for the end of the day, and put on gym clothes right when you get home.

Or if you wanted to stop watching TV and read more:

Wish: Watch only 5 episodes of TV per week, and read when I feel the urge to watch TV for a month.

Outcome: Learn a lot. Get smarter. Feel better. Enjoy the great ideas. Feel like I’m spending my time wisely.

Obstacle: Not feeling like it. Preferring to watch TV.

P: If I catch myself watching TV, then I turn it off and start reading a book instead.

The last thing you can do to increase the chances that you’ll achieve your goal is to get someone else involved.  Either find a friend who’s setting the same goal that you are, or tell someone about your goal and ask them to help you achieve it by checking up on you.  It can also be helpful to put money on the line- give money to a friend with the understanding that you’ll get it back on a set date if you’ve achieved your goal.  If you really want to ensure that you reach your goal, tell your friend that if you fail, they should donate the money to a group or cause that you really hate.

For smaller, more day to day tasks:

Make a list of everything you need to do. Sort them into four categories- tasks that are Urgent & Important, tasks that are Not Urgent & Important tasks that are Not Important but Urgent, and tasks that are neither Urgent nor Important. Focus first on the tasks that are Urgent & Important. This can help you prioritize which things to work on first.

From there, take a look at each individual task and break it down into very small steps that you can't fuck up. These can be as small as "open laptop", "open Google Docs", "write name at top of the page", etc. If it helps, you can assign each one of these steps a point count, and then give yourself a treat once you collect enough points (10 points, 20 points, 50 points, and so on).

Once you have your list and have identified all of the steps, just do the first step. It can be daunting to start a big project or task; it's way easier to just do one thing. And once you do one thing, it feels easier to do just one more thing, and just one more thing, and so on until the task is complete.

Once you build up some momentum, I would recommend using the Pomodoro technique. Work for 20-25 minutes (or as long as you can really focus) and then take a 5-10 minute break. Stand up, get a drink, get a snack, watch a short TV episode or a YouTube video, look up that thing that was on your mind, whatever will give your brain a break. Then, set another 20-25 minute timer and get back to work. After three or four cycles of working and taking a short break, take a longer break.

A few other things that I think it's important to remember when it comes to productivity.

Anything worth doing is worth doing badly. You don't need to finish things, and you don't need to do them perfectly. If it's a choice between doing something badly or not doing it at all, it's always better to do it badly.

You don't need to do things the way other people would do them- do it how it works for you. Sometimes that won't make sense to other people, but that's all right. The only person it has to work for is you. If bouncing back and forth between different tasks works better for you than focusing on one task until it's done, then bounce back and forth between tasks. That's okay.

It's okay to ask for help. If you have trouble doing things, that's okay- find someone who can assist you. Maybe you're bad at projects that don't have someone to be accountable to. Find a friend who will hold you accountable. Maybe you're bad at projects without deadlines. Set deadlines for yourself and get someone to make sure you meet them. Sometimes you don't need to work through your shortcomings- you just need to find a way around them.

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | Chapter ten

chapter ten

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: immense amounts of fluff, discussion of bad dreams death and past trauma at the end all related to canon

word count: 5.3K

from the beginning <3

Dreaming wasn’t something that came easily to Spencer. When he did dream they never made any sense, dark and twisting basements, endless staircases, treading a deep dark sea for hours as the waves swallowed him whole. Wind chimes that he couldn’t find wouldn’t stop twinkling as he aimlessly ran around a trailer park. It was never peaceful.

Then his mind found the park and couldn’t stop re-creating it, over and over again in his mind every single night when he closed his eyes.

He was in the middle of the most perfect dreamscape, his girls reading under the sun as Y/N’s head rested on his shoulder…

Then his phone started to ring, opening his eyes to the sun barely waking up as well. He answered the phone before Y/N could wake up beside him, “hello?”

“Spence, I’m so sorry to wake you,” JJ’s voice slipped into his mind and woke up right up, she wouldn’t call unless she needed to. “We have a really bad case, we have to leave like right now and the babysitter can’t take the boys and Henry is still too little to make sure Michael eats during the day and he’s still so little—“

“Hey it’s fine,” he cut her off as he sat up, waking Y/N in the process. “I’m only 12 minutes from Quantico, leave them with Anderson and I’ll be right over.”

“Thank you so much, Spence, oh and they need breakfast, I’ll leave some money with Henry, can you make sure they eat?”

“Absolutely, don’t worry, good luck and be safe,” he reminded her, feeling weird that he didn’t have to go as well.

“Thanks again Spence,” he could hear her smile before hanging up, leaving him to stretch and finally get out of the bed.

“Was that JJ?” Y/N asks, getting out of bed and putting on her housecoat to follow him to the bathroom.

“Yeah, the boys need someone to watch them if you don’t mind?”

“They’re family,” she reminded him with a sleepy smile.

“They need lunches for today, I can drive Amoreena to school with them too?” He’s splashing water on his face so he can wake up enough to drive safely to Quantico, wiping the water from his eyes as he hears Y/N laughing softly.

“It’s Saturday silly, and Monday is their last day anyway if they need to stay that long,” Y/N reminds him, “I’ll try and have breakfast ready when you get back.”

“Tomorrows the 14th, shit,” he remembers his calendar. “I have to take my mom to get her yearly scan and cognitive test done tomorrow morning, I won't be able to send her off on her last day.”

“That’s okay, as long as you’re there for the little graduation and the all about me display ceremony it’ll be fine, it starts at 1:30,” she didn’t mind him missing it but everything in him felt like the worst person ever if he did.

He never wanted to miss anything ever again.

“You’re sure that’s fine?”

She nodded again, wrapping her arms around him and looking up into his beautiful, tired eyes. “Family comes first, that means Diana was in the calendar longer so you go with her. Amoreena just wants to come home with you from school, for the next 10 years of school she’ll be coming home to you.”

“Why don’t we wake Amoreena and go get breakfast with the boys? I’d like to get to know my god kids too…” her voice cooing as she soothed his morning anxiety, blessing him with more time with her, he nodded.

“You go get the boys and come back and pick us up, I’m sure she’ll take a few minutes to contemplate feeding chickens or breakfast,” Y/N smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek softly.

She pulled away but he pulled her right back in, pressing his lips right against hers again and again until they were both laughing, teeth bumping into each other in their early morning delirium. She finally pulled away from his grasp, rushing to the bedroom door so he couldn’t follow her.

“Go get the boys!”

He fake huffed, “fine!”

Slipping into his jeans and a sweater, placing her grandpa’s hat back on his head once more. He made sure he had his wallet and identification, the guards knew him it’s not like he wouldn’t be allowed into the building with a visitors pass.

And then he was out the door and driving down the road. Pulling into Quantico with a strange feeling in his gut, he didn’t realize how much he hated it here until he didn’t need to be there all the time. He was granted a visitors pass, parking in the garage and taking the elevator right up to the BAU.

He walked into the briefing room to find Henry on his phone and Michael sound asleep again on the couch.

“Hey, uncle Spencer!” Henry cheered, not waking Michael in the process somehow.

“Hey buddy,” he said, scooping the now 13-year-old Henry into his arms for a quick hug. He was still cuddly and sensitive and quiet, much like Spencer at that same age.

It was almost like JJ picked him as the godfather knowing he would need him. Choosing to text or call Spencer about cute girls and chess games and new star wars movies, instead of going to his dad for chats about football and beer… or whatever Will was into. Spencer really didn’t give him a chance to get to know him over the last 15 years, harbouring a hatred for him that he didn’t really understand until he met Y/N.

Now will was the jealous one in a sense, wondering what he could do to get his own son to come to him for advice and support. But he understood it, Henry was exactly like Spencer and he needed to see that being awkward and quiet doesn’t last forever.

“So, I’m not sure if your mom and dad told you, but I got married and my wife has a daughter and we’re going to take you boys out to breakfast, okay?”

“She said you’re Nini’s dad, like for real?” Once again someone from the LaMontagne called Amoreena Nini and he had no idea why.

“I donated sperm when your mom got pregnant with you, I didn’t think I’d get to have a family,” he was honest with him. He was old enough to know how it worked and mature enough to hear the word sperm without freaking out.

“Cool, Nini and Mike are normally friends.”

“Why do you guys call her Nini?”

“Michael couldn’t say Amoreena when he was 4 so he called her Nini, and then Dad would call her that when he teased Mike about his crush on her,” it made complete sense for a kid to not be able to pronounce it.

But his brain got stuck on the crush part, turning to Michael who was still sound asleep with his face pressed into his backpack, drooling slightly. JJ’s kid had a crush on his, a weird fantasy he had coming true where he and JJ can be friends forever as in-laws.

It was too bad Amoreena really didn’t like boys, not even in the 8-year-old ‘ew cooties’ way either. She was raised around women and she was comfortable with them, and she had no problem punching Michael in the face if he ever pissed her off. It was going to be interesting seeing them interact today.

“Okay, well let’s get your things and bring them back to our house and then we’ll go get breakfast with my girls,” Spencer smiled, seeing Henry’s face light up at the day he gets to spend with Spencer. “You’re going to love Y/N.”

And he did… walking into Spencer’s new house to drop off his backpack, dropping his jaw when he saw Y/N instead. He was so much like Spencer it made him laugh, patting Henry on the shoulder, “I know,” he teased him.

Henry turned to him with wide eyes, “I’ve never met Nini’s mom, that’s her mom?” He whispered that same anxious boy Spencer used to be staring right back at him.

He nodded with a smile, “yeah, she’s really nice don’t worry.”

“Henry! It’s so nice to meet you,” she says as she walks into the main room.

Henry turns around to see her when she’s pulling him into a big hug, Spencer can see his eyes are closed as he takes a moment to hug a pretty girl. Spencer couldn’t help but bite his tongue, not wanting to laugh and embarrass the poor boy now that he was noticing pretty girls. Even if that girl happened to be his wife, it was inevitable for Henry to crush on one of Spencer’s girlfriends with how much he copied him.

She pulled back softly, Henry’s arms still around her waist, she brushed his beautiful blond hair behind his ears. “You look so much like your mom, you’re so handsome!”

Henry forgot how to breathe, trying to stutter out a thank you as he backed up out of her space and turned to Spencer, “he’s always looked like JJ, you should have seen how tiny he was originally,” Spencer jumped in to save him. “Where is Amoreena?”

“She’s trying to pick between 2 different dresses, I’ll go make sure she’s in one by now,” she smiled at them before leaving the room, heading up the stairs to Amoreena’s room.

“You good?” Spencer nudged Henry, laughing lightly. “She’s your aunt now, she’s not going to think you’re a dork so you can calm down around her, I promise.”

Henry released a deep shaky breath, “you’re right, sorry.”

“It’s fine, I was like that around your mom before you were born, you should have seen me,” he tried to sympathize with the boy, only making a disgusted face arise on him.

“Ew, that’s completely different she’s my mom!”

Spencer wrapped his arm around him, “and Y/N is my wife!” He whispered as loud as he could so that it wouldn’t be heard by her.

Henry sighed, “and she’s like what 50?”

“35,” Spencer looked at him and laughed as he shook his head, “how old do you think I am?”

“Mentally? 6-years-old,” Henry bullied him right back for all the brotherly teasing, “but physically you look 79.”

“Thanks,” Spencer said, tucking the boy under his arm and messing up his hair, “now you look like a dork.”

He loved Henry more than he could express, unlike Amoreena he knew he wasn’t his kid, it wasn’t fatherly at all. Henry was his best friend's kid, his godson and his little brother, and as he got older he was becoming more of a best friend than he thought he would.

—

After breakfast when everyone was awake and happily full, Y/N took them all into town to visit the farmer’s market. Letting the kids look around and see if there was anything they wanted to all make for dinner, she was the best mom and aunt in the whole wide world and Spencer kept falling more and more in love every second he spent with her.

She was glowing in the sunlight, walking through the booths looking at all the fresh vegetables and fruit, Spencer followed her with Michael’s hand in his and Henry not far behind. Amoreena was off talking to her favourite vendor, an older woman who reminded her of her great-grandma, it was sweet.

Spencer thought about how their future would be much of the same, Y/N and him with a couple of kids while the rest of them did their own thing. He couldn’t wait to see all the little faces they’d create together, to get to know all the personalities and raise them into being just as wonderful as their sister and cousins.

“Ugh,” Y/N stopped dead in her tracks then, they were heading towards the butcher’s booth when she turned around, almost green as she reacted to the smell. “Nope, not going down there.”

Spencer couldn’t stop smiling at her as she tried to not throw up in the middle of the market, people watching her dry heave as she walked away. Spencer knew JJ was pregnant with Michael before she even told Will because she was the exact same way very early on. Living on ginger ale and baby cookies to stay sane, Y/N was going to need that hack.

He didn’t say anything, just profiling her in his mind as he followed her again.

Henry and Michael used the money JJ left them to buy some homemade candies from the market, Y/N picked up some donuts to bring home to her parents, and Amoreena only wanted fresh strawberries. Spencer however snuck away from the group really quickly to get something they passed earlier, something he wanted to get for Amoreena.

There was a vendor with homemade shirts and dresses, knitted hats and all sorts of collectables. If he was going to miss her last morning before kindergarten, he wanted to get her something to wear that morning so he’d be there in spirit.

There was a beautiful handmade purple dress hanging on the wall behind the vendor, the same kind old woman that reminded Amoreena of her GG. “Hello, how can I help you today?”

“We haven’t met, but I’m Amoreena’s father,” he introduced himself with a smile, and the old woman face beamed.

“Yes you are,” she smiled. “She has your nose, it’s lovely to finally meet you!”

“you too, um, I was interested in that purple dress,” he points behind her, “it looks like the one from tangled, I’m sure she’d love it.”

“that’s exactly how she described it when she saw it today,” the woman explains as she takes it down from the wall for him. “It’s $35, but I’ll do $20 for my favourite little friend.”

“That’s very kind, but I don’t mind,” he says, taking $35 dollars out of his wallet and laying it beside the cash box. “Thank you for always making my girl smile.”

“Thank you,” she smiled again, folding the dress nicely and placing it in a white bag, “would you like some tissue paper so she can’t see what it is?”

“That would be great, thank you,” Spencer smiled too, incredibly happy that this was his life now.

She handed him the bag then, stuffed to the brim with purple and pink paper, Amoreena was going to love it. He said his goodbyes and met the rest of his family at the car, hiding the present between his legs in the passenger seat as they drove home.

—

Henry and Michael did end up having to stay the night, switching into their PJs after dinner and joining them all in the living room for a movie night. They let the kids stay up later to watch the whole movie, watching Michael fall asleep once again on the carpet, he had been so well behaved all day it was like he was afraid of Amoreena now.

Michael was perfectly happy sleeping on the couch all night, Henry, on the other hand, slept in Y/N’s old room to have some privacy and so he could sleep in on Sunday.

By the time JJ and Will got home on Sunday night, Y/N and Spencer were just putting some burgers on the grill, they had enough for the whole team and so sure enough, the crew made a short trip from Quantico to Heaven.

Matt called his wife, she drove their handful of children over, Luke of course let Penelope know, the two of them still happily seeing each other now that she wasn’t on the team, it was cute to see them together. Then Penelope, of course, invited Derek and Hank. Emily, Rossi and Tara coming along just to witness Spencer being happy.

It was the best summer party they’ve ever had. Bob and Linda were beyond excited to have so many new faces in their yard, throwing on 2 more packages of burgers, feeding a whole army like normal.

The kids were all running around together in the field, playing with the cats and the goats, rolling down the big hill towards the cows, chasing fireflies as the sunset.

It was all of their last day of school on Monday, a weird day to end on but they were excited nonetheless. Y/N’s father lit up a bonfire in celebration, setting up every lawn chair and log they had to make sure everyone had a seat, they all gathered with marshmallows on sticks and drinks in their hands, smiles on their faces and love in their hearts.

Spencer made a happy life for himself that he was no sharing with them, and they call understood perfectly why he chose this one. It was peaceful, perfect and the most loving environment he’s ever been in. They were beyond proud of him.

“This place is amazing,” Tara leaned towards Spencer, “your family is wonderful.”

“Thank you,” Spencer smiled at her, raising his voice then as he looked at the rest of the team, “I just want to thank all of you actually, you’re all my family and it’s been so surreal introducing you all, I’ve never been happier.”

He was swarmed with hugs then, everyone also using it as their queue to gather their kids and hit the road. They watched everyone get in their cars one by one, Penelope did everything in her power not to leave with at least 3 cats, Matts's kids asked if they could come back, often, with Y/N reminding everyone that the gates are always open.

It was everything he ever wanted.

Amoreena jumped into his arms then, he held her against his side as they both waved at everyone, saying goodbye to all her new aunts and uncles and cousins. Her family kept getting bigger and bigger by the day and she was so incredibly happy about it. She’d take in a million more family members if they let her, her heart didn’t have a capacity level for love.

He carried her up the porch stairs then, bringing her into the kitchen where the white bag with purple tissue paper was waiting for her. Her eyes lit up as she saw it, “is that for me?”

“You bet it is,” he enthused, “I’m not going to be here in the morning, grandma Diana has a doctor's appointment, so I got you something for tomorrow morning.”

He set her down on the floor, handing her the bag and watching her carefully remove all the tissue paper. She laid it on the table softly to keep it for later, saying it was good to make barbie dresses with. When she finally saw the dress her jaw dropped.

Y/N was there too now, watching in awe as he surprised both of them.

“Did you buy this from Candace?” She asks softly as she takes it out of the bag. Holding it to her chest as she twirls around lightly.

“I did, I thought you’d like to have something to remind you of me there, I’m sorry I’m going to miss sending you to the bus on your last day,” he tried not to cry as he crouched down to her level, taking her into his arms and giving her a soft hug.

“That’s okay, you’re always in here,” she took his pointer finger in her hand and poked her own chest with it, “I love you, dad.”

“I love you more, Amoreena,” he smiled through the tears, scrunching his nose so they wouldn’t roll down his cheeks, giving her another hug before Y/N started her bedtime routine.

—

For the past two weeks, his dreams have been filled with lush fields of green draped in the most beautiful golden glow. Both his girls sitting beside him as they read, each of them has a book and it’s silent. It’s serene, the dictionary definition of peace.

However, it took him a while to fall asleep tonight, he was too anxious for Amoreena’s last day of kindergarten in the morning and the fact he wouldn’t be there for the drop-off.

Y/N was sound asleep on the pillow beside him as he stared at her, for what felt like hours, brushing her hair off her face lightly and making sure the blankets were still covering her. His eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room just enough that he could see her face twitch into a smile as she fell deeper into her slumber.

Seeing her happy relaxed him enough to follow her. Blinking into his dream realm and finding a few new faces waiting for him by the tree…

“Dad!” Another little girl he’s never seen before was running towards him, wrapping herself around him as he held her.

Suddenly, 7 other children he doesn’t know are surrounding him in hugs, tacking him to the ground in a fit of giggles and tickles, “we missed you! Why were you gone for so long?”

He’s so confused, he knows he’s dreaming but he chooses to stay, to wander the world and ask the questions his mind was so obviously trying to answer. “I’m sorry,” is all he can reply, taking Amoreena’s hand and following her towards Y/N as she sat on the picnic blanket.

She was older, which meant he should be too, looking in the pond quickly for his reflection to see’s his wrinkled face, the white in his hair and beard. Their kids had all grown up but where was he for it?

“Welcome home,” she smiled as he sat down. “it’s about time you met the girls.”

“Where was I?”

“You don’t remember?”

He shakes his head, “I was supposed to be here.”

“Amoreena got into Yale, did you hear that, cutie? Elly, Junie and Theo are in high school now, look how beautiful they are…”

He watched his children frolic in the field, running around without a care in the world that he missed everything. Why did he miss everything? How could he miss everything?

“It’s too bad you missed Cordelia and the other twins, can you believe we had 3 sets of twins, Spence?” She laughed like it was funny, “how could you leave me alone with 9 babies?” Still smiling, staring into his soul as he died a little inside.

He started to panic then, breathing heavily as he tried to remember where he was to miss everything, “I was supposed to be there for them!?”

Suddenly he’s ripped awake by Y/N shaking him and pulling him against her skin, “hey, shhh, it’s okay.”

He was crying and shaking in his sleep, sweating as he tried to fight off the dream, his anxiety in full swing for absolutely no reason, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for leaving you.”

“You didn’t go anywhere, Spencer, you’ve been there the whole time,” she reminded him, rubbing her hand over his back as he settled into her arms. “You were mumbling and then yelling.”

“I got to the park and you told me I missed all of them growing up,” he whispered the painful words into the open, freeing them from his mind and letting them exist somewhere else.

“Them?” She coo’s, holding his head against her chest as she rests her cheek against it, holding him as close as humanly possible.

“We had like 9 girls, they were all so beautiful as you and Amoreena, they all had my nose and your lips and the curliest blowing hair in the whole world, and I missed everything, again,”

“I won't let that happen, do you have any handcuffs leftover? Because I can keep you here for good?” She teased him in a hushed whisper, playful and happy to prove that he was fine, they were fine.

“I’m sorry for waking you up,” he whispered again shimmying down lower to lay his head on her lower stomach, kissing her stomach softly. “I’m not leaving you all, never.”

“I had a bad dream too, that’s what woke me up first,” she replies softly. “Yesterday was the 11th anniversary of Stephen’s death, and the first time I never visited him.”

Spencer felt the need to sit up then, making eye contact with her to see her true feelings. “I don’t want you to stop loving him because you also love me. He’s special to you, you should go see him soon.”

“Spencer,” she smiles at the concern in his voice, “I will, I only didn’t because I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant, I was bleeding a little yesterday and then it stopped, that probably means the implantation worked and I don’t want to tell him yet. And I tell him everything.”

“Everything?” He asks in a way that she hears; “even about me?” inside his thoughts.

She nods softly, “I went on that first Monday after I dropped you off at your apartment, I needed him to know I was finally ready and I thanked him for sending you to me.”

“What was he like?”

“He was from Boston, accent and everything,” she smiled with sad eyes as she recalled him to her mind. “He was in theatre school, I met him in the summer at a music festival in Chicago, he was playing guitar and we had too many beers and I lost my virginity to him in a tent in some field.”

She recalled it like it was a fond memory, missing him but not enough to be sad about it now. “I ran into him again when I went to college in Boston and we were talking outside before the rain hit, like one of those classic movie scenes, and my apartment was closer, the rest is history.”

“Hey Stephen is the one song you always skip, I never wanted to ask why but I don’t think you’ll mind telling me?” He wonders out loud, still a little delirious from the lack of sleep.

“He looked like an angel when I first saw him, he was standing under a street light reading his music sheets and the light was glowing perfectly, it was amazing I wish I had a picture of it. But then the Fearless album came out for the first time and it was my favourite song because it was like she wrote it for us. He was my perfect angel, my superstar, he was going to be on Broadway one day and we were going to move to a cottage in England, we had lots of plans and that song just makes me think of the life me and him must be living in the universe where it all worked out.”

It’s long-winded and she doesn’t seem to be over-emotional by the end, in a shocking turn of event’s it seems like she feels freer after getting it off her chest.

“I haven’t always been this happy and cheerful Spencer,” she adds, “I had a really dark spot after he died, it was horrible for me. I was so angry, I was reckless and mean and hurtful, and in that time I wasted precious moments I could have spent being happy with my grandma, and so my dream tonight was just the fight I had with Evan and my grandma dying and the cops saying Stephen was dead and placing that stupid fucking flower on his coffin thinking it made up for the fact I couldn’t even look at him in there.”

“How you respond to trauma isn’t really up to you, that’s why it’s trauma. Your brain can’t really cope and so it does typically the stuff you’ll regret the most in that time of grief, it’s not your fault and I’m sure everyone understood. You had every right to be mad, hell, I’m mad you lost him because I know how much you hurt in silence for so long,” Spencer can’t help but wish he could have been there for her.

“What happened to you after Maeve died?”

It was only fair that he shared too, “I locked myself in my apartment and didn’t take care of myself, I didn’t talk to anyone, I just sat in my living room and almost died reading every book I had because I didn’t feel like I was worthy of being taken care of so if I starved to death, so be it.”

“You still haven’t told me what happened with her and the kidnapping,” she reminds him of their little chat a few weeks ago at the school. “I get it if you’re not ready, I’m sure it’s a lot.”

“I was getting headaches, really bad ones, and so I reached out to a geneticist to see if she could help me. I sent her my brain scans and some blood tests and she helped me find supplements and natural ways to help my body rest from the stress of my work,” he explained it easily like the feelings didn’t hurt anymore.

“We talked on the phone a lot and I finally asked her why she was so afraid to meet me or have me know anything about her. She had me call her from a payphone, always a different one each time, I was to call and let it ring once, then hang up then she’d call me back. She thought she had a stalker, she was getting weird messages and threats and she felt genuinely unsafe, and she had every right to,”

“10 months went by and we thought she was safe, but her ex-fiancé got a private investigator to find her and in return found me instead. It turns out that Maeve had a student who felt wronged by her and wanted to outdo her, so she dated her fiancé and scared her underground but then she wanted me.”

Y/N’s face is full of concern like she’s listening to a true-crime thriller where she knows the ending won't be good.

“I tried to talk her stalker down, I almost had her and then she kissed me and I keep looking at Maeve, she saw right through me. She threatened to kill Maeve, she had a gun to her head but at the last minute she killed herself, but Maeve’s head was too close to hers,” the words hurt on the way out.

“And someone also had you sent to prison?” She asks, wanting all the trauma in one night to save him the trouble.

“Yeah, she was an assassin, I tricked her into thinking I found her dad and I was so smart she thought I was her soulmate, it was all an elaborate plan to bring me down to her level.”

“Did you kill someone?”

“I’ve killed too many people,” he answers with complete honesty once again. “I’ve killed mostly murderers and rapists, I typically don’t have to. I really try not to, but I’ve also killed people to keep myself safe. And I’d probably kill someone to keep you or Amoreena safe too.”

“Get in line,” she laughs, able to make every single conversation easy even when they shouldn’t be.

“I uh,” he wants to tell her more but he doesn’t know-how. “I was also sexually assaulted in prison, and I was kidnapped and drugged in 2007, I OD’d and died but then I was resuscitated, I wasn’t kidding when I said it was a lot.”

“I am so sorry Spencer,” she rests her hands on his cheeks, looking into his eyes as best as she could in the dark, still seeing the goodness in there. “You’re safe here with me, forever and always, I can promise you that.”

“Thank you,” he’s never going to stop thanking her.

Settling down on the bed once more, he cuddles back into her side. She brushes his hair behind his ear softly, humming a soft melody as she soothes him back to sleep. He snuggled right against her, holding her gently as he fell back to sleep on her, dreamless as she was everything he needed.

love you all for all the support thank you x100 <3

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

[random-mha-thoughts]

Thigh Highs (Part 2)

Characters: Kirishima Eijirou, Shinsou Hitoshi, Todoroki Shouto (bonus!)

Genre: Spice 😏 College AU!

Scenario: Your boyfriend sees you wearing thigh high socks for the first time in your relationship.

PART 1

Word count: 1,655

Tags: @cyanide9602​ @yuki-osaki​​ @liviitehe​​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​​ 

a/n: Here’s 2 more best boys Sharkbabe and Shinboi, and a small spicier Todo scenario for my fellow Shouto simps 😉 Here are some more boys simping over thicc thighs. Enjoy the spice before I post some angst 😁

And yes, it’s always Todoroki thirst hours hush

Kirishima Eijirou

You have nothing better to do this weekend; assignments are all finished, exams were done for the week, and you really don’t feel like watching or reading anything new.  That last one is particularly because your boyfriend is off doing who-knows-what with his friends.  Thinking about it leaves a frown on your face.  It’s not that you don’t want your boyfriend to have friends - in fact, you were the one who had told him that he was spending too much time with you and he was abandoning his other relationships - but now he was taking it overboard; the entire week he was with his bros and paid no attention to you!

So here you are, rummaging through your closet and drawers putting together some outfits to wear for the rest of the school year just to make yourself feel better.  At least you can look hot waiting for your boyfriend to come back.  You decide to try out a few outfits to match your thigh high socks since you’ve always wanted to try wearing them out instead of just sleeping with them.  A few Instagram posts of them with shorts had caught your fancy, so what’s stopping you from pulling it off?

As you thought, standing in front of the mirror displayed a cute casual outfit that shows off your legs nicely, even if there is a slight digging into your thighs at the tops (thank you thickness).  Playing around with a few poses in front of the mirror led to you taking some pictures on your phone, just in case you needed to remind yourself of the outfits.

And then a splendid idea flashes through your mind.  Pulling up a chair in front of your mirror, you sit down and cross your legs.

Oh my.

The energy this pose exudes is confident, taunting, a classic boss bitch.

And, with a devious smile on your face, you know exactly how you want to use this power.  You send two of the best pictures of you in this position to Kirishima without a caption.  Let’s see what he’s gonna do now.

Not even five minutes later, without so much as a reply, there’s a firm knock at your door.  As soon as you open it, Kirishima whooshes into your room, easily lifting you up in his arms and slamming the door behind him before tossing you onto your bed and hovering over you.  His scarlet orbs flash dangerously, boring into yours and effectively sending a shiver through your body.

“I didn’t know you were so sneaky, babe,” he smirks, leaning even closer to your face, pulling you closer to him using his harsh grip under your thighs, “Sending me a picture like that knowing it would rile me up.”  He places a single searing kiss on your lips before trailing down to your neck, your collarbone, lifting your shirt to place more down your stomach to the hem of your shorts.  “Such a tease.  You know how much I love these thighs.”

Between his voice lowering an octave and the vibrations and kisses against your soft skin, you quiver and squeak out his name only to yelp when his sharp teeth replace his lips.  “No one can see you in these besides me.  Don’t flaunt your legs for anyone else.”  Kirishima leaves more bites along your sensitive, plush inner thighs, marking you as his.  He chuckles darkly feeling your fingers grip his hair, bringing his head level back to yours with a cocky smirk.  “Were you looking for my attention, babe?  Looks like you can’t handle it.”

Shinsou Hitoshi

"Can we not talk about class anymore?  I wanna just sleep and cuddle."  Shinsou's arm over your torso hugs you closer to his body.  His heavy eyelids close and his nose burrows into the crook of your neck.

"You're right, this week was a drag," you chuckle, bringing your hand up to stroke his hair.  "Sleep was nonexistent for both of us."

After the week we've had, it would be an understatement to say we want to sleep the entire weekend away, just to follow the entire routine over again next week, and the next and the next until Finals come up.

I sit up from my bed.  "I wanna show you something, you might like it."

Which is why I believe in breaking up the mundane with a few tricks sometimes.

You tear yourself away from his warmth and roll off the bed, approaching your drawers.  Shinsou lets out a groan from your withdrawal, but keeps his eyes closed.  Poor boy must be tired, you think, Maybe this will cheer him up.  You had seen the cutest pair of thigh socks online that reminded you of your soft, cat-obsessed boyfriend and secretly bought them for an occasion like today where he needed to be cheered up.

You slid them on and stood at the edge of the bed where your boyfriend still has his eyes closed.  Clasping your hands behind your back and trying to suppress the smile on your face, you clear your throat.  “What do you think?”

He cracks an eye open lazily before darting up and blatantly staring at my legs, making me chuckle at his wide eyes.  The socks I found are plain black, but at the top are cat faces complete with yellow eyes, whiskers, a nose, and triangular ears.  Running his tongue across his bottom lip, Shinsou glances up at me before flickering back down.   “Why don’t you come over here so I can see them better.”

You crawl back onto the bed, legs outstretched in front of you towards your boyfriend.

But he shakes his head and hums.  “Still too far away, come closer.”  His large, warm hands grip my hips and pull me over so I’m straddling his waist.  “Much better.”

I rest my arms around his shoulders, heat rising to my cheeks as caresses the tops of my socks.  “So?  Do you like them?”

His fingers tug the material.  “They’re cute, I admit.  And soft like a cat.”  The digits ghost up farther towards the middle of my thighs to draw circles on them.  “But I think these are much softer.”  Stroking the skin and grasping some of the plushness, “They do make your legs look more delicious than usual.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, tightening your grip around his neck and turning your face away.  “This isn’t the response I was expecting.”

Shinsou uses the opportunity to latch his lips to your neck.  “Didn’t think you’d rile me up from a pair of socks?”  His thumbs slide under your shorts, squeezing more of your thighs and massaging them.  “I haven’t had my way with you for almost a week.”  He journeys farther down right in the center of your collarbone.  “There’s a lot of pent up frustration in me, and you look too cute for me not to have fun with you now.”

Todoroki Shouto (Bonus scenario!)

You had just discovered the beauty and allure of thigh high socks thanks to Mina.  Putting a pair on was the most magical thing you could have done, and you had to take at least 50 photos of you in them in so many poses, much to your boyfriend’s chagrin.  You’d spent the last ten minutes away from his warmth, leaving him impatient as he watches you enjoy yourself.  All by yourself, ignoring his personal opinion on your new fashion choice.  Todoroki has all the love and patience in the world, but he finds his frustration slowly creeping up on him.

“Love, are you finished yet?”

“Wait, Sho, I just got an idea.”  You pull your chair up to your mirror, sit down, and cross your legs.

Todoroki blood rushes all over his body at an otherwise innocent position, the room suddenly a degree hotter.

He can’t take it anymore.

Rising up from your bed, he strolls over to you and stands behind your unsuspecting figure, still buzzing with excitement over how amazing you look.  “Darling, I think I know the perfect picture you should take,” he states in his normally smooth voice.

You turn around with your innocent, wide grin.  “Really?  Tell me!”

He takes your hand to move you out of the chair before sitting on it himself and tapping his leg.  Tugging your arm down to lean into your ear, his voice drops an octave.  “Come sit in my lap, baby.”

In that instant, your body ignites, responding immediately to his suggestion and taking your seat on him.  His warm hands rest right above your hips as you cross your legs again.  To say the image looks hot would be an understatement.  You’re frozen, captivated by what’s staring back at you.

“Are my hands okay here?”  Your boyfriend’s breath fans your ear.  “Or should I move them?”  You watch as one skids down to rest on one of your thighs, the other sliding up to your waist as his pinky drags the edge of your shirt up to reveal your skin underneath.

“Sh-Shouto,” you squeak, pressing your legs closer together as heat rushing through your body.

His hot lips brush right under the sensitive spot under your ear.  “I thought you wanted a good picture?”  Butterfly kisses slowly trace down your skin.  “Take it,” the command barely a whisper tickling your skin while his hands grip you tighter.  “So you remember who holds you like this, who makes you flustered.”

Your shaky hands press the button, mind clouding over, right before he nips your nape and your hand flies down to grab his hand on your thigh.  Your body is on fire when you turn around, pushing your body flush to his.  Disregarding your phone, you steal Todoroki’s lips desperately, and he smirks at your behavior while his hands squeeze that space where your thighs join your butt.  “Finally got your attention,” he chuckles, realizing his neediness finally reached you as well.

[clearwillow]

50. Either way that strikes you. ❤️

Hi @dawnrider ❤️ I actually opted to do both, cause not only was it a particularly sucky night and the fluff was needed, but because this will probably be the only prompt I get sent.

Decided to do "Its okay, I couldn’t sleep anyway." around Hired Help, because that AU really needs some fluff right now. It would be early on in the fic, for those that have read it. (I'll add it to AO3 once I can think of a title, so for now it's tumblr-exclusive)

--------

Kagome dropped down unceremoniously on her couch and sighed. Her feet hurt something awful. Those cute pumps she had bought to go with her new outfit for work? Hurt like she’d walked on glass shards all day. She came out of them as soon as she had her front door open and forced herself not to grab them by her toes and fling them across the apartment.

They were still expensive, even if she had gotten them on sale.

Her work involved walking. A lot of walking. She thought that the heel hadn’t been difficult to walk in, and she hadn’t felt any discomfort until she’d sat down in her car. Then it had hit her and all she’d wanted to do was get in bed and sleep. Only she’d have to get home first.

“Mistakes were definitely made,” she decided, glaring at the offending footwear that sat on her coffee table. Her phone buzzed and she had to give herself an awkward pat down to find the device to see who the text message was from. “Inuyasha?”

[Kags, you have anything going on tonight?]

Unsure of his intentions, Kagome chewed her lip in thought before typing out a reply. [Only if watching TV counts? What’s up?]

[Actually…nevermind…]

[No, no – what is it, Inuyasha?] She was about to call him and find out what wasn’t important enough to ask all of a sudden. He’d done that when they were kids, and it had driven her crazy then too. He’d start to ask her something and back out immediately after. Before she could hit the button to dial his number, his message came back.

[I wanted to know if I could come to your place? But you’re probably tired after work. I know I had you running all over the building.]

Even in a text she could feel the guilt coming from him. He didn’t know her shoes were going to hurt her like they did. Hell even she didn’t know! They’d only been coworkers for going on a month, at best. She had to learn the ropes. Find out where everything was located. Plan the most efficient means of reaching each office on the regular. It was more her fault than anything really. [Inuyasha I don’t mind!] Her thumbs flew across the screen keyboard as she responded. There was something about his text that had her gut telling her that there was more to it.

And when it hit her, she knew good and well there was an underlying question he would never ask outright.

[Inuyasha…really. It’s okay, I couldn’t sleep anyway. My mind is buzzing too much to wind down, and I’d love the company.]

[Are you sure?]

[I’m very sure.]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(〜￣▽￣)〜~(￣▽￣)~*〜(￣▽￣〜) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the doorbell rang, Kagome tried not to let it show on her face that her feet still hurt like a bitch as she hobbled to let Inuyasha in. But when she opened the door to see him standing there, giving her a lopsided grin, she didn’t care if her feet were on fire. Her friend was here now. “You’re sure this is alright?”

“I told you yes, you big doof. Now get in here already!” Kagome shook her head as he walked inside, taking in the worn out jeans and t-shirt he’d thrown on. There had been a time when she remembered he wore those rock band shirts and barely filled the shoulders out. Now she could see the way his shoulder blades moved beneath the cotton as he shifted the weight of the bags in his hands.

It was…hypnotizing. And if she wasn’t careful she’d probably be drooling in a second.

Wait. Why did he have bags?

Inuyasha must have noticed her staring – hopefully at the bags, she realized too late in horror that this might not be the case – and answered unprompted. “Thought you might want to eat something that you didn’t have to stand on your feet to fix. Got some junk too. You still like Sonic hamburgers, right?”

The way he looked back up at her, how unsure he was, because he didn’t know if her tastes had changed since they’d hung out…it broke her heart. It reminded her of all the time they’d missed out on, and for him to show up at her doorstep after work just showed that he wanted to make up for that time. Kagome stepped forward and dropped her hands over his, deliberately sniffing out loud. “You got onion rings, right?”

He let out a breathy laugh. “Of course.”

Nothing would ever make Kagome turn Inuyasha away, even if he hadn’t remembered that she liked onion rings with her burger. He was making an effort to rekindle their friendship, to spend time outside of work together. And the fact that he was leaving his own place on a night with a new moon said so much. He didn’t want to spend it alone, and chose her out of everyone he could spend the evening with.

Sleep was overrated and she knew she’d have the day off the next day anyway.

They ended up spreading the food he brought all over the coffee table. Inuyasha couldn’t help but notice how she tossed the shoes she’d plucked off the table and into a lone chair. He hadn’t said anything about it, too focused on eating before their dinner got cold. The TV was more background noise than them actually watching, either critiquing how bad the reenactments of the hauntings were or reciting commercials word for word when they weren’t reminiscing about their childhood.

Kagome wasn’t expecting him to ask “Why did you get those shoes if they hurt your feet so much?” out of the blue.

“Because I didn’t know they’d hurt my feet?”

“Give me your feet.”

“What? Are you insane?”

“Let me see, Kagome.”

“No!” To reiterate that she wasn’t about to show her feet to Inuyasha, Kagome tucked her legs underneath herself in an attempt to hide them.

She really wasn’t expecting Inuyasha to reach across the couch and grab at her legs.

Kagome let out a squeal and wiggled in her spot, trying to shake him off. Inuyasha had one of two moods; he could be the most reserved person in the room, or he could take initiative in the most outlandish way. There was no in between with him, and when he set his mind to something there was no stopping him. And he’d decided right then and there that he was going to pry her legs out from under her. She felt her weight being lifted off the couch and squealed again, throwing her arms around his shoulders.

His very…very…strong shoulders.

It gave her pause, feeling the strength in him and allowing him the chance to set her back on the couch cushions with her feet draped across his lap. It was hard not to be disappointed. No one had ever carried her like that as an adult. She didn’t think she was light enough, but Inuyasha… he’d handled her with ease.

Kagome gulped. Not good. ‘Don’t think about your friend like that, Kagome.’

“You okay?”

“Huh? Oh…y-yeah,” she mumbled, ducking her head. “You just surprised me. That’s all.”

“You thought I wouldn’t do it?”

“No I knew you would. I just…you’ve changed, Inuyasha.”

Dark brown eyes looked at her in confusion. “Is that good, or bad?” he asked with uncertainty.

“Good for you,” she assured him. “But…bad for me. I missed out on seeing the changes as they happened. You’ve gotten so strong. Your hair’s longer. I mean I could go on but you don’t look like the boy I had to tell that I was moving away anymore.”

Inuyasha snorted. “Good thing, then. Cause I remember the pictures,” he teased, hoping to cheer her up. “I’ve always been strong, if you’ll remember. Now I just look it, so I dare anyone to call me a fucking hobbit.”

She had been seconds away from letting slip that yes – yes he did look strong now – but it would not have come out sounding like a friend. “I love your hair,” Kagome said instead. Whether the mass of curls that hung around his shoulders were silver, or black as they were now, she loved them. “Long hair suits you.”

He grinned, reaching for one of her feet. “And not having bludgeoned feet from your boss running you ragged all day suits you.”

Kagome started to protest because she could always soak them the next day, but the moment he pressed his thumb into her instep, all that came out was a low moan. Oh god, that felt better than any foot soak! His hands slowly and delicately kneaded her feet, not missing a spot and watching her face for any signs of discomfort. When he had both massaged to his satisfaction, Kagome shifted around on the couch to lean against his side.

“You know you’re not my boss, right? Your father is.” She pointed out.

“You’re my personal assistant. That means you answer to me.”

“That sounds like I should call you Master,” Kagome snorted. “Do I need to get a genie costume?” There was a choked sound and she looked up at him to see him looking elsewhere. Was he…was he blushing? “You thought of something dirty, didn’t you?”

“N-no!”

“Yes you did!” Kagome laughed as the blush got brighter. “Tell me, Inuyasha! I wanna know!”

“You really don’t!”

“We’ve got all night, Inuyasha…” Okay that should not have made him blush more, so it had to have been something really dirty. Kagome bumped his shoulder with hers and started a string of “Please, please, please” since he was holding out on her. “You never kept secrets from me when we were kids,” she reminded him.

Inuyasha opened and closed his mouth for a minute. “This is waydifferent!” he pointed out, adding “You wouldn’t have filled out one of those costumes as easily back then!”

The silence was deafening.

Now Kagome was blushing. Inuyasha was still blushing, only looking like he was about to crawl into the couch after realizing what he’d just said out loud.

Kagome couldn’t decide if she was meant to be upset or flattered. ‘Oh god, that means he’s looked!’ her brain screamed at her. She knew she was nothing but a flat mess up until her sophomore year, and she hadn’t really developed until late that summer before her junior year began. Inuyasha wouldn’t have known that, but he’d noticed. She could get offended, be upset that he was insinuating something that was very much true at one point, or be flattered and take it as a compliment. She couldn’t react any other way because while there were other options, this was Inuyasha. He’d never given her any indication of anything else.

Finally she said, “I don’t know if I’d want a pink costume.”

The body she was still leaning against relaxed at her words. “Jewel tones would be better, anyway.”

“And I don’t know if I’d call you Master either.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because you get this weird look on your face when I say it! You’re not my boss, remember! We don’t need that power play dynamic in the office!”

Inuyasha visibly looked put out. “I wouldn’t do that,” he mumbled, but she could still see the hint of red on his cheeks, so she knewthe dirty thoughts were still simmering. “What if I asked you to call me Sir, then?”

“Like a Knight in shining armor?” she laughed.

“I took care of your feet, didn’t I?”

Kagome nodded, “That you did. Thank you, Inuyasha.” She dropped her head onto his shoulder, taking his hand in hers.

“Ought to be thanking you,” he replied, leaning back into the couch. “You could’ve told me no earlier.”

“I told you it’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway tonight.”

Fluff Prompts

[sisterspooky1013]

Damsels, Chapter Eight: They Don’t Want to be Found

By SisterSpooky1013 / Read previous chapters here

Rated E / Tagging @today-in-fic

Mulder calls in to work the next day, too sleep deprived and mentally exhausted to function. After sleeping until nearly noon, he gets back in his car and returns to Philly. He checks into a hotel that’s just a few blocks from the club and then spends the next several hours trying to watch TV, trying to read, and jacking off picturing Scully topless. A short time later, he jacks off again, this time imagining what he’ll see tonight.

He isn’t really sure what he’s doing or why he’s here. The best excuse he can cook up is that she doesn’t have a weapon and he’s protecting her, but realistically he knows she can take care of herself. Is it really just perversion, that he wants to see her…exposed? What will he say if she spots him? He can imagine her level of mortification if she knew he was here, that he’d seen her, and he feels guilt churn in his gut. She might never forgive him for this.

He knows it’s wrong, but he can’t seem to stop himself from going back. He has to see her again.

Scully had lay awake for hours after Angel left, thinking about what had happened, wondering how it happened in the first place. She’s on a case, how stupid could she be? What if it comes to light that she’s become involved with a witness in the case? She might be suspended. At least then maybe they’d never ask her to do something like this again. What if Mulder finds out? Would he feel betrayed somehow? Would it turn him on?

Somewhere around 6 am, she had finally caved in and slid her hand down the front of her panties, groaning when she felt how wet she was. She swirled her finger around her clit, using her own arousal as lubricant, and imagined what might have happened if Angel’s phone hadn’t rung. Would Angel have touched her? With her hands, or her mouth? Maybe both. Would she have touched Angel? She was approaching the brink just thinking about it. She stopped suddenly, remembering something, and grabbed the bullet vibrator from her bedside table, switching it on and pressing it to her clit as she plunged the middle finger of her other hand as far inside herself as she could reach. Within 30 seconds she was unravelling, images of Angel and Mulder dancing in her head as her walls clamped tightly around her finger. Finally, she had slept.

She manages to sleep until nearly three in the afternoon again, then spends the day getting her nails done, reading, and devising a plan for how she might look through the files in that closet. Without knowing what’s in them, she has no way of gaging whether Ricky is likely to notice if she takes a few at a time and returns them later. Worse still, Lexie is working tonight and that gives any risk she takes the potential to blow the whole investigation. She’s positive that given one more red flag, Lexie will sing like a canary. The silver lining is that Angel won’t be at work for the next three days, so they can get some space from what happened between them.

The evening is mostly business as usual, and she’s a bit horrified to realize that this is becoming as dull and predictable as any other job. She lets her mind wander while she flexes and rolls over horny married men, wondering what Mulder is up to, whether he’s worried about her or even misses her. Part of her wonders if he might realize that his life is less complicated without her, and that he prefers it that way. She feels an ache in her chest, a bit further north than she has grown accustomed to, and realizes how much she misses him.

When he enters the club, she’s at the bar. Half her torso is resting on the bar top as she shouts to be heard by the bartender, who’s laughing at whatever she’s saying. The position she’s in pops her barely covered ass out prominently behind her and his eyes go big at how exposed she is, and how comfortable she seems with it. Her bare breasts are smushed against the lacquered countertop and he feels his cock twitch thinking about how hard her nipples will be when she stands up. Unfortunately, it would be too risky to stick around and find out, so he tugs his ball cap lower and finds a table in the back. The dancers never seem to come back here for some reason.

He keeps his head trained towards one of the other dancers at all times, while his eyes follow Scully’s every move. If he knows one thing, it’s that Scully can feel his eyes on her, so he needs to be careful. His disguise is painfully basic and all it would take is one solid look for her to know it’s him. He watches her give a lap dance to a blushing young woman, a soft smile on her face the whole time, and he can’t decide if he’s more turned on or touched by how hard she’s working to make the woman feel comfortable. The aching hard-on in his jeans suggests the former.

This time he’s mentally prepared for her stage set, and also realizes she can barely see beyond the tip rail with all the stage lights on her, so he lets himself enjoy it. He’s known from the moment he met her that Scully is beautiful, sexy, incredible in every way imaginable, but he never could have imagined her moving like this. She’s so graceful and captivating. He lets himself block out all the other jerks who are leering at her, stuffing bills into her underwear, and just watches her. His Scully. She’s ethereal.

“Seems like you’ve found your ATF,” a voice to his left startles him from his reverie.

“Huh?” he turns to see the same waitress who’d served him last night, clad in a fishnet body suit.

“You were here last night, right? You like Desi?”

He panics. “No! I mean, yes. But, don’t send her over here or anything.”

She nods in understanding. “You like to watch. That’s cool, whatever floats your boat, man. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Yeah, can I get a Captain and Coke?” He walked here, why not enjoy himself, right?

Four drinks for him and ten lap dances for her later, he stumbles into the balmy night and back to his hotel room where he jacks off again. Twice.

Everyone is trickling out slowly at the end of what has been a busy shift. Scully takes her time counting her tips, sharing a cut with her bird dog and the bartender on shift tonight. While she would not say that she likes working here by any stretch of the imagination, her coworkers at the club are her only source of socialization and (with the exception of Lexie) she truly enjoys their company. She’s helping one of the custodial staff, a wiry young man they called Don Juan, put up the chairs on the club floor so he can mop when Ricky approaches her.

“Desi, can I see you in my office, please?” He has a somber demeanor that concerns her.

“Um, sure, of course.” She bids the young man farewell and follows Ricky down the hall. He closes the door behind them and she feels her heart start to race.

Ricky sits down behind his desk and motions for her to take a seat across from him. She’s reminded of her first day here and the feelings of fear and anticipation.

“I need to ask you something, Desi, and I want to make sure you don’t mention it to the other girls.”

“Okay,” she responds, taking shallow breaths to obscure the fact that she’s afraid.

“Angel told me what happened.”

Her mouth falls open but no words come out. Is she in trouble for kissing Angel?

“That’s why she was so upset the other night, when you saw her in here. She told me that she’d talked to you about her past a bit,” he shakes his head ruefully. “Some gall those dirtbags have, shaming her for being sexual in any way, then coming to a titty club on the sly.”

She breathes a sigh of relief. “Right, yes, the people who came in. She was very upset. “

“It was really nice of you to spend some time with her after work. Anyway, I gave her a few nights off. She needs a break.”

Scully nods. “You wanted to ask me something?”

“Right! So, Angel is my right hand gal, she helps me with a lot of stuff around here. With her being out, I wanted to ask you to kind of be her backup, if you will.”

For a moment she’s afraid Ricky is asking her to perform some kind of sexual favor, but she recalls that Angel had said he’s gay. “What did you have in mind?” she asks hesitantly.

“Well mostly, I wanted to give you a set of keys for the club. Angel has one, in case something happens to me and I’m not here to open and close the doors, stuff like that.”

A set of keys? Scully feels a flush of adrenaline. “Of course, I can do that.”

“That’d be great, Desi. I know you haven’t been with us all that long, but you seem pretty trustworthy, at least compared to the other girls. Like I mentioned, I’m hoping we can keep this between us, just so there are no hurt feelings from anyone who’s been here longer than you.”

Her heart is pounding with excitement at the opportunity to gain access to those files. “Is there an alarm code or something I should know about?” She recalls a sign on the door for ADT.

Ricky dismisses her concern with a flick of his wrist. “No, nothing like that. I should get one, but I just pilfered those signs from my buddy to scare off vagrants.”

She nods in understanding.

“Ninety-nine percent chance nothing will happen and there’ll be no need, but thanks for being on deck, just in case,” he says as he hands her a playboy bunny shaped keychain with a single key dangling from it.

Scully smiles at him. “I’m more than happy to help.”

After she leaves the club, she first goes home to stash her tips and change into comfortable, dark clothes, and then gets a big cup of coffee and a disposable camera from the 7-11 near her apartment.

By the time she’s lurking in the corner of the club’s parking lot, watching the door, it’s nearly 4am and there’s still a light on inside the foyer. She sips her coffee and waits, shuffling her feet to keep warm. Finally at 4:50, Denny and Ricky emerge, locking the door behind them. After they leave the parking lot, Scully waits another 20 minutes before she creeps around the perimeter of the lot and approaches the door. Glancing around to be sure no one is watching her, she turns the key and steps inside, locking it behind her.

The quiet stillness is eerie in contrast to the throbbing hive of activity it had been earlier in the night and she flicks on her flashlight, making her way to Ricky’s office. She fits the same front door key into the lock and sighs in relief when it turns. Ricky’s security standards aren’t incredibly high, apparently, but in this case it’s to her advantage. She tries the key on the hallway closets just in case, to no avail, and returns to the office. Navigating to his desk, she pulls open drawers quickly, scanning their contents. Nothing is of interest, and she’s disappointed though not surprised that his keys to other areas of the club aren’t in here. That makes things more challenging, but not impossible. She’s spent her days off at the library researching how to pick locks, including buying a lock picking kit and some padlocks at the local hardware store to practice with, and she feels relatively confident she can get this door open without a key. She might just have to be the one to pick the lock next time she and Mulder have the need. She smiles to herself knowing how impressed he’d be.

Back in the hallway, she pulls the small lock picking kit out of her back pocket and kneels in front of the door, the pen light perched between her teeth. She studies the lock and then inserts a torque wrench at the bottom, turning it slightly to put resistance in the direction it will spin when unlocked. From the kit, she selects a straight, flat pick and runs it from back to front at the top of the keyhole a couple times. Next she exchanges it for a pick with a curved end, pushing it as far back and high as she can reach as she holds her ear close to the lock in the stony silence of the hallway. Bumping against the pins inside the lock, she listens and feels for a small click or give that indicates the pin has settled in its unlocked position. She continues this until she counts five pins clicking into place, then removes the pick and turns the torque wrench.

The lock releases with a soft click and she laughs out loud as the door swings open, beyond pleased with herself. Stepping into the closet, there’s enough room for her to close the door behind her and she does so, pulling a cord to turn on the overhead light. Taking stock of the beige bank of file cabinets, she works top to bottom, left to right, and immediately feels her heart sink when the first four drawers she tries are empty. Would this be yet another dead end? When the fifth drawer snicks open, she sees a small set of files hanging towards the back. She quickly checks all the other drawers so she’ll have a good idea of how much material she has to review, but they’re all empty.

She pulls the files out and sits down with them on the floor, setting the disposable camera near her thigh. There are eight folders nestled inside the hanging file, each one with a set of initials on the tab. The first one is marked “G.A.” and inside she finds an intake form, a personal statement that’s filled out by hand, and a release of liability form. The intake form is sparse and includes nearly no identifying information. The name is listed as simply GA and the fields below it include “entry date,” “exit date,” “reason for sheltering,” and “responsible individual.” On the form for GA, the entry and exit date are both a year and a half prior, about six months apart. Reason for sheltering is listed as “threat of violence-domestic,” and the responsible individual reads “brother.” She turns to the second page, which contains GA’s personal statement.

Continue Reading Here

[ill-be-your-honey-bri]

Call Me

I honestly am not a hundred percent sure where this fic had developed from but I thought it was an interesting plot that could have been manipulated many ways. and of course your girl went put smut mode on this one. 

That being said, the only warnings I have for you is smut, smut, smut, and some more smut. 

Don’t forget to like, repost, comment. You feed back means everything to me and I love seeing what you all like and don't fancy. 

Please enjoy and all my love,

I present to you, Escort Harry.

You were sitting at your dinette on the balcony of your penthouse, exceptionally frustrated. Sipping on your now cold coffee and pulling a cigarette from the gold case that was housing it. You lit the end with the matching gold lighter, slamming it on the table as you inhaled the nicotine to calm your nerves. You expelled the smoke from your lungs with an exaggerated sigh before picking up your phone to re-evaluate the email you just received.

Ms. Y/L/N,

You are cordially invited to the annual Forbes fundraiser for young entrepreneurs, blah blah blah…

Being that you own your own major company that has been featured in Forbes, blah blah blah.

We are expecting your attendance along with your plus one…

A plus one…

Well you are fucked now, aren’t you? You couldn’t remember the last time you had a ‘plus one’. You, this woman, fiercely independent, who built a company from the ground up on your own, and now you are expected to have a date to a fundraiser that you are being forced to go to.

You did the only thing you could think of at that moment.

You pull up Claudia’s number in your contacts, closing your silk robe over your nightgown while you put the phone to your ear and inhale the last puff from your cigarette before stamping it out in the marble ashtray.

The phone rings as you walk through the French doors from your balcony into your dining room, taking the last sip of your coffee before placing your mug on the dark mahogany dining room table.

“Hello, Y/N. To what do I owe the pleasure on this lovely morning at, fuck me, five forty?”

“Thank fucking god you’re awake!”

“Well, I wasn’t but —”

“Did you get that Forbes email too?” You put your phone on speaker while you pulled the email up for the millionth time that morning.

“I did,” Claudia said around a yawn.

“What is this shit with a fucking plus one? When has that ever been a requirement for these things?!”

You could hear her rustling around her bed, “I’m sure some man put it together and wanted to make sure everyone and the pope saw his new arm candy.”

“It’s ridiculous! Some of us don’t have time to have a ‘plus one’!” You sat on your suede sectional, curling your bare feet under your bum. Your long haired black cat jumped up and cuddled into your lap, both melting into comfort.

“I lay claim to Derek, he already said he would go with me.”

You began to stroke your cat’s ear, “Yeah well, you’re fucking Derek, so…”

“I can’t help that your assistant is young and hot, chickee. And so fucking good in bed…” Claudia began to stretch, letting out a moan.

“Thanks for that. Now what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Don’t you have any friends? Second cousins?”

You stopped your petting, your fur baby giving out a little mew in protest, “First of all, ew. No family. Second of all, I don’t have time for friends. I have you because we have worked together for years.” You let out a frustrated sigh and went back to petting the angel on your lap. “What the fuck am I going to do, Claud?”

You could hear Claudia clunking around her kitchen, attempting to make her latte, cursing at her espresso maker. “Why not hire someone?”

You stopped your petting again, Lady getting annoyed and deciding to jump off your lap. “What do you mean, hire someone?”

“You know,” Claudia hissed after burning her tongue on her hot beverage, “like one of those sexy male escorts. You pay them and they are a nice piece of jewelry for the night.”

“Where do you come up with this shit?”

“That old bag that is always at these events, donates a shit ton and then falls asleep halfway through dinner? You know the one.”

You hum in understanding because you do know the one. Her overuse of minks and emeralds at every event, her hackneyed Chanel No. 5. Oh, and her dentures fell into her champagne flute last year. Yeah, that one.

“Do you really think that the strapping young hunk with her is actually her significant other?”

“I thought that it could be her grandson, maybe.”

“Oh hell no! She hired the boy! I hope she got her money’s worth, if you know what I’m saying...”

Claudia began to laugh as you started to make gagging noises. You sat there, thinking of any other option and you really couldn’t think of one.

“Let me do my research and I will email you the links. But babe, relax. We will figure something out, yeah? You can take my little brother if you need to.”

“No offense Claud, but I don’t really want to present to an event with a 17 year old and be labeled a pedophile… Thank you for helping me, truly.”

“Any time, sweets. Now go mastuarbate before you get ready for work. Got a big meeting today and need you to be calm and relaxed for it.”

“Jesus, Claud!”

“See you soon!” Claudia blowing you a kiss over the line before she hangs up.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You walked into your office with your go to Starbucks order in hand. Derek was sitting on the couch that was off to the side of your office, set up as a little meeting area with a set of armchairs and a coffee table in the center. Derek was sipping on his green smoothie and setting up your agenda for the day.

“I don’t know how you drink that shit. You’re basically grazing in the pasture,” as you take another sip of your overpriced corporate beverage.

“It is an energy boosting smoothie, thank you very much. It’s from the local smoothie place around the corner, it’s family owned.”

“Well good for you bud, but for me, it is about convenience and there are at least 50 Starbucks stores from home to here. A beautiful marketing plan if you ask me.” You smiled before taking another sip then placing it in its rightful place on your desk as you sit to turn on your computer and start your day. Derek stands up and places your daily planner in front of you.

“You have that big meeting today with the business partners. Claudia said she will be here in half an hour to help prep. And I have a list of escort services for you.” He had a folder in hand extended towards you.

You peered up at him, “Fucking Claudia.”

He began to smile and give a light chuckle, “Fucking Claudia. She never knows when to keep her mouth shut. There are a few men she had picked out as well, said she ‘knows what you like’. She will email you the links to their profiles.”

And sure enough, you get an email from her with an eggplant emoji as the subject of the email. You quickly exit the email, pulling up the documents you need for the meeting.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After getting home from dealing with arrogant, self centered pricks in meetings all day, you knew you needed to treat yourself to a relaxing bubble bath.

You ignored dinner, going straight to your wine rack and grabbed the first bottle handy. You filled the glass and began sipping at the sweet nectar as you were walking to the master bedroom. You padded your way to the en-suite to begin filling the claw foot bathtub. You added some vanilla rose bath melts and let the aroma fill your lungs before returning back to your bedroom.

You step into your walk-in closest to begin undressing, putting your jewelry in their rightful place and hanging the garments that need to go to the dry cleaners. After stripping, you throw on your silk robe and pull your hair up before walking back to the bathroom. You grab your phone and wine along the way, finding your ‘bubble bath’ playlist, which you connected to the Bluetooth that you had installed in your bathroom.

You put your wine and phone on the shelf next to the tub and hung the silk robe before melting into the warm embrace of the milky water. Lady had hopped up onto the counter to keep you company.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath and lean your head on to the bath pillow before slowly exhaling the air from your lips. You were finally starting to relax when the incessant thought about the fundraiser reared it’s nasty head at the forefront of your mind.

You look to Lady, who is curled up on the sink counter, the sound of Ol’ Blue Eyes lulling her to sleep. You take another deep breath before grabbing your phone and opening up that email.

Reinhardt, Claudia

Subject: 🍆

So, this company seems the most legit and had the best reviews on multiple sites. Overall, had the best looking dudes too. I picked out a few that I thought that you would like, you know, best friends and all. I will only be slightly offended if you don’t pick one of my gentleman callers.

Good luck chickee! xo

You took another sip of wine before opening the links to these ‘gentleman callers’ pages.

Travis; he was cute in a ‘use to be a skater’ kind of way. Had some muscle, a decent smile. Age, 26. Perfect. Height, 5’3”. Well, that won’t work. You close out his link and go to the next one.

Bret; could be a model with the blue eyes, black hair look and a jaw that could cut glass. You sit up slightly, scrolling down further into his profile. Age; 19. Fuck no. You quickly close the link and go to the next one.

You go through a few more and you begin to feel hopeless. They were all good looking but none of them sparked the desire to take them to an event where you will be spending endless hours with them.

You were officially going to give up until you saw that there was only one link left.

Harry; this guy can’t be real. Beautiful green eyes, silky curly hair, a really cute smile with dimples. The perfect amount of muscle. You held your breath as you continued to read his profile.

Age; 24. You could handle that.

Height; 6 foot. Perfect.

Reason why you joined this company; Honestly, I’m getting my masters in business at Columbia University. A scholarship and work study can only pay so much of the tuition. So he is smart and can talk about business if needed.

What can you bring to the table for your date; I’m personable and will make friends with anyone in a room. I’m the perfect date for a work related event because I can talk about anything. If you chose me, I promise, you won’t regret it.

You took the last bit of your wine as your finger hovered over the message icon. “I better not regret this…”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry just got home to his rundown studio apartment from his day working in the college library. He threw his backpack on his mismatching dining set before striding into the kitchen to heat up leftover Chinese. He threw the container into the microwave and began to strip on his way to his bed. He pulled on a pair of old grey sweatpants and went back into the kitchen to retrieve his food and a beer.

He climbed into his bed and turned on the TV, throwing on Family Guy before digging into his food. He got up at one point to get his phone that he left in his jacket, where he couldn’t remember where he threw it.

After finding it, he climbs back into bed and continues to stuff his cheeks with lo mein. He unlocks his phone to see he has some texts, a few emails, a bunch of messages on his Tinder app that he has been ignoring and a new message on his work email. Not the library job, but the job that no one knows about.

He gets emails regularly on his work email. Usually older women who want to make a statement at an event. Like “I’m still young. Look at the young man with me.” He doesn’t mind it because they pay a shit ton for him to just sit there and look pretty, but it gets boring. He would rather work overnight at the library and he is pretty sure it is haunted.

He opens the message and he sees your name. He drops his Chinese container into his lap, cursing at the grease stains that are now on his sweats.

He knows you. He knows you very well. He has written multiple research papers on your work, how you built a company on your own. He’s even rubbed one out to you a few times because your so fucking beautiful and unbelievebly smart.

Harry,

I apologize for how this message reads; I have never done such a thing before.

I have an event for a Forbes fundraiser and we are required to bring a plus one. Unfortunately, I do not have one and need to go to such lengths as to hiring one.

I have read your profile, multiple times if we are being honest, and I feel that you are best suited for the situation.

If you accept my offer, I will pay you handsomely and will schedule you with my tailor to get a suit for the event. Anything involved will be taken care of by me, you will just need to present by my side.

Please let me know if you accept my offer in a timely fashion.

All the best, Y/N Y/L/N

Harry’s mouth was gaping like a fish. You, you, need a date to an event and you asked him. He must be dreaming. He rereads the email a million times and tries to compose himself enough to respond.

Ms. Y/L/N,

It would be an honor to be by your side. Please let me know where I need to be and when and I promise, I will not let you down.

Harry

A few moments after sending the email he got notifications of events being added to his calendar. The first thing was his appointment with your tailor tomorrow morning.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry was standing outside the tailor’s shop, being a few minutes early and the door was locked. He could hear the clicking of heels and heard a familiar voice. You had presented at Colombia for seminars multiple times, considering it was your Alma Mater. He knew that voice because he attended every seminar that you were a speaker at.

You had your phone in one hand with your designer purse in the crook of the arm that was holding your phone. You had a tray with a few coffees in the other hand. He thought you looked powerful and beautiful in your burgundy blazer with a black tank top tucked into your houndstooth black and white trousers. A gold Gucci belt pulling the whole look together.

You smiled at him as you told whomever you were talking to that you had to go and that you will call them back. He about melted into a puddle when he heard you call his name.

He nodded with a smile while you put your phone in your purse and coordinated the drinks so that you were able to extend a hand to shake Harry’s. Your hand was so soft, he never wanted to let go.

“Thank you for being able to do this so quickly. The event is this weekend and I wanted to make sure that your suit was done in time.” You were smiling at him the whole time, like you have been friends for a lifetime.

“It’s no problem at all.” He smiled back as you took in a good look at him, seeming to be pleased with your choice. He unconsciously stood up straighter and clasped his hands behind his back as you turned to press the buzzer of the store front.

The door unlocked and he quickly grabbed the door to allow you to walk in first, as you gave your thanks. You strutted in like you owned the place and Harry could feel his cock twitch in his jeans watching you own the room.

A beautiful person was standing there waiting for you with gorgeous red flowing hair. They looked angelic with their light and soft features.

“Harris darling, this is Harry. You will be working with him on finding the perfect suit and tailoring it like the artist you are.” You sat on the white sofa, handing out coffees to the people around you, including Harry.

“I didn’t know how you liked your coffee, so I got it black but I have cream and sugar if you need it.” You pulled out the little paper bag the cafe had given you with the coffee fixings from your purse.

“Black is perfect, thank you.”

You smiled up at him as you handed him his coffee, he gladly took a seat next to you as Harris handed the two of you their portfolio.

“These are what I have in the shop now and the fabrics in the back are what I have at home, if you would prefer one of those.”

Harry scooted a little closer to get a better look that you quickly took notice of, so you moved so that the portfolio sat on both of your laps while your thighs touched. Harry’s breath hitched when he felt the contact but quickly brushed it off to continue looking at the beautiful suits.

“Is my dress done by chance? I would love to do the final fitting today as well.”

“Of course. I also have a few ideas of suits for you Harry that would go with the dress. Not so matchy-matchy, but to make sure you don’t clash.”

“Let’s try those, hm?” You looked at Harry with a sweet smile. All he could do was gaulp and nod.

You put the portfolio on the table in front of you before taking your blazer off and laying it delicately on the arm of the couch. You stood up and began to wander around, looking at Harris’ fall collection.

“I can’t wait to see these on the models. Absolutely stunning, Harris.”

“Wouldn’t have been able to do it without you, my love.” You smiled as you continued to explore.

Harry couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were so ethereal in your movements, so effortless. You seemed so gentle and he has only been around you for a few moments. He has always known you as a strong willed, fierce, badass woman. But now, he sees you as delicate porcelain. Not in a way that you could easily be broken, he doesn’t think that could ever be the case. But in the way that you need to be taken care of and adored fondly.

Harry was pulled out of his trance when Harris returned with an armful of suits, calling Harry to the dressing room. Harris helped him with trying them on, all of them being breathtaking.

You had gone into your dressing room with Harris’ assistant helping you put on your gown. You were never one for flash at events, so you asked for a simple black gown with some red detailing, red being your power color. You wore red lipstick or a red pair of heels to every event, so people would be expecting it.

You had walked out as did Harry and he was frozen. The black gown had off the shoulder straps and a sweetheart neckline, showing off your silky decolletage. It had a hip-high slit on your left leg showing off the delicious meat of your thigh, your heels making your legs look even longer. It was form fitting around the torso and hips with the fabric draping beautifully around you, cascading softly around your feet. The bottom of the gown and around the bust was detailed with delicate red stitching, creating a floral design.

And you couldn’t take your eyes off Harry. His suit was the same blood red as your stitching. The floral details of his suit were stitched in black and he had a black button up underneath with the top few buttons undone. Harris had already pinned the suit so it fit him perfectly. His thighs looked strong and thick, his shoulders broad. He was exceptionally handsome.

Harris squealed with how amazing you both looked and you matched without it being obnoxious. Harris walked you to the platform so he could do his final fitting on you. You and Harry couldn’t stop looking at each other in the mirror, the eye contact being strong and unwavering. The only thing that pulled you out of your trance was when Harris called your name to tell you he was done with you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After getting back into your work clothes, you kissed Harris goodbye and Harry shook their hand. You told Harris that Derek will pick up the garments Saturday morning before the event.

Harry held the door open for you and let you walk on to the sidewalk first. You started pulling out your phone to check it, quickly turning off the screen before looking up at Harry.

“Do you need a ride? I walked here from my office but it isn’t far, I can drop you off.” You stood there waiting for a response and he was taking too long for your taste.

“Well come on then, I’ll take you wherever you need to go.” You started walking with a purpose, pulling out your phone again to give Derek a heads up of your plans. Harry quickly jogged to catch up with you.

“Thank you. Um, could you drop me off at campus?” You looked back up and smiled with a nod.

“Of course.”

When you got to the parking garage, you hit your key fob to unlock your car. You had a nice black Audi that you gracefully climbed into. Harry was treating it like a work of fragile art, not wanting to touch anything. You noticed that he was admiring your car, causing you to smile. “Are you a car kind of guy?”

“Um, yeah. I suppose. I know a pretty car when I see one.”

This caused you to giggle. “I may have another event for you then. One of my colleagues has vintage cars that he submits to a car show, he asks me to go every year. Maybe I’ll go if I have you by my side.”

Harry beamed at the idea, “I would like that.”

“It’s in the Hamptons so I would have to steal you for a couple of days. I have a beach house there. That’s if you don’t mind, of course.”

Harry had the opportunity to go to the Hamptons to spend a couple of days with you? How could he say no to that fantasy.

“That sounds great, just tell me when and I’m there.”

You started your drive to Colombia’s campus when you felt the need to talk about the one factor of this you had yet to approach.

“How would you like me to pay you? I can write a check or direct deposit if you would like.” You give a quick glance over to him while at a red light and you see him adjusting in his seat.

“Um, whatever is easier for you.”

“I think it will be more discreet if I direct deposit. I will give you my number and you can text me your bank information. I will be sure to delete it and would never do anything other than deposit money to you.”

He nodded in agreement, not that he was worried that you would take money from him. Not that he had a whole lot of money to his name.

You pulled up next to the campus and asked Harry for his phone to put in your number. “Whenever you get the chance, text me the information.”

“I will, thanks.” He stepped out of the car, slung his backpack over his shoulder and began to walk to campus.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry got home and relaxed for a bit, wrapping his head around the day. He got fitted for a gorgeous designer suit, rode in an Audi, and got invited for a long weekend in the Hamptons, all by the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

He finally sat up and began to dig through his piles of papers on his counter to find his bank information. He quickly texted it to you, double checking the numbers were typed out correctly. He set the phone down and went to hop into the shower.

When he stepped out with a towel around his waist and another in hand roughly drying his hair, he picked up his phone and saw a notification from his bank.

Direct deposit of $5,000.

He stared at the screen for an undetermined amount of time before going to his contacts and calling you.

“Hello, this is Y/N.”

“That is way too much, you don’t have to do that, please just —”

“Harry, it is my money and I do as I please. You are doing me a huge favor and you will be with me for a full evening. Plus, you have to deal with a bunch of assholes, it’s the least I can do. Now, don’t ever question my decisions again, okay? My assistant will drop off your suit on Saturday morning. Please text me your address so he can do so. Have a good rest of your day.”

The line went dead, Harry was still in shock. He has never seen four digits in his bank account before and it happened in the blink of an eye. He decided to text you his address and asked no more questions.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry was pulling on the perfectly tailored suit jacket and ran his hand through his hair one last time before spritzing on his cologne when there was a knock on his door. He walked over to open it, seeing a man in a black suit that he has never seen before. The man gave Harry a nod and he began to walk to the stairs. Harry quickly grabbed his keys and phone before following the unnamed, eerily quiet man.

When Harry reached outside, there was a black SUV with dark tinted windows. The uncanny man opened the back door, exposing you looking down at your phone. Harry gasped when you looked up at him, lips painted red, flashing him a dazzling smile.

“Well, don’t you look handsome.” You scooted over so Harry could climb in. He honestly couldn’t help himself, but he had to stare at you. You had your legs crossed, left leg over your right, exposing the full skin of both of your legs due to the slit on the left side. His mouth began to water looking at the soft glow of your legs.

“So, I apologize in advance if some wives try to take you home with them tonight. Those old hags probably haven’t been screwed properly in ages since their husbands waste their viagra on some girls who want their money.”

Harry raised his eyebrows at you with a smile growing across his lips, “Why do I feel like you're not kidding?”

“Oh,” you let out a scoffed laugh, “because I’m not.” You look back up from your phone to gaze at Harry, “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” You send him a wink, causing him to blush.

He beams back at you, “My hero.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As you enter through the doors of the banquet hall, arm laced through Harry’s, you begin to get the urge for a cigarette.

You see previous partners to your company; ones that moved on to bigger and better things, others who screwed you over and you cut ties with. You see the old men that hit on you and the wives that stare daggers into you. They all told you that you weren’t going to make it and you proved them all wrong. Though some think you did it with a little help from what is between your legs or your harlot red lips.

You really need a cigarette.

You see Claudia standing across the way, holding out two champagne flutes for the both of you. You gently tug Harry with you, taking in how he is observing the room. He has an air of professionalism to him that can only come naturally; he’ll be a great business man.

“Knew you would pick this one! Had to save the best for last.” Claudia handed you both your bubbling spirit and put her hand out for Harry to shake, introducing herself and Derek.

“I need a cigarette and a stronger drink than this to get through the night.” You quickly downed the liquid, placing the glass on a nearby table, excusing yourself to the terrace.

Harry followed you out a few moments later, holding a rocks glass out to you. You smiled up at him reaching for the glass and taking a sip before handing it back to him so you could take a long drag. “Thank you.”

He leaned over the banister of the terrace to look out over the city, taking his own sip where your red lips had left their stain. You found it slightly erotic how he licked his lips after touching your mark, as if he had decided to take his sip at that specific part of the glass on purpose.

“So tell me, shall I be talking you up in there? Should be easy for me.”

You reach for the glass he is rolling between his fingers, taking another sip, “And why is that?”

He took the cigarette from between your fingers, admiring the vibrant stain before placing it between his own lips, slightly squinting his eyes as he took a drag. “I’m quite infatuated with you. I’ve followed your work from the start, wrote some papers on your business plans.”

You raised an eyebrow and watched him, studying his features that softened as the left side of his lip began to upturn, indenting his cheek to an adorable dimple. “To be completely honest? I started to follow you because I was terribly attracted to you. I saw you on the front of a magazine and…” he pursed his lips out with a smirk before he chuckled at himself. He looked up at you with his boyish charm before he stood back up and took his drink from you again.

“Oh, Harry, thought about me when you were lonely?” You gave him a false pout that grew into a smile.

He finished his drink before looking back at you, “Still do.” His smile and eye contact were never wavering as he stamped out your cigarette for you and took your hand to return inside.

Harry guided you to your table, hand on your lower back before pulling out your chair for you. He sat to the left of you next to another gentleman, who you had no idea what his business was. His wife was glaring at you as Harry was talking to the man, though the man was more focused on the cleavage exposed by your dress. Harry reached his hand to you, gripping onto the skin of your exposed thigh.

You could audibly hear the man whimper and his wife scoff as Harry’s thumb began to caress your skin. You could see Claudia’s smile grow as she takes a sip of her drink, watching Harry become possessive of you before her eyes. Derek caught her attention by kissing her cheek as the head speaker began his announcement for awards and donations.

As the night came to an end, you were thankful to have Harry at your side. He was holding his own, taking to other businessmen as if he had been conversing with them his whole life. He was able to talk business plans, discuss what he was currently learning in classes, he even gave a few men advice on future endeavors. To be completely honest, you were aroused by the power Harry held as he was working the room.

Harry had his arm wrapped around your waist as you walked to your awaiting SUV, holding your hand as you climbed in and he followed suit. You let out a content sigh, enjoying the silence in the car.

Harry reached across you, grabbing the back of your knee to pull both legs to rest on his lap. He gently unclasped the buckle of your heel, slowly removing it before placing it on the floor by his feet. He did the same with your other foot and began to rub his thumb up the arches.

You let out a satisfied hum at the pressure soothing your aching feet, resting your head on the window as you watched Harry focused on his work in hand.

“You did amazing tonight, Harry. Thank you.”

He looked up at you with his dimples on display, making the tightness you have felt in your stomach all night constrict even more. He looked proud, as he should.

“It was a lot of fun. Learned a lot.”

You smiled back at him, slowly blinking your eyes closed. “That old colleague I was telling you about with the vintage car show, Jack, he asked if we would like to go. It’s in six weeks if you are interested.”

“I’d love to.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the six weeks since the fundraising event, Harry had joined you on multiple smaller level events, including some work dinners and client matters.

His closest had grown exponentially in the six weeks, whether it was a suit for an event that you had purchased for him or he had found something designer he liked and he bought it with the money from his ever growing bank account, thanks to you. He has found pleasure in Gucci, also thanks to you. He has found that the luxuries he now has in his life was all in your taste, subconsciously wanting to please you.

You would comment on his attire he has purchased without your assistance, always beaming when you talk about what line it was from and how well it suited Harry. He loves the feelings he gets when you praise him.

He was packing his bag for the weekend trip to the Hamptons, having just gone shopping for some outfits for the occasion. He had also bought some things to spruce up his studio apartment, making it look more put together and modern rather than a frat boy's bedroom. Your taste even makes its appearance in his decor.

You had knocked on his door, waiting with coffee in hand for the both of you. He opened the door with a wide smile before allowing you to enter the apartment. He had his clothes neatly folded on the bed, waiting to be placed into the leather duffle bag you got him for the occasion, another ‘thank you’ on your part.

You sat on his bed, sipping your coffee while watching him put his toiletries in the matching leather shaving bag, which was also a praise gift. He was dressed in grey sweat shorts and a simple black T-shirt with his short locks held out of his face by a red bandana. He was still barefoot walking around while he was finishing up.

“Do you have the word ‘big’ tattooed on your toe?” Your ever present smile grew as you leaned closer to get a look.

Harry chuckled, scratching his jaw “I may have been drunk and did it myself.”

You shook your head with a giggle of your own before taking another sip of your coffee, leaning back in Harry’s bed.

Harry was trying to will away the semi he was sporting. He had never seen you in lounge clothes and the black leggings you were wearing were doing crazy things to Harry’s body. You were wearing your Columbia Alumni shirt, tied in a knot at the waist to show off the curves of your hips that the leggings were hugging. Your hair was up messily, making Harry want to pull it down from its restraint so that he could muss it up with his own fingers. Your Clubmaster Ray-Bans sat on top of your head and your skin looked fresh and dewy with no makeup on.

Harry took a moment in his kitchen when he was getting his hydro flask to take a breath and squeeze himself through his shorts to take away some of the ache. He’s not sure how he is going to handle a whole weekend if this is what it will be like.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You stopped at a local gas station before leaving the city. Harry offered to fill your tank while you went into the shop to get some snacks for the trip, getting your essential Swedish Fish and Redbull while Harry asked for gummy bears and orange juice.

Harry was already sitting in the passenger seat when you returned, him now having his Wayfarer Ray-Bans on; he only bought them when you said he would look good in them. He was playing on his phone and perked up when you slid in the drivers side.

You handed him his goodies while you promptly opened your bag of candy to set between your thighs and cracked open your can of liquid energy. You began your hour and a half drive to your beach house in the Hamptons. You had your favorite Spotify playlist playing through your speakers, both of you humming along.

“Want some?” Harry looked up at you confused as to what you were talking about. You smiled as you glanced over before returning your gaze to the road. “Some fishies, help yourself.” You nodded down to the bag between your thighs as you took another sip of your drink.

“Thanks.” Harry reached over, dipping his hand between your thighs that you involuntarily widened when his hand approached. He looked up at your face when he slowly dipped his fingers into the bag to grip a few red fish, reaching for the few that were closest to the apex of your thighs. He could feel your heat at his knuckles as he pulled a few gummies out, sticking his tongue out as the candy approached his lips.

You adjusted in your seat, shocked that you were turned on by a man grabbing and eating a candy. Then again, it was Harry. He has been torturing you with his good looks since you clicked on his link.

The ride was uneventful for the rest of the time, Harry watching as expensive homes, luxurious boutiques and restaurants whiz by as you enter the Hamptons and make your way toward the beach.

You pulled up to your beach house, clicking the garage door button on your phone before parking. You grab your trash and put them in the appropriate receptacles that you keep in your garage. Harry was already grabbing your bags out of the car, allowing you to unlock the door freely. You held it open for Harry, stepping into your small mud room, both kicking off your shoes before walking further into the home.

The first view Harry had was of the beach through the windows that filled the wall of your dining room. He walks past the open concept kitchen to go straight to the windows, watching the waves crash on the shore. You open the french doors that lead to your back porch that has stairs that lead down to the sandy beach. You let some fresh air waft in as you go to the kitchen to take stock of what you need to go shopping for.

Harry was still standing at the window with both your bags in hand before you went over to rub his back and grab your bag.

“Come on, I’ll show you your room.” You guide Harry past your open living room to the stairs, leading him up and to the right. “This will be your room. You’ll have your own bathroom and there should be fresh towels in there for you. I’ll be right down the hall if you need anything. I’m going to hop in the shower.”

Harry watched as you walked away, seeing you pull off your T-shirt as you were shutting your bedroom door, briefly exposing your black bralette. Harry ran his hand down his face, feeling the pulse return to his groin. He quickly shut and locked the door before situating himself on his bed, promptly pushing his shorts and briefs down his thighs, reaching for the high end lotion you placed by the bed for guests.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry had taken his own shower after relieving himself after he made a proper mess on his thighs and hand. He climbed down the stairs to the smell of curry and Elton John playing through the speakers.

“Figured we should eat a proper meal since we haven’t yet today, so I ordered some Thai.”

You both sat on your back porch, enjoying the view as you ate your take out. You chatted about the next day, telling Harry about the car show and what to expect when it comes to Jack.

“He's like that eccentric drunk uncle at the Christmas party that you love but don’t want to deal with.”

You enjoyed each other’s company, watching the sun start to set on the horizon before calling it a night and turning in.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

After waking up from a restful sleep, Harry got dressed in his running shorts and hoodie, throwing on his running shoes before walking to your room to let you know he was going to go for a run along the beach.

Your door was cracked open slightly, Harry able to see you laying on your bed. He stepped closer to the door, about to push the door open further when he heard an ever present whimper. He wasn’t sure if the noise was due to your sleep, but his question was answered when he looked at you in your detail.

Your legs were spread open, two fingers deep to the knuckle as you were laid open on your comforter. You were pumping into yourself as you had your other hand up under your sleep shirt, groping your breast and rolling your nipple between your fingers.

Harry thought he was dreaming, seeing the delicious sight in front of him. Harry couldn’t help himself but to dip his hand in his shorts to start palming his hardening member. Your whimpers going straight to his cock, the arch of your spine off your bed making his mouth water.

You looked over at your door, eyes barely open, pausing your movements briefly when you saw Harry in the crack of the door. Your eyes trail to see him pumping his hand in his shorts, thinking that you should give him a good show.

He didn’t notice that you had seen him but he did notice that your legs had spread further as you pulled your glistening fingers out of your core to rub them on your clit, causing you to moan louder. You pulled your shirt up completely to expose yourself fully to Harry, all without him knowing that you were aware of his wandering eyes.

Having him watch you work yourself got you to your brink. Your eyes were glued to his pumping which was now frantic, causing you to lose control, snapping your legs shut around your hand as you came undone. You could hear Harry attempt to muffle his grunt as he made a mess of his shorts, causing a blissful smile to grow across your swollen lips. You gently rolled your fingers around your clit, spreading your legs again for Harry to watch as you ease yourself down from your high.

The next time you looked at your door, Harry was gone.

You got out of bed with an annoyed huff, getting a shower before wrapping yourself in your robe to head downstairs to make coffee and a quick breakfast. You grabbed your plate of eggs and toast with your coffee and cigarettes, stepping out on your back porch to enjoy the air while trying to calm your aggravation.

You don’t know why you are annoyed with Harry not making a move on you while you were self pleasing, but you were. You wanted that to be the moment to break down the walls built by the pure sexual tension between you. You knew he wanted you, he had told you he had touched himself to you, and now, you had seen him touch himself to you. You were on the brink of sinking on your knees and pulling him out to prove how much you wanted him too.

Harry climbed up the stairs, all sweaty from his run as you were finishing up your cigarette. He could sense the irritation coming off of you but he wasn’t sure why. Maybe you had caught him and you weren’t happy about it. He would just die if that was the case. He sat down in the chair that wasn’t taken over by your resting feet. He noticed that you were only picking at your breakfast as he untied his shoes and kicked them off so as to not trail any sand inside. He leaned back in his seat, taking a deep breath before pulling his hoodie off, T-shirt coming off with it.

You couldn’t help your mouth watering seeing him now topless and glistening with sweat, watching his chest rise and fall while trying to catch his breath. You sat up and ripped a piece of toast before popping it in your mouth, now refusing to look at him.

“Have a nice run?” You continued to poke at your eggs, acting like you're eating them but you are just trying to occupy your eyes.

“Yeah, it was nice. Been a while since I ran on a beach.”

You hummed at his response before standing up and grabbing your things. “We will be leaving in an hour, Jack wants us to meet him at the country club before the car show.”

Harry nodded at you but you promptly walked inside, ignoring his reply before dropping your dishes in the sink and going to your room to get ready.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You knew you were being petty. You knew that he couldn’t read your mind but god you wished he could. You were just finishing your hair when you heard a knock on your bedroom door. You walked over to see Harry clad in red and white gingham trousers and a white button up with the sleeves rolled up, just sheer enough to make the outlines of his black ink. His hair was perfectly slicked back with a few curls having some definition to them. He had a look of cowardice as he tucked his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

“Looking handsome, as always.” He gave you a soft smile at the compliment before fully taking you in. You were in a white knee length sundress that had big roses printed on the fabric. Your one shoulder strap annoyingly falling down, which Harry promptly grazed his fingers against your skin to slide the strap into place.

Harry’s gaze raked back up your frame before looking you in your eyes, “You ready?”

You nodded at him, grabbing your Michael Kors wedges off your bed before walking out of your room ahead of Harry. You made your way to the mud room to switch your purses and to sit on the bench to slip on your shoes.

Harry grabbed your shoes for you, kneeling in front of you, gingerly wrapping his fingers around your ankle to slide your foot into the wedge, pulling the zipper up at the heel. He had done the same to your other foot, this time watching you watch him. He gently placed your foot to the floor before standing up straight and putting his hand out for you to help you up before walking to your car.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The car ride was silent, omitting the random questions Harry had regarding the country club and Jack. You adjusted your sunglasses after you had parked, reaching into the back seat to grab your bag. You were about to climb out but Harry gripped your wrist, pausing your motions.

“Y/N…” you looked at him as he had reached to push your sunglasses off your face to look you directly in the eyes. “I’m sorry about this morning, when I saw you. I should have left you in private but I just couldn’t help myself. I needed to see you, need to see you like that. If it ruined any type of relationship we may have, I thoroughly apologize. You should know that I never meant to invade your privacy but… fuck, I just can’t help myself with you. My body takes over when it comes to you and I am so sorry. Please, forgive me?”

You sat there in silence, trying not to smile at how cute Harry was. He was giving you the puppy eyes as his thumb ran over your wrist in gentle circles. You were pondering on how you should approach it; Do you tell him it was no problem? Ignore it and act like nothing happened? Or…

“I only got off because I saw you pump your cock watching me.” You leaned over to kiss his cheek before stepping out of the car to the entrance of the country club.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jack loved Harry. They were chatting it up outside, Jack with a cigar in his mouth and Harry with his mimosa in hand. You were ordering you both another one when Jack’s wife, Sharon, approached you at the bar.

“He’s a looker, sweetheart.” You smiled at her before telling her honestly how you met. Jack and Sharon were always supportive of you. You had been Jack’s intern at his company when you were in undergrad, Jack promptly hiring you when you were getting your masters. He taught you everything you knew and Sharon taught you how to enjoy the finer things in life, including Harry.

“Cut the shit with the escort thing and make him your man. He’s a looker, he’s smart. Jack already adores him and is calling him son. You know how hard it is to please that man.”

You looked back to Harry and Jack, both laughing at one of their dad jokes. Harry looked up to see you looking at him, smiling and twiddling his fingers in a wave. He finished his drink, prompting him and Jack to walk back inside to you girls.

Harry had adjusted the strap of your dress that fell down again and you were handing him a new mimosa, sipping out of your own glass. Harry placed his hand on your lower back, watching you as you engage in the conversation Jack and Sharon were having.

An announcement was made that the fairway was now open for guests to look at the cars. Jack quickly downed his drink before exiting like a kid being allowed free range of a candy store. Sharon promptly followed her husband as Harry guided you to follow, grazing his hand down to your bum to give it a soft rub and light tap.

Harry followed Jack around as he was explaining to Harry all the ins and outs of all the vintage cars on show. What gave them value, their rarity, what he likes and dislikes of each car. Sharon and you following behind, enjoying the sun and the wine slushies you had grabbed from a vendor.

Harry took a particular interest in a white 1966 Mercedes-Benz 230SL, stalking around it to take in the details. He smiled to the owner when they came over to talk to Harry, showing the car with the roof down.

“He’s got good taste. He’s enamored by you and the car.” Jack elbowed your shoulder, causing the strap of your dress to fall again. You looked at him as you adjusted the dress with a smile.

“How can you tell?”

“Well, I can tell he loves the car because that’s how he looks at you, doll.”

You look back to Harry, who is now sitting in the driver's seat, running his hands along the steering wheel. Harry shakes hands with the driver before walking back over to you, grabbing your slushie to take a drink himself.

You look up at him, pushing your sunglasses into your hair to take him in fully. “You like?”

Harry put his hand on your hip, taking another sip of the slushie. “She is a beauty. My dad has something similar but not as pristine.” He looked back over his shoulder to look at the car as his hand continued to rub at your hip.

“She is pretty. Looks like a pearl.” You looked over his shoulder with him to take her in.

Harry kissed the top of your head, handing back your drink before going to follow Jack and Sharon as you sneak off to talk to the owner.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You enjoyed your dinner with Jack and Sharon, catching up on your businesses as well as discussed Harry’s future plans. Jack had offered Harry an intern position at his company if Harry was interested.

Jack and Sharon wished you and Harry a good night before you went your separate ways to your cars. Sharon gave you an extra squeeze and told you to “be nice to that boy”, sending you a wink.

You climb into your car to see Harry beaming. “I think they liked me.”

You smiled back at him, “I know they like you. Wouldn't stop coming up to me to tell me how i should keep you around.”

Harry was leaning his head on the headrest to look at you, “Do you want to keep me around?”

“Should I keep you around?” You started your car and began to drive away, Harry still watching your every move. You could see him in the corner of your eye, both of your smiles growing. His hand made its way to your thigh, pushing your skirt up so that his hand could rest on your bare skin. You hummed at the warmth of his palm.

“So you liked when I was watching you?” His hand began to slide further up your dress and your legs had spread further for him, as they tend to do more frequently than not as of late.

“I loved it.”

He hummed at your response, “Do you like being caught? Dirty girl.”

You moaned and moved your left leg so Harry could touch every inch of you, you lifted the skirt of your dress to expose your lace covered core to Harry.

“Want me to finger fuck you here, dirty girl? Right in your car, while you're driving? You’re fucking filthy.”

He started to run his fingers through your folds and you tried your hardest to focus on the road. You weren’t far from your home at this point, trying to stay safe while focusing on Harry’s delicious fingers learning the dips and curves of your core.

“Should I wait to fuck you properly when we get home? Been thinking about it all day.” He unbuckled his seatbelt to get closer to you to nose at your neck. He started to dip his fingers into you as he was kissing any exposed skin.

You finally made it home, abruptly parking your car in the driveway. You undid your seatbelt, promptly taking Harry’s hand that was between your legs to plunge his fingers deeper into you. Your head tipped back as Harry’s fingers hit your favorite spot. Harry quickly made the come hither motion, rubbing his fingertips where you needed him.

“God baby… you’re my dirty girl, huh? Fucking yourself with my fingers.” Your grip tightened around his wrist as he nipped at your jaw. Your thighs began to tighten around Harry’s hand which caused him to remove himself from you. You let out a whine at the empty feeling and the pure desire that was burning in you.

You turn to Harry with lust filled eyes to see him shamelessly suck on each finger that was buried in you individually. “Going to give me a proper taste later. Aren’t you, sweet girl?”

Harry had climbed out of the car, grabbing the keys from you to unlock the door. He began to unbutton his shirt in the mud room as he was kicking off his shoes, you watched with a panting breath, still in the front seat of your car. Harry tucked his hands in the pockets of his trousers, bare chested, and gave you a nod to follow him inside.

When you finally entered your house, Harry was in the kitchen with his head in the refrigerator. He pulled out the container of strawberries and slid them onto the island. He closed the door before turning to lean on the island, popping the container open with a flick of his finger. He grazed the tips of his fingers across each strawberry, deciding which one was the juiciest berry.

“Go get in your shower. I will be there in a moment.” He gripped the stem of the red fruit, tongue grazing it’s flesh before he sunk his teeth in. He made sure to look at you as he licked his lips free of the sweet juice.

You thought that two could play at this game, standing in place as you unzipped your dress and letting it fall freely around your ankles, exposing you in your strapless bra and panties with your wedges still on before climbing up the stairs. Harry stood up straight as you began to walk away.

You quickly undressed as you started your shower, getting under the warm stream while patiently waiting. The anticipation was killing you. It felt like you had been standing under the running water for hours with Harry nowhere to be found. You decided that you would actually start your shower routine.

You were facing the water, rinsing off your face free of makeup and face wash when you felt Harry’s grip on the back of your neck. He pressed his body close to yours so that you could feel his erection on your bum and so that his mouth had access to your ear.

“What am I to do with you, filthy girl? Spent months thinking of you with your legs spread open, just for me and then you have to go and fuck yourself with not only your fingers, but mine as well.”

He used his left hand to guide yours to the wall for support while his right hand trailed down your body, immediately finding purchase between your legs. His middle finger was quick with making circles around your sensitive nub while he laced his fingers with yours against the wall.

“Dreamt about touching you,” his fingers dipped lower, grazing your glistening entrance. “Tasting you,” he began to pepper kisses along your shoulder. “Fucking you.” He thrusted his hips behind you, his hard on grazing perfectly between your cheeks.

“I’ve wanted to for so long my sweet girl, just know that it’s because I want this, not because of the job. Fuck the job honestly. I just want you, all of you.”

He gave a gentle push to your upper spine to have you lean over slightly as he grips his member, swiftly sliding himself into you and quickly gaining a rhythm with his thrusts. He was quick but not deep, causing you to press your cheek to the cold time for support. His thrusts became deeper and rougher, causing your gentle whimpers to become moans that bounced against the tiles.

Harry gripped your thigh, pulling it to spread you open further while he guided you to rest your foot on the bench of the shower. His moans were muffled by your shoulder that would have his mark by the end of this. Harry’s hand continued to rub circles on your clit, making your legs tremble and for your to lean back upright into Harry.

“Feel good baby? Fuck, you’re such a good girl taking me. Feel so fucking good.”

You could feel his hips stutter against you, causing him to roll his hips slowly into you. You let out a moan and grip the wrist of his hand that is making work on your mound.

“Mmm you like that? Going to cum for me, sweet girl? Let me feel you.” His fingers started to move in rapid figure eights, causing your leg that was propped up to quickly fall and close Harry’s hand between your thighs. The new tightness of your core with your legs closed caused Harry to moan out and still within you, feeling your orgasm throb around him.

He began to kiss down your spine so he could be on his knees. He gently gripped your hip to turn you around so you could finally face him. He looked beautiful.

As he was kissing your lower belly, you took in his wet hair slicked back, his cheeks and chest flush from orgasm, his lips red and swollen. He used both hands to spread your thighs open so that he could see his cum drip from your core. He looked up at you in awe before quickly running his finger through your folds, catching both his and your arousal. He extended his hand up to you, telling you to ‘open’ before he popped his slick finger between your lips. He let you suck his finger to your desire as he dipped his tongue between your folds, moaning at the taste of your mixture.

Harry had stood up and held your jaw before leaning in for your first kiss. He was gentle, holding both sides of your jaw as his tongue grazed your lip to allow him to taste all of you. He pressed you gently against the cool wall as he continued to kiss you breathless before pulling away and grabbing the shampoo to wash your hair for you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It had been a few weeks and you had finally received the call telling you that you could pick up a gift that you had purchased for Harry. You had bought it prior to him giving you the good news that he had accepted the internship with Jack, but he doesn’t need to know that.

You called him and told him that you were on your way to pick him up with the plan to go for a celebratory dinner. You texted him when you were out front, climbing out of Harry’s gift to lean on the passenger door to await his arrival.

When he walked out, you beamed at how handsome he looked with chartreuse wide legged trousers with a black stripe along the side and a black button up. When he turned to look at you, he was frozen.

The white 1966 Mercedes-Benz 230SL.

You lifted your hands with a ‘surprise’ and a beaming smile. You acted as if you were one of those girls on the Price is Right, explaining all the details, ending with “And she could be all yours Mr. Styles, for the price of a kiss.”

Harry climbed down the front stairs of his apartment building, still in awe of the car but quickly grabbed your face and placed multiple quick kisses to your lips before wrapping his arms around you.

“Sweet girl, you didn’t…”

“You stop. I did and I wanted to, you deserve it. You’ve been working so hard and you got the internship with Jack. We’ll be working together before you know it.”

He looked down at you and gave you a gentle smile before giving you another longer, sweeter kiss. “Shall we go for a ride?” You held the keys up for Harry, who promptly took them before opening the passenger door for you.

Harry drove around the city, following your directions to a more secluded area by a park. The sun was setting as you told Harry to park the car. You looked at him adoringly, your fingers rubbing through his growing locks.

Harry turned to look at you with that all knowing glare, “Did you bring me all the way out here just to screw me, dirty girl?”

You were already climbing across the seat to straddle his lap, unzipping the front of your dress, exposing you had nothing on underneath. You pulled Harry’s head back by tugging at his hair to look up at you. “We need to break her in, don't we?”

Harry groaned before sitting up to give you a searing kiss, his hands trailing over your exposed skin as you were kissing the skin of his jaw and neck. “We could get caught, you know?”

You pulled away, looking down upon him with a devious smirk, you began to undo his belt and zip of his trousers. “Good.”

Harry let out a moan as you dipped his hand in his trousers, pumping him lightly before pulling him out.

“Fucking filthy girl.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry was being added to all the invitations to your work events as if he were a part of you. At this point, he was. Claudia being sure that everyone knew that Harry was an up and coming businessman who was in love with New York’s finest and most beautiful businesswoman.

And everyone adored Harry. How could they not? He was charming, handsome, smart, and an amazing lover. But people didn’t need to know the last part. Well, except maybe Claudia, she was your best friend.

Harry was just as adventurous as you when it came to your intimacy. Always suggesting new things to try, always feeding your hunger. Tonight was no different.

You both had played with the idea of fooling around at a public event but never made any formal agreement. Tonight, you were invited to a gala at the Guggenheim so Harry had used it as an opportunity to fulfill your fantasy.

Harry had stopped by Harris’ to pick up both of your garments and he also stopped at Eve’s Garden on his way to your home. Harry had walked into your penthouse with the garment bags and a little black plastic bag in hand.

You were in your en-suite finishing up your bath, putting lotion on while sitting on the edge of your tub, humming along to Etta James as Lady was curled up on your vanity, licking her paw. She chirped when she saw Harry in the doorway, slinking her way to him for some loving pets.

“Hello, my sweet girls.” You beam up at Harry, rubbing the last of your lotion into your hands before standing up to give Harry a saccharine kiss, also giving Lady a pet. She would never forgive you if you didn’t.

“Thank you for picking up my dress, handsome.”

“Of course, my love. I picked up a little something else.” Harry gave you a small smirk before turning to your room, you follow suit. Harry sat on your bed, patting his lap for you to sit on.

He pulled black bag out from behind him as you sat in his lap. He handed you the bag, undoing your robe to kiss the skin of your collar. You pulled out the vibrant cube box that was nondescript. You rotated it in your hands to try to figure out what it was.

“Open it.” Harry continued to kiss your skin, opening your robe more to expose your chest to him. You opened the box to see a vibrator, a We-Vibe specifically. The box began to vibrate without you touching anything, Harry pulling his lips off your skin to show you that he is controlling it with his phone.

You let out a laugh in disbelief, “Oh, baby.”

Harry smiled at you before getting a good grip of you to lay you on the bed. “I figured we could have a little fun tonight.”

You laid on your back and spread your legs for Harry, who settled on his knees between yours. Harry had pulled the vibrator out of the box, going to the bathroom to sanitize it like the gentleman he is. He made eye contact with you on his way back to you, sucking on the vibrator as he crawled back up the bed.

He shamelessly rolled it against his tongue as his free hand ran up your inner thigh. Harry pulled the vibrator out of his mouth, hollowing his cheeks to spit on the tip of the vibrator before running it through your folds. He gently pushed it into you, watching you as you take a quick inhale.

“You okay, sweet girl?” You gave him a small nod before grabbing his hand to help him adjust it to a more comfortable position within you. Harry rubbed the tops of your thighs before leaning forward to give you a gentle kiss. “Let's get ready, hm?”

You both got up to get ready, you waddling slightly as you walked to your closet, adjusting to exciting new object between your legs. You let out a squeal when you felt it begin to vibrate.

“Just testing it!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dinner was really rough on you, Harry having his phone permanently attached to his hand under the table. You were starting to get sweaty around your hairline and upper lip trying to keep your moans at bay.

You were reapplying your signature lipstick after finishing dinner and Harry took it as an opportune moment to give you a pulsing vibrate, causing you to give a light moan as your mouth was open and your hand holding your mirror fell to the table soundly. Claudia, Derek, Jack, and Sharon all look at you as Harry tries to hold back his smile, clearing his throat and rubbing his two fingers on the tip of his nose.

“Are you alright, chickee?”

You also cleared your throat and nodded as you felt the intensity between your legs increase and the pulsing become more frequent. You closed your eyes and let out a hum, gently rubbing your lips together before suggesting you go to the bathroom, giving Harry’s thigh a squeeze.

You made your way out of the dining area, Harry quick to follow, telling your friends that he was simply checking up on you. You heard the click of his boots on the marbled floor, the vibrations being between your legs making your knees buckle as you feel Harry’s grip on your bicep to pull you in his direction.

He pulled you into a more private area that was closest to where you were, which happened to be a coat closet. He smeared his lips against yours, smudging your scarlet lips. Harry’s hand was quick to run up your skirt to pull the toy from you, promptly placing it between his lips to suck off your juices before sticking it in his inner jacket pocket.

Harry fell to his knees before you, hiking up your skirt around your waist, gripping your hands to guide you to hold the skirt up for him.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me tonight baby.” He was kissing along your thighs, “Stayed nice and quiet for me, though I hate it. Need to hear you scream for me now, darling.” Harry lifted your leg so it rested on his shoulder while his hands pinned you against the wall.

You felt his fingers tighten around your hips as his nose rubbed against your mound, pecking kisses, occasionally giving your skin a soft lick. You moan softly and look down to see Harry already peering up at you through his long lashes. “Going to need you to be louder than that, sweet girl.”

Harry sat up on his hunches to pull himself out of the restraints of his designer trousers. He lifted his palm up to you, “Spit.”

You gladly spit in his palm before he started to stroke himself, letting an unashamed moan out of the back of his throat. “Been so fucking hard for you all night. Was palming myself under the table all through dinner.”

You spread your legs further as Harry scooted closer, returning to giving you gentle kisses to your mound and lips. You could feel his moans against your skin as he was pumping himself and spreading you open with his tongue.

Your head tipped back as Harry began to dip his tongue into you, gently sucking your lips and clit individually into his mouth. You continue to let out tiny mewls, and Harry needed more.

“Louder, dirty girl. I want them to hear you in the dining room.”

“I need you to fuck me if you want me to do that, baby.”

Harry quickly removed your thigh from his shoulder and climbed to his feet. He still had a grip on your thigh, slinging it over his hip so he could simply slide into you, which was easy to do with how slick you had become from Harry’s incessant teasing all night.

You both moaned out at the feeling, finally having you full of him, just what you needed. What you both needed. You let out a loud moan when Harry started thrusting his hips into you, begging for him to go harder as you dug your nails into his suit jacket. You quickly pushed it off of him so that you could get your nails into him properly.

“Fucking hell, my dirty girl really needs me, huh?”

You nodded at him, letting out another moan that caused Harry’s hips to thrust erratically. His hand gripped your ass to pull you closer, his other hand went to your jaw, his thumb running over your ruby lips, smearing the color.

“You look so good when I fuck you baby girl.” You licked his thumb, tasting the remnants of your lipstick. You grind your hips against Harry, egging him on.

“I need you harder.” You begin to lift your other leg to wrap around Harry’s waist, him gripping your thigh and pinning your harder to the wall with his hips. He took your direction and began to thrust into you harder, hips snapping at a feverish pace. The sound of your skin slapping and your strangled moans sent Harry into overdrive, using his pubic mound to grind perfectly into your clit causing you to gush slightly around Harry’s member.

“Fuck, dirty girl. Got you squirting on me.” The look on Harry’s face was a look of awe as well as pained trying to hold back from his own orgasm. Your thighs clamped around his waist as your second wave came over you, constricting Harry causing him to come undone. Harry’s hand flew up to the wall to support the two of you as you slowly came down.

Harry kissed your cheek and jaw mumbling how perfect you are and that he loves you over and over. You grip his jaw as you unhook your ankles to plant yourself to the floor. Kissing him and praising how good he treats you, how much you love him.

“We should probably get back, hm?”

“I think that since we are both a proper mess,” he tried to remove some of your smeared lipstick with no luck, smiling down at you, “we should probably just head home.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So what happened with you and Harry last night?” Claudia had asked you as you were both eating your salads from Derek’s go-to local bistro.

“Hm? Oh, I wasn’t feeling well so he just took me home.”

“Not feeling well as in, ‘tummy not well’, or ‘he fucked you so good in the coat closet that you couldn’t walk’ not well?”

You choked on your salad, taking quick sips from your water to clear your throat.

“He said he wanted everyone to hear you and boy did we!” Claudia began to laugh, taking another bit of food and giving you a cheeky smile as you blushed.

“I wanted to check up on you, as girls do, and the next thing I know, I have my ear pressed up to the coat closet getting turned on by Harry’s dirty talk to you.” She shrugged it off as nothing as you covered your face in embarrassment.

“You told me you both are adventurous but lord have mercy. Getting everyone hot and bothered by it.”

You finally loosened up, giggling slightly as you asked her, “Did you notice how I was off throughout the night?” She nodded as she licked the piece of green hanging out of her mouth to guide it where it belonged.

“Harry got us one of those remote vibrators…”

“Oh my god! He was fucking with you all night?! I would take him in the coat closet too! Fucking hell! That’s so hot though. Was it nice? I mean clearly, but would you do it again?”

As you were about to respond, Jack walked in with Harry beside him. He looked so handsome when dressed in a more casual suit for work. His hair was growing longer and he was too lazy to shave that morning at your place before work, so he had a slight scruff to him.

“To what do we own the pleasure of you fine gentleman?” Harry winked at your cheeky remark.

“Well sweetheart, wanted you to be the first to know. Harry has accepted a position at my company and would like to discuss a business proposition with you.”

You couldn’t help but to jump up to your feet to run over and give him a hug and kiss, doing the same to Jack.

You clear your throat to appear to be more professional, which no one in the room took seriously. “So what is this business proposition that you have for me?”

Harry cleared his throat and you didn’t realize that Derek and Sharon had also made their way into your office. Harry tucked his hands in his pockets, getting a nod of approval from Jack.

“I know that our start was quite unorthodox in nature, being as you had hired me as a date to an event. That being said, I have come to learn a lot more about you than I had when I was just a simple fangirl of yours.”

You giggle at his natural joking nature but know that there is true sentiment to his words.

“I have been utterly in love with you before we even met but being with you and getting to truly know you has cemented my thoughts and feelings for you. I know that we have been official for less than a year but I don’t think I could handle another moment of my life where I can’t say that we will be each other's forever.”

You could hear Claudia and Sharon squeak and gasp as Harry pulls his hands out of his pockets, his left one holding a small velvet box.

“Y/N, my love, my sweet girl. I promise to love you and take care of you for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”

You were beaming with your eyes brimmed with tears, sniffling with a giggle. “There is only one problem.” Everyone froze in their movements, anticipating what you will say next. “I get to keep taking care of you.”

Harry let out the breath he was holding, “Fair enough.” He reached for your left hand to place the perfect engagement ring on your finger. Standing up to give you the most perfect kiss from the most perfect man. And to think that you had ordered him online.

[myonechicagoworld]

CHICAGO FIRE – RETALIATION HIT (S01E21)

Commander (Sgt. Halstead): How long was she in your apartment?

Kelly Severide: Half hour. Hour tops.

Commander (Sgt. Halstead): And how many beers did you have?

Kelly Severide: Two.

Commander (Sgt. Halstead): In 30 minutes?

Kelly Severide: First time in history anyone ever drank two beers in

                          half an hour?

Commander( Sgt. Halstead): Ms. Little stated that it was hard to

                                                 keep up with you. She felt buzzed.

Kelly Severide: That’s what happens when you drink beer. She’d

                           know since she brought the six pack over.

Commander (Sgt. Halstead): She said you tried to kiss her, but

                                                  she was uncomfortable and tried to

                                                  leave. You backed her against the

                                                  wall, leaned into her body and put

                                                  your hand on her buttock.

Kelly Severide: Unreal.

Commander (Sgt. Halstead): Care to respond?

Mouch: Lieutenant Severide is not obligated to respond to any of

              these questions, Commander. He came in good faith to

              hear the charges against him.

Kelly Severide: Actually, I faked a yawn and said I was tired and she

                          should probably get going. Because I started

                          thinking she was a little… desperate.

                                           cutscene

                                       [door buzzing]

                                        [door opens]

Police Officer (Officer Blair): You’re up, Voight.

                                   [handcuffs clicking]

                                            cutscene

Hallie Thomas: How’s Dawson?

Matt Casey: Good. Great.

                      Why?

Hallie Thomas: Don’t even pretend.

Matt Casey: Um, she’s dating young Peter Mills.

Hallie Thomas: That sneaky little bastard. Good for him.

Matt Casey: How about yourself? Seeing anybody?

Hallie Thomas: Nah, no one serious.

Matt Casey: You heard about Curtis, right?

Hallie Thomas: Yeah. Um, is Voight behind it?

Matt Casey: I have no idea. I mean, the kid was in a gang, but

                     still…

Hallie Thomas: That doesn’t make any difference in terms of

                           Voight’s case, right?

Matt Casey: Apparently there’s a dismissal hearing today, and his

                      union is pushing hard for entrapment. All I know is I

                      can’t get sucked into it again.

                                               cutscene

Hank Voight: [sighs]

                       I’m hungry. Let’s go.

                                              cutscene

                                [coffee machine steaming]

Christopher Herrmann: Drink coupons?

Otis Zvonecek: It’s called a loss leader, okay? It gets people in the

                          door. Once they’re inside, they keep spending.

Christopher Herrmann: I’m already confused, all right? It’s a bar,

                                         not the New York stock exchange.

Matt Casey: It’s actually not that complicated, Herrmann.

Christopher Herrmann: Well, we have a soft opening in a week,

                                          andwe don’t even have our decorations

                                          up yet.

Otis Zvonecek: Call it a drink special. I don’t care.

                                           [kissing sound]

Leslie Shay: Oh, marry him.

Chief Boden: Okay, everybody listen up. In light of recent events…

                       recent allegations, rather… personnel division has

                       flagged this house for sexual harassment sensitivity

                       training.

Matt Casey: [silently groans]

Joe Cruz: Uh, Chief? I think actually it’s sexual harassment and

                  sensitivity training. ‘Cause the way that you just said it, it

                  makes it sound like we have to be, uh, sensitive toward

                  sexual har…

Christopher Herrmann: All right, what the hell? This house needs it.

                                        All right, listen up everybody. CFD special,

                                        okay? Happy hour prices all night long

                                        when Molly’s opens.

                                   [murmuring and applause]

Otis Zvonecek: [groans]

                                               cutscene

Peter Mills: Lieutenant. What you’re going through ain’t right. So if

                    there’s anything I can do to help, name it. I mean if you

                    just want to grab a beer or put on some gloves…

Kelly Severide: Appreciate it.

                                       [locker door shuts]

Kevin Hadley: Hey Mills.

                                      [locker door closes]

Kevin Hadley: His shoes need shining.

                               [alarm buzzing and blaring]

(Over PA): Truck 81, Squad 3, Engine 51, Ambulance 61. Car

                  accident, 3464 Morgan Street.

Chief Boden: Casey, I just heard from the state’s attorney. Voight’s

                        out.

Matt Casey: All right.

Chief Boden: Yeah.

                                          [sirens blaring]

Chief Boden: What’s the story here?

Police Officer (Officer Sobek): We got two people stuck.

Chief Boden: What happened?

Police Officer (Officer Sobek): Driver got shot and lost control.

                                                    Word is this is the guy that shot

                                                    Curtis. Retaliation hit.

                                      [engine humming]

Kelly Severide: Looks unstable. Be careful.

Matt Casey: He’s pinned in. Foot’s stuck on the gas.

Victim 1: [screams] Oh God! Oh God! Help me, please!

                                         - title screen -

                                      [indistinct chatter]

Kelly Severide: Hey, stand clear of the car! Second victim’s

                          underneath.

                          Hang on, ma’am. We’re gonna get you out, okay?

Victim 1: Hurry, please.

Matt Casey: Driver’s got a head wound. We’ve got to get him out of

                      there.

Kelly Severide: Hey, we budge this car, it’s gonna take off.

Chief Boden: We lift the car. Kelly, you get the woman. We stabilise

                       this on the truck and get the driver at the same time.

                       Go.

Kelly Severide: Capp, Hadley, air bags and halligans!

Matt Casey: Cruz and Mills, we need bottle Jacks and cribbing as

                      much as we have. Mouch, take the center punch.

                      Herrmann, sawzall. Let’s move.

Christopher Herrmann: Got it.

Gabby Dawson: What do we got?

Matt Casey: Looks like a perforating head injury. The driver’s still

                     alive. You’re gonna have to move fast.

Gabby Dawson: We’re on it.

Victim 1: [whimpers]

Kelly Severide: Okay, help me out with this. We gotta lift it.

                          Don’t worry, ma’am. We’re right here with you.

Chief Boden: Don’t let it touch that wheel!

Victim 1: [whimpers]

Kelly Severide: Hang in there. Hang in there.

                          Watch your back.

                          All right, let’s get that board in!

Victim 1: [cries out]

Kelly Severide: Easy, easy.

                           Watch it.

Victim 1: [whimpers]

Kelly Severide: You got it?

Chief Boden: Keep her away from that wheel.

Victim 1: [whimpers]

Chief Boden: Good job, guys. Good job.

                                    [glass shattering]

Matt Casey: [grunts]

                              [engine stops humming]

Chief Boden: Pop those hinges.

Firefighter: I got it.

                                         [grinding]

Chief Boden: There you go! Get the board in now.

Leslie Shay: He’s got a pulse. Barely.

Kelly Severide: Watch his head.

                           Okay.

                           Watch it.

                           You got it?

Leslie Shay: Got it, yeah.

Gabby Dawson: Did I hear right? Voight’s out?

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Gabby Dawson: Let’s go.

                                           [siren blaring]

Mouch: You’re not doing what I think you’re doing, are you?

Kelly Severide: [sighs] What if I just meet her face-to-face and…

Mouch: Do not contact this woman, you hear me? We have a

              follow-up interview tomorrow, and we have the upper hand

              right now. Okay?

                                               cutscene

Gabby Dawson: Single gunshot to the head through and through.

                            Entrance is at the cheek.

ER Doctor: Pressure?

Gabby Dawson: 50 over 30.

ER Doctor: Get him into six.

Leslie Shay: I told you that Tara chick was bad news. Now look.

Gabby Dawson: So there’s no way that Severide could have gotten

                            a little too frisky with her?

Leslie Shay: Against her will? No way.

Gabby Dawson: Well, what’s Severide saying?

Leslie Shay: Not much. Whenever he gets this look on his face, I

                     just steer clear and let him figure it out. ‘Cause me

                     trying to fix it never does any good. She’s not gonna

                     get away with this, is she?

Gabby Dawson: Well, that’s what they said about Voight.

Leslie Shay: Ugh, crazy town. I mean, how does that guy walk?

Gabby Dawson: I don’t know. It reminds me of this joke my dad

                            once told me. Why is Chicago style pizza so

                            thick?

Leslie Shay: Why?

Gabby Dawson: Don’t worry about it.

Leslie Shay: She’s not here.

Gabby Dawson: Who?

Leslie Shay: Hallie.

Gabby Dawson: I’m not looking for Hallie.

                                      [cell phone vibrating]

Leslie Shay: Who is it?

Gabby Dawson: Blocked. Who blocks their phones anymore other

                            than drug dealers.

                                               cutscene

                                   [tapping on whiteboard]

Man 1 (Trainer): Nice slacks! Acceptable compliment? Yes, no or

                            depends?

Christopher Herrmann: I don’t think people call them slacks

                                        anymore.

Man 1 (Trainer): Oh come on, come on. No, you know what I mean.

                                              [laughter]

Man 1 (Trainer): Pants, dungarees, whatever.

Joe Cruz: Depends.

Man 1 (Trainer): On?

Joe Cruz: What part of the pants?

Man 1 (Trainer): Exactly. A female co-worker is standing in front of

                           you... ”Nice pants,” is acceptable. Walking away

                           from you, noway, Jose. And why not?

Christopher Herrmann: Isn’t it kind of obvious?

                                              [laughter]

Man 1 (Trainer): Look, I know all this new political correctness-type

                           deal is a head spinner, ‘cause it was a little more

                           loosey-goosey back in the day. I mean, hell, when I

                           first started working for the city you’d-you’d walk

                           into some locker rooms, they’d have Hustler

                           centrefolds taped up. You do that nowadays, ninjas

                           drop from the ceiling and will airlift your ass right

                           out of there.

                                              [laughter]

Christopher Herrmann: Tell me about it. When-when I started there

                                         was this guy, Eric Weinburger…[chuckles]

                                         and if it was somebody’s birthday, he

                                         would walk around with his testicles

                                         hanging out of his fly…

                                               [laughter]

Man 1 (Trainer): Okay. Okay! Look, tap the brakes, pal. That’s what

                            I’m talking about.

Christopher Herrmann: Hey.

                                              cutscene

Antonio Dawson: Voight’s got a condo in Myrtle Beach. And there’s

                              a good shot he threatens to sue the department

                              for wrongful prosecution, settles for a chunk of

                              change and then goes to play golf year round.

                              That’s according to my buddy who used to work

                              for Voight.

                              He’s dirty, but he ain’t stupid. He knows he

                               dodged a bullet on this one. And with his son

                               already doing a year, there’s no way he’s gonna

                               come after you again.

Matt Casey: That’s what they told me right before he tried to have

                      my skull cracked open.

Chief Boden: You’ll keep us apprised, won’t you, Antonio?

Antonio Dawson: Of course.

Chief Boden: Casey. Do not get drawn back into this.

                                          cutscene

Man 2 (Paramedic): Leslie Shay!

Leslie Shay: Hey, Derek.

                     What’s wrong?

Gabby Dawson: That was Voight.

Leslie Shay: What’d he say?

Gabby Dawson: He’s calling in that favour I owe him.

                            [exhales]

                                          cutscene

Matt Casey: You’re gonna call Voight back?

Gabby Dawson: [sighs] I mean I guess I have to.

Matt Casey: Want me to?

Gabby Dawson: No. No, no, no. But… that’s really nice of you to

                            offer.

Matt Casey: You let me know. And we’re cool. No matter what you

                      do. I don’t want us going down the same road we did

                      last time and not talking to each other for a month.

                      You’re too important to me for that.

Gabby Dawson: Thanks. I feel the same way. Which is why I wanted

                            to bring you in the loop. So that you didn’t think I

                            was scheming with Voight or anything behind your

                            back.

Matt Casey: Dawson, I’m serious though. You-you try to deal with

                      Voight on your own, you’ll end up in quicksand.

Gabby Dawson: Okay.

Man 1 (Trainer): Can I borrow you two for a second?

Matt Casey: [clears throat] “You look very nice today.”

Gabby Dawson: “Thank you.”

Matt Casey: “A bunch of us are gonna get some beers after work.

                      Care to join?”

Gabby Dawson: Sure, yeah. That sounds fun.”

Matt Casey: Keep going, or…

Man 1 (Trainer): Please.

Matt Casey: Okay.

Leslie Shay: Oh look, he just groped her. Did everybody see that?

Chief Boden: Shay.

Leslie Shay: I’m just saying. That’s all it takes, right?

Matt Casey: “Have you been going to the gym?”

Gabby Dawson: “Um, yeah, you know, here and there. Not as much

                             as I’d like.”

Matt Casey: “Because your physique looks really good.”

                                            [laughter]

Gabby Dawson: “Well, thank you. That’s really nice of you.”

Man 1 (Trainer): Now freeze it. Freeze it. What did we talk about

                            behavioural modifiers?

Matt Casey: I think he means stop the role-play

Gabby Dawson: Oh.

Man 1 (Trainer): Matt should not be making comments about

                            Gabby’s body. We know that.

                                     [cell phone vibrating]

Man 1 (Trainer): But Gabby should not be accepting compliments

                            about her body from Matt.

Chief Boden: Keep your radio on.

Man 1 (Trainer): Uh why don’t we break for lunch?

All: Yes.

       Sure.

Matt Casey: Thank you.

Harold Capp: Hey, candidate?

Peter Mills: Yeah?

Harold Capp: You park across the street?

Peter Mills: Yeah, why?

                    Oh! Son of a bitch!

Kevin Hadley: Oh, man.

Peter Mills: Man, right in front of the house! God!

Harold Capp: Whoa, wait a second. Wait a second. Isn’t this an

                        ’03?

Peter Mills: Yeah.

Harold Capp: I think this is the model they built with the spare

                       window.

                       Yeah.

Kevin Hadley: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Harold Capp: Hang on a second. Hold on, let me show you.

                                     [engine starting]

Peter Mills: [sighs] Ooh… [chuckles]

                    Yeah funny. Give me my keys.

                                [Capp & Hadley chuckles]

Peter Mills: That was a good one.

                    [groans]

                                             cutscene

Kelly Severide: [exhales] I just wanted to talk, you know. Human

                          being to human being.

Tara Little: I-I-I don’t want to talk about the other night. It’s still so

                   painful.

Kelly Severide: Tara, come on. We were both there. And if I said

                          something that offended you…

Tara Little: Look, IAD is pushing me to file a police report. And

                   despite what happened, I’m not interested in making

                   this a criminal case.

Kelly Severide: For what?

                          Look me in the eye. Tell me what I did.

Tara Little: But there is another option. If you apologise on record,

                   it’s called an Alford plea. You won’t be admitting guilt,

                   but we could both…avoid the embarrassment of

                   reliving this in public.

Kelly Severide: You’re crazy.

Tara Little: I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to meet you.

                                              cutscene

Antonio Dawson: I’ll take care of it.

Gabby Dawson: Look, I don’t have a problem calling him to see

                            what he wants.

Antonio Dawson: No.

Gabby Dawson: Hey. Don’t do anything crazy.

                                [alarm buzzing and blaring]

(Over PA): Truck 81, Engine 51, Squad 3, Ambulance 61.

                  Overturned tanker, Eleanor and Fuller.

                                        [sirens wailing]

Kelly Severide: Squad’s set to pull the driver out. We just need

                           engine to get some water on this fire so we

                           have some clearance.

Chief Boden: This first tank is leaking sodium hydroxide. We have

                        an active chemical spill. That is a negative on the

                        water. That’s going to spread the spill out even

                        further. We need to get foam on this fire… and

                        masks on!

Victim 2 (Truck Driver): Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey, get me out of here!

                                       Get me out!

Chief Boden: (into radio) Squad three, suit up for rescue. Call in

                        Hazmat.

                        Hang on in there! We’re gonna come and get you!

                        (into radio) Battalion 25 to dispatch, we need the

                        closest available foam engine to Bridgeport right

                        now. We are on Eleanor and Fuller.

Dispatch: (over radio) Copy that, 25.

Chief Boden: Let’s dyke off this area right now. If it gets into the

                        river, it’ll spread into Chicago.

Matt Casey: Got it. Shovels and pick axes!

                      Right here. Start digging

                                             [grunting]

Matt Casey: (over radio) Chief, where’s our foam?

Chief Boden: (into radio) We’re working on it, Casey.

Kelly Severide: Chief, if you need us to pull him out now, we’re

                          ready.

Chief Boden: (into radio)That diesel fire’s impinging on that tanker.

                       It’s getting ready to blow! You can’t go in yet.

Matt Casey: (into radio) Driver’s gonna get burned inside and out if

                     he stays in there much longer.

Chief Boden: (into radio) Where the hell is that engine?

                                       [foam spraying]

Chief Boden: Severide.

Kelly Severide: Yeah.

Chief Boden: That foam will cover up the vapors. You ready?

Kelly Severide: Yeah, let’s do it!

                           Hadley!

Kevin Hadley: Yeah!

Kelly Severide: Have the descender ready to send up the aerial.

Kevin Hadley: Uh, it-it’s new. I don’t know the set-up yet. I’ll just,

                         uh, I’ll rig up a rope and pulley.

Kelly Severide: Nah, that’s not enough. We’re gonna need the

                          descender. Ask Mills to do it.

Peter Mills: On it.

                     Let’s go.

                     Hadley, stand by.

                     Here. Take that, run it up

Chief Boden: (into radio) Mouch.

                                          [motor humming]

Chief Boden: Capp, make sure you stay tight to Severide.

Victim 2 (Truck driver): [breathing heavily]

Kelly Severide: Chemicals flooding the cab. Driver’s losing

                           consciousness.

Victim 2 (Truck driver): [groans]

Kelly Severide: Hey buddy, hang in there. We’re gonna get you out!

                          Watch your eyes!

Victim 2 (Truck driver): Okay.

                                         [glass shattering]

Peter Mills: Okay, throw me the rope bag.

Harold Capp: It’s coming down.

Kelly Severide: (over radio) Got the harness attached.

Victim 2 (Truck driver): [groans]

Kelly Severide: (over radio) Okay, pull him up!

Peter Mills: Haul!

Victim 2 (Truck driver): [groans]

Kelly Severide: Keep it going!

                          Okay, Mills, the driver’s clear.

Peter Mills: We’re good!

Kelly Severide: Let’s go, let’s go!

Chief Boden: All right. Bring him over, Mouch.

Joe Cruz: This way!

Peter Mills: Keep it going! Keep it going!

Firefighter: Keep coming!

Victim 2 (Truck driver): [groans]

Gabby Dawson: Let’s go!

Chief Boden: Good job.

Peter Mills: [chuckles]

                                          cutscene

Joe Cruz: Hope we weren’t too much of a pain in the ass.

Man 1 (Trainer): Not at all. Fully aware that you work 24 hour shifts

                           together and you see the things that you see. And

                           there should be consideration for that. You just

                           have to be careful, or you can find yourself in a

                           real predicament.

Chief Boden: Did everybody hear that?

All: We got it.

       Mm-hmm.

Man 1 (Trainer): Still using the Elkhart brass nozzles, I see. Is that a

                            75/100?

Joe Cruz: Yeah, how you know about nozzles?

Man 1 (Trainer): Ah I took the CFD exam. Back when dinosaurs

                           roamed the earth. Made it all the way through,

                           then got dinged on the last day.

Chief Boden: What happened?

Man 1 (Trainer): Colourblind.

                            What are you gonna do? It all worked out.

Christopher Herrmann: Eh, you know what’s gonna work out on

                                         my end? Molly’s bar. This thing takes off

                                         we’re gonna brand it, franchise it. We’re

                                         gonna have Molly’s Kansas City, Molly’s

                                         Des Moines…

Gabby Dawson: Easy, tiger. Let’s get this one off the ground first.

Peter Mills: Ugh…

                    Who put dog food in here?

Kevin Hadley: [chuckles]

Peter Mills: That’s funny to you?

Kevin Hadley: Relax, mutt.

Peter Mills: What did you say to me?

All: Hey! Hey! Hey!

Peter Mills: What did you say?

Chief Boden: Hey! Hey!

Kelly Severide: Take it easy!

                           Mutt? You out of your mind?

Kevin Hadley: When I was a candidate over at 38, they put menthol

                         in my underwear. What is the…

Chief Boden: No, no, no, no, what you did was so far beyond that,

                       that if you can’t tell the difference, you are dumber

                       than you look.

Kevin Hadley: [chuckles] What…

Chief Boden: I mean this house was already under a microscope.

                       You really couldn’t put that together? You are so lucky

                       Mills is not filing an incident report. Not to mention

                       knocking your teeth out.

Kevin Hadley: Did I not apologise?

Peter Mills: You don’t talk to me. I’m serious.

Matt Casey: Everybody shut up. He’s coming in.

Man 1 (Trainer): I told my boss that the course work was complete

                           here but that a follow-up might not hurt. I did not

                           mention the infraction, because it would turn into a

                           major, major deal. I’ve seen folks lose their jobs

                           over less. And in my sense, this was an isolated

                           incident involving otherwise good people.

Chief Boden: First of all, let me say thank you. And second of all, I

                       can assure you that I will deal with all of this in-house.

Man 1 (Trainer): How exactly?

Kevin Hadley: [scoffs]

Chief Boden: Look, anybody asks, I’ll tell them you wanted a

                       change of scenery. A lot of guys like to float from

                       house to house as it is.

Kevin Hadley: You know if I had known that kissing ass was the

                         way to move up in this house, I would have brought

                         some lip balm.

Chief Boden: Good luck, Hadley.

Kevin Hadley: [scoffs]

Chief Boden: Yeah, good luck.

                                             cutscene

                                 [train in the background]

Antonio Dawson: Come on.

                                       [car door shuts]

Antonio Dawson: Why are you calling my sister?

Hank Voight: I got an ethics panel over at the IG’s here in a little bit.

                       I was looking for some character references.

Antonio Dawson: Not her. You helped me out of a jam, I don’t

                              dispute that. But if you got a favour you need

                              done, you come to me man-to-man and leave

                              her out of it.

Hank Voight: I hear you left Vice.

Antonio Dawson: What about it?

Hank Voight: Working in that Intelligence unit here in the district?

                       You got backbone, Antonio. You’ve always been an

                       aggressive cop. I respect that.

                                             cutscene

Kelly Severide: And?

Mouch: You may be asked to go back in, so… sit tight.

              I told you not to contact her.

Kelly Severide: Fine. I screwed up.

Mouch: Big time. Now they’re looking into your history.

Kelly Severide: Of?

Mouch: Other women you’ve... banged on the job.

Kelly Severide: What?

Mouch: Remember Nicki Rutkowski?

Kelly Severide: What about her?

Mouch: Her name came up. Did it end bad?

Kelly Severide: No!

                          We slept together a couple times, and she went on

                          her merry way. Ask her.

Mouch: Oh they’re going to.

Kelly Severide: Unreal.

                                          cutscene

Matt Casey: The new place is very, uh… zen.

Hallie Thomas: I’m hardly here.

                                      [liquid pouring]

Matt Casey: Thank you.

Hallie Thomas: Mm-hmm.

                          To new beginnings, I guess. Right?

Matt Casey: I like it.

                                       [glass clinking]

Matt Casey: Well, uh, this is all your stuff. Just some pictures and

                      jewellery.  

Hallie Thomas: And here’s yours. Pictures and Blackhawk

                          memorabilia.

Matt Casey: I was wondering where all that went.

                     Yes!

                                        [kissing sound]

Hallie Thomas: [chuckles] You know, I found this contract that we

                           both signed after we had that argument about

                           where to spend Christmas. Do you remember it?

Matt Casey: I do. Yeah.

Hallie Thomas: [giggles]

Matt Casey: Let’s always keep the fighting clean and the sex dirty.

                                              [laughter]

                                         [kissing sounds]

                                              cutscene

                                          [coins clinking]

Hank Voight: IG office on a Tuesday afternoon, that can’t be good.

                       Just remember, squeakiest wheel always wins around

                       here.

Kelly Severide: Looks like it.

Hank Voight: You’re Benny Severide’s kid, huh?

Kelly Severide: That’s right.

Hank Voight: Ol’ Benny…

                       [chuckles] I’ll be seeing you around.

Kelly Severide: Yeah, I don’t plan on making it out to Myrtle Beach

                           anytime soon.

Hank Voight: Well, neither do I. I just got reinstated.

                                        [door closes]

                                           cutscene

Matt Casey: Where on the job?

Kelly Severide: No, he didn’t say.

Peter Mills: God, has the world gone crazy? What the heck is going

                     on?

Kelly Severide: I know. Tell me about it.

Gabby Dawson: Well, they’ll just park him somewhere behind a

                             desk, right? Let him collect a paycheck for

                             nothing. I mean if I’m CPD, that’s what I would

                             want.

Matt Casey: That’s got nothing to do with it. It’s what Voight wants.

Gabby Dawson: [whispers] Damn it. Maybe I should have just

                            played ball with him.

Peter Mills: No, absolutely not.

Gabby Dawson: But now I’m on his enemy list?

                                       [door opens]

Peter Mills: Who’s that?

Kelly Severide: Nicki’s dad.

                                    [knocks on door]

Chief Boden: Hey! Big Al!

Al Rutkowski: Hey, Wallace.

Chief Boden: [chuckles] What brings you out?

Al Rutkowski: I guess that Severide character’s got himself in a bit

                         of a pickle, huh?

Chief Boden: How’d that get on your radar?

Al Rutkowski: Well, the girl he attacked, her lawyer contacted me.

Chief Boden: Attacked? Since when do you believe everything the

                       lawyers tell you?

Al Rutkowski: [scoffs] Yeah, well, regardless, I guess they want my

                         account of events. They’re looking to establish a

                         pattern of behaviour. And I wanted you to hear it

                         from me first out of respect for our friendship.

Chief Boden: Hear what?

                                          [door closes]

Al Rutkowski: How I came here to pick Nicki up, and I saw him

                         guiding her out of that change out room after doing

                         God knows what. How she came home in tears 

                         after being over at his apartment. How she broke

                         off her engagement with a guy I happened to like.

                         And how Nicki came in and quit her job and ran off

                         to Europe and she hasn’t been able to get her life

                         back on track since.

Chief Boden: Al, I spoke to him. Nothing happened.

Al Rutkowski: No, he was screwing around with a subordinate on

                         the job. My daughter. And shame on me for not

                         having made a bigger stink of it back then,

                         because now it looks like a girl got hurt.

Chief Boden: Al, I know you’re pissed at him, but if you, as a Chief

                       in the department, if you go forward with your beef,

                       you will sink him.

Al Rutkowski: Do you really believe that he didn’t push that girl up

                        against the wall because she didn’t want to be

                        another notch on his belt?

Chief Boden: We go way back. I’m going to vouch for Kelly

                       Severide.

Al Rutkowski: Yeah, well, like I said, I want you to hear it from me.

Chief Boden: Please don’t do this.

Al Rutkowski: I already did. They have my statement.

Chief Boden: Yeah. Nice knowing you, Al.

                                [alarm buzzing and blaring]

(Over PA): Ambulance 61, fallen person. 1610 Kedzie Street.

                                         [siren blaring]

Child 1: Hurry, I think my dad’s sick.

Gabby Dawson: What’s your dad’s name?

Child 1: Terrence. I’m Patrick.

              And that’s Buddy.

Leslie Shay: Oh.

Gabby Dawson: Okay.

                                         [snake hissing]

Victim 3 (Terrence): [groans]

Gabby Dawson: Okay, see ya.

Leslie Shay: Okay, here we go.

Gabby Dawson: What was that, a pet?

Child 1 (Patrick): What about my dad? Something’s wrong with

                              him.

Gabby Dawson: [groans] I don’t believe this!

                            Patrick, how long since that snake bit your dad?

                            Patrick?

Child 1 (Patrick): My dad says not to tell anyone about Buddy.

                             We’re not supposed to have him.

Gabby Dawson: How long, sweetie?

Child 1 (Patrick): Ten minutes?

Gabby Dawson: Okay, I’m gonna call animal control.

Leslie Shay: What kind of snake is it?

Child 1 (Patrick): Rhino Viper. He got out of his cage.

Leslie Shay: We gotta go back in there.

Gabby Dawson: Bitch, are you out of your f… Dear valued

                            colleague, I strongly disagree with your

                            suggested course…

Leslie Shay: Okay, God only knows what Rhino Viper venom does

                      to a person, okay? We can’t wait on animal control.

                      He might not even have 30 minutes.

Gabby Dawson: [groans]

Leslie Shay: Patrick, hi, um, what does your dad use to handle

                     Buddy?

Child 1 (Patrick): The hook.

Leslie Shay: The hook. Come on.

Victim 3 (Terrence): [groans]

Child 1 (Patrick): Here it is.

                                             [snake hissing]

Leslie Shay: That is a longass snake.

                      [heavy breathing]

                      Here.

Gabby Dawson: Whoa! What?

Leslie Shay: You do it. I can’t. I can’t.

Gabby Dawson: [exhales] Okay, Patrick. What do I do?

Child 1 (Patrick): Dad puts the hook under him and grabs his tail.

Gabby Dawson: Mm-hmm. Grabs his tail. Right, of course

                            [exhales]

                            Hey, Buddy.

                            [groans]

                            [snake hisses]

Gabby Dawson: Oh God! Okay.

                                           [metal rod clanging]

Gabby Dawson: [heavy breathing]

Leslie Shay: We’ve got to try again.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah.

Victim 3 (Terrence): [groans & whimpers]

Leslie Shay: Just… try again.

Gabby Dawson: [frustrated groan]

                                             [snake hissing]

Gabby Dawson: [whimpering]

                            Come on. Come on.

Leslie Shay: Yes. Yes. Yes.

                                                  [thud]

Gabby Dawson: [panting] Nightmares. I will have nightmares.

Victim 3 (Terrence): [gasping]

Gabby Dawson: Okay, let’s put him in the chair and get him out of

                            here.

Victim 3 (Terrence): [struggling to breathe]

Leslie Shay: Watch the cabinet.

Gabby Dawson: Let’s go.

Child 1 (Patrick): Is he gonna be okay?

Gabby Dawson: He’ll be okay. Hop in.

                                         [ambo door shuts]

                                                cutscene

                                              [door closes]

Kelly Severide: What’s up?

Mouch: Uh, a couple things. Internally, Tara’s not gonna be acting

              on the charges.

Kelly Severide: What do you mean internally? Are the charges

                           dropped or not?

Mouch: Well, there’s where it gets complicated.

Chief Boden: She’s been reinstated as commander of operations at

                       field division headquarters.

Kelly Severide: Promoted?

Chief Boden: IAD felt an administrative post might be a better fit for

                       her.

Kelly Severide: For a liar?

Mouch: IAD lacked the sufficient amount of confidence needed to

              disprove her claim, so they wanted to move quickly to have

              this go away.

Kelly Severide: Great! Y-You know what? Make her the… Queen of

                          England, I don’t care.

                          Are-are we done?

Mouch: No. Because of Chief Rutkowski’s rather incendiary

              statement, the IG has sustained Tara’s allegations. They’re

              kicking the case up to the State Attorney’s office.

Kelly Severide: Meaning what?

Mouch: Meaning they will review it. And if they feel there’s a case,

              they’ll file charges. Criminal charges.

Kelly Severide: [sighs]

Chief Boden: You need to get an attorney, Kelly. You need to be

                        ready.

Mouch: Listen… this is not coming from me. But it was put out

              there that if you did apologise for what she’s claiming, it

              might go a long way towards…

              [sighs]

                                               cutscene

                                          [water running]

Kelly Severide: I walked her to the door.

Leslie Shay: We’re gonna fight this. We’re gonna be all right.

Kelly Severide: I don’t trust anyone in this world other than you.

Christopher Herrmann: Hey buddy. We heard. No one can believe

                                         it. Look, we’re doing our soft opening

                                         tonight. Maybe you want to come down,

                                         tie one on, be around your friends.

Kelly Severide: I’m not up for it.

Christopher Herrmann: No. Of course. All right.

Joe Cruz: Hang in there, man.

                                               cutscene

Gabby Dawson: This is it, you guys.

Otis Zvonecek: Ready or not.

Christopher Herrmann: I got jitters, I ain’t gonna lie.

Gabby Dawson: This is probably like, the craziest, riskiest, insanest

                            thing any of us has ever done.

Otis Zvonecek: And for Herrmann, that’s saying something.

Christopher Herrmann: [chuckles]

Gabby Dawson: But if nothing else, I have had so much fun

                            spending all those days off and all the wee hours

                            building Molly’s with you guys. And I know that

                            you guys have heart because I saw it when you

                            put it in the business, and I just want you to

                            know that I consider you guys family. You’re my

                            brothers.

Christopher Herrmann: Wow. You’re beautiful. I know it’s been a

                                         tough couple of shifts for everybody. But

                                         that is why this place is gonna rock

                                         tonight. Because we’re gonna put aside

                                         our worries, and we’re just gonna have a

                                         good time.

Otis Zvonecek: Amen.

Gabby Dawson: Amen.

Christopher Herrmann: Amen.

Gabby Dawson: To Molly’s.

Christopher Herrmann: To Molly’s.

Otis Zvonecek: Does it sound like we’re saying “tamales”?

Christopher Herrmann: What? Who cares? This place is gonna

                                         rock!

Otis Zvonecek: I hope so, ‘cause I’m a little concerned about the

                           number of hits we’re getting on Facebook.

Gabby Dawson: Oh my gosh.

Otis Zvonecek: Not as much traffic as I want. Not to mention…

Christopher Herrmann: Will you please celebrate the moment, for

                                        God’s sake.

Otis Zvonecek: To Molly’s.

                                              [glass clinking]

                                                  cutscene

Peter Mills: [grunts]

                     Come on, another one.

                     All right, another one.

Kelly Severide: [grunts]

Peter Mills: Throw it out!

Kelly Severide: Unh! Unh!

Peter Mills: Come on! Come on. Come on man.

Kelly Severide: [grunts]

                          [laboured breathing]

                          [spits]

                                               cutscene

Christopher Herrmann: Are you guys good?

Crowd/Customers: We’re great!

                                  All right.

                                       [chatter & laughter]

Christopher Herrmann: Who is this guy?

Joe Cruz: That’s my Uncle Zoozie!

Leslie Shay: Hey, so I cannot stop thinking about Tara being

                      promoted?

Gabby Dawson: Oh, she is a bureau bitch now. We’re never gonna

                             see her.

Leslie Shay: Oh, if I do, I’m gonna drop her. Not joking.

Joe Cruz: Good to see ya.

Hallie Thomas: Thanks.

Matt Casey: Hey.

Gabby Dawson: [clears throat]

Leslie Shay: When did that happen?

Gabby Dawson: Good for them.

Leslie Shay: [sighs] Oh, yeah…

                                             [door closes]

Christopher Herrmann: [laughs]

                                         Cop walks into a bar…

                                              [chatter dies]

Hank Voight: Wow. It’s a nice place. Congratulations.

                       [chuckles] Chief.

                       [exhales] Listen, there’s…there’s been a lot of bad

                       blood between cops and firemen in this district.

                       Since we’re all gonna be working together, I want

                       to be the first to put it all behind us.

                       This round’s on me.

Gabby Dawson: So what was that about?

Antonio Dawson: You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.

Gabby Dawson: What?

Antonio Dawson: He was promoted to Sergeant, and he’s running

                              the Intelligence Unit.

Gabby Dawson: You’re in the Intelligence Unit.

Antonio Dawson: Don’t I know it.

Hank Voight: I want to apologise. To you both. It got way out of

                       hand. You know, as it turns out my son needed to

                       hit rock bottom. Prison has certainly provided that.

                       I just want to say I’m sorry. And I am looking forward

                       to working with you, Lieutenant.

                       [sighs]

                                                       - end -

Definitions:

Bottle Jacks – Have a capacity of up to 50 tons and may be used to lift a variety of objects

Hustler – Prostitute

IAD – Internal Affairs department

Alford plea – Guilty plea in criminal court, whereby a defendant in a criminal case does not admit to the criminal act and asserts innocence. Defendants usually enter an Alford guilty plea if they want to avoid a possible worse sentence were they to lose the case against them at trial. It affords defendants the ability to accept a plea bargain while maintaining innocence

Dyke – a ditch

Descender – The descender or “descent control device” is another important element of a bailout kit selection. They are used as friction brakes when descending a rope in a rescue situation

IG’s – Office of Inspector General (I believe)

Rhino Viper – Small doses of the snake’s primarily hemotoxic venom can be deadly. This venom attacks the circulatory system of the snake’s victim, destroying tissue and blood vessels. Internal bleeding also occurs. In only a few detailed reports of human envenomation, massive swelling, which may lead to necrosis, had been described.

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

Correspondence, Chapter 03

Pairing: HotchReid

Summary:  An AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email referred from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. They know nothing about each other, but they don't really mind.

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventually)

Chapter CW/notes: Mentions of alcohol, a very long conversation happens where Hotch is a little buzzed. Big, BIG focus on their age difference, and unintentional misinformation. Spencer has no idea Hotch thinks he’s older, or at least not OLD older, and gets a little panicky/clams up -- and yes I realize Hotch could just background check him and find it out but he respects the man enough to not do that. The chapter is linear, it just encompasses a lot of time passing so hopefully that’s not too confusing. Set in season 6, self beta’d.

Word Count: 5025

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link

--

Chapter 03

--

Early September 2010

--

And so, it begins.

The dynamic shift, the vast change in how Hotch and Dr. Reid had been corresponding for the past few months. Evolving from something so professional and academic to something… looser. More freeing. More room for error, of course, but the risk turns out to be more than worth it for what they gain.

The texts are sporadic, at first. Short interactions, here and there, all stemming from that first, longer conversation about Jack. Hotch follows up the very next day, after he gets to talk to his son in the morning over pancakes. Jessica hovering nearby the whole time. She had apologized for her harsh words, and commended him after the fact how he’d approached Jack on the subject and led the little boy into a conversation rather than a lecture like his teachers had done. Because, as Spencer had mentioned -- there was no need for one. Jack already had the situation handled.

[]6/4, 12:39[] You were right. 

[]6/4, 12:39[] He invited the kid that was bullying him over for a playdate. Trying to win him over by killing him with kindness.

[]6/4, 12:43[] My kind of kid. 

[]6/4, 12:44[] You’ve taught him well, Hotch.

And that was it. That was all it took to kick off what turns into a frequent occurrence. Slowly, as time passes, their quick texts turn to conversations that naturally revert to work. It’s where they spend most of their time, after all, and what they had bonded over in the first place. But unlike in their emails, it isn’t just about the cases or profiles or statistics required to crack them. It’s much more opinionated than that, erratic in it’s content and frequency. Commentary on Hotch’s team, ideas on the cases they work, case studies and research projects and sometimes even just office gossip that somehow always makes its way to Hotch’s attention despite everyone trying to keep it from doing so.

Or just Dr. Reid observing their antics. This is the beginning of the tonal shift, and Hotch can’t help but think… it just might be a welcome one.

[]6/12, 10:03[] Your tech analyst always sends me rainbow font emails.

[]6/12, 10:07[] Yes, she’s doing that with everyone on the team. It’s Pride month and she’s being supportive.

[]6/12, 10:11[] She considers me a part of the team? How sweet of her.

[]6/12, 10:12[] You are, and as far as the bureau goes you might as well be.

[]6/12, 10:13[] I doubt I could sneak you into payroll, though.

[]6/12, 10:21[] I bet Ms. Garcia could.

[]6/12, 10:28[] Don’t. Say. Anything.

[]6/12, 10:29[] But yes, she could. 

It turns into a small reprieve, for Hotch, in the constant deluge of bureaucracy and violence that fills his work day. The single moment he allows a sliver of himself to appear through the cracks of his armor he has to wear to guard himself from it all. To be the stoic leader the team needs, the unmovable tree in the storm.

Only in his quick, typed under the table conversations he has with Spencer does he allow himself the slips of humor. Barely there traces of a smile. Finding the smallest spots of light in his dark days, in his work that can surround and consume to the point of suffocation. Hotch thrives in it, he always has -- while others have drowned. But he doesn’t mind finding this small self-indulgence. Making the decision for himself that he can joke and poke fun at his work and not feel guilty about it. That, for once, he can allow himself this.

Until one day, Spencer returns the favor -- and starts talking about his own work.

[]7/21, 16:17[] If I leave all of my Ph.D. applicants in a ditch in the desert, is that still murder?

[]7/21, 16:30[] Technically or hypothetically?

[]7/21, 16:34[] Different question, would you be my legal council if I snap and it happens anyway?

[]7/21, 16:37[] Of course.

[]7/21, 16:38[] But as your attorney, I have to advise you that we never had this conversation, and murder is wrong.

[]7/21, 16:40[] Hypothetically. 

Spencer takes a little longer to open up, but when he does it is through this window into an academic world Hotch had never planned or thought he would ever be privy to. He begins to reveal pieces of it, bit by bit, until Hotch starts to form a picture in his mind of what shape this professor’s life really takes. Making deductions based on his speech patterns, what goes on throughout his day, his word choices, and profiling the man through text message without even meaning to. 

He tries to put a stop to it as soon as he realizes this. Dr. Reid isn’t just a consultant anymore, he is his friend -- and Hotch will always do his utmost to not profile his friends. But it’s a little too late for some aspects that can’t help but stand out as time goes on. Such as the inkling that the other man probably isn’t senile with a cane and a stooped back, like Hotch had first thought. Certain parts of his day allude to someone who is a bit fresher to the academic scene -- instead of spending decades on a college campus. 

But Hotch sets that aside, to be scrutinized at a later date, and instead turns his focus into enjoying what Spencer has to offer him. As his friend. The stories he shares freely, now that they’ve spent all this time breaking down the barriers. He regales Hotch with his own daily problems, grievances, as well as the little bright spots that he just wants to share with Hotch so that it can lighten up his own days. Which were much more bleak, and crowded with danger and horrid things. 

Hotch lives for those messages.

[]7/28, 20:42[] So I have a godson.

[]7/28, 20:44[] He’s four, and he just came to visit last week with his mother. Have you and Jack ever done science experiments at home? 

[]7/28, 20:46[] Because I have some that are definite crowd pleasers. Do them right, you can call them ‘physics magic’. I can send you the instructions, it’s well worth it.

[]7/28, 20:47[] I’m not sure how helpful I would be in a scientific area, but I’m always willing to try.

[]7/28, 20:49[] I’d require video evidence of it, then. 

[]7/28, 20:50[] But they are so fun, I’d forgotten how much.

[]7/28, 20:51[] No children of your own?

[]7/28, 20:54[] Never found the right person, but I always spent so much time on my degrees that I hadn’t really thought about being a parent. 

[]7/28, 20:55[] My Godson really brought it to light, though. I love having him here.

[]7/28, 20:56[] I bet he loves when you come around, or when they get to visit you, too.

[]7/28, 20:59[] I work in a science lab, with lasers and telescopes bigger than my first apartment. My approval rating is pretty high when it comes to my godson. 

Although Hotch finds that he doesn’t always start these interactions, the ones that lead to topics outside of work, he also isn’t against them in the slightest. They begin to start messaging at all hours, because of this; first thing in the morning, during their lunch break, whenever something pops up -- what used to be jokes that would just be kept to themselves, turn to conversation starters. And that development shifts the dynamic even more.

[]8/11, 10:31[] Coffee shops always make me feel old, and like I’m a grad student all over again.

[]8/11, 10:38[] You don’t have a T.A. to run and get you coffee?

[]8/11, 10:41[] Of course you would send out for coffee.

[]8/11, 10:42[] Well my order is two steps, not sixteen.

[]8/11, 10:43[] Tyrant.

[]8/11, 10:43[] Pretentious.

They start to tease, banter, and poke fun at each other. Comradery, friendship, and the more it goes on the more it seems to spiral towards something else. Something new.

But it’s these small moments, messages, conversations that can last a minute or an hour, that make Hotch’s chest feel so much lighter as the weeks go by. Hints of a smile easing onto his face, smoothing out and softening the edges in a way they haven’t in a long time. Garnering some attention from the rest of the team, or whoever is in the vicinity that felt brave enough to mention it.

“Who are you talking to?”

“Who’s the lucky lady?”

“No one,” Hotch would answer, schooling himself and pocketing his phone. “Just a consultant on a case.”

-

This is how it goes… for months. 

They never speak on the phone. Never even hint at video calls. Never send pictures. (Although Spencer does make a mention once or twice about that promised video when Hotch finally gets around to attempting the ‘physics magic’ experiment he’d emailed him. Hotch secretly hopes that maybe, one day, Spencer will just get to show them in person. Instead of Hotch having to record it for anyone to witness.)

But they talk like clockwork. Play chess on the regular, allowing them to talk more fluently with a laptop to aid the flow of conversation. It starts with once a week, then twice a week, standing dates after hours that meld so seamlessly with their messages every workday. They keep it to the weekdays, at first, since Hotch is busy with Jack on the weekends. But that doesn’t last long. Suddenly, without warning -- it becomes every night as well. That shift is such an organic, natural progression, that it slips in without either of them making comment on it. A silent agreement, because mentioning it would mean admitting why they were pushing this in such a new direction. 

They just… missed talking to each other. Two days was too long. 

Now, it’s every day.

They text for hours; check in on each other at random throughout the day even when Hotch is on cases or Spencer is busy with his duties as the leading doctoral expert of Caltech. Times when they should be swamped, unavailable to anything other than their primary focus and work load, still littered with short messages. Before and after each flight, when Hotch gets back to his hotel at night, when Spencer has to lecture out of town and they just so happen to be passing each other during travel -- mere states away. So close, yet so far. It’s all the time, it’s constant, and it’s wonderful.

Spencer still helps with cases. Often, even more often than he ever helped the L.A. field office. But it’s not always through email, anymore. Sometimes it’s just easier for Hotch to shoot him a quick text. A detailed message in the middle of their everyday banter and dribble but no less out of place, knowing the good Doctor will answer him quickly. Time is of the essence when they are on a case, but they are always on retainer for each other. Waiting in the wings, ready to jump in with quick, snappy wit and bitten-back smiles, and Hotch feels so good. So light. Better than he has in years. 

Happy. 

Hotch is happy, finding a friend in Dr. Spencer Reid, even if sometimes that friendship seems to transcend layers he didn’t know were there. Developing into something else, something he hadn’t touched in a long, long time. 

Months pass. Months. Like a blur. Like they’ve only just started this thing that’s anticipatory and comfortable and flexible in its medium and that is so easy -- everything Hotch needs in his life -- that he can barely imagine what his days and nights were like before this. Before Spencer. 

But it’s months into this correspondence, this charged and bright thing, that he’s home late one night with a Scotch in one hand and a losing game of online chess long forgotten on his laptop screen. Lost in messaging Spencer, back to his phone instead of the chat feature of the chess game. Because texting is their comfort zone, now. He never thought it would be, had seen teenagers and adults attached to their phones like a lifeline and used to scoff about it, but he finally has begun to understand. 

Because here he is -- not even looking up when he takes a drink -- lost in his conversation with Spencer. Making each other laugh, in a way he hasn’t in so long. Loud and high and afraid he might wake Jack down the hall so he stifles it with another sip of his Scotch.

[]9/8, 21:12[] If Jack wakes up, you know that’s it for us. He’ll never go back to sleep.

[]9/8, 21:13[] Then stop laughing so loud. I honestly can’t imagine you laughing enough to wake him.

[]9/8, 21:14[] Usually I don’t. I never laugh like this, but I used to.

[]9/8, 21:16[] Mr. FBI isn’t allowed to laugh, I thought. Didn’t they beat that out of you at the academy?

[]9/8, 21:19[] I was able to retain a smidgen of humor, it’s well hidden. You just seem to bring it out more than others.

[]9/8, 21:20[] I’m flattered. 

[]9/8, 21:20[] You should be. 

[]9/8, 21:21[] If my team saw me crack a smile I’d probably be forced to get a CAT scan.

[]9/8, 21:23[] Do you need one? I have an M.A. in Cognitive Sciences, I’ll be your second opinion.

[]9/8, 21:24[] Probably, but I’ll live.

[]9/8, 21:25[] Very stiff upper lip of you. They teach you that at the academy, too?

[]9/8, 21:26[] No, that would be Scotland Yard. I liaised there for a while.

[]9/8, 21:28[] Wow, you get around. Have you been anywhere else on your global exploration?

[]9/8, 21:31[] Hardly that, I just go where the bureau tells me. I’ve already been bounced all over the country before landing at the BAU. All you can do is keep the ‘stiff upper lip’ and adapt.

[]9/8, 21:31[] “Keep Calm & Carry On”?

[]9/8, 21:33[] Garcia gave me that on a mug last Christmas. I still don’t know what it’s from.

[]9/8, 21:34[] Your age is showing. Get with the times, old man.

[]9/8, 21:35[] You’re one to talk.

[]9/8, 21:35[] What?

Hotch bites back a smile, thinking about how for months he had been so sure Spencer was this elderly professor in his 60’s or 70’s that just happened to find their conversations interesting. That was… very apparently wrong, Hotch can see that now, but he hadn’t had any evidence to the contrary for the entire time they corresponded those first few months. 

He could have done a background check on the professor at any time, is sure Garcia already has one saved in a file ready to send him at his first request, but it’s more fun this way. The not knowing, the learning about each other piece by careful piece. Even the smallest bits of information, such as age. 

He bet Spencer would get a kick out of his first impression of the man, though.

[]9/8, 21:37[] Oh come on, you know.

[]9/8, 21:39[] No, I actually don’t. Congratulations, you’ve stumped the super genius.

[]9/8, 21:39[] But really, what do you mean?

[]9/8, 21:42[] I always just assumed you are at least ten years my senior, maybe even fifteen. How are you more with the times than I am?

[]9/8, 21:43[] I work at a University. I am surrounded by hormones and the dribble of youth.

There’s a slightly lengthy pause after that exchange, enough Hotch starts to pay closer attention through the buzz of liquor settled over his skin pleasantly.

[]9/8, 21:49[] How old do you think I am?

[]9/8, 21:50[] I don’t know, is it rude if I answer?

Hotch is not laughing to himself, he promises. 

[]9/8, 21:52[] Why do you think I’m older?

[]9/8, 21:53[] This feels like a trap.

[]9/8, 21:53[] It’s not.

[]9/8, 21:56[] Well, honestly just from your academic achievements. Not everyone has that kind of time. And all your departments you run, you have to have a pretty level head and knack for maturity to keep that all in order. Especially doctorate students. 

[]9/8, 21:58[] Thank you, I think.

[]9/8, 22:00[] I bet you’re the coolest old man on campus, though, don’t get me wrong.

Hotch does outright laugh after he sends that, manages to keep it a little bit quieter, and commends himself on having the upperhand in the conversation for once as he stares at his phone for a few minutes, awaiting an answer. 

If he had to guess, Hotch supposes he’s held on to that stubborn image of Spencer being a stooped old professor out of habit. But the more the two have talked, after he'd gotten to know the man and his written verbal expressions and just the way his life runs day to day, it’s pretty easy to see that that is not correct. Spencer could be someone around Dave or Jason’s age, but more likely even younger than that -- closer to his own. 

And that… is an intriguing thought that sparks something in his chest. He smothers it with another sip of Scotch and realizes that it has been a solid five minutes of silence. With Spencer not even typing out a response.

[]9/8, 22:06[] Was it something I said?

[]9/8, 22:07[] No, I’m just… contemplating my answer.

[]9/8, 22:07[] Answer to what?

Hotch hasn’t drank that much, but he doesn’t believe he asked a question at all. He scrolls back through their conversation and doesn’t see one. Spencer has asked a good handful, though, all about Hotch’s perception of his age. 

Interesting.

[]9/8, 22:09[] Respond, not answer.

[]9/8, 22:10[] I’m all turned around now.

[]9/8, 22:12[] Flustered in your old age? Now I’m flattered. 

This is almost like flirting. Skirts the edges of it, and Hotch feels more emboldened to try the more Spencer tap-dances around what is obviously Hotch’s incorrect assumption of his age. He had had no idea Hotch thought he was older, that is apparent, and it’s throwing the other man for a loop for some reason Hotch can’t ascertain. 

[]9/8, 22:15[] I’m not old.

[]9/8, 22:15[] I’m not even older than you.

[]9/8, 22:16[] And how do you know that?

[]9/8, 22:17[] Just trust me on this.

[]9/8, 22:17[] Well, how old are you?

Another long, lengthy pause that Hotch waits for with baited breath. He knows that Spencer is there, that he’s staring at his phone and trying to decide the best way to answer without really answering anything. It’s only a matter of minutes, but that is a long time for them. When they are deep in a conversation like this.

Hotch isn’t laughing to himself anymore, but he’s more pleasantly confused than worried. He really has no idea what is making Spencer so hesitant.

[]9/8, 22:22[] Spencer?

[]9/8, 22:25[] I’m not going to tell you.

[]9/8, 22:26[] What, you want me to guess?

[]9/8, 22:28[] You’ll never guess.

[]9/8, 22:29[] That sounds like a challenge. How many guesses do I have?

[]9/8, 22:31[] None. Listen, I don’t want you to know. I shouldn’t have said anything.

[]9/8, 22:33[] I’m afraid it’s going to change your perception of me, and we’ll stop talking like this.

[]9/8, 22:34[] Just keep imagining me with wrinkles and a cane, I’m okay with that.

That drops the small smile right off his face.

Hotch is… surprised by this turn of events. What could be so shocking about this that Spencer thinks they would stop talking to each other? They’re corresponding every night. How could he possibly stop on a dime like that?

It doesn’t make any sense. And that’s not the alcohol talking.

[]9/8, 22:37[] I honestly don’t see how that would be possible.

[]9/8, 22:39[] I’m not going to stop talking to you just because you aren’t the senior professor I imagined running Caltech with an Iron Fist.

[]9/8, 22:40[] Now you’re projecting. 

[]9/8, 22:40[] You saying I’m too strict?

[]9/8, 22:41[] Tyrant, I think was the term I chose. 

[]9/8, 22:42[] Pretentious.

[]9/8, 22:44[] But Spencer, unless you are somehow underage with five Ph.D.’s, there’s no reason for us to stop talking. 

[]9/8, 22:47[] You would not believe how many people treat me like I'm underage, to this day. So that doesn’t inspire confidence.

Hotch pauses with his glass halfway back to his lips, only a few sips left in the glass. Staring at his phone and struggling to make sense of what Spencer is saying. Hotch had been trying to joke and tease with him, but now the word ‘underage’ feels like a glaring beacon of a word on his screen. 

He’s very suddenly more than a little nervous, even through the haze of alcohol. He is 45 years old, no matter what he keeps telling Spencer -- there is a limit to this being appropriate or not. What that limit is, he’d have to consider when he’s more sober, and it makes him feel like he should be reigning in the flirtatious notes that keep worming their way into the conversation. 

But it’s not actually possible for him to be that young, and everything he’s learned about the man indicates he’s closer to his own age. Was he in his 30’s? Even that felt too young for what Hotch had (subconsciously) profiled -- no, it has to be something else. 

No matter what, he didn’t want to keep getting Spencer worked up like this about it. His age hadn’t bothered Hotch before that night, so maybe if he drops it they can revert back to how they’d been spending their late evening hours before this turn in the conversation. 

[]9/8, 22:50[] But I’m NOT underage.

[]9/8, 22:51[] If that needed to be said.

[]9/8, 22:53[] Can you buy alcohol by yourself?

[]9/8, 22:54[] Yes.

[]9/8, 22:54[] See this is what I was afraid of.

[]9/8, 22:55[] Relax, I was trying to tease you. 

[]9/8, 22:57[] You don’t have to tell me, Spencer. I’ll just keep picturing Sean Connery, or John Steinbeck in the later years.

[]9/8, 22:59[] I see you have a type. 

[]9/8, 23:00[] Well, who do you picture when you think of me?

[]9/8, 23:01[] Hugo Weaving, Matrix era. Or Richard Feynman.

[]9/8, 23:02[] Well now I feel typecasted. Who’s Feynman?

[]9/8, 23:02[] An American Theoretical Physicist from the 40’s-60’s.

[]9/8, 23:03[] Ouch. How old do you think *I* am?

[]9/8, 23:04[] I’m afraid to answer that.

[]9/8, 23:04[] O.u.c.h.

[]9/8, 23:06[] You’ve been borderline flirting with me, and you just said you thought I was in my 60’s! What was I supposed to think?

[]9/8, 23:07[] If you’re looking in that age bracket, I’m sure I can get you the Biology Department Head’s number.

[]9/8, 23:07[] He’s 72 with rheumatoid arthritis. 

[]9/8, 23:08[] You are hysterical. So funny.

Hotch is smiling wide down at his phone again, feeling lighter and glad he got them back on track. 

But… 

He can’t help but think back to what he just tried to drop entirely. Blame the Scotch, or whatever drive to know that makes him dig down and root out information in cold cases in his spare time, Hotch doesn’t think he can let it go. Not when it was something Spencer hadn’t meant to be a secret in the first place. Not when, knowing that it has created misinformation between them unintentionally, results in Spencer shying away and hesitant to tell Hotch anything more about himself. 

Not when he’d said ‘flirting’, because that had been what Hotch was doing, and he can’t even describe how disappointing it would be to quit while he was ahead. When the build up has been so gradual and easy and everything he’d been looking for and could never seem to find.

Now, this slight disruption is sticking in his mind, sharp like a thorn in his side. Always there, making itself known, and he wonders if he is lucid enough to try and draw the information out of Spencer via interview tactics -- or if the brilliant man would see right through any of his attempts.

Probably. Who was he kidding? Spencer had more degrees and college hours under his belt than Hotch could manage in a lifetime. Best to do this the old fashioned way, then.

[]9/8, 23:10[] 38.

[]9/8, 23:11[] Oh. Really? That’s kind of young to be Unit Chief, congratulations.

[]9/8, 23:11[] No, not me. You. I’m guessing 38.

[]9/8, 23:12[] Oh.

[]9/8, 23:12[] Incorrect.

[]9/8, 23:13[] I don’t even get a hint?

[]9/8, 23:13[] Nope.

[]9/8, 23:15[] We’re not playing a game. I’m not telling you.

[]9/8, 23:15[] So you won’t guess my age, either?

[]9/18, 23:17[] Chicken.

[]9/8, 23:17[] 45.

Hotch near throws his phone across the room. Almost makes a quip about how reading his file is cheating -- but he knows Spencer just made a stupidly accurate ‘educated guess’ because he knows fucking everything. 

They really should just put him on the payroll. Hotch is being selfish keeping the man all to himself.

But God, is he enjoying it, too.

[]9/8, 23:19[] There’s no way you profiled that with that kind of accuracy. 

[]9/8, 23:20[] How do you do that?

[]9/8, 23:21[] Black magic.

[]9/8, 23:22[] I’ll get it out of you one day, I swear.

[]9/8, 23:23[] And as a man of your word, I believe that you truly believe that.

[]9/8, 23:23[] Full of jokes tonight, aren’t you?

[]9/8, 23:25[] I live to amuse. 

[]9/8, 23:25[] And make you smile.

[]9/8, 23:27[] You are one of the few that do.

With a careful pause, nothing left in his glass, a thought perched on the edges of his mind that is already watery with cognitive dissonance, Hotch starts typing before he’s even fully made the decision.

[]9/8, 23:30[] You really think my flirting is borderline? I was going for subtlety, but I must be rusty.

[]9/8, 23:32[] Actually, I just thought I was projecting.

[]9/8, 23:23[] You were married, I didn’t want to presume.

Oh. 

The consideration is touching, and sobering even in the dimness of his home office, but it draws the softest of smiles back to Hotch’s face when he begins to type out his answer.

[]9/8, 23:35[] Thank you, for thinking of me first.

[]9/8, 23:37[] But Haley and I separated a long time before she died. We were actually divorced before she went into WICSEC. I miss her every day. But I did try to date for a while, before that. 

[]9/8, 23:39[] No luck? I would have thought the FBI badge would at least garner some interest.

[]9/8, 23:40[] I’ve been told I’m intimidating.

[]9/8, 23:41[] I don’t think you are.

[]9/8, 23:42[] You will if you ever meet me. I’ve made underlings cry before without speaking a word.

[]9/8, 23:44[] The Hotchner stare. Have you coined that?

[]9/8, 23:45[] I should. It’s got a ring to it.

They banter and causally slip a few more… flirtatious comments in, and Hotch realizes it really isn’t that much different than before. That he had indeed been flirting with the man long before he knew his age. Which was odd, he didn’t typically go for older men and women. But now that he’s aware Spencer is younger than he thought, possibly even his own age (he swears he is, would put money on it if he could), somehow there’s more of a charge in their correspondence, a warmth and buzzing elation that has nothing to do with his Scotch. Especially now that it’s long gone.

It’s all Spencer, and how they compliment each other, and Hotch finds himself near giddy with that information.

He tries, towards the end of the night where it tips over into the early hours of the morning, to imagine an image of Spencer again -- and finds that he doesn’t even care to. He’s enamored with the man and his wit and the way he makes Hotch laugh without trying. How he looks, his age, it doesn’t matter. Not really. Not to Hotch.

But he is still curious why Spencer won’t reveal it. He can’t be that young.

[]9/9, 00:43[] You really won’t tell me?

[]9/9, 00:45[] Maybe one day. When I’m feeling brave.

[]9/9, 00:46[] Well, I’ll be there. Waiting. 

[]9/9, 00:46[] 32.

[]9/9, 00:47[] You’ll never guess.

[]9/9, 00:48[] There’s only so many numbers.

[]9/9, 00:50[] Goodnight, Hotch.

[9/9, 00:51] Goodnight, Spencer.

-

(tbc...)

-

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