#why's he in LA listen I have no explanations

[yellowbrokenblue]

„Just… Pretend.”

summary: in which harry convinces you to spend your summer in cape cod with his parents as his ‘girlfriend.’ but everything is just pretend, your not actually his girlfriend and you never have wanted to be his girlfriend, you’ve never seen him as more than harry styles, the singer… but by the end of the summer will that change?

tropes (so far) : fake dating

part one

“It’s just for one weekend.” He pleaded, “Then you can go back to hating me. You never even have to talk to me again, I don’t care.”

You sigh, your head falling backwards with a groan. You did not want to do this at all, but he’d been persistently asking you for days.

“C’mon, please?”

You roll your eyes, “You’re on a date with a new girl every week, I’m sure any of them would be up for it.”

“I can’t just take anyone to my parent’s place.”

“Why not? Or how about you just tell them you’re not seeing anyone right now? They won’t care.”

“I just need you to come, alright? I’ll owe you one, I promise.”

“Why me? There’s a million other people you could take, besides I’ve already met your parents at a show, they’ll never believe we’re seeing each other.”

“And they really liked you!”

“There’ll be a ton of other people that they like too, Harry. Choose anyone else.”

“I can’t.” He sighs.

“You can.”

“I can’t.” He repeats.

You look at him with tired eyes, awaiting his explanation. You’d been over this a hundred times, you had no interest in pretending to be his girlfriend while he visited his parents over the summer.

“I already told them we’re together.” He says quietly, avoiding eye contact.

“What?” You scoff, “You’ve gotta be joking.”

“They just… They met you at the show, and they really did seem to like you, and they kept going on and on about how they want me to find someone who makes me happy and stuff and I shut them up by saying we’re together…”

“You’re unbelievable.” You say, annoyed.!

The fact he’d been telling his parents ridiculous lies without even telling you about it, when said lies actually involved you had pissed you off.

Harry’s parents were lovely, and a producer on his latest album you’d met them a couple times at shows- Especially during the LA residence where you and his parents sat through the concerts in a VIP booth. His mum was lovely, always smiling and knew every single lyric. She told you that she was in Harry’s 0.5% of top listeners on Spotify last year.

You thought that was cute.


You couldn’t relate though, 5 Seconds of Summer were your top Spotify artist- Harry could never find out about that.

“They’ve been asking for me to take you to the beach house for months-“

“Months?!” You interrupt, “How long have you been telling them we’re together?”

He shrugged, “Since the end of the Forum residency?”

“Harry that was SIX months ago!” You yell, “I can’t pretend to be in a six month relationship with you, that’s ridiculous.”

He sits down on the couch, hugging a pillow.

“Yes you can. You practically know everything about me already. We spent every day of the tour together.”

“Everything about you in a career aspect.”

“Everything in general.” Harry corrects, “Sometimes I think you know more about me than I do.”

“I don’t. You’re just saying this because you’re convincing yourself that this ridiculous idea will actually work.”

“Name my first pet.”

“What?” You question. He was being stupid. There is no way you’d ever be able to spend two weeks with his parents over the summer, it was never going to work. It was a recipe for disaster.

“C’mon. You know the answer.”

He just kept staring at you. He wasn’t giving up. The longer you stayed silent the more intense his stare got. When he began to raise his eyebrows you’d given up.

“Max.” You mutter quietly, unimpressed with this whole game he was playing.

“And what am I allergic to?”

“Marshmallows, but you eat them anyway.”

Harry was grinning, and it was pissing you off. He was winning and he knew it.

“My favourite Christmas song?”

You rolled your eyes, “Christmas lights by Coldplay, but you tell everyone that it’s Merry Christmas Everyone because it’s a classic.”

Harry was giving you a ‘I told you so’ look. He wasn’t going to quit until you agreed to pretend to be his girlfriend.

You sigh softly, “Even if I agree to this… It could he really damaging for my career.”

“No one will find out.” His face was more serious now, and you could tell from the way he was looking at you that he meant it, “I’ll make sure of that.”

“But if if does-”

“It won’t.”

“But if it does, because there’s always a chance no matter what you think, then everyone will only think I got hired to tour manage because we’re ‘sleeping together.’” You say, using air quotes, just to further elaborate that this was all fake.

Harry had already got his grammy, he was at the peak of his career he’d be fine no matter what happened. But you were a female music producer in a male dominated industry, if people think you were only hired for this album because you’re fucking the singer- your career was over.

“If people find out I’ll kill you.”

“Does this mean you’re gonna agree?”

You nod, reluctantly.

“Thank you!” He jumps out of his chair, “I swear I’ll make it up to you, thank you so much.”

— — —

If you were in Harry’s position you’d be vigilant of everything, everyone, everywhere. You’d be paranoid of someone jumping through your bedroom window while you were asleep. But Harry was oddly calm. Maybe he was just like that. His lips were formed almost in a smile while he slept, and his eyes were moving under his eyelids- probably from a dream he was having. He wasn’t calm very often- recently he’d been very on edge and anxious about everything, it was nice to see him look so peaceful. You hoped for that sort of peace someday soon.

You had been in the studio going on six hours, and when he’d taken a break from recording so you could go over the tracks he’d managed to fall asleep in that short period of time.

You let him sleep while you packed up the equipment, putting things back into their assigned places, and didn’t bother waking him up until you were 100% ready to go.

“Harry,” You said softly, shaking his shoulder lightly, “Harry we gotta go.”

His eyes opened and he blinked a few times to adjust himself to the light.

“Huh?”

“We only had the studio booked until six, we gotta go.”

“Oh,” He sat up, stretching his arms and cracking his neck that had went into a cramp, “Sorry, don’t even remember falling asleep to be honest.”

“Don’t worry about it,” You shrug, “We got enough done today anyways. You deserve a rest.”

There were only three days left until the day Harry had said you were leaving for his parents place, and you had skipped over the subject every time he’d tried to bring it up. You didn’t really want to think about it because you were dreading it so badly.

“I’ll give you a ride home.” Harry said as you left the studio building.

“No, it’s alright.” You say, “I’ll just get an Uber.”

Harry glared at you, “Y/N, just get in the car.”

You glare back. But it had been a long day so getting a free lift wasn’t so bad.

“So.” He said, starting the car. “We gotta go over some things.”

“About the album?” You play dumb.

“… No.” He rolls his eyes, “Stop pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m not pretending.”

“Love, you gotta tell me some stuff about you. My parents are gonna ask me shit and I don’t have a clue what to tell them.”

You groan. You should’ve stuck to your gut and got an Uber.

“Like what.”

He shrugs, “What’s your favourite colour?”

“Purple.” You reply.

“Mines is blue.”

“I know,” You reply.

“What’s your favourite song?” He asked.

You laughed to yourself a little.

“Jet black heart,” You grin, knowing you’d get some sort of reaction out of this answer, “By 5 Seconds of Summer.”

“5 Seconds of Summer?” Harry scoffs, “They’re punks!”

You roll their eyes, “They turned to pop music and half of them are married, they’re hardly punks.”

“You know one of them dated my sister, right?” Harry groaned.

“Yep,” You grin, “And wrote a banging tune about it as well.”

“Don’t remind me.” He muttered.

“Look, you asked me a question and I gave you an honest answer. You can’t complain.”

“I know, I know.” Harry said, “You got any exes?”

You raise your eyebrows, “What?”

“This is the kind of stuff I need to know! Like I dunno if I’m your first boyfriend and all that.”

“Harry… I’m 24 years old. You’re not my first boyfriend.”

You said it almost as if he was your boyfriend. It sent a chill down your spine. This was going to be a long few weeks.

“Good to know.” He said.

He dropped you off outside your apartment.

“I guess the next time I see you will be for when we’re leaving, yeah?”

You nod. There was no studio session booked until after his vacation to Cape Cod, where his families beach house was, so he was right. The next time you see him would be at the airport.

“Flights at seven.” He says.

“Got it.”

The next few weeks were going to be hell.

part two coming soon…

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[recklesssturniolo]

Talk to Me - M.S

dom!Matt (ish), phone sex & reader and him are dating

A/N: idk how I feel ab this one praying y’all like it, also it’s short??? So also sorry ab that 😅

NSFW below, leave if you’re a minor

Cleaning my room, I’m caught off guard as my phone rings. Looking down, I smile seeing it’s Matt.

“Hey babe” I say.

“You got an explanation for the photo you sent?” He asks, referring to the nude I’d sent him a few minutes ago.

“What photo?” I reply.

“Don’t play dumb, you know what photo I’m talking about. Unfair you can send that when I’m not there to have you begging for me” He says, that sentence paired with the fact him being in LA was quite literally why he wasn’t able to be here but causing a heat to form between my legs.

“I mean you could’ve at least sent one back” I signed, laying down on my bed. The shirt I had on rising up and revealing the panties I had on - the exact ones that drove Matt crazy. My mind wandering off to how good he felt inside of me.

“Hello? Are you listening” Matt asked.

“Oh I - yeah sorry” I mumble back, trying desperately to ignore the wetness forming.

“What were you doing? Or more importantly what were you thinking of?” Matt asks, even without seeing him I knew there was a smirk on his face.

“Nothing really I just spaced off” I reply my hand subconsciously tracing the hem of my thong.

“You sure it wasn’t how good I make you feel when I’m fucking you? Maybe how my tongue feels on your pussy?” He replies.

My breath hitches in my throat knowing somehow he’d figured out his small comment from earlier turned me on, “Maybe” I sigh.

“Touch yourself baby” He groans, my eyes widening noticing his change in tone realizing he was jerking off.

“Matt, are you-“ I begin.

“Yeah I’m jerking off, you think I can see that photo you sent and not? Come on touch yourself, I know you’re wet at the thought of me” He responds.

Knowing he was right, I slide my panties down. My hands making their way back to my pussy, a slight moan leaving my mouth as I began rubbing my clit, “Fuck”

“There you go, feels good doesn’t it hm?” Matt asks.

“Yes but nothing compared to you” I respond.

“Yeah? You rather my fingers touching your pussy? My fingers pumping in and out of you until you’re clenching around them?” He groans out.

“Fuck Matt, I need you so badly” I whine, memories flooding my mind with each sentence that left his mouth. His stubble against my thighs while he sucked on my clit, how his fingers felt inside of me curled slightly, any memory I had of him touching me.

“Soon pretty girl, once I’m back I’ll fuck you so good you won’t be able to walk the next day. You have no idea how much I miss how you taste and how fucking tight you are” He groans out, his voice becoming raspy.

Unable to form a response, my mind still continuing to imagine everything he said, a whimper falls from my mouth as my back arches slightly.

“Sound so good moaning for me, fuck I can only imagine how hot you look touching yourself. Tell me what you’re thinking about baby” He says.

“I - just the one time in the car, when you ended up pinning me against the side and fuck how you finger fucked me until I came and fuck Matt-“ I began, my head tilting backwards slightly as I felt my high coming.

“And then what baby, keep going for me” He groans out, his breathing becoming faster.

“And then you fucked me against it and held my wrists together as you slammed into me. Matt I’m gonna come” I whine out, replaying the memory causing the knot in my stomach to grow.

“Good fuck so I am, let me hear you don’t be quiet” He replies, coming out more as a demand.

Without responding, whimpers and moans fall from myself, my eyes clenching shut as I came. Matt groaning and cursing on the other line, my orgasm only becoming better as I imagined him jerking off and coming on himself, his head tilted back and his hips buckling.

“Fuck you don’t know what you do to me” He speaks as both of us catch our breath, “That feel good?”

“Yes but -“ I began.

“I know I know it isn’t the same, trust me baby I know” He replies, his voice soothing now.

“If you don’t come straight to my house after your plane lands I swear to god Matt” I tell him.

“Trust me I’ll be speeding over, I already told Chris and Nick to figure out a ride back. Not waiting another second to be with you” He laughs.

“That was so hot Jesus fuck why haven’t we had phone sex before?” I question.

“I’ve jerked off while you spoke to me on the phone multiples times” He casually says.

“What? Just to my voice?” I asked, now intrigued at him admitting that.

“Mhm, I told you, you don’t know what you do to me”

TAGLIST: @sturnphilia @thatonekid536 @cupidsword @loveesiren @daddyslilchickenfingers @christinarowie332 @ilovemattsturn @its-jennarose @lxvlysworld @lovingsturniolo @iwantmattsobad @secret-sturniolo @mattsd0ll @soursturniolo @knowingnothingnoel

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[hemmingshouse]

a long forever / chris sturniolo

summary: chris tries to make things right with you after he fucked up big time.

warnings: swearing, mentions of prior cheating, angst (but semi happy ending!!)

let me know if yall want a part twoooo x

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“if you truly don’t give a shit about me and fuck me over in the first place, then why the fuck are you here?” you asked him sternly, sighing deeply before rubbing your eyes - the crying you had done prior had irritated them massively. “please enlighten me christopher, because i have no. fucking. clue.”

the brunette sighed softly, letting his hands roam through his hair. he had messed up so bad this time and he wasn’t sure how to fix it - if that was even possible to begin with.

you and chris had been keeping it on the down low with each other for a while now. you went on silly little dates, got to know his best friends and brothers and loved to spend most of the week at his apartment; lounging around the place and exploring every inch of each other’s bodies for around five months now.

it all went so well. slowly you started to appear more on his tiktoks and the sturniolo channel, making the fans think you two at least spent time together because of the massive tension between the two of you. you met his family, had even stayed in boston for the holiday season and went on a little getaway together for your birthday.

“i care so fucking much about you! i- just- please listen to me,” chris pleaded as he stood in your kitchen, hands running over his face in pure desperation, “i have never felt this way before. about anyone. i swear.”

you scoffed at his words, shaking your head in disbelief, “remember when we said we’d at least be honest if we felt this wouldn’t work out so the friendship we had wouldn’t go to waste?” you motioned between the two of you, “you lied to me. god, you’re the biggest motherfucker i have ever met, christopher. i wasted my time on you. on us. on whatever the fuck we were.”

ouch, full government name - for the second time. he knew you weren’t fucking around.

he deserved all of that. every curse word you spat at him, every raise of your voice. it pained and sickened matt to see you go from adoring him so much till it hurt to now hating every inch of his fiber. to see you hurt because of his actions made him sick to his stomach. he had never meant to kiss the girl back after she tried to force herself onto him, but he knew there was no fair explanation towards you to begin with.

“babe,” he spoke up, voice trembling as you held your hand up to silently stop him from speaking up more. he noticed how your lower lip quivered and how salty tears were pricking your eyes, the fatigue taking over your body after fighting for three and a half hours.

“you kissed her back,” you spoke, a shiver running down your spine. “and i know we were never official to begin with,” you acknowledged, “but you truly made it feel that fucking way.”

it happened when he was in downtown la, where he and his brothers joined sam and colby as they were filming a brand new series about the cecil hotel whilst you were busy finishing your last year of marketing. they got drunk, went out to meet up at one of sam’s friends and one thing lead to another.

his confession back then was enough for you to silence him with a nod, grab the duffel bag he brought on his trip and push him out of your apartment. his pleas came from the other side of the door, hoping you’d let him explain what exactly happened during that night.

you didn’t wanna hear it. you didn’t wanna hear anything about chris and another girl, not when you thought he was done with fucking around when he started dating you. you figured that meeting his family, spending time with his friends and appear on his channel actually meant he wanted to be serious with you too.

“you don’t deserve any of this bullshit i put you through,” chris told you sincerely as he watched you calm down a bit, anger replacing itself with a self conscious mindset. “i’m so fucking sorry y/n, there’s no explanation for any of this. i know you don’t wanna hear it but i wanna show you what you truly mean to me. promise i’ll make it right.”

“you do know your promises currently mean nothing to me after everything, right?” you asked him while pouring yourself a glass of wine, “you could be begging on your bare knees for me and i still wouldn’t believe a single word you say.”

“i know,” chris sighed softly, running his hands across his face. “i wanna be better for you. for us. you deserve so much better- i just want you to know it didn’t mean anything to me, alright? i- you- fuck, i love y-”

“do not finish that sentence,” you warned him before taking a sip of your wine, “i don’t wanna hear it if you’re not sure.”

“who says i’m not sure?” he asked you sincerely, “and what do you want to hear?” chris asked you seriously, arms crossing in front of his chest. “i’ll literally do anything if it proofs i’m only into you. i wouldn’t have let matt drive me here trying to make you forgive me if i didn’t care about you. i fucking miss you,” he breathed out, shaking his head slowly, “i don’t have the words to say how sorry i am i messed it up. how i messed us up. and i’ll do anything to gain your trust, let you know how much you mean to me, okay?”

his words caused your heart to flutter slightly, palms a bit sweaty as you were starting to fall back into old habits. chris had a way with words and the way he sounded so sincere made you think that maybe - after all - he was speaking the truth about the entire fiasco.

you shrugged your shoulders, sighing softly, “i just hope you know you’re a fucking asshole and i hate you,” you cleared your throat, your voice coming out soft and quiet, “but i appreciate the fact you got me flowers and tried to calm me down with some wine.”

chris couldn’t help but grin at your statement as he noticed you turned your body away from him whilst sitting on the high barstool at your kitchen island. it was something you usually did when you two had an argument because you knew if you looked into his beautiful blue eyes - you’d be a goner and would forget what you guys even fought about in the beginning.

“yeah?” he asked you, the smirk clearly tinting his voice as he stepped closer to where you were sitting on the barstool, “look at me, please?”

you let out a sigh once again after taking a large sip of your wine, placing the glass back onto the marble kitchen counter. your eyes darted upwards a little, noticing how close chris had gotten in the meantime. his unruly hair, sleepy eyes and curious gaze had you hooked - you knew you were fucked and putty in his hands once again.

“i’m supposed to be so mad at you,” you mumbled as chris placed his hands onto your clothed thighs, spreading them apart so he was able to stand in between your legs.

“you’re still allowed to be,” he admitted, one hand raising upwards to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his hand cup your jaw afterwards. “as long as you know i’ll forever try to make it up to you. in every single way possible.”

“forever’s a long time y’know,” you spoke softly, playing with the hem of his oversized t-shirt as you gazed into his eyes.

he chuckled, “as long as i can spend it with you, i truly do not mind.”

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Wishes fulfilled [S. R.] birthday wishes pt. 2

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 7.7k

summary: After an unfortunate event, Spencer questions what he really feels about his childhood best friend.

contains: best friends to lovers, a little angst at the beginning, conflict over feelings, mostly fluff

A/N: A anon suggested there be a second part for birthday wishes and I thought, why not? You can read it as a standalone or as a continuation, tell me what you thought! this makes me very happy:)

The months passed and very soon the Christmas season arrived. There were some allusive decorations courtesy of García and she had even placed a small tree in the meeting room with symbolic gifts under it, one for each member of the team that they could open after Christmas Eve. It was a month full of warmth, love and delicious hot chocolate, but criminals in the United States didn't seem to adhere to that rule so the BAU continued with business as usual.

“She was Abigail Jones,” Garcia began, projecting an image on the conference room screen of a woman who must have been in her thirties. “She was found dead yesterday in her apartment in Las Vegas, in the area of Downtown, with multiple signs of violence, sexual abuse, and a completely disfigured face…” when she said this, she turned away from looking at the photo, with good reason, as it made even the strongest members feel nauseous.

There were two other victims, the same mobile phone and in scattered areas of the city. They were single women, who lived alone and although they didn’t seem to share traits in terms of their socioeconomic level, they were extremely similar physically and that is why Spencer's stomach turned when he realized how much they looked like you. A call to Hotch's phone interrupted the presentation and they all waited for the exchange to end, until after exchanging a few sentences the man spoke.

“It was the police chief. There is a new victim, they just found her in the Summerlin area, in an apartment complex on Pennwood Avenue.”

“At Pennwood?” Spencer asked, turning completely pale as she heard the area where the attack had taken place “Who is she?”

“They haven’t yet identified the body, but she has the same characteristics as the other women”

Everyone was shocked to see the doctor get up from the table and leave the room without giving any explanation, apparently to make a call from his phone. Aaron set the departure time of the jet and after that some members approached the young agent to try to find out what was happening. He seemed very worried, with the device pressed firmly against his ear and his gaze lost.

“What's wrong, Reid?”

“I'm calling Y/N,” he explained, feeling his breathing begin to quicken. “She lives in those apartments.”

The rest of the team seemed to understand, then, the concern that had overcome the man due to the information they had just received. They were also profilers and even with the little that they knew you, they knew that you fit perfectly into victimology, so it wasn’t difficult for them to connect both dots to realize what Spencer's fear was.

The first call had no answer, other than the answering machine, so he called again, again and again until panic took him in its clutches like prey.

“Dude, calm down.”

"She doesn’t answer!" Spencer practically sobbed, feeling like everything around him was spinning and a second later collapsing into Morgan's arms.

"What's going on?"

“Reid fears that the woman they just found is Y/N,” JJ explained to her boss. By this point the entire team was already gathered around the man, sharing the worry that was tormenting him and thinking about the possibilities of everything. The trip to Vegas was longer than usual trips, which didn't help in the least.

Spencer felt a chill when he tried to dial your number again and, just like before, he only heard your pre-recorded voice.

“Okay, listen,” Hotch said firmly, as he approached Spencer and grabbed his shoulders to get his attention. “I'm going to ask the officer to call me as soon as they identify the body, until then I need you to calm down. Do you know if Y/N has any particular signs with which they can tell us now if it is her?”

“Huh, she…” he stammered, struggling to put two coherent thoughts together to answer, “she has a… a mole on her belly, I think. It’s small and red.”

Under other circumstances the team would have mocked him, asking him how he had that knowledge or something along those lines, however, the situation was too delicate to allow for jokes.

“Okay, get your things so we can leave as soon as possible. And again, calm down,” Hotch said firmly, pointing at the agent. “It's not her, Reid. I know it"

Spencer tried to do what his boss had asked, but he kept dialing his cell phone every two minutes hoping to hear a response. He tried to calm down by telling himself that the chances of that body being yours were very low and trying to find in his mind some statistics that would corroborate this, but fear barely allowed him to understand the situation enough to know any information at that moment.

Obviously he was the first to arrive at the jet and he didn't stop trying to communicate with you, until he saw Aaron walk through the hallway with an expression he couldn't decipher.

"She…"

“No,” the man responded immediately. “The victim's name is Olivia Anderson. She’s not Y/N”

Hearing this he let out a breath of air and took a couple of steps until he reached the opposite one, to wrap him in a hug of complete relief. Hotch responded with warmth and a murmur of 'I told you so', which was interrupted by the arrival of the rest of the team.

Even though you still weren't answering the calls, Spencer was able to feel calmer during the flight, enough to analyze various aspects of the case that allowed him to offer valuable contributions for the future. When delegating the commissions, the unit chief was condescending to him and asked him to go to the last crime scene, so that with some luck you could meet and he could make sure that you were okay.

When they arrived in Nevada, the snow greeted them and Spencer adjusted his scarf tighter as he got into the car that Morgan would drive to the crime scene. The walk wasn't long and once there Derek motioned to his partner when the officer arrived to talk to both of them, as if he were permitting him to enter the building instead of staying. Spencer didn't hesitate to practically run inside to look for your apartment, and when he finally found the door with the number 17 he knocked frantically, but when he didn't receive a response he only became more frustrated.

Where the hell were you supposed to be?

He felt a vibration in his right pocket and almost dropped the device from his hand when he answered the call, without even looking at the identifier.

"Hello?"

“Reid, come back here,” Morgan spoke. “Y/N is with me.”

The agent didn't have to say it twice for Spencer to go down the stairs with the same speed he went up them, almost tripping on the way, and when he came out he looked for you in every direction. The snow and the tide of law enforcement personnel blocked the view a bit, but when his eyes finally met yours, you smiled and waved your hand to get his attention. Spencer ran, again, towards you, until he crashed into you in a hug. You were smaller than him and you fit perfectly against his body.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asked in an angry voice, separating himself from you so he could look at you, but without letting go of your waist “I called you at least thirty times and you didn't answer, do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“I, huh… I left my phone at home and I'm just getting back from work, I had no idea what happened. Morgan already told me that there was a homicide.”

“Did you know her?”

“She's my neighbor,” you muttered sadly, looking toward the entrance of the building. “Oh, Crash, this is so horrible. She was… she was very good and kind to everyone. She didn't deserve this."

“I want you to go in there, pack some changes of clothes, and come back here, okay?”

"Why?"

“You will stay with me in the hotel until the case is over,” he ruled, with a tone that gave no room for opposition. “I need to work right now, but while you do what I asked of you.”

“But… I can't just leave my apartment like that, and what about my job?”

“I will talk to your boss and if he refuses, I will charge him with obstruction of justice or I will assign you an escort if necessary, but you are not going anywhere alone.”

You knew perfectly well that, although Spencer was a valuable member of the unit, he didn't have the power to do that, but because of the confidence in his voice you doubted for a second if he would be able to ask someone higher up in the bureau's hierarchy for that favor. You had rarely heard him speak like that, with a mixture of anger and concern, and he had never ordered you to do anything in your life. But he was doing it now, he was giving you specific instructions that wouldn't take no for an answer.

“Reid, we need you here” you heard Derek say from the other side.

"What's going on? Why do I have to leave here?”

“I'll explain everything to you later, okay? For now you go and get your things to call a taxi” he said, a little less agitated than he had spoken at first. Then he, in an unexpected act, gently kissed your forehead “Wrap yourself up, it's freezing out here.”

Although you had more questions, you knew that he was working and that you couldn't interrupt him just because, so you went to your apartment and grabbed a small suitcase to start packing clothes. Your phone was, as you expected, on the kitchen counter and you checked that he wasn't exaggerating with the number of calls he made to you.

When you left there was already a taxi waiting for you, so he just gave you the address of the hotel where the team was staying so you could get there. It was a picturesque place with lots of cheerful Christmas decorations, with a friendly guy as the receptionist. He already seemed to be aware of the agreement and after you checked in, he guided you to the room, where your friend would also be staying.

You didn't understand why it was necessary to keep you there and you hoped that he would call you at some point to clarify the situation, but he didn't. Since you had brought your laptop with you, you took the opportunity to continue working and it wasn't until a couple of hours later, you didn't even know how many, that someone knocked on the door. You didn't open it until you asked who it was and recognized your friend's voice, seeing him standing with his briefcase slung over his shoulder and a tired smile.

“Hello,” you sighed in relief, greeting him with a hug and then pulling him inside. You let him put down his belongings and sit on the bed, while you stood in front of him. “Do you want to explain to me what is happening and why I am here?”

“There is a murderer on the loose”

“That seems obvious.”

“There is a murderer on the loose who killed your neighbor, with characteristics surprisingly similar to yours, both physical and personal” he added and it took you a moment of silence to understand where the matter was going “I just didn't want you to be near there because he could come back"

“Do you think I'm in danger?”

“I don't know, but you're the kind of woman the unsub likes. I wasn't going to risk you”

You nodded your head softly, from your position of crossed arms.

“And what does your boss think about this?”

“He didn't know,” he confessed to you and you opened your eyes widely. “But I told him on the way here and he said to just try to stay out of trouble or Strauss would call him out on it. It's just that I... panicked, okay? When the police found Olivia's body they had not identified it and… I was afraid that it was you”

Suddenly all the calls and his face contorting into a grimace of relief when he saw you made sense to you, because at this point you hadn't even realized how much you and Liv shared. But Spencer had done it, that was his job after all.

“But I'm fine,” you said reassuringly, as you knelt in the space between his legs and met his gaze. “I’m safe, okay?”

“Did you see anything suspicious in the last few days? Anything that can help?”

“I don't think so, I spend all day at work” you lamented “I'm sorry.”

“Don't worry,” he reassured you, giving you a tired smile.

You knew your friend and you knew beforehand what stress did to his body, like those horrible migraines he had started to get or the dark circles under his eyes, and now his body language was screaming at you that something was still bothering him.

“You should sleep,” you suggested, reaching out with one of your hands to place it on his cheek. Spencer didn't complain, instead he closed his eyes and turned his head slightly so he could rub his skin against your outstretched palm.

It took you by surprise when, just a second later, he leaned down to grab your waist and help you get up from the floor. You were about to ask what he was doing when he maneuvered himself again until you were sitting on his lap, your legs dangling next to his and his arm wrapped tightly around your lower back.

“So we're cozy now, huh?” you scoffed, trying to mask with a smile the blush that had already spread across your face at the position the man had placed you in.

Spencer was a great lover of physical contact, contrary to what many might think, although this depended a lot on the person he was with. It had taken you months of effort to get a handshake and only as the years went by did, he begin to enjoy hugs with you. But after so much time you had gotten used to it and that's why the man became all clingy with you, after all it wasn't very common for you to see each other, which didn't bother you at all.

However, him holding you like that felt completely different than usual. You had only felt those butterflies in your stomach when, on his birthday, you had been so drunk and tired that you ended up sharing a bed. You had to admit that you liked him more than you should, waking up sheltered by his body, between a tangle of limbs and feeling the rise and fall of his calm breathing; and when the thought of having more nights like this crossed your mind you suppressed it immediately, feeling tremendously guilty about it.

But this wasn’t a product of alcohol or fatigue, but rather Spencer had done this of his own free will. His hair curled at the tips and you took the opportunity to gently brush some pieces off his forehead, while he watched you in complete silence.

“I don't know what I would do if something ever happened to you.”

His confession was barely a whisper that tickled your cheek, said with such sincerity that he took you by surprise. You couldn't measure the fear that had brewed in your best friend's chest that morning and that's why you couldn't understand his need to have you physically close, as he wanted to make sure you were there with him and not brutally murdered on a bed in the morgue.

A sigh of tenderness left you and you immediately pulled him close to you to hug him, feeling your hip fitting into the curve of his stomach and his face close to your neck, like he always did.

“Is that why you are like this? Baby, you don't have to worry about me. I already told you I'm fine."

“I know,” he murmured. “But I can't help it.”

“Well, you'll have to try it.”

“How do you want me to try something like that?” he exclaimed, separating from you so he could look into your eyes, and keeping the minimum distance between you two “I can't. I will always worry about you, you are my…” the words were cut off, because he didn't think there was a word that encapsulated well enough what you meant to him, but also because he was momentarily distracted by your lips; why was he getting distracted by them?

“Best friend in the whole world and sole owner of your heart?”

“Something like that,” he responded, laughing for the first time that night, and as he did so his face only moved closer to yours. He was strangely nervous about your presence and didn't know why, so he didn't help much when you leaned against his body so he could hold you better. Spencer just hoped your ear couldn't pick up the increase in his heartbeat.

“We should be able to stay like this forever,” you muttered absently, and although you didn't mean to be serious the words hit the man worse than they should.

For a moment he contemplated the possibility of actually staying with you forever and then he realized it wasn't an idea he disliked. From an early age every time Spencer thought about his future you were in it, but he hadn't thought about the role he wanted you to play. You had been friends for so long that he didn't believe there was anything more to your relationship, however, he was very wrong.

Was holding you like that awakening something in him that he didn't think was possible? Or was it the fear of losing you that made him realize that he would rather die than spend a life without you? No book or statistical study gave him an answer to what he was feeling and, to be honest, that terrified him.

He knew that you had tried to have a relationship with several men throughout your life, but none of them had managed to progress beyond a few months, due to one reason or another. However, Spencer wondered how long it would take for you to finally find love and if he could stand to see someone become your priority. It's not that he was jealous or possessive, just that he had been used to being someone important in your life for too long to accept the change from one moment to the next. He would always be happy if you were happy, but it made him sick to think that you would end up marrying someone completely unworthy of your affection and admiration; someone who didn't deserve the best woman of all. And as if it were an epiphany, Spencer realized that he wanted to be that man.

He needed it. 

“We have to sleep,” he murmured, gently patting your back, because he was afraid that if you stayed like this any longer his mind would travel to some other inappropriate ideas. “Sleep on the bed, I'll sleep on the floor.”

“The bed is big enough”

“It doesn't matter, you use it,” he murmured. You had already stood up and were playing absentmindedly with the long sleeve of your blouse, without stopping to look at him.

"But…"

“I don't want to have this discussion today, okay?” the man had already taken some pillows and was spreading a sheet next to the bed. You, resigned, climbed up to the mattress and remained to kneel on it, watching your friend arrange his place.

“How many days will you stay here?”

"We don’t know yet. With some luck it will only be until tomorrow."

“You should visit your mom,” you murmured. Among so many emotions, Spencer had barely had time to think about Diana, at least until now that you had mentioned her, and he felt a pang of guilt. “It's almost Christmas, it would be a nice gift.”

“I think you're right,” he smiled. Things were ready and although he enjoyed talking to you now he felt extremely tired, so he just wanted to go to sleep. “Rest, okay? We’ll talk tomorrow"

“Good night,” you replied, smiling tenderly at him. An unexpected urge to lean in and steal a kiss grew in Spencer, which he tried to shake off of himself.

Without saying anything else he walked to turn off the light and then came back to lie down on the blanket, trying to sleep. When he was about to get it, he felt your arm fall over the side of the bed and your hand groping for any part of his body you could hold. In the end it was his hand that held yours and he couldn't see your blushing cheeks when he left a kiss on the back of it, nor his mischievous smile.

He knew when you had fallen asleep by the decrease in the strength of your grip, but although he tried to imitate you he couldn't do it. His mind continued to be tormented by the impulses that had invaded him that night, trying to find what reason was behind it, but also wondering how bad it would be to carry them out.

A little defeated, he got up from the floor, but not before carefully placing the hand that was holding you on your chest, and he went to see the landscape through the bedroom window. Snowflakes were falling and the lights of the casinos illuminated the view, reminding him that Las Vegas never slept, adding to these the colorful Christmas trees installed everywhere. In his family Christmas wasn’t celebrated conventionally, as it was just him and his mother having dinner ordered from a restaurant. There were gifts, they were almost always books or objects related to science, but he didn't make sense of the idea of warmth and love that revolved around the holiday. Until one time your family invited him to celebrate, he was finally able to understand that Christmas magic that everyone was talking about and from then on it was his reference for the celebration.

After staring at the window for a while he focused on the vision of you lying on the mattress, sleeping in that strange position that you always used to, and he asked himself how many years it was that he had been in love with you and how it was that he had never noticed it.

He let out a sigh that showed resignation, but also tremendous fear, and finally retraced his steps to pick up the blanket and pillows from the floor. He climbed onto the bed, knowing that he wouldn't be able to sleep otherwise, and he lay down next to you, trying not to make any movements that would disturb your calm. The last thing he saw before falling into morpheus’s arms was your peaceful face, and even when he slept his dreams were filled with your smile.

The unsub was successfully caught, just as he had predicted, the next day and that was when he could breathe easy again. You were no longer in danger, outside of the usual danger that a woman from the United States faces, so you could return to your normal life without any problems.

Once you were back at your apartment Spencer said goodbye, promising that he would see you again soon, and heeded your advice about visiting Diana. He asked Aaron if he could stay in Vegas, after all the Christmas holidays were right around the corner and he made the excuse that he could come back if a new case came up. When the boss granted his request he wasted no time and headed to Bennington Sanitarium while the rest of the team headed to Virginia on the jet.

When he arrived good news about his mother greeted him, all referring to the improvement she had with the new medication, and when the doctors' report was finished they took him to the room where she was. Diana was reading to another patient and Reid smiled lovingly at the sight, a smile that was reciprocated when his mother noticed his presence.

“My child, I didn’t expect your visit,” she murmured, while she received the man in her arms.

“There was a case here and I decided to stay with you for a few days, if that's okay with you.”

“Of course it's okay with me, do you think I wouldn't want to see you?” she smiled, patting his face and hearing him laugh.

Both of them moved to her bedroom where they shared stories that she hadn’t read in the letters or that deserved to be deepened now that they were together. Her mother talked to her about how she had been feeling, some workshops she had taught and new people who had joined and she had befriended. He was very happy to see Diana so happy and lively, contrary to other visits where the circumstances had been more unfortunate.

The talk was interrupted by a nurse bringing dinner to Diana and a portion of contraband for Spencer, who was extremely grateful. In the middle of the silence of dinner his mind returned to you and when he looked at his mother, he knew that if anyone could give him good advice it was her.

“Mom, can I talk to you about something?”

“Of course,” she replied, pushing her food aside so Spencer could sit on the bed with her “What is it?”

“Well, huh… I guess you remember my friend Y/N, right? My God, of course you remember her” he answered himself, knowing that he was always talking about you in his letters “The fact is that I… I have felt weird with her since my birthday.”

“Weird how?”

“I don't know, like… different,” he murmured, not knowing if that would be the right word for the nature of his feelings.

“You don't want to be her friend anymore?

“Quite the opposite, actually,” he murmured nervously. He considered it prudent to explain the situation that had arisen from the case and about your stay with him during these days, so that his mother could understand the fear that he had suffered, before continuing talking “And last night when I got to my room and she was there I felt… I don't know, I don't even know how to say it. I only felt enormous relief to see her well and I wanted her to always be well."

“Well, you grew up together. It's normal that you worry about her, you guys are almost like family”

“But I can't see her like that,” he interrupted her. He hated her comparison, because he knew what brotherly love was and it was definitely not how he felt about you “I think I'm in love with her. No, I know I'm in love with her. And I… I'm scared” 

Diana's attentive eyes studied her son and Spencer didn’t know how to interpret her silence, until he felt his mother's hand placed on her knee and saw a smile appear on her face. 

“Oh, my boy… Why are you afraid to love?”

“I am not afraid to love. I'm afraid of not being loved”

That was. Spencer wasn't afraid of having those feelings, but rather he was afraid that they wouldn't be reciprocated. If he confessed things to you, he risked having the greatest romance in his life or being cruelly rejected by the best friend he had ever had.

Diana cupped her son's face with both hands and gave him a compassionate smile.

“You are, for more years than you can think,” she exclaimed, with complete confidence, and the man frowned in confusion.

"How do you know?"

“A mother notices those things, son,” Diana laughed. “Even one like me.”

Would his mother be telling the truth? He wasn't the best at reading social cues and that was clear, so he didn't know the difference between friendly behavior and one that held another interest when it came to you, but he doubted for a second if Diana was the best person to interpret those signs. He didn't even entertain the possibility that you had feelings for him, I mean, you were so pretty and funny and cool and he… well, he was just him.

“Are you going to tell her?” she added, noticing that he had remained silent.

"I should?"

"Sure! If not now, when will you do it?”

"But I…"

“But nothing,” she interrupted him. “I want you to go find her and tell her.”

"Now?!" Spencer screamed, feeling his mother get up and push him to the exit. “But mom…”

“When will you be in Las Vegas again?” she pointed out “I'm not going to leave here, you can come back tomorrow.”

"But it's too late"

“So what, Spencer? “Do you think I don’t want to see you married before meeting the creator?” Diana insisted and the man opened his eyes widely in a mixture of surprise and amusement. “The sooner the better. Go tell her, come on. And it would be better if you come back tomorrow that she will accompany you.”

Spencer watched her from the hallway for a few seconds and at the woman's security he felt a certain emotion, letting fear be replaced by pure motivation for the first time. He nodded and took a couple of determined steps toward the exit, but then he stopped and turned to wrap his mother in a tight hug.

"Thanks, Mom. I love you”

“I love you more,” she smiled. “Now go.”

Spencer left there completely determined and took the first taxi he saw to take you to your apartment, with his heart beating like crazy all over his chest and his mind busy searching for the words with which he would profess his feelings for you.

Inside your apartment you let out a squeal when you heard the microwave announcing that your reheated food was ready and you rushed there to return as soon as possible to see David Tennant's hottie in a trench coat. You had to admit knowing Doctor Who, at first, had been against your will, but now it was an acquired taste that you quite enjoyed and accompanied you on your sleepless nights. After a few seconds you returned to the living room with your burrito in your hand and just when you were about to play the Christmas special when someone knocked on your door, startling you a little.

“Mrs. Jensen, is that you? I already told you that I haven't seen your cat around here” you half shouted, without opening the door, but there was no response “Hello?”

“It's me,” said a fairly familiar voice. You thought you were wrong so you opened the door just a little and through the chain lock you could see that, indeed, it was your friend.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, opening the door fully. “I thought you were going back to DC.”

“I changed my mind” he replied and until then you noticed that he was holding a bouquet of tulips decorated with a white bow, which he extended in your direction for you to take. That only added to your confusion.

“Wow, I… Thank you?”

“Can I come in?” He asked timidly and as soon as you scooted to the side he walked into the apartment, not looking at you.

"Everything's fine?"

"No. I mean, yeah…” he stammered, looking you up and down. You were wearing thermal pajamas with a Christmas print and you were without shoes, with a messy bun holding your hair. “Did you like them?”

"What?"

“The flowers,” he pointed out.

"Oh yeah. They are beautiful” you smiled, looking at them carefully. There was a good number of red tulips, some open and others were just a small bud. “What are they for?”

“I didn't want to arrive empty-handed,” he lied. “I got them at a flower shop near here, a very sweet old woman sold them to me.”

“Well, thank you, then,” you smiled and he responded in kind, but then he didn’t speak again. You were just observing him, not figuring out what was causing his strange behavior. “Do you want to sit down?”

The flowers ended up in a vase on the counter in the kitchen and when you returned he was already sitting on the couch, legs together and hands on his knees.

"And how are you?"

“Well, I was about to eat something while watching the Doctor Who Christmas special,” you told him. You expected him to start ranting about fun facts or the story or the actors or anything, but he just smiled at you understandingly and stayed silent. “Is your mom okay?”

“Yes, she is. I was having dinner with her a while ago, but... I thought I'd come here because I want to tell you something important."

Oh, you thought, there's the real reason for his nocturnal visit. 

"Yeah? What is it about?" you asked, slightly worried about whatever he had to say.

Everything he had thought about in the car seemed to have been erased from his memory and now Spencer didn't even know where to start. He had only confessed these kinds of feelings to two people in his life and neither of those times had turned out well, so he didn't know what to expect.

“Okay, I'm going to tell you, but you have to promise me that you will take it in the best way, okay?” he asked and you nodded. "And this won't change anything between us if you... if you don't agree with what I'm going to tell you."

“Hey, you're scaring me,” you joked nervously, but when you didn't hear him laugh your fear became genuine. “Is something wrong? You know you can tell me anything.”

“It's not a bad thing. Well, not unless you want it to be.”

“Well, tell me then,” you encouraged him kindly, with a smile that provided him with the courage he needed.

You were so pretty and he just wanted to kiss you to death.

“We've known each other for practically our entire lives, right?” he began “I still remember the first time I talked to you. And I don't speak figuratively, but I really remember it, it's one of the things from my childhood that my brain didn't throw away. I had been watching you from the window because you went out to your yard to spread a blanket to play with dolls and cars and all kinds of things. Sometimes you jumped rope and other times you kicked the ball and all I could think about was how you could have so much fun being alone. I mean, I was just reading and studying things with my microscope and you know, nerdy things” he murmured, letting out a short laugh “Until one day you knocked on my window and asked me if I wanted to play with you.”

“My mom told me to do it,” you confessed, “Well, I suggested it, but she encouraged me to do it. It always made me sad to see you there and I thought you were just too shy to come over and play.”

“But no one had ever done that. Include me in some activity, I mean. Everyone made fun of me at school or called me weird, but not you, not even when I deserved it. It made me happy that a girl like that wanted to be with me and even though you had too much energy, somehow I could keep up with you. When we grew up I thought you would just get bored of me, but that wasn't the case and even when I was promoted in grade you stayed in contact with me. You were there when mom got worse and I had to send her to that sanatorium and yet your family treated me like I was your own family. You have always been there for me and you have made me feel less alone in the world, and I don't think I have ever thanked you for that.”

“Oh, Crash,” you smiled, a couple of tears gathering on your eyelids. “You don't need to do that. I have done everything because that is what friends are for.”

“But I don't want to be friends,” he said immediately and your expression changed to a worried one at that moment. The silence between you made you imagine the worst, but it was only because he was gathering the courage to continue “To me you are something else.”

Your face contorted into another grimace, but this time one of surprise and confusion.

"What do you me…?”

“I'm in love with you,” he spat. This time all his years of training were of no use as he tried to decipher your expression. “And it's okay if you don't feel the same way about me, I'm not asking that of you. I just want you to know that the day I got here for the case I... I was going crazy at the mere thought of someone hurting you. I didn't realize that you meant everything to me until that moment and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since. That night I just wanted to hold you and keep you safe for the rest of our lives and although I don't have much experience, I think that's what love feels like. I have always loved you, only now it is a different love. And I'll understand if you don't feel the same way about me and I just misinterpreted things, but please, if that's the case, just let me stay your friend because I don't think I can handle messing things up. I don't ask you for anything more than that, that whatever you feel, things don't become uncomfortable just because of what I just told you."

There were a few seconds of silence and then he finally dared to look at you. You were stunned, with your gaze lost and your lips parted. Years of friendship passed before the man's eyes, who interpreted your lack of conversation as a rejection of his feelings, and he felt his heart break a little. From the beginning he was aware that this possibility existed, but now that it had materialized, he realized that perhaps he wasn’t ready.

But then your eyes met his and he felt your hand reach out to his, which was already shaking slightly.

“Your hands are cold,” you observed, sliding a little on the couch so you could take both of his limbs. Spencer followed your movements carefully and could see how you brought both hands to your lips to place a kiss on his knuckles.

“Is that all you have to say?”

“I actually have too much to say, I just don't know how,” you confessed.

“You don't have to lie to avoid hurting me. I already told you, it's okay if you don't feel the same."

“Spencer Reid,” you said sternly, thus forcing him to look at you. “Stop saying that.”

“So it's not like that?”

“Of course not, why would you think so?” You mumbled, really waiting for a response that never came. You watched him carefully, trying to memorize all his features, while you reflected on how much he had changed in front of your eyes and how he was still the same scared little boy from the window.

“Because… I don't know, there has never been someone who loves me the way I am.”

“Oh, Spencer,” you murmured condescendingly, “I've loved you since you were an ugly kid with glasses who couldn't stop talking about science, what other proof do you need?”

He definitely wasn't expecting that answer and that's why he started laughing; not like a soft laugh, but a loud, euphoric laugh.

“Why do you call me ugly kid?”

“You were!” You defended yourself, accompanying him in his joy. You had probably ruined the most romantic moment of your life, however, it was worth it to see the man laugh like that. And after all you were still his best friend, it was your job to joke like that “And yet I liked you, you can't imagine how much. Then you grew up and became this perfect prototype of a boy and you were so focused on your studies that I thought you weren't interested in me, at least in that way. But you were my friend and I was happy like that, I always have been. I tried to bury those feelings because I was also afraid of ruining things, but now you come to tell me all this, and I just don't believe it."

"Are you serious?" he asked, trying not to get overwhelmed by the fact that you had just called him perfect and that you were confessing to him that you had been feeling what he was feeling since you two met. When you nodded, another laugh escaped him as he thought that, after all, his mother had been right.

He had to take a moment to digest the situation. You loved him, you really did, and things weren't ruined. He felt foolish thinking about how long you had been keeping this quiet and how he hadn't noticed, but he concluded that if he had found out at another time he probably would have freaked out and things would have ended very differently, a result he would regret for the rest of his life.

Your hands were still joined and Spencer began to rub his thumb against the back of them, feeling the luckiest to see you smile at him that way and knowing the reason for that expression.

“Is that why you brought me the tulips?” you exclaimed in a sweet voice. You should have sensed it before but only now did you realize that detail.

“Yes, I wanted to surprise you,” he replied, quite satisfied with himself. “I thought about them because, in fact, in the language of flowers, tulips symbolize hope, sincere love and prosperity, but depending on their color the meaning can be transformed. Red tulips, in this case, are ideal for a statement and express unconditional love.”

You let out a gentle laugh, feeling nothing but tenderness at his reaction.

“There's my usual boy,” you said with a proud tone, reaching out to leave a loud kiss on his cheek. Something in Spencer stirred when he heard you call him yours and that desire to kiss you returned, this time with more intensity than before.

"And then?" he asked in your direction. With your eyes you asked for a more complete explanation of what precisely he was referring to “Do you accept me? Do you accept my love?”

“Of course I do,” you replied obviously, giving him that confirmation he needed.

“And if I asked you something serious for us right now, what would you tell me?”

You looked at him for a second, looking for a sign of lying on his face, but when you didn't find it, you smiled, your cheeks completely blushing.

“I would tell you that I would have liked to be more prepared. I'm in pajamas and I smell like a burrito, I think I've looked better."

"It doesn’t matter. "I can take you on a date later, in a nice and elegant place, like you deserve," he murmured excitedly, stopping holding one of your hands to place it on your face. "But only if that's what you want."

“I do, handsome,” you smiled, sliding your hand to surround his wrist. “It's the most definitive yes of my entire life.”

You had dreamed of this moment for a long time, but you had never believed it could come true and now that it had, your heart was overflowing with joy. He was smiling from ear to ear and you suddenly realized that his eyes traveled momentarily to your lips. You saw him swallow, undecided about the next move, so you decided to save him a little effort and reached out until your lips collided with his.

You took him by surprise and although at first it felt strange to be doing that with him, almost as if it were wrong, after a couple of seconds the contact relaxed and you knew that you no longer wanted to kiss lips other than his.

With every second he caressed you in a deeper and more needy way, very different from what you had expected, even his hands took you firmly by the waist to keep you as close to him as possible. He tasted like years of mutual longing and mint gum and it had you completely giddy. You separated only when it was vital to take a breath and then you continued kissing, already addicted to a drug you had just discovered.

“You're so pretty,” he sighed against your lips, allowing himself to compliment you now that he knew you reciprocated. “So, so pretty. And so sweet to me” he recited between kisses, each one gentler than the last “You are perfect.”

“Reid, stop it,” you asked him, feeling nervous from hearing him talk to you like that and feeling him kiss you like that.

"Why? That's what I think. I've always thought so” he smiled, separating himself from you just to enjoy the sight of your beauty, and then he gently caressed the side of your head “I love you” he said.

Your cheeks already hurt from smiling so much and yet you managed to give him that vision again, and how could you not? The man of your dreams was telling you that he loved you.

You leaned in again to kiss him, this time more briefly and delicately, and then you looked into his eyes.

“I love you too” you confessed.

And both of you knew that you didn't need anything more than that.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove

people who might be interested: @stephsycamore @andiebeaword @tothecar @reiderwriter @babymetaldoll @zuckker-blog

[cherryredstars]

err hii hope ur doing good 🤗

i rlly liked ‘ribbons’ and i was thinking maybe one where the reader is like really serious, dresses in like baggy clothes, or those rlly long leather coats 😓 they’re like a big history nerd and fashion nerd for the most part, they listen to like spanish music like reggaeton or some type of latin rock. miguel

also feel like reader would listen to billie eilish

lowkey reminds me of la flaca by jarabe de palo

idk js thought of this when i read ribbons

have a good day 🤗

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gn!reader

Warnings: Can be seen as platonic/romantic

A/N: wrote this in a more expanded headcanons form

Unedited

Reader would have SO much fun teasing Miguel.

He mixes up one date from history or gets a fact wrong? LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER. That actually happened in 1358, not 1352. Go back to the lab you science freak. Reader says all of it with a straight face, not once looking up at him. So now Miguel has to decipher if the feeling in his gut is annoyance or the urge to have you degrade him more.

Just to annoy him, reader goes out of their way to point out anything wrong or tacky about Miguel’s outfits. Sits their pretty ass right next to him in class and distracts him from the lesson because they’re mumbling under their breath about how there isn’t any diversity to break up his outfit or that the style of jacket he’s wearing doesn’t correspond with the current weather trends. God forbid he tries to do it back, you already have a fully thought out explanation on why your outfit works and is relevant to the current fashion trends.

Reader is definitely proud in the fact that their music taste is elite and Miguel can’t even make a snide comment about what you’re listening to because he also listens to the same music. Gives him another unfair disadvantage against you, but he does enjoy the random music swaps you guys have and he finds that the songs you recommended to be his new favorites.

fashion!reader and ribbons!reader would be best friends. It’s canon. While fashion!reader doesn’t personally resonate with the croquette style, they can appreciate the dedication and time ribbons!reader puts into their outfits. fashion!reader also enjoys the use of accessories to help elevate the outfit like the large statement bows, the occasional chunky shoe, and the elaborate stitching/lace detailing on the dresses and tops.

Miguel is always nosing around fashion!reader’s sketchbook. He always want to take a peak at what new outfit or accessory they’re designing. Definitely gets grumpy when you willingly show ribbons!reader and asks for their opinions while you threaten to slap Miguel across the face with the thick book if he continues to breath down your neck.

fashion!reader and Miguel definitely give off cool, down-to-earth couple vibes, very “mama y papa: we will come pick you up to get you some fast food and drive around because you texted that you were hungry and bored”.

If you want a more platonic relationship, they’re definitely giving (even if they’re not blood-related and are just super close friends) twin sibling vibes with fashion!reader being born a few minutes earlier.

[hischeapcigar]

Strawberries and cigarettes part 4

Pre-outbreak Joel Miller x reader  

Part: 1 2 3 4

Summary: you're falling in love with the person your dad hates the most   

Word count: 6k  

Warning: SMUT SMUT. Minor DNI. A little angst maybe 🚬 

a/n: this got longer than I wanted it to so im breaking it further in two parts. The first part got so much love than the other 2 but im so so grateful to the readers who stuck with this series. This means so much to me. Love you mwah <3 🍓🍓 

5 months. It had been 5 months since you left Texas. Since you left your hometown. Since you left the cafe and the people you had grown to love. Since you left Joel.  

5 months of utter and complete struggle to adjust in the new place. 5 months of trying to make the new apartment you rented feel like home, though it felt like your attempts were made in vain. The walls haunted you. 

You had gotten weak. The job that you took on wasn’t merciful to you. The routine it had you wrapped around was just as cruel. Each month you would convince yourself that it’ll get better soon, but the ‘soon’ never came.  

Joel and you had stayed in contact through texts and calls for the better of the first few months but that faded away as you tried to grapple with your profession and the wicked people it offered.  

Except for Luna, who stuck by you, holding you together, but he too was transferred to some other city; leaving you with the monsters.  

You wanted to leave the job and apply somewhere else, but you had signed the contract for 6 months. Plus, you didn't want to upset Luna who practically fought the head of department for your place in the school. Probably that's why they didn’t like you as much, they wanted someone else to take the position, as the head instructor.  

- 

  You paused as the reflection looked back at you, the silver hint of the chain disappearing under your shirt, your hair tied up in a ponytail. You looked fresh and excited.  

With trembling hands, you closed the door, coming face to face with your mother. Her bloodshot eyes met yours, as she sniffled, wiping the tears that had fallen from her eyes.  

You sighed sadly, “Mom, you’re making it harder for me to leave,”  

She shook her head as she tried to get control of herself, “i just didn’t think you’d be leaving so soon,” 

You hugged her instantly, “it’s okay mom, I'll be fine,”  

She pulled back, grabbing your hands, “promise me,” you looked at her confused, before she clarified, “promise me that you will come back in 3 months, I'm not used to you being apart for such a long time-” 

“Mom 3 months is too early-” you argued 

“I don't care, you have to come back even for 15 days-” 

“This is not how it works-”  

‘Make it work, y/n” her voice was stern 

“Listen, I must make a good impression on the job, right? Can't go asking them for vacations in less than a half year,” 

Your mother looked at you unamused by your explanation,  

“Okay how about 6 months-” 

“No-” she cut you off 

Your father honked the truck, calling your name  

“Coming!” you craned your neck as you yelled your response, 

“For a month, I'll stay for a month, if I come back after 6 months” you offered, which caught her,  

“Fine, but you better stick to your promise and not excuse yourself and leave early”  

  Your mother’s sound echoed in your head as your eyes raked over your figure in the mirror reflection in the bathroom and a shiver ran down your spine as the images of your past-self flashed through your mind.  

Subconsciously you traced your fingertips on your cheeks, feeling the sickness.  

The sound of your alarm blaring from your room snapped you back to reality. Another morning you woke up earlier than you had to. Sleep was a luxury you were robbed of when you moved to LA. All night you twist and turn, then the small amount of sleep is quickly shaken away a few hours later; decorating your face with dark circles under your eyes.  

- 

  You entered your cabin as you started to catch up on the tasks at hand. Sitting in front of the computer, time passed quickly when you busied yourself, ignoring how no one invited you for lunch or breaks. 

“Hey, y/n!” Paul leaned over in your cabin  

Except Paul. He acknowledged your presence. Probably because Luna was his best friend or you could be wrong, who knew.  

He invited you for lunch, but you had started to politely reject his invitations after you learned that other colleagues didn’t enjoy your presence.  

- 

  “The only people who should be anxious are the ones awaitin’ ya there, the absolute sunshine in their lives, damn they’re lucky you’re blessing them with your presence”  

Joel said just before he blew smoke into the air. You had mentioned to him how worried you were about leaving the following morning.  

You scoffed, “I don't know, Joel,” you sighed, “it feels unreal”  

You both lied on the back of his truck staring at the dark sky that played the ceiling. Your head was on his shoulder as you fiddled with his hand. He brought your connected hands to his lips as he pressed a firm kiss on your knuckles,  

“I know you’re gonna rock it, and when you come back, you’ll tell me all about it, won’t ya?”  

You hummed in response    

“Don’t change for anyone, sweetheart,” he pecked your forehead 

“I won’t” you promised 

  - 

You sighed heavily, leaning back on the chair. As you pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes to keep the tears from falling.  

Once again thoughts of Joel plagued your mind. You tried to keep them at bay during work and let them flood in as you sank to the floor in your kitchen as you get drunk on wine in the middle of night 

It was like you left Texas, but you somehow stayed there. 

  The month went disturbingly slow; You had a few hours of sleep at night before you woke up and lied in bed, feeding your mind with memories of Texas, memories of Joel. You’d go to the school and pray that the day was better than yesterday, but it hardly was. You’d come back to the apartment, try to eat but couldn’t. Then go back to the endless assignments. Drink wine at night to numb your brain before the effects of wine lull you to sleep.  

It was the end of September, the end of the contract, the end of misery, you hoped. You were packing your stuff from the cabin when you noticed an envelope. You would’ve had dropped it for later, but it was from Paul, so you stopped to read,  

It was a job offer from a different school. They needed teachers and not office work like the current. You were surprised at how a chance of new job still excited you  

You went to your apartment and had Paul drive you to the airport, you discussed the next job, it seemed better, but you put that topic aside, I'll apply when I return from Texas. 

Few more hours and you’re home.  

- 

Joel has always been a tough man but how did y/n seep through his heart, breaking the hard exterior was a mystery to him.  

Hell, he even had shed a tear as he watched you leave that morning. How badly he wanted to run up to you to hold you one last time till you both met again. If you meet again.  

Every night he twisted and turned in his bed, the memories haunting his mind. The texts and calls came to a halt after a few months. He still waited for your reply, but the texts never came. He hoped and prayed that you were okay even if you were too busy to talk to him.  

It had been 6 months since you had left. 6 months of absolute misery. 6 months of Sarah and Tommy trying to cheer him up. But he just couldn’t. y/n was a part of him, and no contact was eating him alive.  

He used to stare at the spot in the cafe where you usually stood. He couldn’t find iit in himself to step inside the cafe, knowing he might break down.  

“Shoulda stopped her man” tommy had said a couple times 

Sarah had caught on to your relationship from the way he stopped going out at night, the way Joel had lost his light.  

 She had confronted him a few days after the unusual bitter change in his attitude and he had admitted without thinking twice.  

- 

You were standing on the front porch of your house, hearing your heart thudding in your ears. Sweat covering your palm as you clenched and unclenched your fists, nervous habit. 

With a trembling hand you knocked on the door. You stood there for a minute or two before the door swung open revealing your mother. She squealed as she took in your form. She lurched at you, engulfing you in a hug.  

“Hi mom,” your voice was strained from the bone crushing hug she had you in 

She pulled you inside, stammering about how excited she was, the smile not fading from her face. 

She turned to see you again and her smile dropped along with the bag she gripped.  

Moving closer, she grabbed your face as a layer of tears coated her wide eyes,  

“What happened to you?” Her voice was low as her gaze as she examined your entire face.  

You laughed though it lacked sincerity, you didn’t want to worry your mother. “Oh, it’s nothing mom, I'm just tired,”  

You were surprised to see your father was actually glad to see you. The night was relaxing to your mind that went haywire for 6 months straight. Your parents retired to their bedroom, and you returned to yours.  

A part of you wanted to wait for the next day to meet Joel but the bigger part of you wanted to see him as soon as you could.  

Your thumbs danced across the keyboard as you thought about the words to say  

J- “will you be able to call tonight?”  

His last message was left on delivered and you felt guilt consuming your mind. You regretted not talking to him, but you were too busy trying to fit in in with a place you weren’t welcomed in.  

After several minutes of contemplating what to text Joel to get him to go to the Haven, you gave up and texted David instead. 

David was a sweet old man, the owner of the hut close to the strawberry garden.  You were glad Joel had introduced you to each other all those months ago and somewhere in between you had exchanged numbers.  

You told David to call Joel to his gardens and not to tell him about your return. With an “okay” as his reply, you sat back and waited for his second text letting you know Joel was there.  

After an hour later, your phone chimed,  

David- “he’s here”  

You quickly rushed to the door and hopped in your car. Reaching there wasn’t hard since you had memorized the route.  

You parked your car beside Joel as soon as the hut came into view. The lights were on inside the hut and the blood rushed into your face as you took your steps closer to the door.  

You saw David coming out of the hut but there was no sign of Joel behind him. You were confused at first. As David came close enough, you asked 

“Where’s he?”  

“Inside” but your face was still questioning him, he then added, “didn’t want to interrupt your reunion, kiddo”  

You smiled gratefully at him, “thank you, David”  

“I told him I had a call to attend, now go before his restless soul come out looking for me” he chuckled 

You nodded your head as you continued your journey. The door was slightly ajar as you peaked in. Joel was seated on one of the small sofas. His head was rested on the back of the couch, eyes closed. He looked tired. 

You smiled at his sight before pushing open the door,  

His eyes fluttered open at the creaking sound and met yours. Eyes wide, face flushed, mouth agape. It almost looked like the first time you had met.  

He got up quickly as you entered the small hut, 

As he drew near to you and grabbed your hands, he uttered your name like a prayer as he tried to convince himself that you were actually here and that he hadn't suddenly started seeing hallucinations of you. 

“Hi, Joel” the words left your lips and in an instant, he grabbed you by your waist and pulled your flushed against his chest. Tightening his hold on you, as he buried his face in your neck inhaling your scent. As if breathing for the first time again.  

“God, I missed you so much” his voice wavered,  

He pulled away, his hand moved from your waist to cradle your face before he littered kisses on your face, on your forehead, your right cheek, your left cheek, your nose, coming to a halt as his lips hovered over yours, it felt like the first time again when you were laying on top of him all the months ago,  

He gave in as he placed his lips on yours. You both sighed as your lips moved together in perfect harmony. You granted him entrance as his tongue slid into your mouth, his hand holding your face firmly, while the other was tangled in your hair. His lips tasted of cigarettes and whiskey. You missed the taste of strawberries on his lips.  

All of your exhaustion vanished from your body just being in his arms; he was like a breath of new air.  

“When d’ya come back?” he asked as he pulled away, his nose nudging yours 

“Tonight” you replied untangling yourself from him as you moved to the couch,  

“Wait- where’s David- how did you know I was-” his face was confused, brows furrowed as he followed you, taking a seat beside you. You grinned at him, and like a click all the pieces fell together. 

“You set this up?” he asked, eyes wide 

You hummed as you let your head fall on his shoulder, hands intertwining like a habit. 

“How was everything?” he asked rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand 

“Eh, it was okay, I'm just glad to be home, missed you so much”  

He turned his face enough to kiss the crown of your head,   

“couldn’t have missed me more than I did” you heard Joel say, 

Your mind wandered to how Joel would have missed you, how he texted you and you couldn’t reply. As much as you tried to stay in the moment and not let all the bad memories flood in, you squeezed his hand to ground yourself, to tell yourself that you’re home now, you're with Joel and that the worst is over. 

Joel felt your trembling hands squeeze his and your breathing quickened. He nudged your head on your shoulder. You sat up, bringing your knees to your chest, your arms hugging your legs.  

His heart shattered when he closely scanned your face. Your cheekbones more prominent, skin was paler than the last time he saw you, you had gotten weak. Your collarbones were protruded out and that's when he saw the locket disappearing inside your shirt. His chest warmed at the thought that you still had it.  

Subconsciously he reached for the chain and pulled it out, his fingers tracing over his initial 

“I never took it off, y’know” your words made him look at you and you saw tiredness in his eyes. 

What had he been through? 

He let go of the chain as he grabbed your hands and tugged it towards himself. You were confused at first but gave in as you saw a silent plea in his eyes. He helped you sit on his lap.  

Your cheeks flushed at the close intimacy, sure you had kissed him like this before but after so long, it felt new again.  

He slid his hand on your hip. He rubbed circles against your skin that revealed, as your skirt had ridden up in the position. He was touch starved, he had spent too long without you, he didn’t want to be separated for a second now. 

With the other hand, he traced his fingers on the side of your face, before gently cradling your face.  

As if you were communicating with mind, you knew what he was looking at, you knew he was worried about the state of you.  

“You weren’t okay there” his voice was above a whisper, he wasn’t asking, he was concluding. it seemed he read your eyes about every day that you spent there, 

Taking his hand that cradled your face, you pressed a light kiss on his wrist. Another kiss on the rising pulse on his wrist,  

“I’m okay now” despite your efforts of keeping your voice intact, Joel caught on the part where it cracked,  

“Oh, sweetheart,” he pulled you into his chest, your head was hurting by how long you had held back the tears 

His hand on your thigh rubbing your skin and before either of you knew, you had started crying. The way Joel held you so delicately had cracked the walls that kept you from crying. Joel hugged you tightly as you unleashed your past pain.  

He kept whispering sweet nothings in your ear,  

You’re home, you’re okay, you’re safe, it’s okay 

After your crying ceased, you pulled away your head from his chest, wiping the tears from your cheeks.  

With his hands holding you from your waist, you looked down between you as you fiddled with your fingers, 

“Tell me all about it, darling” he said quietly, not pushing you 

And so, you did. You told him everything without filtering any part. And he listened to everything attentively. You felt his hand tightening and his jaw slackening when you told him about how some people never welcomed you. He wiped tears that silently escaped your eyes without your notice, when it got to painful parts.  

You felt better, you felt lighter by the time you were done.  

“Though I don't know if I should take up on Paul’s offer,”  

“Darling, you’re here to relax, give it time and think about it when you’re well rested,”  

You hummed, dropping our head on his shoulder. A deep sigh left your lips as you felt his hands tracing up your thigh.  

You and Joel had never discussed about sex, none of you felt the need to. You both were way too lost in the non-sexual intimacy, but it didn't mean you never wanted to explore Joel beneath the garments he wore. Sure, there had been silent touches like this but that was it.  

Joel’s touch awoke goosebumps on your skin as you shivered lightly. You turned your head on his shoulder and your gaze fell to the clock. 2:15.  

You quickly faced Joel,  

“Joel, it’s 2:15! Does Sarah know you’re out?”  

His heavy tired eyes held so much adoration at your worry about Sarah,  

“Yes, she went to bed, told her not to wait for me”  

He leaned in and kissed your lips, “come over tomorrow night” he mumbled,  

You giggled, “you know we can’t” you kissed him, as if you were drunk on his lips 

He pulled away, getting a whine from you, smiling “I mean you leave your house anyway, we could hang out at my place,”  

You blinked at him, not finding any issue with that, except “but this is our place”  

“And it will be, just wanna treat you real nice, y’know-” 

“Joel miller, are you asking me out for a date?” you teased 

He closed his eyes, smiling and nodding, “I'm tryin’ darlin’”  

You pecked the corner of his mouth, “okay”  

You got up off his lap, “do you think there’s water in here?” you asked as you went further inside the hut,  

“David said it’s in the fridge, can you bring me too?” He called out but you had forgotten water as you looked at how beautiful the hut was. It was made of all wood. There was a small bedroom in the corner, the kitchen wasn’t spacious either, but the window opened to a field. You wondered why David stopped living here. 

 You turned around to check the fridge when you saw a picture of a couple stuck on the fridge, it was David with his arms around his wife. You had never met her, but she was beautiful. 

You took the picture in your hand as you swiped your thumb across the small portrait. David looked younger than he was now. The smiles they displayed were too pure and kind. You wondered what their love story would have gone through- 

“Hey,” Joel’s soft call startled you regardless of his efforts of not scaring you, 

“Oh-hi, sorry I just got sidetracked by their picture,” you apologized as you poured yourself and him water,  

After a casual conversation in the kitchen, you both went home with a promise of a date tomorrow. 

- 

    Your hands trembled as you put on lipstick. You were nervous and you weren’t even exactly sure why. Maybe the fact that you had a wet dream about him just an hour before you have to meet him.  

You had met Joel a thousand times but having a proper date, that too in his house was not something you had anticipated when you returned to the town.  

Your body was restless as you moved around the room looking for things. Your mind kept flashing the events from your dreams. You smoothed your hands down your dress one last time as you looked in the mirror.  

Red frock with thin shoulder straps hugged your curves perfectly and ended just above your knee. You wore your matching heels as you descended from the stairs.  

Your mother was in the kitchen making dinner when you sneaked up on her,  

“Mom, I'm going to my friend’s she invited me for dinner” you informed 

She took a double take looking at you, “honey, is it a fancy gathering?”  

You never really dressed up on friends’ dinner, “um yeah, sort of”  

You drove to Joel’s place; your palms were sweaty. You knew it was risky, so you parked the car at a distance from his house. You walked quickly, hiding your face, you rang the bell and stood back, your hands gripping the purse tight.  

Joel opened the door as if he was already waiting by it,  

“Hey- oh my God,” his eyes travelled from your head down to your toes, his breath hitched. He was completely speechless at how gorgeous you looked standing in front of him,  

You felt flustered under his intense gaze as he shook his head snapping himself from the reverie as he stepped aside, extending his hand for you to take,  

“Come in, m’lady”  

“Oh?” you giggled, taking his hand “your southern charm is kicking in”  

“Darlin’ I saved the best for night like these,” his hand was on the small of your back as he guided you into the living room,  

“Is y/n here, dad?” you heard Sarah calling from her bedroom,  

“Damn right she is” he marveled as he placed a kiss on your forehead, mumbling he’ll be back in a minute 

You took that small moment to check out Joel's house. It was warm and welcoming. Probably homier than your own.  

“y/n!” you heard Sarah squeal as she threw herself on you  

You caught her as she hugged you, “God, I missed you so much!” her voice muffled  

“I missed you too so much,” your arms tightened around her 

You both sat on the couch, “y/n, I'm so glad you’re back, dad was totally losing it” the revelation made your heart skip a beat,  

“What do you mean?” your brows furrowed 

“Uh- y’know he was really stressed, like a cloud always hanging on his head, even Uncle tommy figured it was because of you-”  

“Sarah, what are you still doing here? Stacy and her dad are waiting for you outside-” Joel emerged from the kitchen 

“Yeah- yeah I was just going dad” she said before looking at you, “I'll see you soon, right?”  

“Yeah of course! We’ll catch up later, have fun!”  

- 

You and Joel sat at the table eating your dinner in a comfortable silence. You complimented his cooking, making him blush. When you both were done eating, you started to collect plates. 

“No, Joel, I've got it, no big deal” you protested 

“Darling, I can’t have you dealing with dishes, not when you’re looking drop dead gorgeous” he collected some dishes himself as he followed you in the kitchen 

“Its fiiine” you sang 

You stood in front of the sink, ready to wash the dishes when a pair of hands grabbed your waist and gently pushed you to the side,  

“Jus’ sit there and look pretty for me” he smirked as he pointed his chin toward the dining table 

“I can sit right here-” you hopped on the counter nearby before making sure it was clean, legs dangling as you watched him do the dishes. Sarah’s words ringing in your head,  

It was oddly domestic and surprisingly it felt natural. You had the glass of unfinished wine in your hand which you sipped as you watched Joel. You replayed the dream in your head, how the curve of his nose nudged your skin as his lips caressed the skin of your tummy, moving down to- 

“Enjoyin’ the view?” he countered  

“Yeah, it's so good” you smirked 

He dried his hands on the towel before making his way to you, “so, where were we?” His voice was low as he came closer. You subconsciously opened your legs to fit him in between. His slutty waist was even sluttier than what you saw in your dreams 

His hands found their place on your waist, “did I tell you looked so beautiful?” his breath fanned over your lips 

“Yeah, you did” you were shying away and avoiding eye contact by the way you were so turned on. You just wanted him to rip your clothes apart and just fuck you- 

“Hey,” his firm voice cut through your thoughts as he took the glass from you to put it aside, “look at me” he demanded, and you obeyed. 

His eyes were dark with love and lust, the look alone pooled heat between your legs. You remembered the look he gave you in your dream as he fucked you relentlessly. You nibbled your lower lip from keeping your thoughts to yourself. But your lustrous eyes had given away  

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, he knew but he still asked. Though it was written all over your face  

“N-nothing-” you stammered 

He tutted, “no lies, darling”  

You sighed as he led your hands to the back of his neck,  

“Joel I-” you weren’t sure if it was right to share your thoughts, what if he doesn’t like you off clothes what if-  

He read you like an open book, “None of that,” he gripped your chin, so you looked straight dead into his eyes, “calm your mind, honey” your mouth agape as how did he read your mind,  

He leaned in and captured your lips,  

“Tell me what you need,” his kisses left you mouth as he trailed down the side of your neck 

“Say it, I'll make it come true” he nipped and licked your sensitive spot on your neck 

“You, Joel” you gripped his shirt as he sucked a bruise beneath your ear, 

“Me what?” his kisses were feverish, intense, you couldn't hold it back any longer 

“I need you, Joel”  

You closed your eyes scared if you had crossed the line, but there was Joel again making you face him, cradling your face 

“Then you’ll have me”  

You gasped at his words as his hands travel to your shoulder straps which he pulled down. He kissed his way down to your arm.  

You couldn't help but squirm in his hold making him groan, “relax baby, will treat ya real nice”  

Suddenly he picked you as he carried you to his bedroom without breaking the kiss.  

As soon as he reached the bedroom, he didn’t bother turning on the light letting the moonlight illuminate the bedroom.  

He set you on the floor, as he pulled away from the kiss, he turned you around as whispered in your ear, “may I?” as his fingertips found the zipper on your back 

You bit your bottom lip as you nodded frantically, aching for his touch,  

“Words” his voice dominant 

“Yes, please Joel” you meweled  

He unzipped the dress, letting his fingers trail on the skin it exposed. Once done, he let the dress pool on your feet.  

You tried to turn around to face him but his hands on your hips stopped you. He began kissing your shoulder blades, leaving butterfly kisses till he reached your neck, his hand travelled from your waist to your front,  

Moving slowly, teasingly to trace the bottom of your breasts. He traced the lace of your lingerie,  

“You knew we’d get here tonight?” he whispered  

“I hoped to” you admitted 

 Enough of having his teases you grasped his hands in yours as you put them on your bra covered breasts. He grunted as he played with your boobs, 

He carefully unhooked your bra before turning you around. His breath hitched as he took in your form, 

“God you’re so-” he traced your boobs delicately, “so fucking beautiful” he breathed as he pulled you in for a kiss as he moved towards the bed,  

“Lie down for me darling” he says 

You did as he said and placed yourself on the bed, feeling bold you played with your boobs as you whimpered. He let out a strained sound as he watched you.  

He fumbled with his buttons as he tried to unbutton his shirt as quickly as he could, he threw his flannel followed by his jeans 

As soon as he was done, he crawled up on you, smashing his lips. His hands squeezing your boobs. His lips left yours as he trailed his lips south. He kissed your neck, then moving down he took one of your boobs in his mouth. You cried his name at the feeling. His hand squeezed your ass as his tongue rolled over your nipple. He lightly bit your nipple earning another strangled moan from you, he paid the same attention to the other boob.   

His placed kissed on your stomach as he moved down and stopped right above your panties.  

“Dirty girl, you’ve already stained your panties, I haven’t even touched you there yet”  

“Joel please” you arched your back, just wanting him to take off the border between your aching heat and his touch 

“Since you asked so nicely,” he hooked his fingers on the sides of your panties as he yanked them down,  

he pulled you to the edge of the bed as he kneeled down  

“All this for me?” he asked as he gawked at the juices you had spilled just by his kisses and touches 

“All for you, please touch me”  

He smirked, “so eager huh?” he said but whatever answer you had in mind was converted into a moan as he swiped his tongue along your pussy 

He moaned and your mind went dizzy at his sound,  

“You taste so good, baby,”  

He licked all the juices, eating you out like a starved man. He flickered his tongue on your entrance pulling out a streak of moans from you, “oh you like that?” as he repeated his action 

He put his finger inside you without a warning, receiving a gasp from you. His mouth not leaving your pussy as he started to pump his finger in and out. He hummed as you tugged at his hair tightly.  

You could feel the tightening in your stomach as you moaned his name 

Just like the first, he plunged his middle finger in, without a warning, “you were a moaning mess above him, 

“I’m close Joel, so close” 

He curled his fingers hitting just the right spot as he commanded  

“Cum in my mouth darling”  

His permission was all you needed before the coil snapped and you came all over his face and he drank in every drop. 

You covered your face with both hands as embarrassment coated you.  

Joel crawled back up, “hey, hey, let me look at the girl who just gave me a trip to heaven” he removed your hands from your face, pining them above your head 

He kissed you and you moaned, tasting yourself on your lips. You freed your hand from his hand as you sneaked it in between both of your bodies as you grabbed his hard member from his briefs,  

“His turn, now?” you smirked up at him  

“He just wants to be inside you” he rolled his clothed core to your pussy 

“Oh please,” you moaned just by the thought of it 

He got rid of the briefs and swiped his fingers on your pussy to collect the juices on his fingers as he stroke his member.  

Your eyes were wide as you took in its length, suddenly nervous, and Joel saw it  

“Joel I-”  

“Don't worry sweetheart, you’ll take it I know”  

He nudged the tips of his cock to your entrance, his eyes silently asking for permission before he slowly pushed in. Your breath quickened as he moved his way in  

Just as you thought he was in,  

“Almost there, just a bit more” his voice came in 

There was more? 

He rubbed your clit with his fingers as he pushed in until he bottomed out.  

He gave you a minute to adjust to his size before you squirmed,  

“Joel move” 

He pulled all the way out before slamming back in swift motion,  

“Faster, Joel”  

“You’re taking me so well,” you heard him grunt 

You moaned as he picked up more pace, feeling his balls hit your inner thighs as he pushed in. He grunted as he maintained his pace. You could feel your second climax approaching  

He brought his lips to yours, swallowing every noise that you made. The bed rattled against the wall as he slammed into you. Your hands clasped his shoulders, making sure to leave half-moons on his skin with our nails. 

“Joel, I'm close” you gasped 

“I can feel you clenching around me, hungh it's so good, baby you're so good” he kept praising you  

The pleasure and pain combined was too much. He slipped his hand between your connected bodies as he rubbed your clit.  

Your eyes opened wide, and your climax skyrocketed. You were chanting his name like a prayer, “pleasepleaseplease Joel let me cum,”  

He stayed silent as he continued his sweetest torture on your clit, grunting every other minute, 

You shook your head, tears forming from pleasure he was giving you, but you just wanted to let go,  

“Joel-” you croaked, 

“Let it go, darling” he whispered, and you came undone right then and there 

Joel’s fingers didn’t leave your pussy and rode your high until you were done. Only then he pulled out his cock and spilled over your lower stomach and inner thighs.  

He flopped on the bed face first beside you.  

The room was silent except for your heavy breathing. After lying limp for a while, Joel rose from the bed, a smile gracing your lips at the sight of naked Joel running to the bathroom.  

Having closed your eyes, you didn’t feel him returning until you felt the damp cloth on your inner thigh. You flinched at the contact with your over stimulated pussy.  

You watched him with hooded eyes, too lazy to say anything.  

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his lips placing a kiss on your clit once before cleaning the mess and tossing the cloth away.  

He was quick to return by your side, engulfing you in his arms, you felt content, you felt loved, you felt at home.  

“Wish you could stay the night” Joel murmured in your ear 

Your back to his chest, you traced your fingers on his arms that hugged you. “I wish so, too” you replied quietly,  

You both had the same thing in mind, one month till you left.  

-

  previous parts: 1 2 3  

-

Tags:  @strawberri-blonde 🍓 @lumoverheaven 🚬 @skysmiller 🍓@ashleymsnodgrass 🚬 @bandluvr97 🍓 @brie-annwyl 🚬 @jasminedragoon 🍓 @violinchick 🚬 @alexisvs-world 🍓 @sloanexx 🚬 @elissaaa 🍓 @my-tearsricochet 🚬 @ifall4dilfs 🍓 @sushiumex 🚬 @kittenlittle24 🍓 @paleidiot 🚬 @wintersquirrel 🍓 @n7cje 🚬 @plantdaddy3 🍓 @meshlasolus 🚬@avengersinitiative2012 🍓 @stileslvr 🚬 @brittmb115 🍓

[heavyhitterheaux]

Play (Based on the song by David Banner, NSFW 18+)

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: Imma head out to take a bath in holy water lmao enjoy my heauxs!

Synopsis: You can't be with Jack for his entire tour and since this is the first time that this has happened, you come up with a bright idea that will hopefully hold him over. That idea involves a camera and your best friend Urban. 

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader, Urban Wyatt x Best Friend!Reader

Requested by: a lot of my beautiful readers 😘💖

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

DO NOT ENGAGE IF YOU ARE NOT 18+

There was about a week to go until Jack's Creme De La Creme tour was kicking off and you couldn't have been more excited for your husband. However, he had been in his feelings ever since you had told him that you wouldn’t be on tour with him for the entire time. Majority of it, yes, but still in his feelings nonetheless. Your heart broke at the sight of his solemn expression when you told him that there were a few dates that you would have to miss.

"Baby, it's only a few shows." You said while trying to reassure him, but he wasn't having any of it.

"A few shows my ass."

"Smush!"

"What!? You’re basically divorcing me."

"Jackman! That's a little dramatic don't you think? It is literally less than five shows."

"Not the point. You know I want you near me at all times."

"I know my baby. However, I trust Urby will keep you in check…. Actually I take that back. I don't trust either of you alone. The two of you are always doing something."

"Neelam is our chaperone."

"Mm hmm. I trust her about 15%."

"I know you remember the look on her face when you almost beat her ass, I doubt that she ever wants to be in that position again. She knows better and you should give her the benefit of the doubt."

"I'm getting there. I can at least take being in the same room as her."

"She's trying baby girl."

"She wouldn't have to if she didn't pull that stupid ass shit."

"Okay anyway. Moving on."

A few minutes had passed and Jack noticed how you were staring at him.

"Take a picture. It'll last longer."

"That's it."

"What's it?"

Jack pulled you onto his lap and you were simply smiling at him.

"What if we make a little video for when I'm not on tour with you?"

Jack then got a startled look on his face and you couldn't do anything but laugh.

"I'm listening."

"Whatever you want me to do, I'll do it."

"Baby, don't tell me that if you aren't about to back it up. You know how your ass likes to run."

"I promise, baby. Whatever.You.Want." You leaned down while whispering in his ear. 

"Hmm let's get started!" Jack said while flipping you onto your back so that you were underneath him.

"Wait, babe."

"What am I waiting for!?

“First off, we haven’t set up the camera. Second, I umm kind of have a request. But it’s okay if you say no.”

“What you want to request, baby girl? Choking? Spitting? Spanking? Cream pie? Actually that’s my request but go ahead.”

“Urban.” You quietly said while breaking eye contact with your husband.

“Excuse me? Come again?”

“I want Urban to film it and be in it. But, only if you feel comfortable enough. I get it if you say no.”

All Jack did was get a more confused look on his face trying to take in what you had just told him.

When he was quiet and didn’t say anything, you immediately went into an explanation hoping that it would make sense to him. 

“I’ll explain why. The other day when Urban had met up with some girl, he came back and told me all about it and well… I had a thought. That I wanted to have both of you at the same time and whatever he did to her, I want both of you to do to me. And like I said… whatever.you.want. I have multiple holes for a reason. You know that there are very few things that I’m not comfortable with so you and Urby can have at it.”

Jack was quiet for a few seconds taking everything in that you had just told him.

“The thought of having one of you in my mouth while the other is sucking on my clit is doing things to me. So, baby, I need an answer.”

“Yes, on one condition.”

“Anything, baby.”

“I want to watch him fuck you first.”

After you had gotten your confirmation from your husband, you went to find your best friend who was messing with his camera on the couch in the living room. You simply moved everything to the side and sat directly in his lap with him looking at you as if you had lost your mind.

“Uh? Can I help you?”

“Actually you can, bestie.”

“What is it now? I am NOT going with you to buy another vibrator. We were gone for three hours trying to find the perfect one that was up to your standards.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not that, but it is something else along those lines.” You answered while taking a strand of Urban’s hair and twirling it around your finger. 

“Y/N, out with it already. What do you need? I can always tell when you want something.”

“I know that you’ll do absolutely anything for me.”

“Within reason and if it’s something that won’t get us killed or arrested.”

“Well this has nothing to do with that.”

“Baby girl, say what you need and stop stalling.”

You took a deep breath before finally answering Urban. 

“I want you to fuck me. Senselessly if we’re being honest.”

Urban’s eyes went as big as saucers as he was looking at you. He promptly slid you off of his lap and immediately jumped up in disbelief.

“Uh! One little issue or should I say big issue! You’re married to my best friend! Or did you suddenly forget? My best friend who is UPSTAIRS as we speak!”

“I know.”

“YOU KNOW?!?! THEN WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME?! I DO NOT CONDONE CHEATING IN THE HARLOW HOUSEHOLD! DO YOU WANT YOUR HUSBAND TO KILL ME!?"

“Urby calm down, I want both of you at the same time until I am a sticky, crying, whining mess that can barely walk.”

“There is no way Jack agreed to this. This has to be some sort of prank you’re pulling on me.”

“But he did.”

“I don’t believe you. As jealous as your husband can get? If someone looks at you for too long he's ready to kill them.”

“Hmm, fine. Ask him yourself. BABY! COME HERE!”

Jack came down the steps and into the living room to where the both of you were and saw the look of disbelief on Urban’s face.

“He give you an answer yet? I just have to get a few things and it’s a go.”

“AN ANSWER FOR WHAT?!”

“Since baby girl won’t be on tour with us the entire time she came up with the idea. She wants you to film it so it’s something I can take with me.” Jack answered as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. 

“I-.....”

“And she wants you in it.”

“Oh. She really wasn’t playing.” You simply shook your head no while looking at him.

“Ehh I don’t know. The last thing I need is you kicking my ass. And we know how jealous and territorial you get over your wife. I’m getting flashbacks to when we were 17. I just knew you were about to kill me then and all I was doing was admiring her outfit.���

“I agreed to it so it’s 100% fine. If I didn’t, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. She said anything we want is fair game. Within limits of course.”

Urban was quiet for a few minutes weighing his options.

“Come on Urby. Just imagine me a sticky, crying, whining mess underneath of you.” You said while brushing a hand through his curly hair.

“If I say yes, I have one request or maybe two.”

“Anything. Nothing is off limits for my two favorite people in the world.”

“Jack might not like to be deep-throated, but I do.”

“Consider it done. What else?”

“I’ll save that one as a surprise.”

“Oh, and I should tell you…” Jack started to say while looking at Urban.

“What?”

“She agreed to have you fuck her first while I watch.”

—

“Urban, you look nervous.” You said as you were watching him set up his camera.

“I’m not.” He proceeded to say while peeking over at you and you couldn’t help but to stifle a laugh.

“You sure about that?” Jack asked observing the exact same thing.

“Come to think of it, I don’t think that there’s ever been a time when I’ve seen you nervous because you definitely are. So you can stop with the bullshit. Besides, it’s your best friends and you have nothing to be nervous about.”

“Oh, I know I don’t have anything to be nervous about. You’re the one who should be nervous.”

“Oooh Mr. Wyatt talks a good game. I would love to be able to see you back it up.”

“I’ve never disappointed you in anything else have I?”

“Well, no.”

“And you’ll find out soon enough.”

“Hurry up and start recording.”

“Is there something else important you have to do?”

“No.”

“Then stop rushing me so I can make sure that everything is right.”

You then looked over at your husband who had a small smirk on his face.

“What is your ass smiling about now?”

“I have another request and I want for you to do this first as soon as Urb gets everything set up.”

“Hmm, I’m listening.”

“First I need you in that purple lingerie set that I bought you. Then I want you to touch yourself and use your vibrator before either of us touch you.”

“I love the way you think.”

—-

As promised, once Urban had everything set up it was a done deal. You were in one of Jack's favorite lingerie sets like he had asked and was now in the center of the bed, vibrator in hand with the camera facing you.

"Damn, baby, I can see how wet you are from all the way over here. Who got you that wet?" Jack said while admiring the scene in front of him.

"Only the two of you."

"And make sure you spread those fucking legs. I want to be able to see that pretty pussy."

You did as you were told and began to trace small circles along your clit imagining that it was Jack or Urban doing it.

Both of them were dead silent with their eyes on you wanting to take in the sight of your body being displayed for them.

As soon as you entered your pink vibratory inside of you, you could have swore that you heard a small moan slip out from in between Urban's lips.

"Spread your legs wider mamas. Don't get shy on us now. You wanted me to record this so I expect for you to do as you're told. You said anything that we want right?" Urban inquired as you increased your movements and let out a soft moan.

"Don't you start that shit. Answer him." Jack piped up. 

"Yessss, fuckkkk."

"Good girl."

You then removed your vibrator to the side and quickly inserted two of your fingers into you and started to slowly move them in and out knowing that the both of them were bricked up by now.

You felt how close you were to reaching your peak and soon inserted another finger and increased your pace. 

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit."

"I guess this is what you're up to when I'm not around to give you this dick."

You ignored Jack since the only thing that you were focusing on was giving yourself an orgasm in front of your husband and best friend just like he had asked.

It only took three more thrusts of your vibrator when you felt warm liquid spilling from you and running down your legs.

"Baby girl, don't tell me we have to change the sheets already."

"We can keep them a little while longer." You said after a few minutes before throwing your vibrator to the side.

You then made eye contact with Urban and intensely held it as you undid your bra in the back of you.

You made sure to throw it at him and it landed right at his feet.

"Are you going to stand there or fuck me like you promised?" You finally asked as Urban slowly took off his clothes in front of you.

He then slowly climbed on top of you and was simply admiring the gorgeous body in front of him.

“Damn, who knew that this pussy would be so pretty?” Urban asked as he was making tiny circles along your clit making you shudder. As requested, Jack was sitting in the far corner of the bedroom watching the two of you. 

Who knew that he would be so turned on by seeing his best friend fuck his wife.

“And you’re already so wet and I haven’t even touched you yet. Jack wasn't lying every single time he says how gorgeous your body is."

“And I’m going to need for you to hurry the fuck up. And he had better said that about me.”

“Patience, baby girl, patience. Keep having that attitude and me and Jack will edge you the entire night.”

You looked up at Urban in disbelief and your mouth opened and closed several times before you answered him.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, but we would baby. Be a good girl and do what we say.” You heard your husband reply and all you could do was roll your eyes. You didn’t think either one of them caught it, but that thought quickly went out the window once you heard Urban.

“You got one more time to roll your eyes at me before I fuck that attitude out of you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Urban suddenly stopped his movements on your clit before sliding into you without warning making you gasp.

He let you get adjusted to his size before slowly going in and out of you, making you moan out his name.

“Oh, shiiiiit, Urban.”

“Damn, you’re tight as hell. Spread those legs for me and act like you want this dick.”

You did as you were told and soon reached up to bring him closer to you if that was possible.

Urban then reached down to take one of your breasts in his mouth and he was lightly sucking as he continued to pound in and sped up his pace.

“Fuckkkkk.”

“Tell me how it feels, baby girl.”

“So good, so fucking good.” You said in between breaths as you hugged Urban closer to your chest.

“You gonna be a good girl tonight and do exactly what we say?”

You nodded your head yes not trusting your mouth to communicate for you because of the amount of pleasure that you were in.

“I asked you a question, mamas. Answer me or I’ll stop right now.”

“Yessss! I’ll do anything you say, just don’t stopppp.”

“Anything?”

“Yes, anything Urban. Damn it, you heard me the first time I said it. Oooohhh fuck!”

“Then get on your knees.”

Urban slid out of you and waited for you to do what he had told you.

“Look at me.” Urban said while lifting your chin with his finger.

“Can you do something for me, pretty girl?”

“Depends on what it is.” You answered and all Urban did was smirk while Jack looked as if he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you.

“Open your mouth and my dick better not leave it until my cum is sliding down your throat. Do you understand?”

You simply nodded, but Urban wasn’t taking that as an answer.

“Baby! What did I tell you? Use.Your.Words.” You heard Jack exclaim from the other side of the room.

“The answer is yes and are you about to put your dick in my mouth or not?”

“Here you go with that attitude again.” Urban said as you took him into your mouth all the way until he hit the back of your throat. 

You admit since Jack didn’t like to be deep-throated that it might be a challenge for you seeing how big he was. However, you had said anything that they wanted you to do that you would do it and you definitely weren’t about to back down now. 

“That’s it, baby girl. Damn you’re doing such a good job. I’ll make sure to award you for this later.”

So, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Confirmed. 

It had only been not even three minutes when you had to take a break and Urban looked down at you in disbelief.

“Nuh uh, what did I tell you? Who said you could stop?”

“I’m definitely punishing you for that later.”

You didn’t even bother responding to either of them and once again went back to the task at hand.

At this point in time, there were literal tears rolling down your cheeks and at this point Urban had put your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulled you even closer to him which made it seem like he was close. 

“Fuckkkkk!”

You felt warm liquid hit the back of your throat and Urban titled your head back to look down at you.

“You better fucking swallow it too.”

You did as you were told and soon saw your husband out of the corner of your eye get up and start to make his way over to you.

“You already know what position I want you in and you have five seconds to get there.”

“And if I don’t?” You curiously asked while still on your knees looking up at your husband as Urban had now moved to take his place on the couch where he had been sitting. 

Jack then placed his left hand around your throat and lightly squeezed and you knew if it had been a puddle in between your legs before that it was now a waterfall.

“You usually never get this fucking smart with me so I’m surprised. I guess because Urban is watching but you need to cut that shit out now.”

“And…. if.I.don’t?” You once again asked and you could now tell Jack was about to fuck you into oblivion.

What he didn’t know is that you would always do this on purpose.

Jack let out a light chuckle before picking you up and throwing you onto the bed but not before making one of his favorite requests.

“Open your mouth.” You followed directions and was soon met with Jack spitting in your mouth and making you swallow it.

“Spread your fucking legs.” He told you as he stroked himself a few times and you could see the precum dripping out of it. 

You spread them as far as your body would allow before Jack slowly slid into you bottoming out.

“Oooohhh shiiiiiit.”

“Got damn you’re so tight and feel so fucking good. Still not used to it after all this time.”

“Hurry up and make me cum.”

“I’m going to be doing a lot more than that, but if you keep that attitude up, I won’t let you cum for the rest of the night and you know that you can hold me to it because I just did that shit to you last week.”

You had gotten flashbacks of your husband edging you for more than three hours and definitely did not want to got through that again.

So you decided to stay quiet.

This time.

You had now pulled Jack closer to you as he was mercilessly pounding into you making you scream his name at the top of your lungs.

“Jackkkkkk!! Fuckkkk!”

Jack suddenly stopped his movements and looked down at you and you were confused.

“Is that what you’re supposed to call me when I’m in you?”

“No.”

“Then fix that shit and what are you supposed to call me?”

“Daddy.”

“Don’t mess up again. You understand?”

Jack then continued his movements in and out of you when you had wrapped your left leg around him. 

He increased his pace as you were trying to grab a hold of anything to help anchor you.

“Mrs. Harlow better stop running away from me. Take this dick.”

“Shiiiiiit, I’m close.”

“I know. Cum for me baby, cum all over daddy’s dick.”

With only two more thrusts you did as you were told Jack and made himself comfortable in between your legs and took one long lick making you shudder.

“Ehh. I can’t.”

“You can and you will. Come here.” Jack replied as he slowly started sucking on your clit and he grabbed both of your thighs to keep you in place. You had barely recovered from his making you cum the first time and it was safe to say that the corner of your eyes were now watering because of how much pleasure that you were in.

“Come on baby, let me at that pussy. You can take it. Keep your legs spread.”

“AHHHHH fuckkkkk.” Your hands immediately went into Jack’s curls and you were tugging on them to pull him even closer.

“Same person who said they couldn’t take it, but now look.” 

Jack then inserted two fingers into you and then lapped at your folds at the same time.

Your breathing became heavier and that’s how Jack knew that he was about to make you cum for the second time. 

“I know you’re almost there, baby. I can tell.”

Not even thirty seconds later, a rush of liquid made its way onto your husband’s face.

“Got damn, Y/N, I had no idea you were a squirter.”

“You never asked, Urby.” You responded while looking over at him.

Jack then flipped you over so that he was underneath you and you were on top of him and Urban was now behind you. 

“Your jaw isn’t tired yet, right baby?”

You simply shook your head no as you leaned down to take him in your mouth.

As you were moving Jack in and out of your mouth you felt Urban take one long lick over your folds and you immediately shuddered not having recovered from Jack doing the same thing to you less than five minutes ago. 

“Come on mamas, don’t run now.” Urban said as he continued working along your folds.

Trying to concentrate on both of them had proved to be difficult in the beginning, but then you had gotten into a comfortable rhythm.

You then felt Urban move higher and you immediately let out a gasp.

“Stay fucking still. Don’t you dare move.” Urban continued his movements as you felt as if you just had the wind knocked out of you.

You would have probably made Jack cum by now, but you were distracted by the amount of pleasure that Urban was giving you.

“Fuckkkk, Urban. Shit!”

“Move again and I’ll fucking stop.”

“You heard him mamas, act accordingly like I said.”

You made it up in your mind to get Jack back for that and would have him begging you to let him cum. 

It had been a few minutes before you felt Urban slowly enter you from behind and immediately started pounding into you.

“Fuckkkkkk, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

“I didn’t plan on it.”

"Do you want us to cum all over your face pretty girl?" Urban asked you and you eagerly nodded. 

As promised you were a sticky, crying, whining mess who was begging for mercy.

You had lost track of how many times the both of them had made you reach ecstasy, but you knew that it had to be close to double digits.

No.

Scratch that.

It was definitely double digits.

"Speak up, pretty girl. Tell us exactly what you want. You've been such a good girl for us." Jack said while bringing your chin up to look at him.

"I want all of it running down my face until I can't see straight."

"As you wish." Jack answered you as he sloppily kissed you and pushed you down to your knees.

Not even a minute later your face and chest was covered with both Jack and Urban’s cum and you proceeded to place some on your fingers and then bring them to your mouth to suck on.

“Such a good girl for us.”

“And make sure you get all of it.” 

Once you finally finished, Jack helped you to your feet and he leaned down to kiss you.

“That should be enough for you to last on tour, right?” You asked while looking up at him.

“Hmm, it should be but we’re nowhere near done with you.”

“Wait, what?!”

“Rest up, baby girl. I hope you didn’t forget about us punishing you.” Urban said while looking over at you and you suddenly looked at him with wide eyes.

“Fine. Then I have a request too.”

“Anything mamas.”

“Whose face am I sitting on first?”

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[here2bbtstrash]

look down on me like that - 9 (explicit)

genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut, angst

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.

word count: 16k 🙈

contains: explicit sexual content 👀 literally jumps immediately into it (well.... you'll see 🤭) so buckle up!!! also features: hotel drama, reader being v dumb in classic reader fashion but she gets there, a whole lotta tension and angst and misplaced anger, some new friends!!! and yes they're 3 idols see if you can figure out who 🤪, erotic bed sharing and handholding lmfao, probably the most drinking that has happened in a chapter yet (which is saying a lot honestly), of course the GRAMMY RESULTS.... oh yeah and yoongi in glasses, yoongi in a suit, yoongi playing piano, yoongi almost getting in a fight, yoongi rapping, yoongi WEARING CAT EARS (yes these are all warnings!!!!!! 😩) - ok and here are ur smut specific warnings: semi-public sex (mile high club anyone ✈️), cunnilingus, fingering, sex dreams, nipple play, dirty talk, reader has a voice kink 🥴, clit stim, unprotected sex AGAIN 💀, she squirts again don't @ me lmao, aaaaand some lovely mouth/throat fuckin 🫡

A/N: i feel like i have nothing to say that isn't just overwhelming gratitude to you all for being here 🥺 so i'll keep it short!!! sit back and get comfy bc this one's a lot, here we go y'all..... you ready?? 💜

A/N 2: as of 5/27, this chapter has been updated to remove the instances of anti-asian discrimination. i want to expressly state how sorry i am to those who were hurt or otherwise upset by the original content. please know that i mean it when i say i am fully committed to listening and doing better moving forward. 💜

an eternal thank you to @haliiimede and @monimonimoon for their help betaing!!!

read on AO3!

chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten

~*~

You don’t know how you let Yoongi talk you into this.

You honestly can’t remember, at least not right now, not with your ass perched on the edge of the sink counter and his hands making quick work to tug your sweats and underwear down and off, one ankle at a time.

The place is cleaner than any airplane bathroom you’ve ever been in, and certainly much less cramped. First class really spares no expense, you���ve learned. It’s an upgrade Yoongi made for both of you at the check-in counter unprompted, his only explanation mumbled into the rim of his iced Americano once you’d settled at a table in the fancy lounge: “Economy seats fuck my back up, and I figured if I left you behind you’d push me into LA traffic at your first opportunity.”

You might still do it, if only because he’s managed to convince you to do this again. Weren’t you supposed to be mad at him?

“I’m starting to think you have a bathroom fetish,” you murmur, not quite managing to keep your voice steady. Your fingers rake through Yoongi’s long dark hair as he situates himself properly on his knees between your legs, his hands pressing your thighs to spread you wider.

“Are you complaining?” he grunts back, and you lose the ability to form a coherent response as he leans in and traces his tongue up your folds.

You nearly bang your head on the mirror with the way your spine instinctively arches at the feeling, your hips tilting up for as much of his mouth as you can get.

“Shit,” you hiss as he starts to fuck the muscle of his tongue into your entrance, his thumb swiping up through your wetness before settling into rough circles over your clit. “Why are you so fucking good at this?”

Once he’s thoroughly tasted you, Yoongi quickly replaces his tongue with his fingers, flexing against your front wall at a brutal pace, like he’s realized you can’t take too long in here. His lips close around your clit as his tongue laps over it in thick strokes, and your hips circle hungrily, grinding on him.

“That’s it,” he pulls off just enough to gasp. “Ride my face. Wanna make you come so I can fuck this tight little pussy.” Just the rough tone of his voice is nearly enough to send you over the edge.

When his lips and tongue return to your cunt, you don’t hold back.

You fist the hand tangled in his hair, your other palm smacking flat to the counter for balance as you throw a leg over his shoulder, and you swear you can hear him laughing while you press your heel into his back to pull him even closer. His mouth is warm and wet and divine, the way he licks and sucks at your throbbing clit overwhelming. He strokes his fingers deftly into your g-spot, working up enough arousal that it’s started to run down the crux of your thighs. You roll your hips again and gasp at the way his tongue drags just right over you.

“Oh god, Yoongi,” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut, too lost in it to worry about being quiet. You can feel it as he keeps his tongue laid out flat for you to use as you please. Everything in you pulls tight as you rut yourself against his face in time to the building pressure worked up in your core by his unrelenting fingers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—”

The plane dips sharply, and you lurch upright with a gasp as your eyes snap open. There’s a few more seconds of shuddering bumps, and then you seem to find clear skies again.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you sit back and try to steady your breathing, the world slowly coming into focus: the TV screen in front of you, your purse tucked into the shelf beneath it, beige privacy walls surrounding you on all sides.

Fuck. You lean forward, letting your head drop between your knees as reality sinks in. You’re not in the bathroom. You’re in your stupid first-class seat. It was a dream. A fucking airplane sex dream.

Panic carves through you like a knife as questions bubble up in your mind: What if you said something in your sleep? Did Yoongi hear you? Is he sitting on the other side of the wall with that fucking smirk on his face, endlessly smug in the knowledge that he haunts you even in your dreams?

Immediately convinced that he is, you can’t help yourself. You press your hands flat to the divider between you and just barely lift out of your seat so you can peek over it.

But Yoongi looks entirely unchanged from the last time you saw him several hours earlier: he’s got his headphones on and is slouched over his laptop, frowning down at the screen, thoroughly engrossed in work.

Just as you’re breathing a sigh of relief, he glances up, and your eyes widen.

“Can I help you?” he grunts, not even bothering to pull his headphones off. You don’t think it’s a double entendre, but you don’t want to entertain him long enough to find out.

“No,” you snap, and then you slump back down to the safety of your seat, slamming the controller on the wall until you’re fully horizontal. You tug the provided headphones over your ears, hoping they might block out your racing thoughts as you desperately try to ignore the dull ache between your legs.

~*~

Getting any more sleep proves to be an impossible task, your mind too keyed up at the possibility of another airplane bathroom dream. By the time you make it through the rest of the flight, and customs, and the car ride to your hotel, you’re nearly delirious with exhaustion, and your body is thoroughly confused about what fucking time it is, though your phone says it’s apparently the middle of the night.

Your brain feels like it’s been in a blender, your reaction time so slowed that, standing at the hotel check-in counter, it takes you several seconds to process the words leaving the front desk agent’s mouth.

She must be able to read the dumbfounded look on your face, because she repeats herself. “King bed executive suite for three nights?”

“Um, no,” you finally manage to stammer, and though he makes no discernible noise of reaction, it’s like you can feel Yoongi smirking over your shoulder. “No, we need— I booked a room with two queens.”

The agent purses her lips slightly, then shakes her head as she stares down at her computer. “Mm, I’m seeing in the system that we have you down for one king.”

Your exhaustion steamrolls over whatever professionality you might normally have while conducting a business transaction. “I don’t care what your fucking system says, it’s wrong. That’s not what I booked.” Scrolling through your phone for a few seconds, you manage to dig up the email, and you’re almost more compelled to show it to Yoongi, just to make sure he’s well aware— you did not fuck this up.

“See, two queens,” you reiterate helplessly as you extend the receipt on your phone toward the agent.

She tuts once, her eyes barely glancing over at your phone before returning to her computer screen. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like we have any availability to switch you. Given the Grammys are on Sunday, this is quite a busy weekend for us.”

You set your phone on the counter and try to keep your breathing steady, to remain calm despite the overwhelmed panic starting to rise in your chest.

“About that,” you say, doing your best to speak in an even voice. “We wanted to keep a low profile, but my… associate here is actually a nominee. For Song of the Year?” You hate that it comes out more like a question as your gaze flits to Yoongi for the briefest of seconds, then back to the front desk agent. “So, really, if there’s anything at all you could do, we would appreciate it.”

There’s a pause as she regards you for a moment, her lips pressed into a tight smile, and then she speaks again. “I really do apologize, but a mistake on your part does not constitute an emergency on ours. No matter who the accommodation is for.”

It takes a second for your jetlag-addled brain to process the words, and their direct contrast to the forced sunny expression on her face. If you were in a better state of mind you might be able to take a breath, state your case more calmly, or figure out some other alternative, but instead all you can manage is a knee jerk reaction.

Because you can’t be in a room with Min Yoongi and only one bed.

“Are you fucking kiddin—”

“Hey.” 

A hand pressed to your bicep nearly makes you jump out of your skin. Despite every cell in your body urging you to lunge over the counter, you don’t fight it when Yoongi pulls you back a few paces, giving enough room for him to take your place at the counter.

“It’s fine,” he mutters over his shoulder.

It feels like your heart is beating a mile a minute, enough that you can hardly keep up with the soft apology he concedes to the agent. She hands him the room keys without another word, that same fake smile still plastered over her face. With one last nasty look over your shoulder, you follow Yoongi toward the elevators, dragging your suitcase along behind you.

Practically seething, you can barely manage to wait until the doors slide shut before you pounce.

“Look, I don’t know what you think is about to happen here, but I did not fucking book a single bed room.”

“It’s fine,” he sighs wearily, eyes fixed on the overhead number as it counts up to your floor. “I just want to sleep. Whatever that was about to turn into wasn’t worth the trouble.”

The doors slide open with a soft chime, and you storm after him down the hall to your room as he continues, pressing the key to the reader and pushing the door open. “Besides, I've stayed here before, and I know these suites have couches.” He holds the door and gestures for you to enter first, and you do.

He's not wrong: there’s a small living room area with a sofa, a desk, and a television mounted into a wall that effectively separates it from the bedroom on the other side, though there isn’t actually a door. The bathroom is immediately to your left as you step inside.

“So,” Yoongi says simply as the door shuts behind him. “I'll take the couch. All good.”

Of fucking course.

The rational part of your brain knows that he has done nothing to upset you. He's been quiet and polite on your long day of travel, and is treating you simply as if you were business acquaintances. It all makes perfect sense, given that you told him your night at his apartment couldn’t mean anything. He's done everything you’ve asked of him, really.

And yet it’s all of it: your stupid sex dream, the lingering bad taste of your encounter with the hotel agent, and the fact that Yoongi can’t seem to even fathom the idea of sharing a bed with you, not here and certainly not at his apartment. Everything has you simmering with a sudden vicious, unreasonable anger.

“Do whatever you want,” you snap as Yoongi sets his suitcase down on the floor of the living room. “I don’t give a shit.”

The rage burns like acid in your gut as you move through your night routine in the bathroom, and it’s only worsened by the knowledge that your alarm will be going off in just a few hours, and you’ll have to drag yourself through a long day of press and prep for Sunday. And that Yoongi will be there, through all of it, just like he’s on the other side of the door right now, inescapably and overwhelmingly present.

It doesn’t make sense to you how he can somehow manage to be too distant and too close at the same time. As you spit toothpaste into the sink, you wonder why the fuck you ever agreed to go on this stupid trip.

~*~

You don’t think you manage more than ten minutes of sleep the whole night. Despite exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs, you toss and turn and kick at the blankets, too frustrated by all the confusing feelings churned up inside of you to be able to slip into any kind of real rest.

When you glance at the clock for the millionth time, it’s now only thirty minutes until your alarm is due to go off. With a sigh, you decide to give up.

Your mind is already racing with the schedule for the day, and you go over it a million times in your head as you shower and dress and apply your makeup. When you emerge from the bathroom already entirely put together, Yoongi is on the couch blinking blearily at his phone, clearly having just woken up.

“The car will be here at seven,” you call over your shoulder without a second glance back at him.

He grunts his acknowledgement, and after a few moments you hear the sound of the bathroom door sliding shut again. You dig your work laptop out of your purse to double-check everything, and before you know it you’re sucked into confirming specifics and answering emails, and you completely lose track of time.

The sound of Yoongi clearing his throat snaps you back to reality, and you shut your laptop as you glance up to find him standing in the threshold of the bedroom. He’s dressed nicely for his many interviews, in a sky-blue button-down, and you have to blink twice as you take in his appearance.

“You wear glasses?”

The warm lamplight of the bedroom reflects off his lenses as he shrugs. “I don’t like to. But I forgot my contacts.”

“We can stop for some on the way to your fitting,” you answer, adding it to your mental to-do list. The reminder of your booked itinerary is enough to get you to your feet, one arm wrapped around your laptop to press it close to your chest. Trying to remember what else you need to do to get ready proves impossible as Yoongi steps closer, and then you hear him laugh softly under his breath.

“Wow, glasses? Really?”

“What?”

“You have that look on your face,” he says simply, and you can feel an embarrassed heat creep up your neck. You hate that after all this time, he can still read you like a book.

You swallow hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He continues to close the distance between you, and you take a reflexive step backward, only for your thighs to bump against the mattress behind you. “Would’ve worn these more often if I knew they’d get you all flustered.”

You attempt to argue that you’re not flustered, but the words die on your tongue with the realization of how close Yoongi is to you now. His eyes are fixed pointedly on your mouth. “I—” you try again, your voice breaking slightly. “I’m not—”

The sharp buzz of your phone vibrating on the nightstand makes both of you start, and it’s like you can think clearly again when Yoongi steps back to give you room to grab it. You thumb open the text with one hand as you shove your laptop into your purse with the other. “They’re downstairs.”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything else to you until you’re in the car, crawling through Los Angeles traffic. “Remind me what all we’re doing today?”

You stare out the windshield, not wanting to meet his gaze as you recount the schedule that’s permanently seared into your brain. “You have press interviews in Studio City all morning until one. We’ll pick up lunch— and we can grab you some contacts, too— and then you have a fitting in Beverly Hills at two. After that, your boss wants us to tour the office out here and take a few meetings with the team, so that’ll be the rest of the afternoon. And then I guess whenever we’re done with that, the label execs want to take us to dinner after.”

He’s silent for long enough that you’re forced to glance over at him, wondering if he was even paying attention. There’s a small smile on his face, but it doesn’t quite read as smug. You don’t know what to make of it.

“Huh,” Yoongi finally remarks.

“What?” you snap in response, probably a little harsher than he deserves, but you haven’t had coffee yet.

“Nothing,” he says innocently. “It’s just funny, compared to when you first started.” He crosses his arms over his chest, shifting back slightly in his seat. “I remember when you couldn’t even use Outlook.”

You narrow your eyes in his direction. “I guess people change.”

“Guess so.”

The day passes in a hectic blur, and though ostensibly all of your scheduled engagements are meant to be about Yoongi, you find yourself just as busy as he is, if not moreso.

His press interviews run long because of course they do, and you’re forced to drop him at his fitting while you run out to pick up lunch and contacts— and most importantly, more coffee, which you desperately require to survive the rest of the day.

You’re admittedly thankful for the extra tasks. Even if you do feel dead on your feet, it’s still preferable to sitting around and watching Yoongi try on a suit. You can easily recall firsthand how deadly the image is, and putting off that suffering until the real thing tomorrow is perfectly fine, as far as you’re concerned.

The coffee gives you just enough of a caffeine boost to power through your afternoon meetings, reviewing branding strategies and opportunities for collaborative promotions with the label’s overseas team. Your heart sinks a little when you go through the marketing summary slides prepared by Jungkook, not a single detail out of place, and you try to shove thoughts of him to the back of your mind so you can focus on the work.

At dinner, it’s all you can do to not fall asleep over your extremely overpriced sashimi. Yoongi’s been pulled away to the far side of the table for what you can only assume are deeply boring conversations with the Los Angeles production team. Thankfully, your side is a bit more lively.

“Matthew,” the A&R rep who you’re pretty sure introduced herself as Tiffany stage-whispers. You realize she’s speaking to the tall and ridiculously built guy seated next to you when her gaze flits up to him, and then she resumes poring over the extensive drink menu. “Can we get sake bombs?”

“Why are you asking me?” Matthew responds, and you look over to see his face scrunched up in confusion.

“You’re in finance! I need you to tell me that I can get white-girl wasted on the label’s dime tonight.”

He sighs for a moment, like he’s trying to think. “I don’t… actually know if we’re allowed to reimburse that.” Tiffany’s lower lip trembles, dangerously adorable, and he exhales as if he’s been defeated. “Fuck it. I’ll cover it out of pocket if we can’t.”

“God, I love you,” she breathes, chasing the comment with a throaty laugh and quickly flagging down a server to order. “Can we please do thr— Vernon, baby, how old are you?”

The intern seated next to her blinks slowly. “Twenty four?” You’re pretty sure those are his first words of the evening.

“Huh. Your skincare’s doing wonders,” Tiffany shakes her head disbelievingly. “Four sake bombs, please?”

They arrive in an instant, and Tiffany smiles proudly to herself as she balances her shot glass on a pair of chopsticks laid across the top of her beer. You follow Matthew and Vernon’s lead as they set their drinks up to mirror hers.

“To Matthew’s wallet,” Tiffany toasts solemnly. “The only thing bigger than his tits.”

As if in hearty agreement, Matthew bangs his fist against the table so hard it makes everyone in a five foot radius flinch, and all four of your shot glasses plummet into the awaiting beers beneath them.

“Kanpai, motherfuckers!” Tiffany cackles, and you throw your drinks back in perfect sync.

The rowdiness of your corner is too loud to be ignored, and your stomach twists slightly as you set your empty glass down only to catch Yoongi staring from across the table. When your eyes meet his, he quickly lowers his gaze and adjusts his glasses, his mouth pulling into a flat line.

You turn back to your new friends as Tiffany finishes her own drink. As if she just witnessed the silent exchange, she leans toward you.

“So,” she drops her voice a little lower, “What’s it like working with Suga?”

Doing your best to keep your face neutral, you inhale deeply, wondering where to begin, or what would even be workplace-appropriate to say. The jetlag makes your mind move that much slower. “It’s—”

“Oh my god,” she immediately interrupts you. “You’re sleeping with him.”

Vernon nearly spits the last swallow of his drink back out.

“Tiffany,” Matthew interjects, sounding exhausted, like this is a regular occurrence. “Don’t fucking say that to someone you just met.”

“I mean,” you concede, your lips loosened by the warm rush of alcohol. “She’s not wrong.”

Matthews eyes widen, and he purses his lips for a long pause before he finally speaks. “Shiiiiiit, okay. Alright then.”

You sigh, slumping to rest your cheek in your hand, so exhausted that you can barely stay upright. “I don’t know if ‘sleeping with’ is the right term. It’s just a… mistake that we’ve made. A few times. Several, I guess.”

“I bet he’s even richer than Matthew,” Tiffany says, awestruck, clearly more to herself than to you.

“If it’s a mistake, why do you keep making it?” Vernon asks bluntly.

“Damn, Vernon with the deep cut,” Matthew remarks, and you shake your head.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, your words running together slightly. “I’m just trying not to think about it, at least not while we’re on this stupid work trip.”

All three of them nod like they understand, and then Tiffany leans in again. “Let me guess: there’s only one bed in the hotel room.”

“Please ignore her.” Matthew sounds as tired as you feel.

“Yes!” you exclaim, your anger from the night before temporarily reigniting. “The hotel fucked our room up, and the lady wouldn’t fix it because she was a fucking bitch—”

“Naturally,” Vernon interjects.

“And even though we only have one bed, he chose to take the couch. Like, that’s where we’re at.”

“That’s sweet,” Tiffany murmurs, and you make a face.

“Is it?”

“He’s being respectful. I bet he doesn’t wanna make you feel uncomfortable, or like… pressured. ‘Cause sleeping with somebody is a world of difference from… sleeping with them, you know?”

You roll your eyes. “Or he wants to be as far away from me as possible, even while sleeping.”

“If I was the one nominated for a Grammy, I’d make you take the couch,” Vernon scoffs around a piece of edamame.

“Right?” Matthew chimes in. “Ain’t no way I’m getting good sleep on a hotel couch. Them things are like fuckin’ cement blocks.”

A yawn escapes you before you can manage to stifle it, and you press a hand to your mouth, suddenly overwhelmed from exhaustion as well as the conversation. You scoot your chair back from the table to stand and politely excuse yourself to the restroom.

“You gotta cool it with that shit, Tiff,” you hear Matthew mutter as you depart.

Your mind swims while you traverse the long back hallways of this bougie restaurant. It’s almost laughable now, but you really never thought to give Yoongi the benefit of the doubt for sleeping on the couch— not here, and not at his apartment.

You’re still so used to expecting the worst from him that you’ve just assumed the intention is laced into his every action. Even the nice things have felt like a cause for concern, like a reason to keep your guard up, small gestures meant to distract you so he can get the upper hand, somehow. It’s hard to shake the idea that he’s your enemy, even after everything that’s happened.

And yet you can’t help wondering if Tiffany is right. Is Yoongi really just being… respectful? And if so: what does he want? And how does he feel? You’re torn between wanting to know and hoping you never find out.

A voice saying your name drags you out of your thoughts. You turn back just shy of the restroom door, unable to stop another yawn from slipping out, and you bring a hand to your mouth to hide it. Your eyes widen as your brain works on a delay to process the familiar voice, then the sky-blue shirt and the dark framed glasses. It distantly occurs to you that Yoongi has you all alone in this fancy hallway.

You blink a few times, willing the weight of sleepiness out of your eyes, then finally respond with the first thing you can think of. “I’m not fucking you in the bathroom, Yoongi.”

He blinks right back at you, clearly not expecting that. “I… wasn’t asking you to.”

“What do you want then?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I—” he sighs, and you can’t help but wonder if he suddenly regrets coming after you. “You’re tired.”

“Yes, because I barely fucking slept. And?”

You tell yourself that you’re just imagining the way his voice has softened slightly. “Dinner’s over. We don’t have to stay. They’ll get it.”

“I’m having fun,” you retort. “I made friends.”

“I saw,” he remarks, not quite able to hide his smirk.

“So please, don’t cut your boring producer conversation short on my behalf,” you continue dryly.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, to your surprise. “Yeah, it’s brutal. I’d much rather be sleeping.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Or doing sake bombs.”

The question rushes out before you can second guess if it’s a good idea to ask. “How did you sleep? On the couch?”

Yoongi shrugs, then rubs a hand at the back of his neck, making a face as if you’ve put him on the spot. “Like shit.”

You nod, your gaze dropping to the carpeted floor. “Well, I mean. Maybe it would make more sense if, uh—”

“’Scuse me—” a new voice causes your head to snap up again, and you take a step away from Yoongi as Tiffany slips between the two of you, moving quickly toward the women’s restroom.

“Sorry love, I have to break the seal!” she calls over her shoulder before the door slams shut.

The interruption is enough to make you swallow your suggestion, and Yoongi reaches into his pocket for his phone.

“I’ll call a car, because I’m tired,” he murmurs defensively. “You’re welcome to get your own later, if you want to stay out—”

“I don’t,” you say firmly. “It’s fine. Just tell me when the car’s here.” Before Yoongi can so much as respond, you shoulder the bathroom door open and fast-walk to the safety of a stall.

After breaking your own seal, you make your way out to a sink, and you’re a little taken aback to find Tiffany still there waiting for you. She’s hovering over the mirror, blotting at her forehead with a paper towel.

“I wanted to apologize if I came on too strong,” she says softly as you turn on the tap. “Matthew says my mind-reading abilities can be intimidating to people who don’t know me well.”

You can’t help but laugh. “It’s cool. You remind me of my best friend.”

“The highest honor there is,” she says with a knowing nod. When she turns to fully face you, shifting to rest her hip on the sink as you dry your hands, you have a feeling there’s more coming.

“So, can I be honest?”

“Go ahead,” you say, suddenly a little nervous.

“I know I just met both of you today, but— the way Suga was looking at you? Girl. He’s not taking the couch because he wants to.”

You smile politely at her reflection, and her eyes narrow. “I know you don’t believe me, and you don’t have to. Matthew doesn’t believe that he’s in love with me either, but we both have Leo Moons, so obviously we’re each waiting for the other person to cave first.” She shrugs, nonchalant. “Which is fine for us, but all I’m saying is, if you want something, there’s really nothing wrong with asking for it.”

The urge to shut her down is strong. It’s slightly unnerving to feel like a relative stranger is peering into your soul. “You make it sound easy,” you murmur with a dry laugh. “I don’t think bed-sharing is part of our… arrangement.”

Tiffany preens a little more in the mirror, deftly flipping her curtain of dark hair over one shoulder. “Maybe it’s not supposed to be, but trust me on this one. He won’t say no. And if he does, I owe you a sake bomb.”

A genuine smile blooms across your face, and it only widens when she holds up her pinky finger. You lock yours around it for a single shake. “Deal.”

Arm-in-arm with Tiffany, you return to your corner of the table, where she entertains you by bullying Matthew into buying another round of drinks while he groans about burning a hole in his pocket.

“If it helps,” you giggle, ���I’m about to head out. So make it three instead of four.”

“Thank god,” Matthew breathes a sigh of relief. “This girl is so damn expensive.”

Tiffany pauses with a spoonful of matcha gelato— also ordered on Matthew’s dime— halfway to her mouth. “I literally have a Leo stellium, what the fuck do you expect?”

While they continue to bicker, your gaze floats down the table. You wonder if Tiffany’s mind-reading powers might be catching as your eyes land on Yoongi just in time for him to look up from his phone and meet your gaze. He nods his head once toward the entrance, and you nod back.

A shoulder bumps into yours, and you turn to see Tiffany subtly shoot you a thumbs-up. “Fighting!” she murmurs under her breath, and you laugh as you get to your feet and bid everyone goodnight.

Yoongi holds the door of the restaurant for you to exit first, then follows you into the large black car waiting for you on the curb.

The drive back to the hotel gives you just enough time to immediately talk yourself out of Tiffany’s suggestion. The thought of asking for what you want feels like a trap, like displaying weakness to the one person who could hit you hardest. Besides, what if she misread Yoongi entirely? She doesn’t know him at all, and has no idea of the way things are between you. It’s a terrible idea, you decide.

So you find yourself right where you were the night before, like a bad dream you can’t wake up from: face washed, teeth brushed, tossing and turning in a bed far too large for one person. You can feel your final thread of resistance snap clean in half as you angrily kick the blankets off, then get to your feet and storm into the living room.

Yoongi is still up, peering down at his phone screen on the couch, his glasses deposited atop the coffee table.

“You’re being stupid,” you huff, and he glances up, clearly not expecting the interruption.

“I am?”

“You’re going to the Grammys tomorrow,” you say, as if that will explain anything.

“So are you,” Yoongi counters.

“Well yeah, but nobody’s going to give a shit about me.”

“I’d argue that’s also true for me,” he murmurs dryly, then squints at you. “Sorry, why am I stupid?”

“Because you’re going to sleep terribly on this couch.”

Yoongi nods once. “Probably, yes.”

You sigh, because of course he’s going to drag this out of you. “And the bed is perfectly big enough for two people. We wouldn’t even be touching or anything. So…” Fuck, saying what you want is hard. “Can you just… stop being stupid?”

There’s a flash of recognition in his eyes, and you’re surprised when that trademark cocky smirk doesn’t spread across his face. If anything, he just seems hesitant as he slowly sits up. “You’re sure?”

You fold your arms across your chest, suddenly feeling exposed like this, standing in front of him in only your thin sleep clothes. “Please don’t make me say it again.”

The corner of Yoongi’s mouth just barely pulls up, so slight you could be imagining it. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

In the bedroom, you leave the lamp at the empty side of the bed switched on, then crawl back under the sheets on your side. Heat blooms in your face as you press your cheek to the cool pillowcase, purposefully facing out, then reach one arm up to turn off your own bedside lamp.

True to his word, a few minutes later you hear the unmistakable sound of Yoongi’s steps across the carpet, then feel the shift of the mattress as he slips into bed on his side. He fumbles on the nightstand with what must be his glasses and his phone, and then you hear the click of the light, and the room disappears into darkness.

There’s a rustle and a sigh as he makes himself comfortable, and you were right: the two of you can easily share the bed without touching, plenty of space on the mattress between you.

Even so, having him closer is somehow… better. Comforting. You try not to dwell too much on it.

Flipping over onto your back, you stare up at the infinite black of the ceiling above you, your eyes already starting to weigh heavy. You don’t know where the question comes from, or why you ask it.

“Are you nervous?”

When he answers, Yoongi sounds half-asleep, too. “About what?”

“The Grammys?”

“Oh.” There’s a stirring sound, and then he speaks, like he’s just remembered you can’t see him shrugging. “I don’t know. A little.”

The only reply you’re capable of is a soft hum, and now you really can’t keep your eyes open. You curl up on your side again, cheek smushing into the pillow, and your consciousness whirs up one last coherent thought before you fully slip under: What else would he be nervous about?

~*~

You wake up to the warm glow of morning beneath your eyelids, and when you blink them open, the room is lit soft, dappled in sunlight that has managed to sneak between the thick hotel curtains. It’s warm in this bed too, and comfortable, and you sigh quietly to yourself as you stir a little under the covers. With a stifled yawn, you move to turn onto your back, and it’s only when you meet a gentle resistance that you realize why you’re so warm.

Yoongi must just be waking up too, because you immediately feel his body start at the realization that he pulled you close at some point during the night: an arm thrown over your waist, his hips pressed flush against yours.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice low and rough with sleep. “Sorry.” As the mattress starts to shift behind you, you respond on pure physical instinct and close your hand around Yoongi’s wrist.

“Stay.” The word comes out hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

Yoongi’s response is a soft grunt, and a bolt of panic quickens your pulse. You’re suddenly worried he might not want to stay, that he might even laugh at you for thinking you could have it like this, wrapped in his arms and waking up slowly. The furthest thing from hatred— and isn’t that what this is supposed to be?

But then his grip tightens to pull you that much closer, and he wordlessly presses his face into the crook of your neck. Your heart flutters in your chest, sweet and terrified. The heat of his breath over your skin makes you lean into him instinctively, and when your hips tilt, you can feel the unmistakable bulge of his clothed cock against your ass.

“God,” Yoongi groans. The deep gravel of his voice is enough to tighten your nipples beneath your tank top. “You make me so fucking hard. Dreamt about fucking you in this bed.”

“We woke up early,” you murmur. “So. There’s time.”

He grunts a low note in response. You can already feel the thin material of your sleep shorts growing wet between your legs as you slowly grind your hips back on him. 

Yoongi’s hand slips up your body, fingertips dragging over the fabric of your top until his palm is pressed to the column of your throat. You inhale softly, your head tipping up to allow him better access. His grip just barely tightens, and when he speaks in your ear, you can hear the smile around his words. “Tell me what you want.”

“Want you to fuck me, Yoongi,” you breathe. “In this bed.”

When you repeat his words back to him, Yoongi exhales a laugh, and then you feel him press a kiss to the hinge of your jaw. Something melts open inside of you at the brush of his lips, a sudden rush of an emotion you haven’t felt in a very long time. Something you certainly never expected to feel with Min fucking Yoongi, of all people.

He releases his hold on your throat, and his hand makes short work of slipping the straps of your tank top off your shoulders, then yanking the loose fabric down to expose your tits. You shiver a little at the morning air against your bare skin.

Yoongi’s palm closes around one of your breasts, lazily massaging it, and you rut your ass back on him with a small whimper. The heat of his mouth trails more kisses up your neck, and then his deep voice is in your ear again.

“Did you sleep okay?” He pairs the question with his thumb dragging circles over the stiff bud of your nipple, earning another soft noise from you.

“Y-yeah,” you manage to respond. “Better than the first night.”

He hums against the shell of your ear, the timbre of his rough voice setting every last one of your nerve endings alight. Overcome with desire, you can barely focus on his words as his hand traces along your waist to slip down the back of your shorts.

“Me too. So much better than the fucking couch.”

Two of his fingers tease over your slit, and he huffs a disbelieving laugh at how wet he finds you, how turned on you already are. When he swipes between your folds to circle at your entrance, you can hear your own slickness, chased with a soft noise of appreciation that escapes Yoongi’s mouth as he plunges both digits into your pussy. You can’t help but moan, too.

He could easily make you come just like this, but you want him too much.

“Yoongi,” you murmur, twisting slightly to reach a hand behind you. You trace down the hard muscles of his stomach, apparent even through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, until your palm drags along the thick outline of his cock straining beneath his boxer briefs. He’s so hard that he pulses under your touch, and you’re sure he must be able to feel the way your pussy flutters at the thought of this cock filling you up.

“Needy,” he purrs, his mouth against your neck.

“Shut up,” you answer automatically, not quite able to keep your voice steady with the way he’s fucking his fingers into you.

But Yoongi doesn’t torment you— you only have to give his clothed length one slow pump before his hands are pushing your shorts over your legs, like he can’t get them off fast enough. You kick them the rest of the way off while he works his boxers down, and then you arch back as his cock starts to tease your pussy lips apart.

He slips easily through your folds, painting you both in a mixture of pre-cum and arousal as he grinds himself over the whole of your slit. You bite back a moan when the head of his dick rubs up to your clit, smearing wetness there in steady strokes that make you gasp and writhe.

“Can I go raw again?” he asks so softly in your ear, and your cunt throbs as you whimper your consent.

It’s impossible to keep quiet now, not with how perfectly his cock pushes into you, stretching you open to take him. You press your face into the pillow to slightly muffle your sounds, and you can hear Yoongi groan behind you.

“Fuck,” he hisses roughly. “You’re ruining me. I may never be able to go back to condoms.”

“Yoongi,” you whine as he sheathes himself fully with a grunt of effort, giving you a few moments to adjust before he moves. “If you keep fucking talking in my ear with your morning voice like that—” your own voice breaks off mid-sentence as he drags his cock out just to fuck it back into you, and you have to take a breath before trying again. “I’m gonna come in five seconds.”

When he presses his mouth to your shoulder, you can feel the smirk on his lips. “Is that right?” The low rumble of his question buzzes through you, and your walls tighten around him in response. “You like it that much?”

You can barely remember how to form words with the way he’s started to thrust, the head of his cock sparking hot pleasure each time he rubs himself over the ridges of your front wall. “What if I do?”

Yoongi hums into the crook of your neck, purposefully drawing the sound out to make a shiver run up your spine, and you can’t help moaning. His hand slips between your thighs to nudge them apart, and you’re easily pliant for him, spreading yourself at his guidance so his fingers can find your clit.

“I’d tell you how fucking good you look like this,” he murmurs against your skin. “How well you take my cock.” You roll your hips in time with his strokes, and his free arm slips between your shoulder and the bed to wrap around your chest, giving him leverage to fuck you harder.

“Oh my god.” You nearly choke on your words as he pounds into you, unrelenting now, and your fingertips claw desperately at the pillow beneath your head.

“Pussy’s always so fucking tight, shit,” he groans. “Should’ve just done this the whole weekend. Don’t know how I even let you leave the room.”

Your feet flex helplessly against the bedsheets as Yoongi’s hand rubs a steadily building pressure into your core that threatens to overflow. His fingers move in tight circles over your clit like he knows your body well— which, you guess, he does. The thought of him keeping you here all weekend, tangled up in these sheets, fucking you senseless and making you come again and again and again is dizzying, enough to make your pussy start to pulse around his length.

“Yoongi,” you gasp. “Fuck, fuck, you’re gonna make me come.”

His lips brush over your shoulder, his voice stilted by how roughly he’s fucking into you. “Yeah, come on this cock. Make a mess for me.”

The pleasure is so overwhelming you almost want to squirm away from it, but then his fingers press your clit just right to snap a final thread and send you over the edge. Your thighs shake violently as your climax rips through you, and a rush of fluid squirts out of your cunt to coat the length of his dick and soak a wet spot into the sheets.

Yoongi groans unabashedly at the sight, still fucking you through the waves of your orgasm, his thrusts slowing as if to hold off his own end while your pussy keeps shuddering around him.

You take your time coming all the way down, lost in how good it feels, and then you slump back against the pillow with a ragged sigh, your head swimming. “Holy shit.”

His throbbing-hard cock is still clenched inside your heat, and the bed shifts when he gently pulls out. Dazed, you turn over to watch him as he kneels up on the bed next to you, his knees sinking soft divots into the mattress, and starts to slowly pump himself.

And fuck. He looks so good like this: long hair mussed from sex and sleep, with a half-awake look of concentration on his face, his tongue toying at the corner of his mouth and the muscles of his arm flexing with every stroke. Watching him get himself off has only gotten hotter since you saw it the first time, and you didn’t think that was possible.

It feels like it takes all the effort you have left in your body, but you manage to sit up and turn to face him. In one assured move, you reach down to grab his wrist and pull his hand off his cock.

Yoongi whines a little at the realization of what you’re doing, and he leans back to give you full access as you settle yourself on all fours in front of him.

“Oh fuck yeah, please suck me off.”

“Please?” you laugh, pausing to glance up at him. “Who taught you manners?”

“That fucking mouth did,” he growls, and it’s punctuated with a relieved moan as you drag your tongue up his shaft. One of his hands tangles in your hair while you lick the heady taste of yourself off his cock, then breathe deep through your nose so you can swallow him down.

Yoongi’s breath comes in ragged pants as you hollow your cheeks around him and start to bob your head, letting his tip rub against the back of your throat on every pass. You feel his fingers in your hair tighten, and his hips shove up to match your strokes, like he’s already close to coming undone.

This thick cock weighs heavy and familiar on your tongue, warm like the rays of morning sun that have reached far enough into the room to wash over the bedsheets now. Drool spills out from the seal of your lips around Yoongi’s shaft, and the sound of him fucking your mouth is obscene, pornographic as it floats up to the ceiling.

“God,” Yoongi gasps. “Gonna come down your pretty fucking throat.”

And it’s funny— once, this would have made you feel powerful, in control, like the person with the upper hand. The winner. But in this moment, it occurs to you that you don’t really give a shit about winning anymore. Now his words just make you hum and suppress a smile around his cock in your mouth. When you notice the way his thighs tremble in response, you keep going, vibrating his length while you sink as far down as you can take it.

The hand in your hair releases, and then his palm just barely brushes over the bulge of his cock in your throat as if in admiration. Eyes rolling back, you let your jaw slacken and swallow hard on the stretch of him there.

“Jesus, fuck,” he groans, and then he’s coming, and the throb of him in your mouth still feels like a reward. You pull back a little to keep from gagging as he paints fat ropes of cum into the tight clutch of your throat. Sucking firmly around him through spasm after spasm, you swallow it all down greedily until you feel him going soft on your tongue. 

You finally pull off with a wet pop, dazed and laughing as you roll over and collapse into a heap against the mattress, thoroughly spent.

“Okay,” Yoongi manages to say on an exhale, though you can hear he’s still short of breath, too. You glance up to see him raking a hand through his hair, looking fucked out of his mind. “I’m ready to go win a Grammy now.”

There’s just enough time for each of you to shower and get dressed before a whole team of people arrive for Yoongi: stylists, hair and makeup, and most importantly, coffee delivery. Yoongi blinks wide-eyed at you as you press the largest iced Americano you could find in downtown Los Angeles into his hands, and then you step back to let everyone get to work.

Meanwhile, you spend the next few hours in a rush of attempting to get yourself ready, all while double-checking the schedule, answering emails on the fly from your phone, and trying desperately to ignore the anxiety that’s started to hum in the pit of your stomach.

Once your hair and makeup are as decent as you can get them, you slip the black dress you packed for tonight— a rental, because buying a black tie dress was absolutely out of your price range— off the hanger and step carefully into it. Watching yourself in the mirror, you reach behind you for the zipper only to realize you can’t quite manage to pull it up past the small of your back.

Fuck. You didn’t even think about the fact that Jimin helped you zip this thing up when you tried it on initially, during a night at your place where you split two bottles of wine and he performed his own personal critique of all your dress rental options. This was the only one he’d liked.

With a nervous sigh, you head for the bathroom door, figuring that you’ll be able to subtly grab the attention of one of Yoongi’s many stylists to help.

But when you slowly slide the door open, one hand pressing the fabric of your dress in place over your chest, you realize the room has fallen quiet. As you lean across the threshold, you see why: everyone is gone.

Except for Yoongi, who glances up from where he’s sunk into the couch, scrolling aimlessly on his phone.

“Where is everyone?” you snap, probably a little harsher than you need to be.

He frowns like he doesn’t understand the question. “They… left? Because they were done? I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s a big awards show tonight. Means the stylists are pretty booked today.”

Yoongi gets to his feet to cross the room, and you fumble awkwardly, trying to keep your dress up. He’s fully put together now in a well-fitted suit and tie, and with his long hair styled and subtle makeup applied to enhance his features, he looks… good. Too good. Deadly. You can’t quite manage to maintain eye contact, and find yourself staring dumbly at the floor instead.

His voice softens slightly as he steps in close to you. “What’s wrong? Does it not fit?”

“It fucking better,” you mutter. “I just… can’t reach the zipper.”

“Are you asking for my help?”

Your gaze flits up to meet his, and you’re a little surprised by his question. “There’s nobody else here,” you retort, stubborn.

When he blinks evenly back at you, like he’s waiting for something, you realize he’s not going to make this easy. Fucking hell. Another tense moment passes, and he just blinks again.

“Yes,” you finally give in with a frustrated sigh. “Will you please help me, Yoongi?”

“Turn around,” he murmurs, and you do.

His hand slides over the small of your back, and then he slowly starts to ease the zipper up. You don’t dare move a muscle until he’s done, and it’s only once he buttons the closure at the top that you breathe a serious sigh of relief. The dress fits like a glove.

You attempt to compose yourself enough to thank him, but the words get stuck in your throat when you feel the heat of his breath against your skin.

His low voice resonates in the quiet of the room as he leans in. “Was that so hard?”

You turn your head as if to argue, but then there’s a split second where you feel his lips brush over your neck, just below your ear. So slight it could’ve been an accident.

“Thanks,” you manage to choke out, and then you slip away from him to get your heels from the bedroom and try to remember how to breathe. You do your best to ignore the fact that your hands are shaking as you pull your shoes on, then pause in front of the full-length mirror on the wardrobe, giving yourself a final once-over.

As you smooth your hands down the black velvet fabric and turn to the side, you glance up to find Yoongi hovering in the threshold, watching you.

“That dress,” he remarks, sounding a little dazed. You have to fight to keep the smile off your face when he trails off, unable to say more— you didn’t think it was possible to make Min Yoongi speechless. It’s not a bad feeling.

And you do like this dress, even though you could never actually afford it. It’s simple but elegant, a sleeveless column style with a plunging neckline and a slit that reaches your mid-thigh. Nothing groundbreaking, but it sticks to your curves like water and makes you feel somewhat more like a person who belongs at a fancy awards show.

“Jimin picked it,” you respond, and you hear Yoongi exhale a laugh.

“He has good taste.”

You turn toward him as your hidden smile pulls into a smirk. “Well, I’m not dressed up for you,” you chide, and you revel in the way his face drops briefly in surprise before he’s able to conceal it. “I’m trying to meet Kendrick.”

“Is that right?”

“Uh-huh.”

You’re thankful that you purposefully padded your schedule with extra time, because you lose nearly every last minute of it stuck in the gridlock of Los Angeles traffic on the night of a huge event.

By the time you make it to the venue, you’re practically nauseous from all the stopping and starting and crawling of the car, and Yoongi looks equally bad, though you suspect his condition might be more anxiety-related.

As it turns out, the Grammys are a lot less glamorous when you’re only mildly famous, at least by American standards. The two of you are shepherded by security to another ‘lane’ of the red carpet and warned not to stop as you make your way into the building. You observe from afar while A-list celebrities pass in a blur, flashbulbs pop bright enough to blind you, and chatter is drowned out by the sound of fans screaming and the clamor of reporters trying to grab the biggest names for an interview.

“I’m so glad I’m not that fucking famous,” Yoongi scoffs, though he doesn’t quite manage to hide the nerves in his voice.

“Come on,” you murmur once you get inside, nodding toward a pop-up bar in a far corner of the lobby. “Take the edge off. And I’m gonna need alcohol if I have to sit through a fucking three-hour show.”

You down your drinks quickly, only a few minutes shy of the time by which you have to be in your seats, and you return from tossing the empties in the trash to see Yoongi eyeing a piano pushed against the far wall, clearly for show. He takes a seat, glancing around as if in fear of getting yelled at, then gently pushes up the key lid.

“Ooh, do Wine!” you tease with a laugh as you drop onto the bench beside him, but he actually does start to play, one foot pressing down on a pedal to keep the sound soft. His fingers alight over the keys, and the song he plucks out is beautiful. It’s a melody that almost feels nostalgic to you, even though you know you’ve never heard it before.

“What is this?” you ask, and he keeps playing as he responds.

“Do you know Sakamoto?”

You hum a no as you shake your head.

His eyes narrow slightly. “Remind me how you work in the music industry?”

A smile plays at your lips, and you roll your eyes. “Shut up. You know I’m a fraud.”

Yoongi doesn’t miss a note when he glances up to meet your gaze. “Are you?”

It’s only now that you realize how close he is: the two of you are basically sitting hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. For a moment, you forget about the Grammys, forget that anyone else is even in the room.

“Excuse me!” A voice snaps you out of the moment, and you scoot away from Yoongi so quickly you nearly topple off the bench. “That’s not meant to be played, and we need everyone to head to their seats, please!” Your face flushes with an embarrassed heat, and Yoongi lifts a hand apologetically as he covers the keys back up.

You stick close to his side so as not to lose him in the large crowd of people. “Bet they’ll let you play whatever piano you want once you have one of those dumb little trophies,” you mutter under your breath, and Yoongi really laughs, like he wasn’t expecting the comment.

Another thing you didn’t necessarily anticipate: the Grammys are fucking long. You knew it would be over three hours, but you realize you severely underestimated how long that time would feel. While the performances are incredible (and you have to dig your nails into the cushion of your seat to keep from squealing when you spot Lil Nas X a few rows in front of you), there’s plenty of filler between them, and it feels a lot drier when you’re physically in the room for it. Even the commercial breaks are far too short for you to have enough time to actually run to the restroom or get another drink.

You’re also starving. “I hate that they don’t serve food at these things,” you hiss to Yoongi during a break, but it’s late enough in the night now that he’s barely speaking, apart from the occasional monotone grunt. 

Though you’ve been waiting for it all evening, you still don’t quite know if you’re ready when the host starts to run down the list of nominees for Song of the Year.

As he’s only credited as a writer, they don’t actually say Yoongi’s pseudonym, but pride still squeezes tight in your chest when you see “Suga” spelled out across the on-stage monitors beneath the name of the song.

They get through all the titles in what seems like less than a second, and your heart feels like it might give out as an anticipatory silence settles over the crowd. The host fumbles with getting the envelope open, and you’re so tense, you flinch hard at an unexpected brush of contact.

You glance down, and it takes a moment for your brain to process what’s happened. He’s not looking at you, hasn’t said anything, but Yoongi has nevertheless reached over to grab your hand. His long fingers lace through yours, gripping surprisingly tight, and the skin of his palm is warm and dry. It’s like your brain short-circuits for a moment as you stare stupidly at your joined hands, and he gives yours a single nervous squeeze.

“And the Grammy goes to…”

You look over at him, still dumbfounded, and then you hear them call a song that isn’t his.

Your heart sinks as you watch Yoongi blink up at the screen, his mouth pulled into a flat line. You realize belatedly you’re supposed to be clapping, but his hand is still clasped in yours. And you don’t want to pull away from him.

But then he moves first, untwining his hand from yours and bringing it up to rake through his hair with a disbelieving laugh. A little delayed, you both join in the applause as the winner makes their way to the stage. You can’t even process who it is.

You have no idea what to say to console him, so you don’t say anything at all.

Thankfully the category is one of the last of the night, so you only have to sit through a few more rounds of acceptance speeches and watching other people’s dreams come true before you can finally get to your feet. You feel like you can’t leave fast enough as you’re herded out of the stadium and into another car to depart for the afterparty.

There’s a heavy silence in the backseat that feels like a chasm between you as you crawl through Los Angeles traffic.

You realize there’s a bottle of champagne tucked into an ice bucket behind the front seat— a thoughtful touch from the label execs, you assume. Yoongi spots it at the same time you do, and he immediately reaches for it. With a grunt of effort, he pops the cork, a little bit of excess foam dribbling onto the floor of the car.

He raises his eyebrows at you, then brings the bottle right to his mouth for a long drink. Longer than long. You watch his adam’s apple jump in his throat as he swallows several times.

“Alright, chill the fuck out,” you snap after a few seconds, reaching over to grab it from him. “At least eat something first.”

“It’s my consolation prize,” Yoongi quips, but he lets you wrest the champagne from his hands without resisting. You take a thorough swig yourself, then recork the bottle and drop it back in the bucket. “Such a good little admin,” he purrs, and you try to convince yourself there isn’t a hint of venom in his words.

The car pulls to a stop at the designated hotel, and you climb out after Yoongi. Upon making it inside, the two of you peel off in different directions: him for the bar, and you to find anything that remotely resembles food. You keep glancing over at him from across the room as it fills with more and more people, nervous to take your eyes off him for too long, unsure of what he might do. Every time you find him again, it seems like he’s downing another glass of whiskey, drinking like the fucking world is ending.

Meanwhile, you’re struggling to find anything that isn’t kale, quinoa, or… whatever grain-free bread is. With a frustrated sigh, you finally decide to give up. If Yoongi wants to drink on an empty stomach until he gets alcohol poisoning, you figure that’s his fucking problem.

When you shove your way through the crowd back toward him, you find that he’s been pulled into a conversation with a bunch of older men you can only assume to be local industry reps. As you get close enough to make out their words, you quickly understand why he has such a sour look on his face.

“Song of the Year, huh? You know we can cross-reference the nominees and figure out if you’re full of shit, right?”

Yoongi grimaces politely into his drink as he throws it back, but you have no problem cutting in. “You’re actually speaking to an incredibly accomplished producer and songwriter,” you retort without thinking. “He has over 100 KOMCA credits.” You don’t miss the smirk Yoongi tries to conceal behind the rim of his glass.

“KOMCA?” Another one of them speaks up, the question paired with a harsh laugh. “Never heard of it. That anything like payola?”

“Wild that anyone can just buy their way into the industry these days.” The first man shakes his head, eyes scanning Yoongi up and down as if the tailoring of his suit tells him everything he needs to know. “Guess that’s the way the world works now. Never had to struggle a day in your life, huh?”

Your response is immediate and far too loud. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

A loud laugh ripples through all of the men, clearly more excited about evoking a reaction than the gravity of their claims. “Wow, man,” the one who spoke first chortles, clapping Yoongi hard on the shoulder. “Looks like you need to control your girl.”

Your heart thuds in your chest as you watch Yoongi shrug off the guy’s hand to set his empty glass down on the closest table. He moves slowly, deliberately taking a long pause before correcting them. “This is actually my assistant.” His voice is laced with a deadly calm you know well.

“Assistant?” A third pipes up, acting as if he’s never heard the word before. “Huh. You know, back in my day we just called them secretaries. Or mistresses.”

Yoongi moves so fast you barely have time to process it, lunging forward and shoving the guy in the chest with enough force that he stumbles backwards into his shitty friends. “What the fuck!” one of them shouts, purposefully loud, and you can hear a ripple of shock roll through the crowd, can see heads turning to look your way in alarm.

“No, no, nope,” you immediately mutter. “This is not fucking happening.”

Yoongi is already taking another step toward the group, and you tighten a hand hard around his bicep. “We’re leaving.”

When he whips around to face you, the mixture of anger and pain reflected in his dark eyes is so overwhelming, it hits you like a truck. You try to force yourself to stay calm, because at least one of you has to be.

“Come on, Yoongi,” you say, letting your voice soften. “Fuck this place. I need some real food.” Your eyes search his, pleading. For a moment, you can’t help but wonder if you’re staring down an enemy or a friend.

But then you see the fight go out of him as he nods, and you breathe a silent sigh of relief.

Shifting the hand on his arm to press firmly to the center of his back, you guide him in front of you and wind through the packed room of people until you make your way outside again.

Fate does you one good turn by leaving an empty cab out front, and you push Yoongi into the backseat, then slide in next to him. You lean forward to greet the driver, doing your best to smile politely and act composed, like you didn’t just almost get into a fight at the Grammys afterparty.

“Can you take us to Koreatown, please?”

~*~

The cab drops you off outside a strip of bars and restaurants, lit up with neon signs in both English and Korean. To his credit, Yoongi seems more subdued as he follows you out of the car wordlessly, but you allow him a little more time to cool off in silence. You wander somewhat aimlessly, attempting to shake off your lingering anxiety in the warm evening air, until you stumble upon a food truck parked at the end of the block. Your eyes go wide at the posted signage.

“What do you think?” you ask as you turn to Yoongi, and he shrugs, like he really doesn’t care. Perfect. You’ve never had a problem a gamja hot dog couldn’t fix.

Securing one for each of you, you nod Yoongi toward a small group of tables set up at the curb to sit down. Once seated, you immediately drown your hot dog in ketchup and mustard, and you can hear him scoff before taking the bottles from you to do the same. Admittedly, you must look fairly ridiculous eating fried street food in full black tie, but you’re far too hungry to give a fuck right now.

It’s perfection from the first bite, crispy and hot, the batter studded with potato pieces and the inside loaded with cheese.

You’re also too hungry to bother making conversation at first, but after a few more bites you glance over at Yoongi, and your heart sinks all over again. You really do feel bad, and then the words are leaving your mouth before you can stop them.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur with your mouth full. “That you didn’t win.”

He makes a face as he chews. “We already agreed I wouldn’t have been happy even if I won, right? So it doesn’t really matter.”

You roll your eyes, unconvinced. “It’s okay to have feelings, you know. You’re allowed to be upset.”

Yoongi just shrugs, but he can’t quite meet your gaze. “It’s whatever.” You take another bite as he continues. “If I’m gonna win a Grammy, I want it to be for something that’s all mine anyway.”

The sentence surprises you, and you blink back at him. “You’re going to release your own stuff?”

As if he instantly regrets bringing it up, his face reddens a little, his expression twisting into an unsure grimace. “Ahh… I don’t know, probably not. People know me as a producer. I don’t know that anyone would actually listen to it.”

“I would,” you say without even really thinking, and his eyes widen. “You know,” you continue quickly, adopting a fake-serious tone. “Since I work in the music industry. Strictly business.”

A small smile plays at the corner of his mouth, and you find yourself relieved to see it. “I appreciate that.”

You’re also desperately curious, wondering if he’ll say more about his own music, but he goes quiet again. Given the night he’s had, you don’t exactly want to push it.

Taking the final bite of your hot dog and mourning the loss, you stack your skewer and paper tray on top of Yoongi’s, then get to your feet to toss them in the nearest trash can. When you return to the table, you smack your palms decisively against it.

“Come on. I think the circumstances call for some binge drinking.”

Your first stop is tucked into two seats at a neighboring dive bar, alive and roaring with enough ambient conversation that you have to speak fairly loudly to be heard over the noise. The bar in the center of the room is wrapped around a small open kitchen, where you watch the line cooks hustle to steam, grill, and fry what seems like a never-ending rush of food orders.

You and Yoongi stick to soju, pouring each other shot after shot. On the first one, he tilts his full glass toward you, and you knock yours against it.

“To losing,” he toasts, and you can’t help laughing as you tip your head back to drink. He’s smirking as he swallows his down, then pours you another. “Hey, maybe Jungkook will throw me a commiseration party when we get back.”

You grimace automatically at the name as you take the bottle from him to fill his glass up, and Yoongi doesn’t miss it. “Trouble in paradise?”

With a roll of your eyes, you determine that you need to be drunker for this. You take your shot, then instantly hold your glass out for Yoongi to pour another before he even gets to his. He obliges, and you throw it back immediately. The bottom of your glass hits the bar with a loud thud.

“I kinda… freaked out on him. Right before we left.”

Yoongi’s eyebrow lifts, questioning, as he drinks. “Any reason?” he prompts when he’s finished.

“Yes,” you answer stubbornly, tapping at the rim of your empty glass. He fills you up again, and you return the favor to finish the bottle. Yoongi motions to the bartender for another as you down your shot and steel yourself.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he offers.

“Don’t you want to hear that you were right?”

He shrugs like he can’t argue. “I mean, always.”

“Well for one, he asked if anything was going on between you and me.” You glance over to see Yoongi’s eyes widen slightly as he drinks. “I said no.”

“Uh huh.”

“And then he was like, ‘Good, I’m glad I don’t have to tell you to raise your standards.’”

Yoongi is clearly trying to keep his expression neutral, but it’s a losing battle. You can see the way his shoulders are starting to shake, and then he finally caves in, his palm smacking flat against the bar as he really laughs. “Wow,” he eventually recovers enough to huff, and you reach for the fresh soju bottle that’s been dropped off. “He really just said it.”

“Mm-hmm,” you intone, filling his glass and then handing the bottle back. Yoongi’s still chuckling a little as he pours your drink before taking his own, and you continue. “And then, I don’t know, there was some other stuff, and I was just like… oh fuck.”

“Because you realized he’s in love with you.”

You sigh dejectedly into your soju. “I’m so stupid.”

“Nah,” Yoongi shakes his head, reaching for your glass once you’ve emptied it again. “You wanted to avoid an inconvenient truth. Just makes you human.”

There’s a pause as you take the bottle to pour his drink, and then his next words nearly make you choke as you throw back yours. “You should date Jungkook.”

You’re sure you must look entirely dumbfounded as you stare at him. “What?”

“What?” he retorts, like he hasn’t said anything shocking. “He’d be good for you.”

For a long moment, neither of you speak as you regard him. You finally shake your head, nudging your empty glass toward him until he gets the memo. “Don’t say shit like that,” you mutter under your breath, and you’re not sure if he hears it over the din of the bar.

“Besides,” you continue as you snatch the soju out of his hands to pour his drink, “I’ve tried dating a coworker before. It’s a bad idea.”

“Sounds like a good story.”

“It’s not, really,” you murmur, staring down at the liquid in your glass. “My last job I was a waitress.”

“Mm,” Yoongi interrupts with a hum as he takes his shot. “Waitress. I was close.”

You pour him another, mostly to keep him quiet. “Yeah yeah, you’re very fucking perceptive. Anyway, I dated another server for a couple years. He ended up cheating on me with one of the hostesses, but I was honestly kinda tired of him, so I was glad to end it.” You hear Yoongi snort a little at your fairly heartless admission. “But then I walked in on them fucking in the walk-in, and it put me in a bad mood. Long story short, I ended up throwing a drink on a customer and they had to let me go.”

“Christ,” he laughs, pausing for a moment to fully take in your words. “And now you’re a pain in my ass.”

You roll your eyes as you motion for another soju bottle. “Correct.”

“Sounds like your ex was an idiot.” You glance over to find Yoongi already looking at you. “I mean, in the walk-in is just… nasty.”

“That’s what I said!” Your mouth pulls up at the corners as you try to suppress a giggle. “I don’t think we can really judge anybody though.”

Yoongi blinks, staring blankly into the middle distance. “That conference room trash can condom still haunts me.”

With a loud laugh, you bury your face in your hands, and you can feel your cheeks burning from alcohol and embarrassment. You peer between your fingers as Yoongi sets down a fresh shot for you, and you gladly take it.

“People are stupid,” he remarks wisely. “That’s why I don’t date.” You quirk an eyebrow as he passes you the bottle.

“What, a prize like you?” you deadpan. “You just fuck people in bar bathrooms like a well-adjusted human?”

“Yeah,” he admits with a shrug. “So. Wanna check this one out?”

Your mouth drops open in disbelief, and you immediately smack him on the arm. He nearly spills his drink from laughter, and you can’t keep yourself from laughing a little, too. “I already gave it to you this morning, you freak.”

“Come on,” Yoongi’s voice is teasing, and he bumps his shoulder against yours when he leans in closer. “I had a hard night.”

Pouring him another drink is your only distraction, and you do it with the utmost focus. “This dress is a rental.”

“I can pay for it.” The heat of his breath ghosts over your collarbone as he answers. You shove the bottle hard into his chest, and he takes the cue to fill your glass again, still smirking as he pulls away.

“First,” you say, sounding more confident than you feel, especially with the way your pulse has started to quicken. Your expression is deadly serious as you turn to stare into Yoongi’s eyes and he stares right back. “You have to prove that you can keep up.”

When you swallow your shot easily to punctuate the dare, a look flashes over Yoongi’s face like he’s impressed, and then he follows your lead.

After a few more bottles, the bar is so crowded and so loud that you can hardly hear yourselves think, and you stumble out of it and into the next place you see, and then the next, and then the next. All bets are off tonight, and you’re not about to tell Yoongi that he can’t get fucking trashed considering he just lost at the fucking Grammys. You figure you’ll be able to sleep off your hangovers on the stupidly long flight home tomorrow.

With each stop, Yoongi’s mood seems to improve a little. He eventually drinks enough that his suit jacket and tie come off, and they end up draped over your shoulders, despite your loud protests that you don’t need any more responsibilities. With the sleeves of his white button-down pushed up, it gets increasingly hard to divert your attention away from his hands and the muscles in his forearms, especially as you get progressively drunker and drunker.

Yoongi’s palm brushes over the small of your back as you make your way out of the last place, his touch warm even through the velvet of your dress.

“I know it was your personal nightmare,” he murmurs, words slurring together slightly, “but I really am glad you came on this trip. I mean it,” he insists when you shoot him a look. “I would be fucking insufferable if I was alone tonight. And I definitely would’ve punched that label guy in the face.”

You exhale a laugh and nearly fall over in your heels, and Yoongi’s hand slips to your waist to keep you upright. “He deserved it.” You lean into him, not entirely for balance, and you can feel it when he shrugs.

“Sorry you didn’t get to meet Kendrick.”

The glow of the various open-late establishments and the glitter of the pavement under your feet are all beautiful, especially in your current state, and the night air is still and warm. As you approach the next building and are met with the dull thud of music, your eyes go wide.

“Oh, I just figured out how you can make it up to me.”

The noraebang is surprisingly busy given that it’s a Sunday night, but you’re still able to book a room, and you giggle your thanks as Yoongi opens his wallet to pay the hourly rate like it’s nothing. The two of you work your way through more bottles of beer and soju, and when you start up the karaoke and teasingly pick the HEIZE song he produced, you’re surprised that he actually joins you.

Yoongi must be able to read the expression on your face, because he smirks mid-song. “Let the record show that I am actually a very fun drunk.”

And he is. You sing dramatically and loudly, not caring if you hit the notes, jumping and dancing and occasionally dropping passionately to your knees before dissolving into laughter. At first you monopolize the controller, but after you force a third Kendrick song on him Yoongi gestures for it, and you begrudgingly hand it over.

Crossing the room, you kneel down to dig through the provided box of props, immediately spotting and slipping on a cat-eared headband. You glance up at the screen, eyes widening as you realize he’s searching through Epik High songs. “Do Love Love Love!”

When you look back at him, Yoongi is squinting at you, laughing a little at your new set of ears. “What the fuck do you know about Epik High?”

“What do you mean what the fuck do I know?” you snap back. “I love them! I should be asking you that question, Mr. ‘I don’t listen to music’!”

His mouth pulls into a grin, his tongue toying at the inside of his cheek. “I have a few exceptions, alright?”

Still knelt down, you flop sideways onto the floor when he selects Born Hater. “Ugh, I’m too drunk to say that many words.”

“I got this,” Yoongi reassures you, flipping his microphone coolly with one hand as he gets to his feet. You can’t help giggling dumbly from your spot on the ground as you drunkenly prop your feet on the booth and reach up to pull your high heels off.

If there’s one thing tonight has taught you, it’s that Yoongi has a really good voice, even raw and live and drunk as hell. You don’t know why it surprises you, but it does. To you, performing seems like a different world from writing and producing tracks, but he does it just as effortlessly, with no trace of the anxiety you’ve seen grip him in a crowded room. The passion in the way he growls and gasps out lyrics, even just in the way he moves, it’s all undeniable and exhilarating to watch. He raps like he has nothing left to lose, mouth pulled into a snarl, occasionally reaching up to push his sweaty hair back off his forehead.

You can only gaze up at him, awestruck, wondering how many different versions of Min Yoongi you have left to discover until you hit the bottom.

The two of you trade the controller back and forth until every bottle on the table is empty, until the words blur on the screen, until Yoongi flops over to lay down in the booth with his head hanging off the edge, clearly exhausted. “No more,” he groans. “I’m so tired. And so drunk.”

Hovering above him, you pry the controller from his grip with a smile, slipping the cat ears onto his head for an even exchange. And then you get an idea.

“Last song!” you assure him as you type, and he groans even louder when Cat & Dog starts to play.

“God, this song is terrible,” Yoongi complains, but you’re singing too loud to care about his critiques.

With a severe amount of effort, he pulls himself to a sitting position, and you kneel down in front of him, miming cat paws with your hands and wiggling your hips. “I didn’t know you were into petplay,” he deadpans, and you stick your tongue out, determined not to let him ruin your fun.

You get to your feet and turn toward the screen as the second chorus finishes, yelling over your shoulder, “This is my favorite part!”

“Feel like Cinderella naega byeonae—”

When Yoongi’s voice suddenly reverberates from the other microphone, you almost drop yours. You whip around in complete disbelief. He’s on his feet and moving towards you as he continues the rap verse, the inarguable best part, with a renewed cocky energy. And you have to admit, he’s putting Yeonjun to shame.

“What the fuck!” you practically scream, but he just keeps going.

Seized by full-body drunk laughter, you stumble forward and nearly fall over, knocking into his chest. Though Yoongi’s reflexes are a little delayed, he still manages to right you without missing a word, one arm hooking around your waist. You swallow hard as you suddenly find yourself intimately close to the broad sweep of his collarbone, exposed between the top buttons of his shirt that came undone at some point during your debaucherous evening.

Fumbling for your microphone, you make it back to reality in time for the final chorus, only to fall entirely to pieces when Yoongi starts barking at full volume to match the outro. You can’t take it, and he’s not fast enough to keep you upright, so you drop straight down to the floor on hands and knees, laughing so hard it feels like your lungs might give out.

The microphone rolls dejectedly out of your grasp as you flop over onto your back, and you scrub your hands down your face, trying desperately to catch your breath as the song fades out.

“That was the best thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life,” you mumble into your palms. You uncover your face to look up at Yoongi, only to find him laughing down at you, still wearing the fucking cat headband. “I thought you hated that song.”

He rolls his eyes despite his smile. “Yeah, well, it was also stuck in my head for like a week after you played it that one night.”

You sit up with a dramatic glare. “Oh, you mean the night you stole my fucking keys?”

A proud smirk flickers over his mouth. “You know, I am sorry about that. Or at least sorry I couldn’t see the look on your face when you realized.” He tosses his microphone onto the booth bench next to his abandoned suit jacket, then reaches down with both hands to pull you to your feet. It belatedly occurs to you that you might’ve left his tie at the last bar, but you’re too drunk to give it another thought.

“I hate you so much,” you say, though you can’t quite keep your expression serious. “Fuck, I should’ve taken a video. Could’ve used it for blackmail.”

Yoongi’s voice is lower when he speaks again, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close to you he is, the fact that his hands are still closed over yours. “Guess you’re the only one who’ll ever know.”

“Mmm,” you hum, swaying a little where you stand. His palms slip to your waist to keep you steady as you blink up at him, and your hands flatten against his chest, your fingertips tracing over the buttons of his shirt. “You look good in cat ears.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi murmurs, and then his mouth is on yours.

Your hands reach up to tangle in his long dark hair, knocking the headband to the floor, and with the amount of alcohol currently coursing through your system, you don’t have a single inhibition left in you. You kiss Yoongi like you can’t fucking breathe without him.

He pulls you as close as he can, until your bodies are flush all the way down, and you don’t ever want it to be any other way. You want it just like this, sucking and nibbling at his bottom lip until his tongue licks your mouth open and you groan into him. Just like this: his palms moving down to grab your ass unapologetically, your grip on his hair tightening, even your teeth knocking together with how drunk and desperate you are for each other. Just like this: two stupid, wildly flawed humans in black tie attire, making out in a Ktown noraebang at two in the morning on a Monday.

The sound of the door opening might as well be a gunshot for how loud it feels, and you just barely manage to jump apart as an employee pokes their head in.

“Hey, we’re closing in five.”

You don’t realize you’re not breathing until you hear the door click shut again, and your gasp for air quickly turns into an overwhelmed, embarrassed laugh. Yoongi groans drunkenly, running a hand through his hair, then sighs out a long exhale, like he’s trying to calm down.

“Come on,” you giggle, still close enough to tug playfully at one of his belt loops. “Let’s get out of here.”

Thankfully a cab is still easy to flag down even this late. The two of you manage to pour yourselves into the backseat and give the driver the name of the hotel. It’s not a terribly long drive, and you watch wide-eyed out the window as the sprawl of Los Angeles rushes by, painted in neon glow and the amber wash of streetlights.

Yoongi slumps against you, and he goes quiet for so long you think he might be asleep. When he finally shifts again, he presses his face into your shoulder with a noise of discomfort, and you’re suddenly worried he might be silent for a very different reason.

“Yoongi,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice low. “Don’t puke in the cab.”

“Stupid,” he responds, and you figure he must not be doing that bad if he can still talk.

You run your fingers through the soft, dark strands of his hair, admiring the texture, the way it’s nearly long enough now to graze his shoulders. “What’s stupid?”

“I’m—” he tries, but the car dips over a pothole, and he’s talking so quietly you lose the rest.

“You’re what?”

It’s quiet for a moment, save for the click of the turn signal.

“In love with you.”

His words stun you where you sit, and you have no idea what to do, say, think. You just keep twining your fingers through his hair, like you’re stuck on auto-pilot, distantly aware that every alarm bell in your inebriated brain is going off. It feels like way too much to try and process any of it right now. It feels like a trap.

“We can talk about this tomorrow,” you finally answer. Yoongi just stays slumped against you, and he doesn’t say another word.

The cab drops you off at the hotel, and it’s quiet between the two of you as you get him up to the room. You feel like you’re watching yourself from a distance, and it’s like your brain isn’t processing any of this as really happening, as if to keep you from thinking too hard about the big picture. From what it all could mean.

In the bathroom, you stand over the sink as you lend Yoongi your makeup remover and you both brush your teeth.

“Contacts,” you remind him through a mouthful of toothpaste when he spits out the last of his, and he nods sleepily.

“You don’t have to… administrate me all the time,” Yoongi slurs as he carefully slips one lens and then the other out of his eyes.

You spit out your own toothpaste, then sigh as you rinse the sink clean. “Well, you’re very drunk, and it’s my fault.”

“It was fun,” he says quietly, fumbling the case closed.

“It was,” you echo. “Really.” 

The bathroom door is half-open on its sliding track, and you glance up in the mirror to see Yoongi hovering in the threshold, looking back at you as you wipe away stray traces of mascara from under your eyes. You think he’s going to leave, but then he steps in behind you again, and you feel his hand slide up the small of your back to ease the zipper of your dress open.

Something in your heart twists as you stare down at the marble counter, and you can already tell this isn’t meant to be flirtatious. That thought is confirmed when you finally look up, only to find yourself left entirely alone.

With a small sigh, you slide the bathroom door shut, then flip the switch to turn on the fan. The white noise still doesn’t feel like enough, so you run the shower as well, then grab a plastic water bottle from the counter to chug. You retreat into the far corner with your phone, scrolling until you find the name of the only person who can possibly help you right now.

“Hey babe,” Jimin answers on the third ring. “I’m at rehearsal so I really can’t chat. You good?”

“Yoongi said he loves me,” you answer immediately, and the reality of it hits you impossibly hard as soon as you say it out loud.

“Uh-oh.”

“But,” you lean back until your head knocks against the wall. “He’s drunk as shit. I— we are drunk as shit.”

There’s a pause, and you swear you hear Jimin laugh a little under his breath. “He really said it, huh?”

“Yes, Jimin,” you groan. “In love.”

“And?”

You grimace at the flippant response from your supposed best friend. “What do you mean and?! What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“Well, that depends,” Jimin starts.

“On?” you snap, impatient.

“Have you realized you’re in love with him yet? ‘Cause if I have to hear you babble on about this man for another week without piecing it together, I really might lose it.”

His words actually make your stomach churn. “Jimin!”

“I—” he sounds like he’s preparing to explain himself, but then he pauses, and his voice is quieter when he speaks again. “Fuck, I’m getting yelled at. I gotta go. Call me tomorrow.”

You want to scream at him to stay, to help, that he can’t just unravel you like this and then leave you to figure it out for yourself. “Mochi, I’m on the fucking plane tomorrow—”

“I’ll come over when you get home!” Jimin interrupts. “And then you can tell me the entire story of you two finally figuring out how to be normal humans with feelings.” You scoff at his biting remark, but he’s already talking over you. “You’re smart, you got this, I love you!”

You hear him blow a dramatic kiss into the speaker, and then the line goes dead.

The world spins around you as you stare helplessly at the silent black screen of your phone, and you can’t shove it all down anymore. It’s overwhelming, all of the things that you’re feeling in this moment, so much so that you can’t even identify what you feel. It’s just a giant, tangled mess, in your brain and in your heart. The tears spill out like you’ve been holding them in for weeks, hard and fast, until you can scarcely catch your breath. You scrub at the first few that roll down your cheeks, but they continue relentlessly, and you eventually give up and just let it all pour out.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, crying on the bathroom floor. You can’t even really explain why you’re crying, except that everything inside of you feels like too much to handle.

There’s a dull ache in your head by the time you finally manage to cry yourself dry, and then you peel yourself off the floor to slip out of your dress and shut off the shower. You pull on the tank top and sleep shorts you’d grabbed earlier from the bedroom, trying to avoid your swollen face in the mirror as you turn the lights out and shut the door behind you.

Yoongi has left the lamp on your bedside on, and you immediately flip it off to plunge the room into darkness, not wanting him to see you like this. He stirs slightly when you slip under the covers, and you can feel the mattress shift as he turns over.

Like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his arm slides over your stomach to pull your body flush to his, and his lips brush at the join of your neck and shoulder. As confusing as it should be, there’s something about the weight of him pressed into you that relaxes you, even through your current haze of emotion. You allow yourself to sink back against him, to breathe deeper, though your inhales are still a little shaky.

Yoongi’s rough voice in your ear pulls you up from the edge of sleep. “Did I fuck everything up?”

You sniff softly, and your own reply is barely more than a whisper. “No, Yoongi, it’s okay. Let’s just sleep."

As you hear him settle in beside you again, you make a promise that you’ll deal with the fallout tomorrow. You’ll figure out how you really feel, and how he does, and what you want, and what the hell you’re supposed to do about it all. But tonight, you just want this: to lay here with Yoongi and pretend your entire world isn’t about to change when you wake up.

chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten

A/N: oh hiiiiii, super secret bonus author's note down here!!! just wanted to share that, now that we're officially through the grammys, that means we are down to just two more chapters left in the series!!! i held off confirming the full length of LDOMLT until we got to this point (and honestly i could've easily split this into two chapters but i am NICE and i did not give you the WORST CLIFFHANGER OF ALL TIME LMAO) - but now i'm sure. chapter 11 will be the final one. gonna do my best to get 10 and 11 up before end of year, or by very early 2023 at the latest!!! and thank u, as always, for reading 💜💜💜

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

Jewish Song of the Day #31: Avram Avinu

Comments:

Posting this song today because I can't get it out of my head, it's too catchy, I've been listening to it on repeat

Question for any Sephardi folks: is this a really "big" song in Sephardi nusach? Because when I went looking for Ladino songs, I kept finding version after version of this one song lol.

Here is another excellent version (although it uses an alternate name it's the same song as far as I can tell) and has an excellent explanation in the description:

Vocals & arrangement by Farya Faraji. This is a song from the Sephardi music repertoire; the Jewish community that was expelled from Iberia at the end of the Reconquista, and settled around the Mediterranean, developping diverse regional styles based on where they settled. This specific song is from Tangiers, Morocco, and was written by an anonymous author in 1890. Different songs using this text, or similar ones detailing the birth of Abraham have existed during the centuries, but this one in Maqam Hijaz is the most well known one. My arrangement pays homage to the Moroccan-Spanish background of the song by mixing a Moroccan string section, percussions and oud with a Spanish guitar chord progression similar to Flamenco’s.

Lyrics in Ladino: Kuando el rei Nimrod al kampo salia mirava en el sielo i en la estreyeria vido una lus santa en la juderia Ke avia de naser Avraham Avinu. Chorus: Avraham Avinu, Padre kerido Padre bendicho, lus de Israel. Luego a las komadres enkomendava Ke toda mujer ke prenyada kedara si paria un ijo, al punto la matara Ke avia de naser Avraham Avinu. La mujer de Terah kedo prenyada i de dia en dia el le preguntava (or demandava) "¿De ke teneix la kara tan demudada?" Eya ya savia el bien ke tenia.

En fin de mueve mezes parir keria iva caminando por kampos i vinyas, a su marido tal ni le descubria topo una meara, ayi lo pariria En akella ora el nasido avlava: "Anda vos, la mi madre, de la meara, yo ya topo kien m'alechara, Malah de sielo me acompanyara. Grande zekhut tiene el senyor Avraham, que por él conocemos el Dío de la verdad. Grande zekhut tiene el senyor parido, que afirma la mitsvá de Avraham Avinu.

English translation: When King Nimrod went out to the countryside He was looking at heaven and at the stars He saw a holy light in the Jewish quarter [A sign] that Abraham, our father, was about to be born. Chorus: Abraham our Father, beloved father, Blessed father, light of Israel. Then he told the midwives That every woman who was still pregnant If she gave birth to a male child at once he will be killed because Abraham our father was about to be born.

Terach's wife was pregnant and each day he would ask her "Why do you look so pale?" She already knew the blessing that she had. At the end of nine months she wanted to give birth, She walked through fields and vineyards She didn't tell her husband anything, She found a cave; there, she would give birth. At that time the newborn spoke: "Walk away from the cave, my mother I have already found someone who will take me away. An angel from heaven will accompany me Because I am a child of the blessed God."

After twenty days she went to visit him. She saw in front of her a young man leaping, Looking at the sky and (looking carefully/noticing everything), In order to know the God of Truth.

Great merit has honorable Abraham Because of him we recognize the true God. Great merit has the father of the newborn Who fulfills the commandment of Abraham our father (circumcision).

[bengiyo]

La Pluie Deserves a Standing Ovation

I hope y’all didn’t think I’d forgotten about this show after the finale. I was just traveling and have been too busy to write this final review.

La Pluie has been one of the most enjoyable experiences I’ve had as a viewer of TV ever. This show told us exactly what it was from the very opening scenes, and then spent the entire show paying that off. This show opened with an explanation about soulmates, and then immediately countered that with Tai’s parents’ divorce, the note that the pairing of people is ultra-rare, and a happy couple that wasn’t a soulmate pair in a café. Throughout the show it repeatedly stressed that love is about how we treat each other and not something you win via a lottery. It’s so rare these days that we get a show that trusts their audience this much to follow the thread and think about the big ideas along the way.

Doubt and Faith in Acts

One of my favorite things I observed in the show is that only Patts and Tien consistently make the kinds of choices that lead to long-term love without getting their asses handed to them. @shortpplfedup observed during her catch up that this story featured four different kinds of believers: an apostate, an agnostic, a believer, and an atheist. It’s notable that the apostate (Tai) and the atheist (Lomfon) are the ones causing the most harm to other people in the way they treat others.

Throughout the show, both Tai and Lomfon keep making standoffish choices. Tai has cut off his mom and avoids his coworkers. Lomfon is rude and standoffish. Neither of them is able to hold on to their loves because they are incapable of letting go of their own bullshit.

Conversely, Tien goes out of his way to take care of his brother, his family, and eventually Lomfon. I actually liked that Tai and Lomfon had to make opposite choices in the finale. Lomfon needed to show in his actions that he was serious about Tien, whereas Tai needed to show in his words that he was actually listening to what Patts had been asking for.

For Patts, he doesn’t believe that he and Saengtai are meant to be together because they’re connected by the rain. He does the work of caring for Tai because he is kind. He loves Tai because he’s Tai and not because he’s his soulmate. Patts stays present for Tai. He respects his boundaries. He tries to help Tai deal with his problems. He trusts him.

The Ambiguity

As a lapsed Catholic, I gotta say that I really love the way this show ended without fixing all of the soulmate stuff and giving concrete answers. I like that the show holds firm to its conviction that love is not ordained by the narrative; it is something built by people doing the work to be together. I love how this show challenged the notion of the narrative itself mandating the characters be together and instead reminded them (and us) to be present for our loved ones and to listen to their needs.

I think this show would have been weaker if Tai and Patts had restored their rain connection at the end. Besides, I think it gives them room to play with that idea if they get a second season. I also liked that Tien started hearing someone at the end of the season. He is a believer in soulmates, and I think it’ll be interesting to see someone as earnest as him face that challenge.

Releasing the Tension

Before I get to wrapping up, I want to reiterate again that this show has two plot-relevant blowjobs in it. So often these shows tease us and then don’t release the tension. Worse, when they do release the tension it doesn’t always feel like it’s something the characters lean into with their new dynamic.

After episode 5 ended, @ginnymoonbeam teased me for having a moment of panic that maybe I was misreading the show and that somehow Patts wasn’t into Saengtai because of how often I’ve been tricked or teased. Instead, these two end up making out on the floor and Patts was going to blow that man. Then, we don’t cut away from them. We watch them talk about what happened and why Tai is holding back.

Going further, they let Patts and Tai find peace and closure with Nara. Moreover, they treat Nara’s heartbreak seriously. She isn’t ejected from the group, and is allowed to be disappointed and sad about the loss. At the end of the show, they also confirm our suspicions about her and Dream.

It’s just incredible to have watched a show that didn’t rely on teasing us and instead treated the sex and intimacy seriously.

Thank You To Everyone Who Watched La Pluie

I cannot overstate how much joy I got from watching this show along with all of you. When @lurkingshan and I began writing earnestly around episode 4 in the hopes that more people would join us on this show, I did not expect so many of you to actually give it a try.

I think, if you have held off on watching this show because you’ve been waiting for confirmation about one plot point or another, just watch it if you’re still on the fence. When you do watch it, try to let go of what you think is supposed to happen or what you want to happen, and instead respond to what the show is giving you. This has been the most legible show at this caliber I’ve experienced since I Told Sunset About You (2020).

At no point did this show try to trick us about anything, and it trusts us to keep up and engage. This show is better when you lean in. It’s better when you discuss it with others. For a show so much about questioning belief, it is amazing how much this show rewards you for believing in it. I don’t know a better show this year.

I have a lot of folks I want to acknowledge here at the end, including but not limited to:

I want to thank @wanderlust-in-my-soul, @pharawee, and @liyazaki for letting me use their gifs in my posts.

I want to thank @lurkingshan and @ginnymoonbeam for being first through the door with me and committing to getting more folks to watch this show.

I want to thank @respectthepetty and @absolutebl for regularly sticking it out for shows and giving them an earnest watch through their lenses.

I want thank everyone else who contributed incredibly thoughtful writing to this experience, including @shortpplfedup, @syrena-del-mar, @neuroticbookworm, @wen-kexing-apologist, @chickenstrangers, @recentadultburnout, @williamrikers, @heretherebedork, @shouldiusemyname, @sunshinechay, @fadelikeclouds, @slayerkitty, @chinzhilla, @indigostarfire, @iguessitsjustme and @rocketturtle4

See you all in the next show!

[verdemint]

So after tony effe x motogp riders, we got another hyper specific italian post, THANKS TO @marquezista who basically was the other evil mastermind behind this, we got

ACADEMY BOYS AND MOTOGP RIDERS as ANNA new album!!!

(this is once again hyper specific coz Anna has become my entire summer yes thanku) (Anna TI AMO)

Starting out strong we have

-enea as INTRO

I mean: “ pesce grosso vengo dalla costa” (“big fish im from the coast”)

IF THIS IS NOT ENEA FROM RIMINI

Also “pink lipgloss mi vesto tutta rossa” ENEA AND HIS CUNTY FUCSIA 23 on that RED BIKE

-luca marini: once again my fav posh blondie is the cuntiest song on the album BIKINI > sono sexy senza bikini, tutti i ragazzi voglion darmi i bacini (im sexy without my bikini, all the academy boys want to kiss me )

“Sai che sono bella come una model yaeh yeah” no explantion needed

“Anche quando sbaglio non imparo” (“even when i make a mistake i never learn”) > luca on honda lol

-diggia as CHICA ITALIANA

NO EXPLANATION JUST VIBESSS, the american dream propaganda for sure got to diggia

-pecco: again pecco in his overconfident era or BADDIE PECCO

"VIENI DALLA BADDIE BADDIE" (I know pecco would rather choke than listen to this but thats the best part!!!)

-bezz: bezz contains multitudes but in the end HELLO KITTY SONO TROPPO KINKY, IL MIO BB NON METTE GLI SKINNY< bezz and his indie boy Calcutta complex would rather die than be with someone with skinny jeans so!

ALSO KINKY BEZZ TRUTH

(other good bezz candidates were: "tonight" for high fattone bezz (sto highhhhhh cit.) and for depre bezz “una tipa come me" (il mio mood va giù poi su, poi giù poi su poi cit.))

hello kitty bezz to me

-franky!: controversial but ABC esp thasup verse mostly for the cannetta vibes (we all know Franky smokes the best weed for sure)

-now we get to WHY THIS ALL THING STARTED: ALEIX AND/OR JORGE MARTIN AS 30°

i don't think ive ever seen aleix (or jorge tbh) wearing clothes on their insta, they’re always naked and SUPER TANNED so A ABBRONZATISSIMA E BELLISSIMA A A OCCHI COME IL MAR CORPO CHE TI FA FARE AHH

Bonus bonus: this album is actually an aleix/jorge fanfiction coz:

“si fa una chain con il mio name sono la best bitch ever” ( he wears a chain with my name on it, im the best bitch ever)

AND

bonus bonus bonus: migno rimasto al 2020 se gli chiedi ANNA ti dice solo BANDO

thank u @marquezista again for ur precious precious knowledge!!! I nostri neuroni si sono fusi insieme

and if someone has any ideas for CELE PLS LET ME KNOW! cele the most difficult baddie :(( is cele the ultimate baddie?

[proofsiege]

My Lestat spotify playlist;

With explanation(rant) because Im a dork who is very proud of this and I love this guy could talk about him till my voice bubbles and words crack

Playlist here <

> 4 minute warning, Radiohead

Probably more book Lestat, are they really that different from eachother? but specifically Lord Wolfkiller, early Lestat, pre and just post transformation Lestat, Lestat who's dragged out his bedroom window and begs for God, his denial and unwelcomed embrace from the dark gift. (When i find you magnus...)

> La mer, nine inch nails

> Bury me deep inside, HIM

It wouldn't be Lestat without some rock, and it most definitely wouldnt be Lestat without HIM, yearning rock songs if that doesn't scream him then I don't know what does, oh wow could this song be used to explain so much of him haha Lestat stalking Louis through New Orleans completely encapsulated by him, falls head over heels for a man he doesn't know and creates this perfect picture of who Louis is and what they could be, the man who just lets Louis beat him to a pulp and then cries attachment issues, his first love Nicolas and we all know how that (well, he) ended. Lestat who says himself the only way he'd die is from murder, he would never turn to the fire with Louis there.

> The fall, Gary Numan

ROCKSTAR LESTAT!!! ROCKSTAR LESTAT!!!

> Love me, love and rockets

So love this song so much, sums up season three i feel pretty well, going to be lots of things going on especially with past lovers, best believe when the scenepacks are out i will be on that like hound to a fox people!!

> Leash called love, The sugarcubes

BJORK! Sums up lestats thoughts on armand after episode 8 lol Believing and being confused as to why Louis stayed with Armand under the assumption that he knew he was the one who actually saved him, this poor boy. (Hes a murderer)

> The search of my rose, The tear garden

Guys... m*gnus.. vomit, don't shoot the messenger now, a reflection of how his maker consistently is always shadowing over his current relationships, with louis, you either get it or you don't!!

> Musette and drums, cocteau twins

> Into the light, Siouxsie and the banshees

> The way things are, Fiona apple

HOW NOONE HAS SEEN THE ALIKENESS BETWEEN HIM AND THIS SONG IS INSANE. "how could I fight? when were on the same side, how could I fight? beside you" Especially now with what we know about lestat and Louis during that argument. Wake up people!!!

That is the end! I have many many more playlists, for claudia, louis and armand ,finding music is my past time if I'm trapped on an island give me unlimited data with access to Google I would be the happiest person. Turn me into a vampire so I can listen to music for eternity.

[adrienneleclerc]

Dirty Little Secret

Masterlist

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Latine/Hispanic Normie!Reader

Summary: Xavier Thorpe has a normie girlfriend. The problem is, Y/N’s parents don’t know about him.

Warnings: Some Spanish with translations, Boyfriend!Xavier, some pop culture references.

A/N: first Xavier Thorpe fix ever, first fanfic on tumblr in a year or two, comment of you want more fanfics, I do requests

Y/N was in her bedroom doing homework on her desk while listening to music with her headphones on. She was singing quietly to “Tras de mí” by RBD.

“Una guitarra, mi niñez, la escuela y mi primera vez…” Y/N was singing while Xavier was outside her house, trying to figure out how to climb to the second story window without alarming her parents who were in the kitchen cooking.

Xavier started climbing the tree that was right outside Y/N’s window and jumped from the branch to terrace. Y/N took out her left earbud after hearing the crash, “hmm, must be the dog” she thought. Her dog was notorious for causing her parents to knock into stuff, they were small and always in the way. She jumped when she heard a knock on the window “ay, chingada madre (oh fuck)” and she turned around to see Xavier.

“Can you let me in? Your neighbors are staring at me and I kinda don’t wanna end up in a jail cell…again.” Xavier said as he rubs his arms to create some warmth. Y/N moved away from her desk to open the window for her cute yet dumb boyfriend.

“What the hell are you doing here? You scared me half to death, my parents are right down stairs!” Y/N whisper shouted as she let Xavier in. “I wanted to see my girlfriend if that’s okay. And I know, I saw them.”

“You could have at least let me know you were coming,” Y/N said sitting on her bed. “I did text, you were too busy listening to music.” Xavier said, showing Y/N his phone with all the texts he sent you.

“Okay, so you did, but…” Y/N was interrupted by her dad “Amor, quieres comer? Tu mamá hizo arroz mexicano con costillas al horno! (Love, do you want to eat? Your mom made Mexican rice with baked ribs.)”

“Ahorita bajo papi! (I’m coming!) So I gotta go down to eat.” Y/N said as she was getting off the bed, but Xavier also got off “Oh great, I’m starving, what are we having?” Y/N rolled her eyes “well I’m having rice and ribs, you are staying here.”

“Oh come on, sweetheart, I missed dinner to come here, I’m hungry, please let me eat.” Xavier said, looking at you with puppy eyes. “Ugh, I’ll see if I can distract my parents long enough so you can make yourself a plate, just be careful with Sirius.”

“Your dog loves me, I’m pretty sure I’m safe.” Xavier said. Y/N went downstairs first so she could talk to her parents. She sees Sirius in his doggie bed, chewing his favorite toy. “Oye, puedo hablar con ustedes? Se trata del colegio (Hey, Can i talk to you? It’s about school)” Y/N did a hand motion while they went to the dining room to signal Xavier Can go into the kitchen to make himself a plate.

“Claro que si, princesa, qué pasa en el colegio? Tienes un problema con la tarea, con tus compañeros? (Of course, princess, what’s going on in school? Do you have trouble with the homework, with your classmates?)?” Y/N’s mom asked, as Y/N gives them an explanation, Xavier was serving himself rice and got two ribs from the baking pan, when he was about to go back upstairs, Sirius saw him and was wagging his tail, squeezing his toy so Xavier can play with him.

“I cant play right now, buddy, I gotta eat.” But as he goes upstairs, Sirius starts barking. “Oh come on man, i thought you loved me!” Xavier whined as Sirius didn’t stop barking. “Sirius, por qué ladras? (why are you barking)” Y/N’s dad asked as he was going to check on Sirius so Y/N got up to try and block him but she already saw Xavier gone. “Papi, es un perrito, ladra a todo, no pasa nada (dad, he’s a small dog, he barks at everything, it’s nothing).” Y/N sighed in relief as she sat down with her parents to eat. When they finished, there was another empty plate which was Xavier’s so Y/N grabbed it quick and put it in the sink to wash them before her parents would ask questions. After that, she went back to her room to see Xavier laying down, watching videos on his phone.

“The food was delicious, but the ribs need barbecue sauce.” Xavier commented, Y/N rolled her eyes “We’re Latino, Xavier, we will eat ribs with rice and that’s the end of it.” Y/N said as she sat on her bed next to Xavier. “You have no idea the panic you caused me when Sirius started barking, I for sure thought we were going to get caught.”

“Yeah, Sirius worried me too but he’s good, he just wanted to play though. You have no idea how hard it was to sneak out of Nevermore. The new principal is nothing like Weems.” Xavier said, sitting up. They both started talking about school and asked each other how their friends are doing. “Hold on, so Wednesday has a stalker now? That sounds very Pretty Little Liars and Control Z” Y/N commented.

“I still haven’t watched Control Z.” Xavier said, Y/N was going to say something until her dad knocked on the door, “Shit, hide in the closet.” Y/N said pushing him into the closet. “I’m 6’2, I don’t think I’m gonna fit.” Xavier voiced his concern. “Just squeeze in!” Y/N whisper shouted and opened the door.

“Hola papi, querías algo? (Hey dad, did you want something)” Y/N asked. “Sí, tu mamá hizo chocolate caliente para comer con el pan dulce que compró ayer, quiere chocolate caliente? (Yes, your mom made hot chocolate to eat with the bread she bought yesterday, you want hot chocolate?” Her dad asked, knowing how much you love Mexican hot chocolate. “No quiero chocolate caliente ahorita, papi, de verdad estoy bien (i don’t want hot chocolate right now, dad, honestly I’m fine)” Y/N said, hoping her dad got the hint to leave but he didn’t, “Bueno está bien, no mas que recuerdo que una vez dijiste que querías vivir en una casa de chocolate. (Alright, i just remembered that one time you told me you wanted to live in a chocolate house.” Her dad said, walking away. “Tenía nueve años, ya supéralo, papi! (I was nine years old, let it go)” Y/N closed the door and saw Xavier staring at her with a dopey smile.

“A chocolate house?” Xavier asked and Y/N just rolled her eyes but was also shocked that he knew that. “Hey, i was in normie school once, i took Spanish classes, I understood like…a quarter of that conversation.” Xavier said, walking towards Y/N to kiss her. Y/N tiled into the kiss. “If you ever want to meet my parents, you gotta know Spanish.”

“Well maybe if I had a hot Spanish tutor I will feel motivated to learn the language. I’m talking about you, in case you haven’t noticed.” Xavier said leaning down to kiss her again. “Yeah, I noticed. But you gotta go back to Nevermore before your new principal freaks out on you.” You said and opened the window for Xavier to leave. They kissed one more time before Xavier climbed down the tree but he moved his foot wrong and just fell off 4 feet above the ground, landing on his back with a thud. “I’m okay!” Xavier yelled, looking at Y/N with a thumbs up. Y/N closed the window.

Xavier rode Enid’s bike back to Nevermore and snuck into his dorm and was shocked to see Ajax on his bed. “Dude, what are you doing in my room?” Xavier asked. “Waiting for you, obviously. How did it go with your secret girlfriend? When will I meet her, man?!? Enid has been begging me to meet her so we can go on double dates like she has seen on movies.”

“You’ll meet her soon enough. And it went really well.” Xavier said with a dreamy smile on his face.

[bullet-prooflove]

Scar Tissue: Jesse Boone x Reader

Tagging: @yezzyyae @thiashazzywriting @kgkslgohogkdlslgk @whateversomethingbruh @kmc1989

Companion piece to:

Raincheck - Jesse finally decides to get that raincheck.

Last Night - Jesse can't remember the night before.

Perfect Gentleman (NSFW)- Jesse has a certain reputation.

Feel Just Too Damn Good (NSFW) - Jesse has never felt as good as he feels with you.

Happy - You and Jesse have a frank conversation when you see an email from Heather.

Makapipi Falls - Jesse and you take a trip together.

Wild (NSFW) - Jesse realises what he was missing in his marriage. Prequel to:

Black Dress - Jesse makes a decision about your saftey when he discovers some pictures in your door step.

You’ve never told Jesse why you made the move from LA to Hawaii, or the reason you decided to step down as a detective and become a criminalist instead. He thinks it’s something to do with the scars that are hidden underneath the ink of your tattoos. He’s kissed the raised welts underneath the rose that decorates the space between your breasts. He’s traced his fingers over the divot that’s hidden within the stem, surrounded by thorns.

Whenever you talk about your life before it’s with a wistfulness, you skirt around a few things, he can tell, but he never pushes you. Your secrets are your own. When you’re ready to share, he’s here, ready to listen.

It’s Detective Marty Deeks that changes things. The instant he sees the two of you interact he knows you used to date. He only sees the exchange from a distance but there’s a familiarity in the way the detective touches you, one that indicates intimacy. There’s a guilt there too, a sadness, he sees it in the both of you as you talk.

When you cancel your plans with him that night, he knows it’s because you’re seeing Deeks.

Something’s come up, you text him. I need to take a raincheck.

There’s no further explanation and Jesse doesn’t press you. He simply replies with a thumbs emoji.

The two of you haven’t put a label on your relationship, you’re free to see who you want, when you want. The thing is he hasn’t looked at another woman since he met you and he was pretty sure up until now you had no interest in other men.

You’re illusive over the next couple of days, too busy to respond to his messages. When he drops by your desk with lunch, you’re absent, nobody seems to know where you are. It’s then that he sees the casefile, the photocopied one from LAPD. It’s tucked under a bunch of paperwork in an attempt to hide it. It’s when he flicks through the first couple of pages that he starts to understand what’s going on with you.

All the lights are on at your house when he turns up that night, he has a takeout bag from Wally’s in his hand and a four pack of Coconut Hiwa Porter in the other in case he needs to beg for forgiveness.

When he knocks, it takes you a minute to unlock all three bolts. You’ve never used all of them, not in the time he’s known you. When you open the door, he sees the exhaustion in your features, there’s dark circles under your red rimmed eyes. You’ve been crying he thinks.

“Jesse.” You say, your voice pained. “It’s not a good time.”

“I know.” He responds holding up his offerings. “I just wanted to drop these off, make sure you eat.”

You take them from his hands, your mouth pursing into a grim line. You don’t meet his gaze, your shoulders are slumped, dejected. He hates seeing you like this, so upset, closed off.

“Are you ok?” He asks you and you shake your head in response.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You raise your eyes to the ceiling, trying to blink away the tears that sting your eyes.

“Zoe.” He says softly. “I saw the casefile, I know what happened to you in LA. I know why Deeks is really here.”

You swallow hard against the well of emotion in your chest. This is the last thing you wanted, you’ve worked so hard to put that shit behind you, to claw your way out from underneath it but it just keeps coming back to haunt you.

“Zoe?” Jesse says again and you find yourself staring into those warm hazel eyes of his.

Right now you’re at a fork in the road. You can shut down, walk away, forget about Jesse, Hawaii and the life you’ve built here or you can face it head on, stop being a victim and start being proactive.

That’s the decision you’ve been trying to make over the past couple of hours.

To stay or to go.

You still haven’t made up your mind.

“You’d better come in.” You say quietly, holding the open the door. “There’s some things we need to talk about.”

Love Jesse? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[realmadridfamily]

Just listen to him, just once ... 💔

"I am fighting to make sure this doesn't happen to anyone else in the near future."

"Thank you to all the people who accompany me and who send me messages of support. Thanks to this, I continue to fight. Today I have a lot of strength in me, from my family. I'm proud to come here and speak on behalf of so many people, on behalf of all those who suffer from this. It was very difficult."

"Playing football is very important, but the most important thing is the fight against racism. It's very difficult to play matches while focusing on your own game. I am looking for equality in the near future. I want there to be equality and I want life to be normal for everyone."

"I'm not fighting against fans in Spain, I'm fighting against racism in the world. I talked to many people who wanted to help me. There will always be people who will say good and bad things about me. But I have to get used to it. I always plan to help all organizations and fight racism. La Liga is getting better and better, but it's also complicated because racism isn't treated as a crime."

"I've thought so much about leaving here, but if I leave here, I'll give the racists what they want. I want to stay here, in the best club in the world, so they can still see my face. I am constantly developing to bring joy to people who go to the stadium. Racists are a minority and this is not always the case. But because I am brave and I am a Madridista, leaving would be complicated. I will continue to play here because the president and the club support me."

"Many players support me. Many of them write to me. Those who come out to say things like Nico Williams… I can only thank him. They know how difficult it is to train and play. Thinking about what might happen on the pitch. I want to go and play and give my all. That's how I am, I love playing football. I want to play to do great things. Nico is a very good guy, he always defends his colors, and he is an example for me."

"I'm sure Spain is not a racist country, but there are many of them and they go to the stadiums. And this has to change. Maybe many people don't know what racism is. At the age of 23, I have to show what racism is and how it affects me. I also thought there was less racism before, but when I condemn it, the problem becomes bigger. Because they have impunity, they think they can do anything, and what they say about my skin color can affect me on the pitch. I just want to play and perform well and go to every pitch in Spain knowing that I won't be judged because of the color of my skin."

"We can all stand together and stand for the fact that everything can change. We who are black know that we have to do twice as much. If we are together, it will be better. We have to be together because there are people who support us, but they don't have as much strength as us. Only black people know what we are going through."

#

(Note from me: There is absolutely no explanation for racism. Vini is provocative? Educate yourself why this happened and who started it first. And don't repeat nonsense and make him the guilty one, since he became a victim from the first day he arrived in Madrid. It was the racists and Antimadridismo who turned him into an explosive person, and now they are looking for excuses. Disgusting! May you never experience such harassment ... or maybe you deserve it?)

[wibixthecowboy]

Play the Song: Part 1: Meet the Flash

Task Force 141 needs a new sniper and despite their complaints, they're assigned Flash, a joke-making, ABBA-listening, 20-year-old sharpshooter with better aim than the whole team combined. In other words, Ghost is practically handed the love of his life but he needs time to adjust because she's a firecracker.

Warnings/Tags: Age gap (20/30-32), gore, descriptions of injury/blood/wounds, swearing, weapons, literally only fluff and banter, minimal angst, soft baby girl Ghost, asshole Soap, lighthearted, I can fix him he just needs a hug, warning for an excessively bad taste in music, slow burn, protective ghost, family dynamic, big brother soap has an attitude problem, father figure Price, Gaz is just there because he’s on the wiki I have no idea who he is, eventual smut, praise, thigh riding, unprotected (wrap it up people), idk I’m sure it will get dirtier as I go, shifting POV

Side note: All of these characters are fictional! Please don’t be weird about their real life actors, leave them out of this and be respectful! 

A/N: I have been resurrected from the tumblr tombs once again to write about a man that I’ll never have. I have no idea how cod or war in general works and I don’t care enough to learn so enjoy my bullshitting.

Words: 1.5k

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 Part 4  Part 5

  ★ Ghost

  It was a hot day in Las Almas, with the temperature pushing almost 100 degrees, Ghost’s single shirt has stuck to the sheen of sweat on his chest beneath the annoyingly thick Kevlar bodyguard and left him second-guessing his faceless persona in desperation to rip the damp mask off. 

   Their sniper was down, and much to Ghost’s displeasure they were on their way to pick up a new team member fresh off the academy grill. The manila folder in his hands was thin, but the few sheets inside were enough to sell her to the coordinator, he had to admit that she seemed impressive but the minimal amount of field experience would have immediately disqualified her as a candidate if it was his choice.  

“Sniper specialist” 

“98% accuracy rate”

“trained in 6 fighting styles” 

“Distinguished Graduate Award and Clements Award winner” 

“Works under special requirements” 

He squints down at the last line, fighting the bouncing of the truck over the rough terrain to read clearly, special requirements. Ghost huffs a frustrated breath at the lack of further explanation and hands the papers to Soap next to him. 

“Do you know what the special requirements are?” He grumbles, eyeing Soap’s hunched shoulders. They had just gotten the call to clear a residency that would hopefully contain the information on the next run and they would be heading straight in with a newbie. No one was happy. 

Soap shuffles through the papers, barely taking the time to skim the words before he’s shoving them behind him to Price in the back seat. 

“Why the fuck would I know? Do I look like the coordinator?” Ghost raises an eyebrow at the attitude but decides to let it go. He knows from experience that poking would get him nowhere. 

Ghost turns his head to Price in hopes of a clearer answer but he just shakes his head and hands the papers back. 

“You’re missing a few pages there Ghost.” Price says closing his eyes and resting against the seat. Soap, suddenly done with the conversation rolls his eyes and turns to watch the sparse rolling landscape out the window.

“This is the entire file, I opened it on the way here.” Ghost retorts, looking down to flip through the paperwork. It takes him a moment to see it but when he does his hands freeze. Signaled by the sudden stop, Price sits up and looks over the seat to read the page in Ghost’s hand. 

“Oh shit”  

 Somehow both of them had missed the single line at the bottom of the first page,

“Missions completed: 0″

 Realization slowly dawns on him, this recruit has absolutely no field experience. When the coordinator said fresh off the grill he meant it. Ghost turns to relay his newfound information to Soap but snaps his mouth shut at the sight of his pissy expression. 

This new realization leaves a pit in Ghost’s stomach. He hadn’t signed up for training, the recruit couldn't be over 25, a vast difference compared to their already existing team. He’d asked for their best sniper, not a child.   

_____

   The van’s wheels grind to a halt in front of the small outpost building and Soap slams the door open, eager to get the process over with. As if on cue the doors open wide to reveal the coordinator and their new recruit. Ghost balks, through the shimmering heat he can make out two shapes, one being the coordinator and the other he assumes is the recruit. The top of her helmet is level with his shoulder pad and with the rifle being half her height, she looks more like a child than a soldier.

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me. Jesus Fuckin’ Christ that's a child!” Although he wasn’t quick enough to stop him, Price still gives Soap a hard shove to the shoulder. Soap turns around in his seat ready to hit back but Ghost grabs his fist and levels him with a glare. Even with Soap’s strong accent muddying his tone, the words ring clear past the approaching pair. The recruit stands tall though, power-walking through the sand and stopping in front of the open sliding door. 

If it wasn’t for the giant rifle and other military paraphernalia strapped to her chest Ghost would assume he was back at a countryside bar in Kentucky. Her golden blonde hair has been weaved into a thick braid hanging halfway down her chest, framing her freckled face in soft layers and shining in the mid-day sun. The recruit’s blue eyes shone with a wild flare that left Ghost shifting in his seat. Upon noticing a slight gap between her front teeth he feels the corner of his mouth twitch upwards, only to frown at the lack of southern drawl when she finally speaks. 

“I go by Flash, and for your information, my 20th birthday was this summer and I’m probably a better shot than all of you. Now that’s out of the way, are we ready to go gentleman?” 

The entire team freezes in shock at the new and unexpected information. Ghost chokes on his next breath of air and his dignity is saved by Soap’s sudden yell.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN 20?” Flash’s façade falters for just a second at the brute yell before Price is shoving past Soap to get out of the car and stand in front of the pair, blocking them from view. 

Price and the coordinator exchange a few short words before Ghost clears his throat and interrupts.

“No.”

____________________________________

★ Flash

   Flash had been warned about joining Task Force 141, as soon as the news was announced whispers floated around the academy, leaving Flash the center of attention. She was stopped nearly every day to be questioned about the lone wolf Lieutenant Ghost and despite her constant pressing that she had not met any of them, let alone the one known most for his evasiveness, the pestering continued. Flash was tired of being a show pony. She had an itch that needed to be scratched and it wouldn’t happen through obstacle courses and teaching. She needed to be out on the field and she was prepared to do whatever she needed to do to prove herself. What she hadn't prepared for was outright denial.

Everyone’s attention shifts to Lieutenant Ghost, and the man in front of her winces before speaking.

“Ghost it is not up for debate she’s already signed on.”

“Well, fuckin’ take her off then Price!” The loud Scottish man yells again. 

 After an awkward pause, the coordinator shifts on his feet and directs his attention to Captain Price, 

“Captain this decision is final, paperwork has already been filed, and the academy has handed her off.” He clears his throat before speaking “And if I may, Flash has the highest scores of all time on nearly every leaderboard back at the academy, she’s no beginner.” Flash feels a swell of pride and makes a note to thank him later. 

“It’s not happening” Lieutenant Ghost’s voice is cold and has Flash’s newfound pride deflating. So much for making new friends. 

Captain Price sighs before turning to speak directly to Lieutenant Ghost,

“Ghost it seems like we don’t have much choice. Soap move to the back, Flash can take your spot.” He heaves a sigh and Flash can see him bracing himself for a backlash but its not from who she expected. 

“This is utter dog shit, I’m not working with a child!” Soap drops his head into his hands before heaving himself out of his seat and into the back. Flash’s smirk falters when she realizes who she’ll be placed next to but she takes a breath and steps into the van, ignoring Captain Price’s outstretched hand. 

Captain Price shoves himself next to Soap and the coordinator gives them one last salute before pulling the door shut.

   It’s a tight squeeze in the van, the third seat of the second row has been ripped out and replaced with a few precariously balanced boxes, leaving her pressed up against the side of the Lieutenant. Although the sweltering day had given her a rosy complexion the heat of his body made her face flush an even deeper shade of pink. 

 _____

They bump along the road for a bit before it dawns on Flash that she’s on the way to her first mission. She can’t help the grin that slowly makes its way across her face.

“What’s that shit eating grin for?” Soap grumbles from the back seat obviously still sore from being forced into the back. Flash cant help the giggles that force their way up when she spots him glaring at her through the rearview mirror.

“Nothing.” She replies with a simple shrug and drops her gaze down to her lap, still smiling. Ghost’s rigid posture doesn’t relax but when he looks down at her she can almost see a glint of humor in his blue eyes. She stares back, “What?”

“Nothing.” He mimics. 

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.