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stephspurs · 3 years

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A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Life is beautiful and life is cruel. This is a window into the souls of the victorious and the vanquished. In a way, football did come home during the summer of 2021. Follow along Amelia’s journey, navigating the football world as a tactical analyst for the Italian football team, with a brother and father part of the three lions. Will Amelia leave Italy and come back to England? Will she leave the Serie A for the Prem? Will she set aside the bianconeri stripes for new colours, leaving behind friendship for love? Maybe she can have both...

hey girlypops! here is part 5!!! thanks for the feedback on the last part - i've gone back through and edited slight bits to make it more straightforward who her brother is and who it isn't. Nothing has been changed to the story line so no need to go back and re-read (unless you want to lol love yas). Part 5 is a whole lot of fun! As the warning suggests, you can expect a few too many drinks, some heavy flirty & a very smug italian.

Love always, Steph xx

Part 5. | parte quinta

warnings; a few too many drinks, heavy flirting and a smug italian.

word count; 1704

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Wed 04/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)!

Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven

link to fic masterlist here

Day rolls into night, which rolls into the next day and before she knew it Amelia had been under the Mykonos sun for 5 days. Her brother and his teammates, who she should now probably refer to as her friends as well, did nothing but welcome her into their group with open arms and tried to include her in every activity they were doing. Most times she declined their invitation, opting to just relax on her own. She was very comfortable with her own company, she never felt like she needed another person to be able to exist. It was something she was proud of.

No doubt there were times she often missed companionship. She had her fair share of flings that gave her what kind of satisfaction she needed at the time, but she never felt like she needed someone else’s air to be able to breathe. This Mykonos trip, however, reminded her of how much she was beginning to miss her players. They had a group chat, La Cosa Nostra, which was probably a pretty poor group chat name but she was inducted into the already established group when she became close with some of the players & besides it was just Our Thing.

She missed the gentle bullying that she received on the daily from the serie a superstars, and also missed dishing it out to them so that they could keep their feet on the ground and their heads out of the clouds. Laying on her bed in a towel, after a nice shower, she contemplated taking up her brother’s offer from earlier in the evening. Does she go out and meet him and their mates at the club? Why not?

Getting up off her bed, she put on some makeup for the first time in a few days, making her feel somewhat human again, blow dried her freshly washed hair and put on her favourite Camilla bikini, covered up by a white slightly-sheer and flowy mini dress. Putting on her white sneakers and grabbing her cross body bag, comfort was the theme of tonight, and also because she wasn't in the mood to break her ankle on the grecian cobblestones.

Walking to the club that her brother had messaged her the name of, she noticed a ridiculously long line to get in which was honestly long enough for her to consider just going home, but she had committed to the plans & her brother was already expecting her - plus she had already put on her mascara and she was not wasting it. Approaching the line she went to join the back when her arm caught that of someone else walking past her.

_____________________________________________________________

“Sembra che tu non riesca a starmi lontano, vero?” (you can't seem to stay away from me, can you?) Looking up, I had linked arms with my midfield maestro, Jorginho. Who was smiling down at me with the cheeky grin that told me he saw me coming and couldn't help himself.

“Ciao! Come sei stato? Che sorpresa incontrati qui!” (Hi! How have you been? What a surprise running into you here!) I begin to say to him as I kiss both his cheeks in greeting.

“I’ve been good, enjoying time off as a double champion” He joked with me. He was right, he was a double champion and no one could take that away from him.

“Bella Amelia, this is Thiago. I play with him at Chelsea, which I'm sure you already knew. Thiago, this is the brains behind the organisation, Amelia” Jorginho introduced me to his Chelsea counterpart, which he was correct about - i did already know exactly who he was.

“Are you guys coming into Tropicana? I’m meeting up with my brother and his mates - some of them play with you guys at Chelsea. You should join us!” It took very little convincing for the two footballers, who looked like they were a couple hours into their long night, to join me in the club.

Unsurprisingly, we got let into Tropicana quite quickly. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the two mega famous and ridiculously good looking footballers I had looped around each of my arms. Walking through the club, the smell of cigarette smoke and vodka wafting around me, I managed to find the british players.

“Now now boys, no bad blood here! I know you all managed to get over my Italian affiliation so don’t hold it against my boy Jorgi here!” I address the group jokingly, as I wrap my right arm around his neck and he wraps his left around my waist.

Of course the Chelsea boys welcome him with open arms, they’ve known both Thiago and Jorgi longer than they’ve known me. The other boys offer their hellos before continuing to dance and drink with their mates. I say hi to everyone, give a big hug to my brother and Kyle (my chosen brother) before I'm wrapped into another hug I wasn't expecting.

“I’ve got to admit, you give a good hug” I say as I whisper into his ear.

“You’re a pretty easy person to hug, Mils”

“Always a smooth talker you are, Jack”

We parted and I grabbed myself a drink before spending the night dancing on top of the table with the girlfriends of the boys that I had only just been introduced to. Bonding over the fact that I was desperate for some female companionship, and also that I was the only single girl in the group, leading to the conclusion that they needed to be my wingwoman...all of them.

The night thereafter was spent finding suitable prospects for my whirlwind night of fun and romance, which I insisted wasn't necessary but also couldn't help but admit that it excited me just a little. It had been a while since I was close with a guy in that sense, and to be honest, the tequila shots that the girls had me doing was loosening me up in more ways than one.

Feeling the need for a break and some fresh air, I grabbed my purse and walked outside to sit along the retaining wall. We had reached that part of the evening where there was no chance I wasn't going to be allowed back into the club - the bouncers and security guards becoming more relaxed and carefree as it neared the time that the sun would reappear. Without thinking twice, I asked for a cigarette from some guys standing outside and a quick light, before returning to my little spot on the wall.

“They’re right bad for you, ya know” A voice to my right startled me.

“Jesus! You need to stop scaring me like that!” I shrieked.

“Nah not Jesus, just Chilly. However the beard has me thinking I do look a little bit God-like these days..no?” He says as he runs his fingers through the barely-there beard. Sure I could agree with stubble, maybe even a little bit more than stubble, but a beard? Not yet. However, I wasn't about to dim his sparkle.

“I like the beard, Chilly.” I confirmed.

“I like you, Mils” Wow ok. Straight to the point then.

“Well thanks, you’re not so bad yourself.” I tried to play it off, it was obvious we had both consumed far too much alcohol this evening and the cigarette was currently working wonders in its purpose of sobering me up.

“Ya know, the girls were out there tonight looking for your Greek Adonis to come and sweep you off your feet. They were looking a bit too hard though, if you know what i mean” he sweet talks me, and its working.

“Wow Ben, you’re really out here laying it on thick tonight - factor 50 i would say. I’m sure you’re just looking through rose coloured glasses right now” I joked back with him. I can’t say I didn't notice all of his longing looks, extra attention to me, constant protection when we would be out in public, but I knew at the end of the week that I would be going back to Turin, so there wasn’t any point.

Finishing up our little chat (read: heavy flirting session), we headed back inside together to join the group. Before long, Jorgi comes up to me with a drink and a smug smile on his face.

“Che cosa?” (what?) I questioned him in Italian, trying to limit as many people understanding our conversation as possible.

“Cosa succede a mykonos, rimane a mykonos, no?” (what happens in mykonos, stays in mykonos, no?) He says as he leans into my ear. To anyone else it would just look like two friends trying to have a conversation in a loud club, but I understood his message loud and clear.

“non sto facendo niente di male, né l'ho mai fatto. non voleva etichette, quindi è quello che ha ottenuto” (i'm not doing anything wrong, nor have i ever. he wanted no labels so that’s what he got.) I say back firmly. Jorgi let go of my shoulders and moved to stand in front of me.

“It’s ok tesoro (darling), I’m sure Federico would agree with you” He said back to me in English, it was obvious that he wanted someone around to understand the premise of our conversation. He smiled cheekily at me, before taking a swig of his drink and dancing backwards into the crowd as I shook my head at him.

Jorgi and I developed the kind of friendship that would last through time. We were equals. We listened to each other's problems, offered the advice that we needed to hear & not necessarily wanted to hear. We promoted each other's happiness and tried to get each other to not take life too seriously. This was his way of bringing me back down to earth, reminding me of what I have waiting for me back in Turin, but also making sure I knew what was right in front of me. He left the decision up to me to make, but he played his part to make sure I knew all of my options. He really was a good friend, which would make my next career decision a little bit more challenging than anticipated.

Part 6. | parte sesta

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quietlyimplode · 3 years

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Natasha Romanoff Masterlist of Fic Recs - Version 2.0 - Page 1

Page 1 / Page 2 / Page 3 / Page 4 / Page 5

Updated June 2021

This is not an exhaustive list (and in no order whatsoever) of the brilliant fic that is out there. Please let me know of any i have missed or any recs to put in and I will endeavour to add it. I have not included warnings or ratings. Please make sure you look at the tags, judge for yourself and as always take care of yourself first. (17 authors under the cut)

The Irish Mayhem @the-irish-mayhem

White - part of Perfection of Duality Series - the making of Natasha Romanoff. One of my favourite fics in the world. I will love it forever. - 25/25

Perfection of Duality- part two - Natasha - Natasha in shield - 4/?

Mypedia @sebuttstianstan

anything that bleeds - Natasha - Natasha is a sub. Don’t let that fool you, Natasha’s backstory with bdsm elements. 21/22

Shadesfalcon @shadesfalcon

Like Real People Do - Clint/Nat - ‘Do we have song?’ Iterations of what’s the ties that bind them together. 1/1

Whether you ask it or not - Clint/Nat - Natasha gets poisoned - and has the line ‘“’Night, little dragon. May your fires ever burn hot upon your unsuspecting foes.” 1/1

Sometimes winning means you’re the last one standing - ot6+everyone - don’t play ‘never have I ever’ without some laughs and trauma rearing its head 1/1

I am good - Clint/Nat/Laura - Clint brings Natasha home for the first time. 1/1

Careful She Bites - Clint/Nat - don’t confront Natasha about the handcuffs. Just don’t. 2/2

What happens here stays here - Clint/Nat- Natasha can’t remember Budapest. 1/1

Koren M- cybermathwitch

I’d Make Room for you - Clint/Nat/Laura - perspectives of each other are important. 1/1

Course Corrections - Clint/Nat/Laura - taking care of each other 2/2 snippets into conversations/life Course Corrections (Age of Ultron Fix-It Fic)

As if you have a choice - Clint/Nat - Natasha gets pregnant. They know they can’t keep it. 3/3

The weight of us - series of 11 - my fav is ‘Seeing Red’ and ‘Sharp and Sweet’. Clint/Nat shield days

Red Flag Warning - Natasha - red is a warning colour. Clint should know. 1/1

Edgeofthegalaxy @natasha-romanoff-deserved-better

buried in your bones, i see it in your closed eyes - Natasha dissociates and its a long way back Clint/Nat 1/1

Origins - Young Natasha in the red room, of learning morality and goodness. 1/1

But even the strong can fall - Natasha goes silent on a mission, Clint knows something is very wrong. Clint/Nat 2/2

Just a Kid - sometimes Natasha doesn’t realise how messed up her childhood was. Sometimes she needs to be told. Nat/team 1/1

Collateral Damage - Natasha comes home from a mission; Tony needs to patch her up. Tony & Nat 1/1

Daughter of Rohan @natrasharomanova

Living Louder - Clint/Nat - break my heart. Origin stories. 21/21

Beside you (sequel to living louder) - Clint/Nat - shield falls. Clint and Nat find each other in the aftermath.

It’s still raining - Clint/Nat - everything happens when it’s raining. 1/1

You are a piece of me, I wish I didn’t need. Clint/Nat/Laura/family. Clint brings Nat to the farm for the first time. Healing ensues. 1/1

Impossibilities- Clint/Nat but with Pepper/Maria/Darcy and Jane - Natasha is pregnant? 1/1

Wake my spirit Cold - Clint/Nat - Christmas throughout the years - 1/1

(We could be) infinite - Clint/Nat - ENDGAME FIX IT. The soul stone split in two. No one dies. 1/1

I am not the only traveler who has not repaid his debt - Clint/Nat - ENDGAME FIX IT. Natasha dies but is alive in a multiverse. Clint dies in the alternate. They meet in the middle. 1/1

Sugarfey @sugarfey

Chrysalis - Natasha - this is how it goes and how she came to be. Ashes series 1/3

A walk on part in the war. Natasha - Drakovs daughter is ‘saved’. Ashes. 2/3

World on Fire - Clint (/Natasha) Clint has a history and can play the guitar. Ashes 3/3 - my favourite part.

First Name Basis- Clint/Nat - getting to know you. 1/1

Right where I used to be - Clint/Nat - it’s Natasha’s birthday, Clint uses this to get to know her better. 1/1

Once was lost - Clint/Nat - slow burn, Natasha offers herself to him once. 1/1

Expresso is not an option - Nat/Maria - ‘you could destroy shield in a heartbeat, couldn’t you?’

Thursdays Child - Nat/fury - fury mentors Natasha-from afar. 1/1

Shelter - Clint/Nat/liho/lucky - Lucky puts one big paw on Natasha’s knee and looks at her as though she hung the sky with pizza - 1/1

Almost home - Natasha - find a mooring and settles - 1/1

Long spaces 3/3 - Natasha/Clint - natasha and Clint fit together - all the broken pieces. . 3/3

Inkvoices - @inkvoices

Smile for the living - POST ENDGAME - Natasha is brought back. 1/1

In deed- Clint/Bucky/Nat. In which dogs and deeds are discussed. 1/1

Driver chooses the music. Clint/Nat - get in the car.

On Names - Clint/Nat- she goes by many names - 1/1

AlwaysLera

Fallout Patterns - what happens when your mind is a nuclear bomb? Nat/Clint - sex is not always sex when trauma is as deep as hers - 14/14

Breathe me with your hands - Clint/Nat - navigating sex - 1/2 One Red Thread Series- Nats pov.

Hold you by the edges - 2/2 One Red Thread - Clint’s pov.

Ghosts that we knew - Clint/Nat - aftermath of the avengers. Natasha navigating the world when Clint safewords out. 15/?? Unfinished.

How the day sounds - Clint/Nat - thanksgiving throughout the years - 14/15 (?fluffy)

You were a kindness - Clint/Nat - a perfect look at the trauma of being brought in. Let herself be nothing but a branch. Let herself be nothing but stardust. Stardust could not be hurt. Stardust could not be used. Stardust could not be held. 1/1

Crashing, understanding, blinding, tumbling - Nat/Tony - plane crashes - tony takes care of Natasha whilst blinded - 1/1

Two plus two is five - Clint/Nat - how do you test a concussion? Two plus two is five in large quantities of two. 1/1

Into the dark (song fic) - team after harrowing mission watch Clint and Natasha dance - 1/1

The ocean carry you home - team- pepper is pregnant, Natasha doesn’t cope well with the news. Yellow blue bus. 1/1

Enigma731 @enigma731

Something just like this - Clint/Nat - Clint is depressed. Natasha doesn’t know how to help. 1/1

Going to the Chapel. Clint/Nat - get married in Budapest and have sex.

September - Tony/Nat bonding - Tony makes a memory machine to cure ptsd, Natasha helps. 1/1

Everything Costs - Clint/Nat- Natasha keeps getting hurt on missions, Clint wants to know why. 1/1

That’s way you showed me (I wasn’t quite so alone) - Clint/Nat - 3 christmas’ - 1/1

Prompts (some lovely short 1 shorts) - team assorted - 13/?

It starts with Time - Natasha - Natasha goes looking for her family - 1/1

The war I can’t win - Natasha/Clint - Clint gets injured. Natasha is his support. 1/1 (it mentions Occupational Therapy this is a winner)

We are not shining stars - Natasha/Laura + Clint - Clint dies (fair warning) it’s all Natasha can do to cope. 1/1

Unpack your heart - Clint/Nat - in the beginning they left post it notes - 1/1

Hearts and Bones and Blood - Natasha/Clint - Clint saves Natasha from mental health services when she first comes to shield. Because sometimes she gets lost in her own head.

What Girls are Made of - Nat/team - 5x Natasha has unconventional means of flying. 1/1

Ghost Towns - Clint/Nat - Natasha has memories implanted in her head, shield medical and Clint try to help. 1/1

The glass parade - Steve /Natasha - he watches her become different people. 1/1

Slipsthrufingers

Cleanliness Is Next To… - Nat/Clint- Or Five Memorable Showers Clint Barton and Natasha Have Had, and One Time There Was a Bath Instead. - 1/1

The more you know - Clint/Nat - this is what they learn first (or Natasha is not what is written in her file) - 1/1

Perspectives - Nat/team - perspective and interpretations; what do you see?

OracleGlass

safe as houses - Clint/Nat - what makes them go to a nonshield safehouse?

The clutch of circumstance - Clint/Nat- he helps her start. 1/1

Ranni

Voluntary Procedure - Clint and Natasha agree to be mind wiped. The others are not happy - Clint/Nat/Team 6/6

Stronghold - Natasha and Clint shut down their various safehouse. Clint/Nat (team) 1/1

Spy Vs Spy (recced by Anon) - Clint & Coulson & Natasha - Natasha Romanov was the most beautiful person in the room and nobody asked her to dance. 2/2

Paperairplanesopenwindows @paperairplanesopenwindows

On the first day of Christmas - Clint/Nat/Laura- Laura wants to celebrate, Clint and Nat aren’t so sure - 1/1

A little to the left - Clint/Nat/Laura - she’s Natasha but a little to the left (POST ENDGAME) - 4/4

Family Togetherness Time - Clint/Nat/Laura - Steve gets concerned about Nat and turns to the people he thinks can help. 3/3

Eauline

In every lifetime I choose you - Nat/Steve - Natasha gets captured to get to Steve. 11/11

MillyVeil

Burn baby, burn. Clint/Nat - Clint saves Natasha from heatstroke. 1/1

Teamwork - Clint/Nat - fuck or die, Clint’s not ok but Natasha is. He doesn’t understand. - 2/2

Other people - Clint/Nat- she’s up for some monkey sex until she’s not. 2/2

altheterrible @altheterrible

Shining white in the sun - Natasha - Clint dies, Natasha tries to cope. She doesn’t do it very well. 7/7

tastes - team - different tastes in points in time - 1/1

strix_alba

places to go, people to be- Natasha - Natasha gets to decide who she really is after the fall of shield 1/1

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winterscaptain · 4 years

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redamancy.

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: the moment you’ve all been waiting for...#5 makes an appearance! (thanks to kira @good-heavens-chris-evans for helping me not be a liar and gassing me up so i could post this tonight like i promised xoxo i love you so much) words: 5.56k warnings: descriptions of childbirth (nothing too gross or graphic), swearing, disgustingly sweet family content

summary: “what strange creatures brothers are!” - jane austen. au!august 2022

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist edited: january 9th, 2021

“Hey, Aaron?” You peer around the wall to the bedroom from your place on the master bath toilet. There isn't any urgency to your query, which would later make you both laugh until you can't breathe.

Aaron has a book in his lap and reading glasses resting on his perfect nose, as is usual for bedtime. He turns a page. “Hm?”

“When you get to a good stopping point, can you grab the go bag?”

“Yeah.” He gets up on autopilot, setting his book down. When he reaches the bedroom doorway, he freezes and turns over his shoulder “Wait. Why?”

“Oh, nothing extreme,” you say, your voice light. “My water just broke and I figured we might -“

Your name leaves his mouth in a laugh, and he trots back to you, helping you up and kneeling to assist you with your comfiest pair of pajama pants. You steady yourself with a hand on his shoulder, stepping into one leg, then the other. Playfully, he snaps the stretchy waistband around you. He's still kneeling before you when he says, “You’re insane, you know that?”

You smile down at him and scrub your fingers through his hair. He leans into your touch like a cat and closes his eyes. “You are too, I’d like to point out.”

He sighs, kissing your belly and resting his cheek on it. “Never said I wasn’t.” He looks up at you. “Is it weird that I’m...a little sad? I’ve loved this part of our lives so much.”

You shake your head. “Me too, my love. And no, It isn’t weird.”

He holds your hands as he stands and kisses your forehead.

“We should probably tell Jack it's go time so he can help the little ones when they get up.”

Aaron pauses for a moment, thinking. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Isaac isn’t going to clearly remember last time, so he’ll probably be nervous, and this is totally new to the girls.” You reach up and he plants a kiss on your lips. You smile, pleased.

A little contraction wave hits, and one side of your face screwed up in discomfort.

Aaron kisses your cheek and says, “I’ll get the rest of the toiletries together.”

You nod, and padded down the hallway, your socked feet swishing a little against the hardwood floors. You knocked twice on Jack’s door, quietly, and waited for his groggy, “Yeah?”

With access granted, you open the door with a little smile, and Jack sits straight up. You cross to his bed and sit down on the edge, opening your arm to him. Though he’s almost seventeen, he scrambled out from under the covers and tucked in close to you.

“Your dad and I are headed to the hospital, and Aunt Jess and Em are on their way okay? If you need anything big, dad has his phone and -“

“Mom, we’ve done this before,” he says with a grin. “I know the drill.”

You push the hair off his forehead and kiss him. “I know it, but it makes me feel better. The little ones haven’t done this before, and they’ll probably be a little nervous. Please help your aunts so they aren’t driven to the drink by your sisters.”

He laughs a little, and surprises you by wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you close to him. “Be safe, mom. I love you.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you hold him tight. “I love you so much, Jack.”

“Are you scared?”

You press a hand to the back of his head, and he burrows into your neck. “Only a little. I know I’m older, which can make some things difficult, but I’ll always come home to you.”

He nods. “Promise?”

“I promise as much as I can.”

Jack pulls away and swipes quickly at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Hey,” your brow crinkles in lighthearted concern. “What’s gotcha?”

He shakes his head. “It’s stupid”

“I can guarantee you it’s not.” While still a bit of a boy, Jack looks very much a man in the dark, lit only by the light of the hallway as the wheels turn in his head. You pick up one of his hands, and he places your linked fingers over your belly.

“I just - I don’t - Ugh. It’s morbid - Nevermind.”

You huff a laugh. “Baby, remember that one-third of this house hunts serial killers for a living. Nothing is morbid.”

A smile quirks at his lips, but it doesn’t really reach his eyes. “Just be okay? Please?”

You sober and nod, pressing a hand to his cheek. “Jack, do you think I would ever put you or your father into a position that can result in leaving either one of you?”

He shakes his head. “But things happen.”

“They sure do. Your dad will be with me the whole time and he can send you hourly updates if you want. I promise promise promise you’ll be in the loop, baby. I know you like to know.”

Your son’s eyes flicker to the doorway, where a shadow appears. It's Aaron, his backpack on and your go bag in his hand.

“Ready?”

You nod, stand (not without effort), and press another kiss to Jack’s head. “I love you bud. I’ll see you when our plus one arrives.”

The plan is easy: Emily and Jessica are on their way over for the kids, and Dave and Spencer will relieve them after 12 hours. Derek, Savannah, JJ, and Will are only called when the baby arrives, to save them the angst of prematurely wrangling four children between them.

The hospital is only eighteen minutes away, but with the way Aaron drives, it's more like ten.

Time is fairly important - with your body accustomed to delivering babies, having done it twice before, there’s a very big chance active labor would only take a few hours, if that.

Emily and Jess pull up to the house at the same time, both in their pajamas, holding their overnight bags.

“Ready?” Jess asks, kissing your cheek.

You laugh. “Don’t have much of a choice now, do I?”

Emily sets her things down and wordlessly hugs you. You wrap your arms around her as best you can.

“Walk me out?” You ask.

She slings an arm around your shoulders and you walk back out the front door. She situates you in the passenger seat, and you offer her a small smile.

“You know,” she starts with a bit of a laugh, “every single time I’m just as nervous as I was when Henry was born.”

You reach for her hand, and kiss the back of it. “Me too.”

Everything goes according to plan after that. You sit in the car with your stopwatch while Aaron packs the car, checking the car seat base and putting everything that needs to go up with you in the trunk. Jess and Emily get set up on the couches in the living room, ready to settle in for the night.

You're uncomfortable, sure, but it isn't unbearable yet. This is the tedious part.

Miraculously, none of the little ones wake up in the commotion. The magic of white noise machines is never to be underestimated.

“Time?” He calls from where he leans into the back of the car. He's handling the last details, in full field operations mode.

You turn around. “5 minutes, 15 seconds.”

“Alright,” he looks up at you and grins widely. “Let’s go, baby.”

+++

Brienne breezes in and checks your charts and your dilation. “It’s go, time, here I think, Momma.”

You sigh and readjust. “Do I have to lay down?” Comfortable as you are, epidural all finished, you still feel a little restless. The alternative is worse - you’d delivered Isaac without any pain management, and thought it was the end of days. You didn’t, and won’t, make that mistake again.

“Not necessarily, but if you’re going to shuffle around I would suggest a squat for the sake of your blood pressure.”

Another contraction hits, and it knocks the wind out of you. You squeeze Aaron’s hand so hard you fear you’ll break it, and inform him for the third time that morning that you hate his guts.

“I know, honey. I’m sorry. I know. I’m the worst. Just breathe, okay?” He presses his forehead to your temple, giving you something to focus on.

It sounds like you tell him to fuck off, but you aren’t sure. The wave crests and then falls, and you slump back against the pillows. “Okay, maybe I do want to lie down.”

Everyone stifles a chuckle, but you didn't have it in you to be prideful. While you still have a few seconds, you double-check the plan. “Hey Brienne, we’re still good to tie today, right?”

“Yes, ma’am!” she says, way too chipper for the small morning hour. She speaks quickly, knowing she has to finish her thought before your next contraction. “Soon as we’re all done, we’ll do a really quick procedure and everything will be squared away. If, for some reason, we have to do an emergency cesarean, we can do it right then as well.”

Brienne is a great obstetrician - she never pulls punches when the news is difficult or stressful. Her straightforward nature immediately endeared her to your whole family.

It's too much to think about, seeing as another contraction sneaks up on you as you ponder. It felt like only seconds since the last one.

You're so tired.

Brienne gestures to Aaron. They developed a bit of a language over the last two deliveries, and he presses a kiss to your temple. “You gotta push, babe.”

“God, Fuck. I hate you, Aaron. Goddamn you. I’m never letting you near me ever again. Fuck.” A stream of expletives continues to leave you as you push and push and push.

He only holds your hand and reminds you to breathe and push. He also tells you how much he loves you in between agreeing with your damning assessments.

If he's honest, he always thinks your ire during childbirth is hilarious. It is kind of his fault, and he can't fathom the physical trauma, so he figures this is a fair role to fill while you do the hard work.

On a small trough in your final set of contractions, you catch your breath enough to ask for his other hand. This is the hardest part, and it always makes you a little nervous.

“Aaron, come here. Please.” He drapes his arm around your shoulders, and you grab his hand where it hangs by your collarbone.

“You’re almost there, darlin’! We’re gonna be crowning here in a second.” You can't see Brienne, totally locked into her task, but her update is a relief.

You lean heavily into Aaron and he rests his cheek against yours. While this is a shorter labor than both Isaac and the girls’, you're exhausted. Bone-deep tired and hot and cold all at once.

“You’re doing so well. You’re a superhero. I love you so much.” He whispers his words against you, and you wail as another contraction hit. Your choice of a walking epidural doesn’t knock the pain out entirely, and it still totally sucks. But again, better than the alternative.

“We’ve got a little Hotchner head! Keep going!” Brienne pats your knee and grins at you, and you follow instructions. “Do you want to catch, Dad?”

Before he can answer, you tell him, “If you move, I’ll kill you,” through your teeth. Aaron shrugs and looks over your head at Brienne, who suppresses a smile.

There can't be any blood left in Aaron’s upper extremities at this point. In the midst of actively disliking him and your presence in your life in that particular moment, you're so grateful for him you could cry.

Well, you could cry for a great number of reasons, but that’s definitely one of them.

A few minutes and a pretty bad time later, a strong cry fills the room and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Aaron releases you as you unbutton your gown to expose your chest.

“Your time to shine, Aaron.” Brienne holds up the umbilical cord clamp and snaps it together twice like a dad at a barbecue. With a smile, he stands and rounds the bed.

You tried to peer over to see, but you're only able to see Aaron and Brienne.

A smile eats up his whole face.

“Hi!” His voice pitches up, and you start to cry.

You just love him so much your chest could just burst. Aaron is always the first person to greet your children as they come into the world, and he never fails to deliver a warm welcome.

“Right here, right?” He looks to Brienne, and she nods. He cuts the cord, and the nurse crosses the room for measurements.

Aaron returns to you and removes his own shirt, ready to take the little one while you finish delivery. After his crew neck is thrown to the side, he gathers you up in his arms again.

There’s nothing you can do but melt into him. His skin is warm and he smells good, whereas your skin felt clammy and you probably smell like a horse’s ass.

Brienne’s voice comes to you faintly from the other side of the room, iterating the specs of the newest addition. “Baby Boy Hotchner, 5:37am, August 13th, 8 pounds, 14 ounces, 21 inches.”

Okay I'm not crazy. He’s actually huge.

Aaron scoots even closer as you lean away to get a better look. Brienne sets the still-squalling infant on your chest with gentle, warm hands. Your eyes blur with tears. Aaron isn't any better off, keeping one hand on you and another on your son, his own tears tracking quietly down his cheeks.

Your son.

Brienne sighs and says, “Alright, last bit here, and then you’re done.”

You nod and Aaron takes him off your chest, leaning back with one hand under him and one hand over him. Fluid and other questionable grossness be damned, he ducks his head and presses his cheek to his son’s head, an ineffable joy radiating through his body.

Aaron’s hands almost completely cover him - with his little knees tucked to his chest, he looks like an angry little loaf of bread.

The afterbirth is the easy part, but then it was before, too. All the Hotchner kids are massive - even the girls were bigger for twins.

You always make fun of Aaron for “ripping me to shreds, and not in a fun way.”

(Okay, fine. Maybe a little in a fun way. Sometimes.)

There’s a little more pressure, and you look down at Brienne’s outline behind that infernal green medical paper shit. “How’s it going down there?”

“I’m getting these suckers tied off so we don’t have any more happy accidents. Don’t mind me.”

Aaron stifles a laugh and you roll your eyes, still weepy. The nurse passes him a warm, wet washcloth, and he begins to wipe the ick from his son’s skin.

Brienne finishes up and helps you get adjusted with ice packs and that excellent postpartum underwear. When she's satisfied, she removes her gloves and presses a hand to your bare shoulder. “Beautiful work, momma. He’s perfect.”

You put a shaky hand over hers. “Thanks.” A little watery laugh leaves you. Ouch. “I’ll miss you.”

And it's true. Brienne has been a semi-permanent fixture in your life for close to six years and has become a friend. You wouldn’t have any reason to see her again outside of regular check-ups.

She squeezes your shoulder twice. “You ever need anything, you know who to call. Let someone know when you’re ready to put his name down, and they’ll finish off the birth certificate.”

With that, she shepherds the nurse out the door, and you're alone with Aaron.

“So,” you say.

He smiles, his eyes still trained on the little body who has quickly quieted and is snoozing on his chest. “So?”

“Gimme that.”

His laugh is warm, and he places little one on your chest again. You prod him awake, feeling only a touch bad about it, and offer him a snack. He latches right away, and you tip your head back in sheer relief.

“Thank God.”

Aaron nods in agreement. “That’s one less thing to worry about.” He shakes his head as if shaking something off - no doubt remembering the meltdowns night after night trying to nurse Isaac.

Little one is still naked to the world, so you point at the little blue blanket folded across the room. “Can you grab that for me?”

Aaron just looks at you for a second, as if seeing you for the first time. “Of course.”

He crosses the room, throws the blanket over his shoulder, and grabs a diaper. While the little one is distracted, he deftly maneuvers the diaper into place and drapes the blanket over him to keep the chill off while maintaining skin-to-skin.

You pull the blanket back a little so you can see his squishy little face. “Can you call Jack?”

“Do we want to call him now? It’s pretty early.” Aaron leans over to his backpack and pulls his phone out, finding a couple requests for updates from Jess. First things first, he turns the camera on you, and you give him a thumbs up. You detach the little one from your nipple for a second, framing his face with the blanket. Aaron gets a good photo of a yawn and fires both pictures off to the BAU group chat before checking Jess’s messages.

4:12am How we doin? 4:18am Jack’s up with me. He can’t sleep. Em is dead to the world - she gave up about an hour ago. Give us an update when you can.

6:02am He’s adorable!!! He’s got your nose though, which is unfortunate. 6:02am Kidding. Maybe.

Aaron laughs a little, and he looks at you. “He’s up with Jess.”

You nod. “Go ahead and call him. He’ll worry, honey.”

He nods, and dials the second number on his speed dial. Jack picks up on the first ring. “Dad?”

“Hey, bud.” Aaron can't hide the smile in his voice. “Your brother is here and your mom wants to talk to you.”

“Can I come see you?” Jack’s voice wavers a little, and Aaron knows it's relief, rather than anxiety. Much like his son, he was more than a little concerned for your safety. Now that it's over, he can finally relax.

That alone is enough to make anyone emotional.

Aaron checks his watch. “Are you too tired to drive?”

“No, no. I’m good. I slept a little after you guys left.” he's quiet for a second. “Can you hand me to mom?”

“Sure, bud.” Aaron nods at you and you smile. He starts to pass the phone over to you then -

“Oh, dad?” Jack’s voice is only a little urgent.

Aaron pulls the phone back to his ear. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, bud. I want to talk to Aunt Jess when you’re done with mom, so don’t hang up, okay?”

With that, he hands you the phone and fresh tears roll down your cheeks. You know this part comes in waves - the emotions. Your hormones are in shambles, and you forget how intense it is every time.

“Hey, Jack.”

“Are you okay how did it go what happened?” All the questions come out in a rush.

You chuckle. Ouch. “Slow down there, kiddo. We’re just fine. It went really smoothly, but the last part happened kind of all at once and I denied your father personal freedom and geographic agency, so we didn’t get a chance to update you.”

He laughs, and it warms you. “It’s okay. I’m really excited to meet him.” There’s a shuffle, and you assume it's his keys.

Baby boy is finished eating, just nosing around your chest at this point. You shift, and Hotch catches the phone and holds it to your ear so you can use two hands, bringing little one’s head right under your collarbone, tucking him up again. “He’s excited to meet you, too.”

After Aaron has a chance to debrief and game-plan with Jess (“If you bring the little ones over here before 10am, nobody will have any fun.”), Jack is on his way.

In the meantime, Aaron sets his phone on the side table and sits on the edge of your bed. “Are we sticking to the name we picked? Does it feel right?”

You nod. “I think so. What do you think?”

You do your best to inch yourself over - Ouch - so Aaron can have a little more space. He stretches out on the bed next to you, on his side with his arm folded under his head. A very large hand covers yours, pulling the blanket down to little one’s chin.

“He looks like you,” he says.

You snort. Ouch. “Don’t lie. All your damn kids look like you.”

“Alright, fine.” He relents with a wide smile. “He looks like me.”

He's quiet for a moment, tracing the apple of little one’s cheek with his finger. His smile morphs into something soft, pensive. It's the look he always has when he's in awe of his children. “What do you think, little man? Is your name Elliot David? How’s that sitting with you?”

The Elliot David in question just makes contented little staccato sounds from his chest, his brown eyes looking here and there, surprisingly alert. He lets out a little cough, and both you and Aaron let out an, “Oh!” simultaneously in that drawn-out way parents do when their kids surprise themselves.

You look at him and stifle a laugh just for the sake of your exhausted muscles. Aaron’s smile soon turns shaky, and tears fall onto his elbow where it rests under his head. He takes a big breath, and it catches on the way out.

“Oh, honey. Come here.”

You adjust again, bringing the head of the bed down with the little remote. As you recline, you only need one hand to keep Elliot secure. You raise your other arm, and Aaron scoots under it, resting his head in the crook of your chest and shoulder. He snaps some buttons on your gown in the absent-minded interest of keeping Jack relatively unscarred.

Aaron’s bare arm is warm under your fingers. You trace little patterns into his skin as he stares at the back of his son’s head. Elliot’s impossibly small hand catches Aaron’s finger in that death grip only babies seem to have.

Aaron doesn’t care he's nearly twenty-four hours without sleep, missing a shirt, and really hungry. The only things that matter in this moment are right here in front of him.

There’s no need to speak.

A nurse stops by and drops off the bedside cradle, speaking quietly. “You can put him in here when you’re ready to get some rest.”

You look up and thank him. “Oh, and we’d like to finish the birth certificate in a few hours. Will that be alright?”

He nods. “Just fine.” He checks your charts and leaves a few moments later.

Soon after, the door slips open, and Jack’s head pops in. “Hi!” He stage-whispers. “Lemme see him.”

Aaron is stuck where he is, still locked in by Elliot’s grip, so Jack crosses to your other side, pulling up a chair as close as he can get it.

There is a sense of finality to this meeting. Elliot is your last child, and this is the last time the Three Musketeers will sit together, meeting the newest member of their family.

“Oh man, Mom. He’s so cute.” Jack coos and ducks so he's eye-level with his baby brother. He traces a finger along Elliot’s tiny, straight nose. When he rests his head on your upper arm, you kiss his head. All three of you sit there until the sun rises, watching Elliot fall asleep. Aaron follows suit eventually, his breath fanning slow and even across your chest.

+++

The three of you are relatively well-rested by the time your family comes to bombard you.

Elliot woke twice in the early morning - once to be fed and the other to be changed. Jack retreated to the recliner after a certain point, and Aaron threw on a sweatshirt and curled up next to you for the duration. They're still out cold, while you rest somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

One of the nurses on rotation pops her head in. You wave at her with the tips of your fingers.

“Your family is here to see you.”

That wakes you up. You make an ‘eek’ face. “All of them?”

She nods. “Three at a time?”

“Please.” You reach over and pick up a neatly-swaddled Elliot and tuck him into your elbow. You check the corner, where Jack still sleeps. You're sure a train could drive through the room and he’d still be out. That kid has sleeping superpowers - being sixteen only helped.

Jess is first, holding the girls’ hands while Isaac trails a little behind.

You put a finger to your lips and point to Elliot. “He’s sleeping, so you have to be really quiet, okay?”

Caroline clambers up on the bed with a few reminders to “be gentle with Mom and don’t lean on her too much,” and peers over you. “Is Daddy sleeping?”

You look to your right, and sure enough, Aaron is out like a light again, performance evaluations on his chest, his hand relaxed around his pen. “Yeah, baby. Daddy’s sleeping because he's awake for a really long time helping me with Elliot.”

Newly reminded of the main event, Caro plants herself by your knee while Sophia sits by your hip, taking the good real estate. You look over at Jess and wink. She slips out, closing the door softly behind her.

You scoot over so you're flush with Aaron’s side. “Come on up here, bubba.”

Isaac gives you a little smile and perches at your side. “He’s so small.”

“Yep. And look at that,” you brush your fingers down Elliot’s nose and tap his cupid bow before doing the same to Isaac. “You have the same nose.”

Isaac smiles and raises a tentative hand. He hesitates right before he reaches the dark brown peach fuzz that sits in unmanageable cowlicks on Elliot’s head.

“You can touch him, bub. Just be gentle.” Isaac’s hand smooths over Elliot’s head with next-to-no pressure. “Do you remember when Sophia and Caroline were born?”

Isaac nods. “It was super cool.”

“It was super cool.” You kiss his forehead and adjust your hold on Elliot. “Sophia, love, can you hand me the pillow that’s by Daddy’s knee.”

She nods and very carefully presents it to you. You show her how to stuff it under your elbow so you can relax while supporting Elliot’s head. Caro is clearly enamored, her eyes never leaving Elliot’s face.

“Babies are really delicate,” you remind a wiggling Sophia. “Their heads are too heavy for their little necks, so sometimes they need a little help.”

At the mention of ‘help,’ Aaron’s eyes snap open. “What’s up?”

You suppress a laugh as he realizes all of his kids surround him like the children of the corn. He presses a hand to his face, recovering. “Oh. Hi.”

Caro beams at him, and he beams right back. He puts his files down and pats his lap. “Come here, my little love. I’ve got a really good view over here.”

She very mindfully picks her way over your shins and into her father’s lap. He lifts her so she's flush to his chest. His cheek presses into her hair, and he shows her where to find Elliot’s little baby toes under the blanket.

“Are his feet very very small?” Caroline’s whispered question almost makes Aaron cry again.

“Yes. They are very very small. So are his hands. Here, look.”

He reaches over and peels back a layer of blanket, exposing one of Elliot’s (very very) small hands, pressed flat against the fabric. Aaron wiggles his finger under it and presents it to the kids. “If you look really carefully, you all have the same hands.”

All at once, three pairs of hands appear, flipping their palms up and down as each one individually assesses the similarities.

“And if you look even closer,” he says, flipping his palm down, but keeping Elliot’s hand aloft, “I have the same hands as all of you, too.”

Caroline looks up at him, awestruck and he nods. She places her hand on the back of Aaron’s and - lo and behold - they're the same shape, just significantly different sizes.

Satisfied, Sophia drops her hands, leaning on them to get a closer, yet stable, look at Elliot’s fingers.

She gasps, but to her credit, keeps her voice soft as she says, “Look at his tiny little nails!”

“Lemme see!” Aaron supports Caro as she thrusts her body forward to get a better look.

Jack stirs in the corner, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. In full voice, he says, “Oh, hey guys.”

Three big shushes come from the kids, and it takes everything in you to keep your laugh locked away. You keep your eyes trained on Sophia (who looks downright offended at Jack’s volume) knowing if you look at Aaron you’d be done for.

Jack makes the same ‘eek’ face you made earlier. “Sorry, sorry.” He creeps over, standing behind Sophia and putting his hands on her shoulders. She giggles quietly as he drops close to her ear. “Cute, huh?”

She wrinkles her nose. “He looks a little funny.”

“He’ll start to look more like a person in a few weeks,” Aaron says with a smile. “You looked pretty funny the day you're born, maybe even funnier.”

He winks at her, and she dissolves into a fit of giggles again, leaning back against Jack. As she did so, her brother wrapped her in his arms and rested his chin on her head.

Isaac runs his hand over Elliot’s hair, gentle and repetitive. He, like Jack did hours earlier, rests his head against your shoulder. You press your cheek to the crown of his head, soaking it in.

“I like him.”

A smile breaks your face in half, and you peer around to look at Isaac’s face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s cool.”

Your bottom lip disappears into your mouth as you fight back tears, still ready to flow without fair warning. You don’t want to scare them. “I’m so glad you think so, bubba.”

Elliot has once again taken Aaron’s finger hostage, and it takes more than a little negotiation to get him unwrapped and tucked back into his blanket. You have no idea how Elliot manages to sleep through all the commotion, but then again, he’ll have to get used to it.

Jess pokes her head back in. “Ready for some lunch?”

Four heads whip around and nod vigorously. Aaron deposits Caro on the floor, while Isaac presses a heart-wrenching kiss to Elliot’s head before gingerly getting his feet back under him. Jack just lifts Sophia and she hangs off his hip, only a little too big.

He walks to you and kisses your cheek. “I love you, Mom.”

You bring your hand up to his temple, the back of your fingers brushing his hair back. “I love you too, my Jack.”

One side of his mouth turns up in a smile, and he leaves the room with Sophia, leading the rest of the pack down the hallway.

+++

It's safe to say Dave immediately covets his namesake. You plop Elliot into his arms right away, and say, “This is Elliot David Hotchner. He’s been very excited to meet you.”

Dave full-on cries, letting the tears just fall onto his shirt as he bounces Elliot all around the room, talking to him about all the ways he’ll spoil him rotten.

It’s easy to name him after Rossi. When you finally decided on a couple of first names, it was a no-brainer to pair them up with David. He’s your family, like they all are, but you're acutely aware that Elliot will have the smallest amount of time with Dave, no matter how much time that will be.

When Dave is ready to give him up, he reluctantly passes him back to Aaron. Dave crosses to you while Aaron offers Elliot a knuckle to mouth around on.

Dave kisses your cheeks and embraces you. He leans back to look at you, keeping his hands on your face. You cover his hands with your own and close your eyes.

You're taking a lot of mental pictures today.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you're sure you see Aaron’s one-handed camera work out of the corner of your eye.

“Thank you, bellissima.”

“You’ve more than earned it,” you remind him.

“Dealing with you two for fifteen years? You’re damn right I have.”

+++

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wroteasongabouther · 5 years

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>> Darling << part 4 ➭ harry tequila always wins

fic page // talk to me about it!

warnings: smut, alcohol, cursing, and maybe some second-hand embarrassment

authors note: if you started reading this fic over a year ago and are here for by far the latest update ever thank you deserve a gold star. lets hope the next update wont take me so long. buckle up boys and girls, it’s a long one.. hope u like it xx

—

December 3rd, 2021

To be a great business woman meant you also needed to be a great sociallite.

Parties were being held nearly every weekend here in New York by the wealthy business men and woman. And with it becoming a younger crowd year by year, the parties got bigger and better. Tonight’s theme was a white out party. You suppose it worked out well as the first snowfall of the year hits the city the very same night.

It’s no surprise that your stylist outdid herself. You wore a bralette styled top, high waisted white pants, white heels, and of course a flare of your extra self with a white faux fur jacket. With your freshly highlighted hair blown out by the cold winter wind and a dark red lip, you knew you were the hottest one to walk into the party. The long stares from both men and woman told you so too.

Upon your arrival, you waste no time give your very expensive jacket to coat check before making your way to the bar. The alluring feel to be all wide eyed and enjoy these parties were long over for you. No, instead you needed nice buzz to actually make it through any of these events.

“You look amazing tonight,” a fellow business woman from Westbrook Atlantic grins as you approach an awaiting group.

“Thank you,” you smile, “crazy how it’s snowing today, right?”

The handful of people you had the attention of all nod and give you the usual fake-interested look you were getting used to now. But then suddenly their gaze all fall to the new addiction to the group. Looking to your left, you see you won’t be avoiding Harry tonight.

He had spotted you and made his choice of socializing tonight it seems. You roll your eyes as everyone asks Harry about his newest deal. Stupid deal may you say, he was going to lose a shit ton of money in the end result.

“You’ve made better choices,” you state with a tight smile before bringing your drink to your lips.

“Oh really?” He challenges you, raising a brow.

“Yeah, I met with Vanessa just last month actually. Sure she’s got the assets but does she really have the brain to carry out such a deal she proposed?” You say.

Harry catches onto your play of words immediately, the others around maybe not so much. While they have questions, Harry simply gives you the slightest glare. If he really expected you to be the same girl who shut up and agreed with him while around business talks, he was sadly mistaken.

You didn’t see the harm in poking some fun at him. This Vanessa girl probably dressed as she did when you had her come to your office too. You didn’t think her boobs could be pushed any higher and her butt screamed fake. Something you’re sure Harry liked about her proposal. It wouldn’t surprise you if he signed with her and then fucked her right afterwards.

Anything to get his dick wet, you knew his damn ways.

“I’m not sure that’s a way for a woman in your position to be speaking of other woman in the business,” Harry says, his lips just twitching to curl up into his well known smirk. “Are you insinuating that Vanessa couldn’t hold up a good deal, because she’s a woman,” he’s playing one of his stupid games, and earning spectators around you two.

“That’s not at all-”

“You’d think that you’d be jumping at the opportunity to help woman in this business, not to try and tear them down,”

“I’d say the same thing if it was a lousy man giving me the same proposal that she did,” you state through gritted teeth.

How could he start such a conversation? He knew damn well that the people around the two of you would start rumours off any little lie he made up. He also knew that you once scolded him for the very same thing. Back when you worked for him. You always knew a part of him didn’t think a woman could handle any serious CEO business - but you also proved him wrong each and every day.

“Quite the statements you’ve made tonight, miss,” Harry smirks, “I should go speak with Mr Griffen, please, excuse me.”

And then he’s wondering off. Not before turning to look over his shoulder at you with that same devious smirk on his face. He knew what he had done, planned it rather quickly on the spot too.

You didn’t get a chance to talk to Harry again the whole night. No, instead you were playing damage control to the mess that Harry started at the beginning of the night. Woman were coming up to you, bickering your ear off about how disrespectful you could be for saying a woman didn’t have the brains for this business. Then you’d have to repeat over and over again your apology for the misunderstanding Harry had of your words. And as you did this, Harry always stood a fair distance away that he could catch your gaze every few moments.

And now here you were at the end of what had to have been the least fun you’ve ever had at an event before.

You’re tipping your head back and feeling the burn of liquor drain down your throat. It was unlike you to do a ton of shots though, in fact you’ve only gotten truly wasted three whole times in your life. And that’s what you were planning on doing, getting so freaking wasted that you’d forget about the horror of a night tonight turned into. You think back on the other times you’ve gotten wasted in your short life time.

The first time was at the fresh age of 16, Peter McDonald had stole a bottle of some brown substance and brought it over to some party - letting you grip the neck of it for most of the night. Thing was, it was your first party you ever attended. You didn’t know when to put the bottle down.

Plus, Peter was just trying to get into your pants.

Too bad you puked all over them before the night was over and ended up being yelled at by your parents for days on end over the whole ordeal.

The other 2 times were because of the very reason you knew you were downing your fifth shot in the past ten minutes. His green eyes taunting you from across the bar. Why hadn’t he left yet? You think as you glare at him. A shiver runs across your skin as another shot of tequila burns down your throat.

“Give me another, Darren,” you order the bartender the moment you shot glasses hits the bar top.

Flashbacks to the first time you had legally gotten black out drunk came flooding back as the familiar middle aged bartender poured you another shot of tequila.

—

December 14th, 2018

“I need this,” you say. It sounded like you were trying to convince yourself as you stared at the reflection staring back at you.

“Babe, you like so need this,” your best friend, and roommate, Samantha states from where the bathroom she’s currently made a mess up while getting ready.

You really freaking needed this night out on the town with your girls. Breanne and Chelsea were meeting you two at the club, the three of them had this master plan of begging you to come but after the first month of working for Harry had passed by - you needed this. So you did yourself up, curling your hair and putting on maybe a bit too much highlighter. Samantha let you borrow her newest black lace bodysuit - clearly meant to be a piece of sexy lingerie.

You wondered if Harry liked lingerie.

Shaking your head slightly, you focus back on your reflection as you touch up your lipstick. Before sliding it into the front pocket of your leather material pants. On second thought, you take out the lipstick seeing as the pants were too tight for anything to really fit in the pockets. So you open your closet and find the small white purse you kept hidden away for nights like this.

“Okay, Bre and Chels are like hailing a cab down now so we should leave soon too in order to meet up in line together,” Samantha explains, eyes cast down on her phone before looking up. Her eyes go wide at the sight of you all dressed up. “Or maybe we can skip the line all together if you just like pout those pretty lips at security,” she smiles.

“Oh shut up,” you roll your eyes and walk to where your phone was charging to unplug it and slip it into your purse. “Should I wear the boots or the open toe heels?”

“Heels, you’re already going to be cold in that top so might as well freeze your perfect little toes too,”

“My toes aren’t perfect,”

“Oh yes they are,” Samantha huffs while sipping up her thigh high boots. She went for a mini skirt and crop top look tonight, obviously looking hot as hell. Didn’t take much effort from her though.

“Ok you perv,” you chuckle.

Samantha laughs along with you and within minutes you’re both downstairs making minimal effort in hailing down a cab. Of course Samantha makes another comment about how your “hotness” got them a cab right away on this busy Friday evening in New York. But it was New York, there was cabs everywhere you looked.

You’re flipping your hair out of your face while looking down the line at the club when someone from behind the ropes steps up to you. He’s wearing a navy suit with a white button up under - the top two buttons undone, a gold chain barely visible around his neck.

“Hey,” he says, a grin upon his face. And it’s a nice face. He must be Lebanese if you had to guess. Perfectly Styles black hair, with perfectly trimmed facial hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Hi,” you reply.

“How many are in your party, beautiful?” He slides the compliment in smoothly. You can’t help the blush that creeps to your cheeks. At this point you notice the ear piece and thin wire that is tucked nearly behind his ear before disappearing under his shirt.

“Four,” you answer with a smile.

“Perfect, I’d love to escort you in,”

“Okay,” you nod.

Samantha doesn’t waste any time grabbing onto Breanna and Chelsea and pulling them from the line, all three of them picking up their pace in order to cut in line with you. The gorgeous man smiles at you all before unhooking the rope and letting you through.

“Told you so,” Samantha is singing in your ear as you all stick close together in the buzzing club.

You quickly figure out the man that let you in is one of the managers of the establishment. He orders a round of tequila shots, then a few drinks too. At first he’s friendly to the four of you, but then he’s turned his back to your friends and is asking you questions.

“So what do you do for work?” He asks. It’s a regular old question, but one that causes your stomach to turn and heart to pick up its pace.

“Um, I’m an assistant for a pretty big businessman I guess,” you answer with a shrug before bringing your drink to your lips and taking a generous sip.

“Oh nice,” he smiles, “do you like it?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you stumble on your answer, eyes drifting over his shoulder to where your three friends were now taking shots with some other girls.

“Suppose work isn’t a great talking subject for you, huh?” The man teases. “Did you want another shot?”

You nod, giving him a tight smile before he waves over the bartender again. Just as your tipping your head back, the manager seems to be called away as he presses a few fingers to his left ear in order to hear what’s being said into the earpiece in his right ear. Next thing you know he’s telling the bartender to put your drinks on his tab, brushing back your hair off your shoulder gently to whisper into your ear.

“Enjoy your night off, hopefully you’ll stick around long enough for me to escort you out,” he says, leaning back to give you a wink before he’s slipping away from you at the bar and into the crowd.

“Did you get his number?” Breanna asks as the three of your friends walk up to you.

“No,” you shrug and slowly let the corner of your lips curl upwards, “but I got our drinks covered for the night,”

“Oh my god!” Chelsea shouts, her mouth wide open in shock.

“That’s it, you’re coming out with us all the time now, you hot bitch,” Breanna exclaims before pushing her chest into the bar, her breasts nearly spilling right out of the top she’s wearing, as she waves down a bartender. “We’ll get eight tequila shots, please,” she shouts out with a grin.

“Oh, we’re so getting wasted tonight,” Chelsea smiles, pulling up her phone to take a video of the bartender pouring the shots - of course turning the camera to you after, causing you to giggle and hide your face.

“You need this, Y/N,” Samantha repeats her words from earlier in the night, “you’ve been working like a damn dog, now let’s let loose and enjoy this night,”

After downing the two tequila shots each, Chelsea is leading the way to the dance floor. The thumping of the bass, with the crazy light show and within seconds you can feel all those shots you just took. You’re jumping up and down, grabbing onto Samantha’s shoulder to shout out the lyrics of the song playing around you. And for almost two hours, you never once think of Harry.

That is until you’re sitting alone in a booth, pulling your phone out for the first time tonight to see a ton of messages from your boss - and your potential booty call? No, you tell yourself as you read the texts.

Harry: I need you to change my schedule for next weekend, clear all meetings. I will still take phone calls.

Harry: I also need my dry cleaning picked up before noon tomorrow.

Harry: Coffee and breakfast by 7.

Harry: And don’t wear any underwear.

Harry: Hello?

Harry: Y/N look at your damn phone.

Harry: Call me right when you get these messages.

You sigh before typing away at your screen.

Y/N: I don’t think I’m fit to call you at this moment, Mr Styles..

Harry: What do you mean by that? And why are ignoring my texts?

Y/N: I mean that I am currently unable to talk on the phone. Not in the best state of mind for a quick chat with my boss.

Harry: What the hell do you mean?

Harry: Are you drunk?

You rolls your eyes at your screen. Before you can even type out your response, Harry has sent another message.

Harry: Where are you?

Y/N: it’s none of your business actually

Harry: Actually it is completely my business, if you value your damn job I suggest you tell me what the hell you think you’re doing.

Y/N: I’m just living my life Harry. Let me live.

And with that, you slide your phone back into your purse. Your hearts racing as you stare across the booth. A hiccup passes your lips. Then all of a sudden you don’t feel so good. Slipping out from the booth you push your way past the people in VIP to get to the bathrooms. Once the door of the stall is shut behind you, you’re leaning over the toilet and taking deep breathes. Nothing comes up, thank god, but it was a close call.

Maybe that feeling in your stomach wasn’t the threat of tequila coming back up. Maybe it was because you just told off your freaking boss.

You groan and lean your head back against the cool metal of the stall. Tequila made you do some dumb shit.

You don’t remember how long you stood in the stall before someone knocking and asking if you’re alright. Then you’re back in the VIP section and unable to find any of your friends. Pulling out your cell phone, you go to unlock it and call up Samantha but instead you’re bombarded by incoming calls from Mr Harry Styles.

“And somehow you look just as stunning with a frown on your face,” you turn at the voice of the bar manager. “What’s got you frowning?” He asks, stepping up in front of you now.

“I-I don’t know where my friends are and my stupid boss is bugging me,” you explain, not even realizing that you’re pouting afterwards.

“I could check the cameras for your friends, if you wanted to come to the back with me?” He’s peering at you through his lashes. Something that maybe a couple hours ago you’d find sexy, and maybe you would go to the back with him for a quick fuck. But now all you could picture was Harry’s stupid green eyes and stupid stupid face.

“I think I’m going to go home,” and with that statement you turn on your heels to head out of this place. Only you seem to have forgotten in your foggy drunken state just how unstable you are, falling forward straight onto the floor.

“Shit,” the manager cursed as he kneels down beside you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you grumble while brushing your hands on your thighs, leaning back on your feet as you sat on the dirty bar floor. Suppose these pants were trash now, you think while looking at the scuffed material at your knees.

“Here, let me help you find a cab,”

“I need another shot,” you order while taking his hands and getting back to your feet.

“I think you’ve had enough-“

“No,” you snap, “I need another damn shot now,”

“Okay,” he nods and leads you to the bar instead.

Maybe it’s the powerful tone you used. Or maybe it’s cause he still wants to fuck you. But the bar manager nods and leads you to the bar once again. One shot turns into two as you try to blur out the thoughts of Harry. God where did Samantha go? You think while glancing around the club.

“I’ve got to go back to work,” the bar manager tries again. You sigh and close your eyes, resting your chin in the palm of your hand as your elbow rests on the sticky bar top. “Keep an eye on her,” he says to the bartender.

It doesn’t take long before another guy is slide up next to you. He’s cute, got that typical ‘I’ll fuck you then never talk to you again’ hair cut that’s shaved at the sides and long at the top. Clean shaved and sporting a coy smile.

“Dance with me,” he say.

You’re about to grab ahold of his hand and let him lead the way when you suddenly recognize Breanna and Chelsea walking towards you. A grin spreads across your face at the sight of your friends.

“Hey!” You shout while wrapping them both in for a hug.

The fuckboy seems to get the clue you’ve lost interest in him and walks off without you. It’s probably for the best, you’d look like an outright fool trying to dance all sexy out there. Tequila made for some sloppy dancing from you.

“We’re about to head out,” Breanna states, rubbing your back which brings a soft smile from you.

“Have you seen Samantha?” You ask.

“Not since she started making out with that guy back on the dance floor,” Breanna says.

“Pretty sure she left with him,” Chelsea adds.

“Nice,” you smirk and lean your head on Breanna’s shoulder. “Well, I for one had a ton of fun with you girls tonight,” you’re shouting out the words with maybe a bit too much excitement. Breanna and Chelsea laugh, hugging you once more before asking if you were ok by yourself.

You had hope a certain gorgeous bar manager would be making his way back to the VIP section.

After your friends have left, you’re walking back to the bar and leaning over it slightly as you go on your tip toes in order to get the bartenders attention. He’s watching you in between pouring a few shots for some other customers. Then as your pushing your cleavage together he’s resting both hands on either side of where you were leaning towards him, head tilting up with a smirk.

“You’re trouble,” he states, voice much lower than you expected. He’s hot. Like slightly older guy kinda hot. He’s got a nice moustache, a few lines around his grey eyes. Hell, he’s like really hot for his age - you think while biting down on your bottom lip.

“Maybe,” you counter back. “I’d like another shot of tequila, please,” you order with a smile while slowly leaning back from the bar.

The bartender doesn’t move at first, instead his eyes are drinking you in. Suppose this bodysuit - or lingerie or whatever - was really working for you. Then all of a sudden his grey eyes flicker over your shoulder. He stiffen immediately, then stands up straight and tall. What in the world-

“Actually she won’t be having any more tequila,” you could recognize that voice anywhere. Harry was here. Like right here, stepping up beside you in the same suit he was wearing earlier today. The same suit you had your hands wrapped around as he fucked you in the janitors closet. “Seems you’ve given her enough tonight Darren,” Harry adds with a dark look to the bartender.

“Um, no,” you pipe up, leaning back over the bar quickly to grasp the bartender - Darren’s attention. “Tequila, now,” you demand this time.

Darren looks from you, back to Harry, then back to you again to give you a small smile. And then he’s walking away. What the hell, you think.

“What are you doing here?” You question, turning a bit too quickly to face Harry as you sway a little bit. Harry reacts by grabbing your arm to settle your drunken movements. You shrug from his grasp right away. Seems Harry doesn’t like it, eyes narrowing in at you before his hand is back by his side.

“I’m here to take you home, think you’ve had enough fun tonight,” he says the word fun with more of an angry tone.

“No,”

“No?” Harry raises an eyebrow at you.

“Yes, no,” you say while lifting your chin up.

“Not making a lot of sense, darling,” he mutters. You notice how his jaw is clenched, eyes hard before they wander around the VIP section.

He seems to find who or whatever he’s looking for as he takes a few steps behind you. This is your chance, you think with a smile as you turn back to the bartender and flip your hair from your face. He’s standing back in front of you as you give him a wave.

“Tequila, please,” you sing.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea-“

“Look, Denis,” you pause as your eyes narrow into small slits. “If you don’t pour me another double shot of tequila so I can continue on with my night, I will make your life a living hell,”

“Put the claws away, Y/N,” Harry’s back standing behind you. “No more to drink, you’re leaving now,”

“No!” You shout at him as you turn to face him maybe a bit too quickly. Your stomach sloshing at the movements. “You’re not the boss of me,” you add.

“Actually, I am,” he smirks. Bastard, you think as you glare at him. “Put her tab on my card, Darren,” Harry says, his eyes not leaving yours as he places his credit card on the bar.

“The manager was covering my tab tonight,” you state, lips curling up into a smirk to match his.

“Actually, I fired him,”

“Fired? What do you think you just own this whole damn city?” You question, crossing your arms at your chest.

“Well, I do own this club,” Harry says, “so, yes, he’s fired,”

“Bullshit,” you roll your eyes as the anger seems to be rolling off you now. Your drunk was no more happy all thanks to your crazy boss.

“Thank you,” Harry says to Darren as he takes back his card, eyes skimming the receipt briefly. “Jesus, were you trying to drink yourself to bloody stupidity?” he asks before shoving the receipt into his pocket.

“Well my friends were with me, so like they had some drinks too obviously,” you shrug and lean back against the bar.

“Where are your friends now?”

You shrug again and find yourself watching him through your blurring vision. Didn’t matter how many men here tried to make a move. Harry Styles was by far the hottest most sexy of them all. Maybe it was a good call to not have another shot of tequila so you could fuck the-

Your thoughts are cut short as you feel sick suddenly. Running past Harry, you push open the bathroom door, locking the first open stall in sight before clasping to your knees and throwing up into the toilet bowl. Your ears are ringing as you barely make out the sounds in the bathroom around you. Some girl is shouting, then your heads in the toilet again as you gag out more contents of your stomach.

“Y/N,” Harry’s voice is soft from the other side of the stall. You close your eyes and lean against the side of the stall, the metal was cool like it was earlier too. “Are you okay?” Harry asks.

“I’m fine, Harry,” you answer in a sarcastic tone, smiling as you look over to see his favourite YSL boots on the other side of the door.

“Unlock the door,” he orders.

You roll your eyes and stand on your wobbly heels. Placing both hands on the door, you let out a deep breath before whipping the door open and pushing passed Harry. You needed to rinse your mouth, you think while stepping up to the sink. After doing so you look up into the mirror. Your eyes find Harry in the reflection right away. He has his back to you for a few moments, shoulders rise up before falling slowly back down to his composed posture he always has. When he turns around to face you, taking the step steps towards you, you can see the anger in his eyes.

You fucked up.

“Don’t yell at me,” the words slip past your lips before you can stop them. Then suddenly you’re pouting at him too.

Damn tequila.

“I want to do a lot more than yell at you, pet,” Harry says through clenched teeth.

It’s the first time you’re alone with him now. Glancing around you notice that Harry had kicked everyone out of the bathroom. You brush your hands against your hips, the lace rough before you touch the cool leather of your pants. Harry looks at you through the reflection in the mirror, he’s towering over your figure - so close you can feel his hot breath on your neck.

“Like what?” You question, your tone once again taken over from the tequila in your system - what were you doing teasing your boss after you just threw up only moments ago?

Harry doesn’t answer - verbally. Instead he grips your hips with both his hands, his touch rough and firm, pulling your body into his. You react with a quick gasp, then he’s lifting one hand up to your throat. Harry gently squeezes, while you widen your eyes and stare at him in the mirror once again. There’s no denying how your core is pulsing between your legs. There’s also no missing the hardness pressed against your lower back. A glimpse of desire crosses Harry’s face. Lips spread into a wicked smile, his eyes hooded as they gaze back at you through the reflection.

“I want to fuck the recklessness out of you,” he speaks as though he’s craving the mere idea of it.

Harry tights his grip at your throat as his other hand snakes around to the front of your pants. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he would do exactly what he just stated he wanted. Harry Styles made it pretty clear over this past month that he always got what he wanted.

“I want you to know who’s the boss of you,” he continues, “I want you to stutter over my name as I show you exactly who’s the boss of you,”

A whimper gets caught in your throat as you ache to be touched. You had learnt over time that Harry had a way with his words - and he knew it too. The way he’d just simply reword something to sound more seductive in the office, it always got to you.

“I want it,” you utter the three words Harry loved the most.

He pops the button of your pants undone, sliding down the zipper before running his fingertip over the lace that was apart of your bodysuit situation. The motion causes you to quiver under his touch, you moving only results in Harry’s grip tightening - both at you throat and your hip.

You don’t even realize that you had closed your eyes as they flutter open once more and catch Harry’s dark greens in the mirror. His chest is rising and falling at a faster pace than normal. In that moment it’s almost as though you read his mind.

“Please,” you say just above a whisper.

Harry has your pants to your knees in only two swift movements, and that’s impressive considering just how tight the leather material was. He rips the material of the bodysuit just as quick, the veins in his hands pulsing as he does so, and you barely have a second to think of how upset Samantha is going to be you ripped her lingerie. Your bare bum is lifted up to the damp counter top, your hands falling back to grip on of the sinks while your head smacks back into the mirror. Harry’s hands are at his own body now, but only for a few moments as he slips his hard cock out of his pants.

Your stomach feels like giants are stomping inside, while you can hear your own pulse in your ears loud and clear. There’s no sound coming from your mouth but it’s open, maybe in shock or maybe in anticipation - you were too drunk to really know.

Harry only brushes the tip of him between your soaking slits once before he’s pushing himself into you - hard. You gasp, a burning feeling overcoming you between your legs. But then he’s moving, fast, pounding into you in quick hard meaningful thrusts. With each thrust a gasp escapes your lips. Harry moves a hand back to your throat, which you react by leaning back more in order to give his hand more room to choke you. The warm feeling in the pit of your stomach grows quick as Harry fucks you hard on the bathroom sink.

You lose it when he rubs your clit, not soft in any way, no he wants to get your release out of the way almost. And when your body is pulsing under his touch, waves of your orgasm rippling through your entire body, he slips out of you completely and flips your body so your stomach is flat against the counter. Harry positions himself between your legs again before entering your warm wet cunt. You moan at the sensitive feeling as he fucks you some more.

Lifting your head, you meet your own glassy eyes first. Glassy from the drinks you’ve downed tonight, and from the pleasure you’re feeling right in this moment now. Just has Harry’s thrusts begin to slow, you raise your gaze to look at him instead. What a sight, you think as his eyes are closed and his mouth is open. Within seconds you feel him finish inside of you. Warm and oozing between your thighs as he slips out slowly.

You shut your eyes for a moment as you focus on your breathing. This was by far the quickest fuck you and Harry have had. Maybe even the roughest. And it was definitely hot. God, just thinking about how his hand felt around your throat made you want to pull him in for another round.

“Pull up your pants,” Harry demands.

Your eyes flutter open, meeting Harry’s serious eyes. Standing on wobbling feet, you reach for your pants and pull them up to your hips again. You have to tuck in the ends of the bodysuit, while you could still feel the wetness between your thighs. Suppose Harry didn’t feel like helping you clean up today.

“Where are your keys?” Harry’s questions causes you to turn and look at where he stood now. He was by the stall, going through your purse.

“My roommate has them,” you answer.

“And she is where?”

“I, I don’t know,” you reply sheepishly. Eyes cast down to the floor as you realize you’ve made yourself look like even a biggest fool in front of Harry.

“Suppose you can stay at mine,” Harry mutters.

You nod while brushing your hands through your hair. There was this feeling at the pit of your stomach. Tonight was gone to absolute shit. Harry was going to fire you. Let you sleep at his house, and then fire you tomorrow morning. There was no way in hell any of your behaviour was acceptable tonight. How you told him off, ignored his messages, and then somehow managed to fuck him in the public washroom. Your thoughts are running a million miles an hour as Harry leads the way from the bathroom to where he had a car waiting for the two of you outside the club.

Harry doesn’t speak in the car. So neither do you. In fact the cool feeling of the window against your cheek causes you to close your eyes and nearly doze off to sleep. But you’re still aware of the situation you’re currently in, so you force yourself to stay awake till you got into whatever sleeping arrangement Harry had for you.

You steal one glance at Harry during the car ride. The lights from the city night casting into the car and lighting up his high feature of his face. He’s got his knuckles pressed against his lips, something he did while in deep thought quite often, you had taken note of it over the past while now. His eyes are focused forward, but you know he’s zoned out in whatever thoughts are clouding his head. Maybe it was how he was going to fire you tomorrow. You open your mouth for only a second, thinking of slipping out a quick apology, but instead you press them tightly closed once more and look back out the window beside you. Right now you wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and get rid of this foggy feeling all that tequila gave you.

“You can sleep in the guest bedroom, first door on the left down that way.” Harry states, pointing to the hallway at your left as the private elevator for his penthouse opens up.

Harry walks out into the open concept quick. Obviously over the wow factor his home held. It was stunning. The living room, dining room, and kitchen were all one big room. Floor to high ceiling windows across from the wall with the elevator gave him and his guests the best view of the city you could ever imagine. It was decorated with minimalist taste, only greys and blacks - absolutely no colour besides the deep chestnut wood of the floors beneath your feet. You especially liked the dark cabinets and granite that complimented his kitchen beautifully. Harry’s standing at the biggest stainless steel fridge you’ve ever seen.

He closes it and has one bottle of water and one bottle of blue Gatorade in his hand. You begin walking to where he is now, impressed by the appliances in the kitchen. He had a freaking high quality espresso machine that you’ve seen in a Starbucks.

“Drink this when you wake up,” Harry says. He meets your eyes for the first time since leaving the club. “There should be Advil in the cupboard of the en suite too. And drink some of this before you go to sleep,” he orders while placing the Gatorade down first and then the water bottle.

“I know how to help a hangover, Harry,” you state, “I was once in university, you know,”

“I do know,” he nods, “was just thinking you spend that time and all those student loans on your education, not partying,”

“I didn’t always party,” you mutter under your breath. Harry stares at you across the island that you stood on the other side of it. “I just, I needed to let loose and have some fun tonight. I’m sorry that I got you involved in my personal bullcrap of a night,” you finally say half of whats heavy on your chest.

Harry nods once. Then his eyes fall to where a clock was in the kitchen. You follow his gaze and catch sight of the time too. It was nearing 2 in the morning now. A yawn escapes your lips.

“Have a good sleep, darling,” Harry says softly before he’s walking out of the open room and down one of the two hallways.

Sadly he walks down the other hallway, opposite to the one he directed you to where the bed you’d be sleeping in was. You imagine sharing a bed with Harry again like you had the one time back at the hotel, the first time you two had had sex. Since that night you hadn’t fallen asleep beside him since. He fucked you at the office, in the back of cars, and even in the bathroom of a club now.

You ignore these thoughts and grab the two bottles that Harry had gotten for you before finding the bedroom you’d be sleeping in. There was nothing more you wanted right now than to get under the blanket and sleep. Well, maybe you wanted this night to have never happened - then you would be able to sleep peacefully knowing your job wasn’t about to be done for.

The next morning you woke up to the sun shining in your eyes. The first thing that you notice as you sit up are how your clothes that you had left on the floor are now gone. Then your head begins to pound, letting out a deep breath you reach for the Gatorade. But sitting beside it is a note.

‘come into the office whenever you start feeling better- Harry’

You throw up in the shower. It’s not by any means your best moment, but it happens, and after getting nice and clean - in one of the greatest showers ever - you walk back out to the bedroom. Harry’s guest bedroom. Your bosses guest freaking bedroom. You shake your head at yourself and turn to see another note tapped to the closet door.

‘got you a few things to chose from - Harry’

He was buying you clothes after last night? You sigh and open the door to reveal the decent sized walk in, you couldn’t imagine what the master bedroom was like if this was only a guest bedroom. Inside you see a few items hung in the otherwise empty closet, as well as a pair of shoes sitting on the floor neatly.

There’s two dresses and a blouse and skirt hung up. All tags say Gucci on them, which honestly makes your head spin just thinking of how much they are worth but it could also be the killer hangover you were nursing while sipping on the Gatorade Harry had gotten for you last night. With little to no want to even be standing right now, you grab for the first hanger and put the simple cream colour dress with green and red stripes on. It zips completely up the front, from bottom to top. Suppose Harry would like the easy access of this dress, you think. Too bad he would no longer be your boss after the crap you put him through last night.

There’s no underwear, that should be noted, but you’re not really that surprised that Harry hadn’t gotten you any sort of under garments at all. He wasn’t a fan of underwear at all really. You decide to throw your hair up as it’s still a bit damp, then you find your purse and walk to the bedroom door. The heels click against the hardwood flooring while you walk to the large open concept living space of Harry’s home.

He’s not home, obviously, hence the first note you had read this morning. Going into the office so early on a Saturday only meant that things were just as busy as ever - business didn’t even stop for the holidays. You take another generous sip of the Gatorade and check your phone for the time.

Suppose it’s better to get this over with, you think. It was only 8 in the morning, only an hour later than when you’d typically head into work. You ignore the text messages from your friends, only making sure there wasn’t any new ones from Harry. There isn’t. You let out another sigh and head towards the elevator that’s inside Harry’s house. Because who doesn’t have a private elevator right? You take in the view one last time with a longing look - you wanted this view. You wanted this life. And yet you managed to fuck up your only passage into this lifestyle by drinking far too much tequila and fucking your boss. Your professors would be so proud.

“Miss,” you recognize Harry’s driver as you enter the lobby. He’s waiting for you it seems, standing from one of the couches as you walk towards him. “Mr Styles has told me to take you into work this morning,” he states.

“Well,” you pause, swallowing back the threat of vomiting for the third time this morning. “Let’s get going then,” you say with a tight smile.

You nearly fall asleep on the short ride to the Styles Enterprises building. Harry’s driver opens the door for you, which you simply give him a smile and short thank you in return. Maybe he’d like to give you a ride home to your crap apartment after, stop by a few cafes on the way home to find a new job too. You let out a sigh and ignore the rest of the people around the building that do recognize you.

This was by far one of the worst hangovers of your life, you think while finishing the rest of the Gatorade and tossing the bottle in the bin under your desk. Harry’s office door is closed. As it always is. Checking the calendar on your desk, you make sure he’s not in a meeting or on an important call. There’s nothing written down, so you drop your purse off and walk to the large doors.

“Come in,” Harry calls from inside after you knock.

He’s sitting at his desk, his back straight as a board as he types away whatever business stuff he had to attend to at this hour. God you were too hungover for this. You stop only a foot in front of his desk and wait for him to look up. It takes only a few breaths before Harry’s gaze falls to you. He lets his eyes draw up the length of you, from the black heels to the mess of hair upon your head. He probably notices the few small bruises at your knees from whatever you did last night. Or maybe he notices the small red marks at your neck. You remember what those are from, 100-percent, you’d never forget it.

“Did you not read my note?” Harry questions.

“Yeah, I did,” you nod, pausing to lick your lips, “just thought I’d get this whole losing my job thing over with,”

“Losing your job?” He raises a brow, pushing his chair back a bit from the desk. You raise your eyebrows as well, tilting your head at him.

“You really expect me to believe you’re not going to fire me after what happened last night?”

“You were enjoying a night out with friends, I admit I was being pushy with my text messages,” Harry says as he stands from his desk. You stay silent at his words. You rarely hear Harry ever admit he’s wrong. In fact you can’t think of a time, work related or not. It may also be because your brain’s working a bit slower this morning.

“You’re being serious?” You ask, “I’m not fired?”

You watch Harry’s every step as he makes his way around his desk and towards you. There’s not missing how your heart rate picks up again. Damn him, you think. He looked so good today in his grey suit and baby blue shirt. The top two buttons were undone which makes you think he must really be having a tough morning. You wonder how you can help.

“Miss, if you could get me another coffee, and make sure my next weekend is freed up,” Harry says.

“Of course,” you nod.

Harry reaches forward, the backs of his fingers gently touching the marks at your neck. You hold your breath. He blinks slowly, eyes still on them as he probably recalls last night in the bathroom. Then he’s reaching up to your hair, tugging at the elastic that was keeping it up. You reach up to help, letting your hair down.

“Maybe it’s best to keep your hair down, darling,” he says, a sly smile curling at his mouth.

“Right,” you breathe out.

Harry’s so close. So close that you can’t help but look down at his lips.

“Coffee, please,” he smiles.

You nod again and turn to walk out of his office. And maybe stop by the woman’s washroom to empty out your stomach yet again this morning. The mere thought of vomiting makes you feel even more sick.

“Y/N,” Harry calls. You turn back around, lifting your brows as you fear opening your mouth would resulting in vomit ending up on the floor of Harry’s office. “Make sure your calendar is clear for next weekend too, you’ll be joining me” he exclaims.

“Sorry?”

“Is there an issue?” Harry questions, his eyes barely raise from where they were looking down at some papers in his hands.

“It’s nothing, just had some plans-”

“Another night with tequila?”

“No-”

“Good, then cancel your plans. Or I’ll think about that whole you losing your job thing again,” Harry says. You can only nod before you turn away and walk out of his office.

These past 24 hours have been the wildest of your entire life, you’re sure of it. You try to forget about it all as you sit at your desk and begin to clear Harry’s schedule for the upcoming weekend. What for? Well that was the burning question now, seeing as you were to join him. You hoped it was to travel somewhere nice - you could enjoy Hawaii in December.

—

December 3rd 2021

You catch sight of Harry in the thinning crowd of the night. Though you hadn’t done much socializing after trying to cover yourself from the load of crap Harry started earlier in the night. While Harry had been buttering up anyone and everyone. You especially didn’t like the attention he was giving that blonde, her hair looked fake for Godsake.

“Lovely coat,” Harry says as he steps up in front of you.

“Oh shut it, before I kick you out of my club,” you spit back. All these drinks in your system meant you didn’t have the time to put up with him right now. Truthfully you just wanted Michael to get here and bring you home.

“Such a petty move, by the way, buying this bar,” he states, eyes wandering around the room.

“Thought that bar manager deserved his job back after your jealousy got him fired after all,” you ramble back at him, tightening your coat at your chest as the front doors open a few feet away from you. “Besides, you put it on the market, I just saw a good business opportunity,” you add.

“Questionable statements, all of them,” Harry says.

You don’t have a response. So instead you press your lips together tightly, eyeing Harry for the millionth time tonight. God you wanted nothing more than to hit him. Maybe you’d hire someone to do it. A few ideas came to mind as big bold letters reading ‘PAYBACK’ flashed through your head. You pull your mouth up to a smirk, crossing your arms at your chest now.

“I didn’t realize we were going to be playing these games so soon, Styles,” you say.

“Thought you knew the business by now, darling,” Harry’s smirk matches yours. It was like fighting fire with fire. And you loved it.

“Oh you taught me plenty about this side of the business, don’t you worry,” you say, taking one stop forward and bringing your fingers up to the collar of his white dress shirt. You smooth your fingers slowly over the material a few times. “I’ll play dirty,” you pause and lean towards him till your lips brush against his ear, “if that’s what you want,” you say.

You think for only a second that you’d stunned him to silence. But you never had the upper hand. A gasp pushes passed your lips as he places a hand at your lower back and presses you flesh against his front. Turning your head, you meet his gleaming eyes and devious smile.

“You’ve always know exactly how dirty I like it, darling,” he says.

He’s only close for a few seconds. As you’re too tipsy to push away immediately - or maybe too turned on. Either way, you give him a quick look before bringing your hands to his shoulders and pushing away from his hold. There’s no more words to be exchanged, you think as you walk to the front doors and find Michael standing there with the door open waiting for you. You don’t miss the questioning look in his eyes.

“Take me home, Michael,” you hiss at him.

Of course, you’re not angry at him. Oh no, it’s the mischievous green eyed bastard of a man that has managed to weasel his way back into your life - even after all the damage he’s done to you.

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