owenniasstars

[owenniasstars]

HEAVEN SENT.

Lieutenant Riley has a reputation for being mysterious. Somehow, you've managed to avoid his reportedly tempestuous demeanour for your entire career at the base infirmary; that is until he's dragged himself in one day with a wound to the thigh. Even though he's uncooperative and brutish, you come to discover that his impassiveness is just like the mask he wears and as time moves on you find yourself ambitious to take it off.

tags. eventual nsfw so mdni. afab/female!reader x simon 'ghost' riley. nurse!reader. some oc charas. slow burn. mentions of ptsd, scars, trauma, mental health issues etc. smoking and alcohol use. non-canon compliant (fuck canon!). wc 5k.

a/n. christ you guys are so thirsty for this ship...honestly i can't blame you. i am so excited to write this series and share it with you all you guys have no idea! based on a few silly drabbles and endless conversations with @stckrz (thanks love, couldn't do it without you) it's now become a planned out story which even has me gripping my chair. i can't thank you all enough for the endless amount of support i've received so far, it means a lot. i have put the taglist link (and other links) to join it at the end.

CHAPTER I. DON'T HESITATE.

“Beds three and four are ready for discharge if their workups come up negative,” Matron tells two of the other girls beside you at the nurses station. The infirmary has been suspiciously quiet in recent days, and you can’t help but be fearful for whatever the next wave of chaos is going to bring. With only a few soldiers who need attention, you find yourself with more time than you’d like. Filling up supplies and mopping the floors over and over again—you’ve been itching for something new. 

Your name is called and you dart your focus up from where you’re sitting at the computer updating some files. “I need you to go see what’s going on with Lieutenant Riley in room two,” Matron's voice is perfectly authoritative, honed with years of experience and wisdom and in this moment you know she’s frustrated. “Darn Lt.'s never bloody say what the problem is.”

“Yes ma’am,” you respond, logging off the computer and grabbing a clipboard with paperwork on your way to the private rooms. Not knowing what to expect, your footsteps are light and unhurried until you come across the window of the room you know the lieutenant is in. The blinds slightly obscure the sight of him—absolutely massive compared to the table beneath him—but then you see it and your heart drops into your stomach. 

What was once a walk turns into a hurried jog as you push the door open to see a crime scenes worth of blood pooling around the large gash on his leg, the black soaked fabric simply torn apart by the lieutenants own bloody fingers as he pinches the wound and—

Pluk.

Like a lunatic, he’s got the medical staple gun pressed against the agitated skin, making a sloppy attempt at closing the wound. Your heart is thumping in your ears, and you stand there with the stupid clipboard like a deer in the headlights as you watch him adjust the gun slightly lower, pulling the trigger again. Even without any kind of numbing cream all that slips past his lips is a low grunt. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Your voice is strained, the question just slipping over the lump in your throat as you think about the amount of paperwork you’ll have to fill out. 

“You was takin’ a while,” he doesn’t even give you the grace to look in your eyes, just takes a sharp breath in and fires the thing again, crimson pooling under his fingers. “I ain’t got all day.” You’re dumbfounded for a moment longer until your body is moving on its own, striding over to his side and grabbing his wrist before he does more damage.

“Stop that,” prying the gun from his hands is useless, not when he’s double your size like this, practically looming over you. You move your hand away so he can put it down himself, a heavy breath of relief falling from your lips—less paperwork, no arguments. “You’re fucking crazy,” it’s not meant to be said aloud, it’s barely even a whisper really, but when it’s only the two of you in the room it’s deafening.

He’s still masked, the familiar skull hanging over his balaclava. It’s the only thing you know to identify him by—Ghost—his name always making the rounds at the nurses station. “He’s massive,” one of the girls would whisper, “stood next to him the other day and I couldn’t even see his face when I was looking straight!” Matron would always somehow manage to interrupt the conversation at the perfect time. “Ladies, back to work.”

Even concealed, you can feel the way his eyebrows raise at your words and you can also feel the sudden pit of fear rush through you. His voice is like gravel, condescending when he scolds you. “Watch your mouth. ‘M still your superior.”

So much for superior, you think, he’s supposed to be intelligent but here he is stabbing himself with staples. It’s unlike you when you bite back at him, the whole situation igniting something fiery in your veins. “I’m the one trying to stop you from getting an infection,” you step back so he can see your face, disrelish written all over it. “Or sepsis. Which seems to be what you’re going for with the way you’re handling this.”

The lieutenant glares at you through the mask until his bloodied hand is snaking to his neck, tugging the woven fabric up his face. His nose peeks out from beneath him and even though you really shouldn’t, you let yourself look at the forbidden skin—scarred and broken from years of service, lip split just ever so slightly.

He coughs awkwardly when you’re staring for a little too long, embarrassment clawing at your hot cheeks. “I’ll be quick if you comply,” you provide, trying to cut through the unsettling tension between you two. It doesn’t take you long to snap your gloves on and assess his injury, diligently cleaning off the thick blood and preparing the site for stitches. “Would you like me to explain or just get on with it?” Only after you ask do you realise that it was pointless.

Nonetheless, he offers you a low grunt about the latter and you're starting the procedure with careful precision: a shot to numb the area—although you’re not sure if he really needs it—tweezers to pull out the messily punctured staples, and then the needle is in your hand closing the skin together. Your work is slower than his, but it’s neater and you amuse yourself with the thought that he’ll be more grateful when he walks out with no infection and a smaller scar.

“If you could stand up please,” you watch as the muscles of his exposed leg ripple, stitches pulling a little more taught. “Does it hurt to put pressure on the leg?”

“No,” he pulls the balaclava back over his chin, hiding away the skin you're sure any of the nurses would kill to see. 

“If you sit back down but scoot towards the edge of the table,” you say, reaching over for the ointment and bandage roll as he does so. You notice the way his trousers are soaked with blood, instinctively grabbing the scissors to cut the dead weight off. 

“What’r you doing?” He asks before you can make the first cut.

“It needs to go if I’m gonna wrap it.” You’re unhesitant as you try to snip at the fabric, suddenly more eager to get yourself away from the lieutenant. Ghost’s hand catches your wrist, almost painful with how easily he keeps it still, calloused fingers pressing into your veins. “You’re not cuttin’ it.”

“What does it matter? They’re gone anyways.”

“‘M not walking around the base like a clown,” he snaps, releasing his grip. “Do it without cutting it.”

Now you understand why the Matron has a vendetta against the lieutenants. So goddamn stubborn. While arguing with him and getting your way would quench your thirst, you decide that it’s below yourself—and your pay grade—to do any differently than what he commands.

It’s clumsy work, fingers awkwardly trying to wrap the bandage around the back of his thigh without dirtying it with blood or grime, having to fiddle with the mesh as you pass it around without really being able to see. You try to hide your frustration and annoyed puffs of breath for the sake of professionalism, but deep down you want him to know he’s ridiculous. There’s a lot of things you'd do to see his ego knocked down a notch.

Before he can retreat you have him sign papers which he barely glosses over—just rolling his eyes and murmuring curses about 'damn medics’. When he stands to readjust himself as you begin cleaning up after his mess, his eyes roam over your figure, almost glaring at you with menace. 

“You ever talk’t me like that again and I’ll have you doing laps with the recruits.” The lieutenant's voice is stern, almost cruel with how he towers over you, turning to the door and pulling it open, leaving the infirmary with a limp as the door slams shut. The room suddenly feels more quiet than before save for your light breaths, something steady thrumming in your chest as you watch his fading figure from the window—big, brutish, looming. Only once he’s completely disappeared does ‘yes, sir’ fall from your tongue.

The months drag on, and too soon it’s November.

During the winter the infirmary becomes packed with flus and colds and injuries. You’re stretched thin across your work, the shifts become longer while the days are shorter and you lose the time to even think about your interaction with Ghost. 

You barely see the lieutenant in the time that passes, only in brief flickers across halls and med bays. You’ll catch his eye for a brief moment only for him to be distracted by something else—a call of his name or being shuffled into an office. The nurses continue whispering about him, always giggling and teasing you about how you dislike him for one simple interaction.

“Oh come on. He’s just like that because he has a reputation to uphold,” Katie laughs while you’re having lunch. Still sitting at the computer and stabbing at your salad, you try to reason with her yet again. “Just because he’s got a reputation doesn’t mean he needs to be an ass.”

She hums, eyebrows raising as she slides herself over on her chair closer to you. Glancing over at your screen, she pulls just slightly away. “You're trying to apply for the training to become a junior doctor right?”

You look over your shoulder at her amused expression, uncertain of what she’s going to say next. “Yeah, but I don’t see what that has to do with—”

“You’re not that dense, honey,” she smirks, that sickening nickname making you cringe. Trying to ignore her, you turn yourself back to the seemingly endless amount of words on the screen—everything you need to study up on if you’re going to even be considered for training. Despite your ignorance, she continues on anyway. “If you’re going to be considered you need someone to put in a good word for you…” She trails, waiting for your response which never comes. “Someone who everyone respects…”

It clicks in your head far too easily, spinning yourself on the chair to face her. “You’re not serious.”

Katie’s wide, toothy smile and passionate nodding tells you otherwise. Too quickly you find yourself rejecting any possibility that he could have anything to do with your future. True, he was a bit of an ass when you’d first come across one another, but you also willingly moved your foot across a line which never should've been crossed. You don’t think someone of lieutenant Riley's reputation would pardon an encounter like that. 

“Stop overthinking it,” she demands, taking the fork out of your hands and puncturing a quarter-slice of tomato on the metal. “Whatever happened, I’m sure it’s all smoothed over and you never know, maybe he liked that you had a bold character. I think it might even help you with your application.” Her lips wrap around the fork, chewing and swallowing your food. “No one needs a doctor who can’t make their case.”

Those words flick through your head for the rest of the week as you consider the possibility of getting the lieutenant in your good graces. It couldn’t hurt and from what you’ve heard from your friends his reputation exceeds anything you can imagine—everyone knows who he is, everyone knows that he has good judgement. As much as he seems like an uncooperative brute, you can’t fool yourself into thinking Katie’s idea was a bad one.

Your only issue comes with going through with it—getting him in your corner and seeing your drive to do this. From what you know he’s unreachable to someone like yourself, always busy, always away on one mission or another. A respected man is a wanted man. But you’re nothing but determined. If he’s the guy you need in your corner to get what you deserve—what you’ve been working your ass off for—then gods be damned you’ll do what it takes.

Within a small amount of time you come up with so many plans in your head you’ve almost exhausted yourself from thinking about it—the longer shifts and shorter days have you lethargic and achy anyways, but somehow without even properly becoming involved with him, he’s managed to drain you of your energy. 

You’re almost out of ideas when Matron comes along the next week and serves you your ticket to him on a platter. You’ve never loved pre-mission check-ups more.

“Katie if you could look over Sergeant MacTavish,” her grey hair had almost glowed silver and gold with the fluorescent lights of the infirmary, a halo formed over her head—your very own angel. Calling out the names had dragged on for so long, until finally she’d said who you’d been assigned. The only one left: “I need you to tend to Lieutenant Riley.”

It’s like deja vu when you walk over to the same room where you’d first met him, everything so familiar except for your new ambition. You flick through his record in your hand, pushing the door open with your back as you turn your gaze up to him.

His whole figure is nothing but impressive, the black tee with his name printed over a pec hugs every single muscle, abs and biceps almost bulging from the tight fabric. He’s on the phone, almost silent as the person on the other line drags on before his gruff voice is giving a chaste goodbye and cutting the line. You notice how he’s still got the same balaclava on, brown eyes practically piercing through you as he waits for you to say something. 

“Lieutenant Riley,” you fumble, staring at him a little dumbly for a moment, caught up in the moment. You watch the way the eyebrows of his mask move in confusion, “tha’s me, yeah.”

Right. You introduce yourself as clearly as you can, you need to make sure he remembers you. “I’ll be doing your assessment for today, do you have any questions before we begin?”

“How long’s this gonna take?” He asks, visibly disinterested. You approach closer to where he’s sat on the edge of the exam table, and you notice how his shoulders tense the slightest, his chart open as you go over the details of his medical history.

“Should take about thirty minutes,” you respond, focused on his most recent injuries reported. You pretend to ignore the way he huffs in annoyance, “are there any injuries, issues or concerns that I should know of that aren’t recorded?”

“No.” He gives bluntly.

“Okay then,” you continue, looking over his body to gather just a few of the smaller details you need to assess—a cut, a bruise, the same wound that had you in this room in the first place. Moving across the room so you can start preparing, you place the chart down on the counter and begin to wash your hands. You have your back turned to him, unhesitant to get started. “For this exam I’m going to need you to take your shirt off.”

By the time you turn back around, throwing the damp paper in your hand in the bin his shirt is discarded next to him, and it takes everything in you not to gasp. Attraction or not, it’s undeniable to believe he’s anything but some Greek statue come to life, his body carved to perfection. Chiselled like marble, beautiful, sharp. When he breathes his chest rises and falls heavily—a testament to his size, the way his abs contract and his pecs move just slightly, his dog tag settled perfectly in between them. 

And then there’s the scars. So many of them everywhere, long and short and jagged and pinched. One across the top half of his peck and under his arm splayed; an old burn, the skin wrinkled with age and pain. He is a soldier not only by name, but by his body too. Like a trophy cabinet, each tinged line another day he’s survived—or each day that was almost cut down. Anyone would find it hard to hide their awe—yourself included. 

But you have a job to do and an impression to make, so you push past the feeling of appreciation and stand before him, his mask still on—the chart advised not to bother asking. “I’m going to begin by examining and feeling your skin for any abnormalities, let me know if you need me to stop,” you explain, placing a hand on his bare shoulder.

His skin is incredibly warm when you touch it, and he shivers when you make contact with it. “I’m sorry, my hands are a little cold,” you murmur, beginning to slowly press with two fingers, moving them over inch by inch as you trace old healed scars.

Even after a few minutes, when you’ve made it across to the other shoulder and start assessing his arms he’s tense underneath your hold, muscles taught and stiff, making it harder for you. You’ve dealt with men like him before, all tough and apathetic, but his stance beneath you is different and you feel the need to ease some of his tension. 

“Why did you join the military?” You ask him, it’s simple, most people give the same answer: to escape, to do some good. Your fingers move down to his elbow, pressing into it to check for tenderness.

“Does my medical record need’t know that?” He responds, almost unimpressed—like you’re some kind of stupid for even asking him that question. You look up at him to see him impassive but still wound up tight, and you’re a little offended by the way he just has to be so uninviting. 

“You’re tense,” you provide instead, something in you tells you he’s more of a brute fact type. Maybe you just need to say it like it is. Your fingers trail down to his forearm where his tattoo barely hides the scars and prominent veins. “If I’m going to do this assessment I need you to relax, so I’m going to ask you questions, and I don’t care if you make up answers or just grunt—as long as you stop acting like you’ve got something pressed in your behind. Lieutenant.”

You don’t dare look up from where you stare at his tattoo, turning his arm over so you can check the other side before you take both of your hands and press your thumbs into his wrists. His pulse is so strong underneath the pads, you can almost hear it with how silent it is between you. You’re about to move onto the next stage when you notice a rough line at the base of his tattoo, it’s healed over but you train your focus on it for a moment—instinctively brushing a finger over as you realise what it is. What pain he’s been through.

He jerks, almost as if trying to snatch his own arm away from your grasp. There’s something painful hidden in his expression when you look back towards him, but he dismisses it before you can ask. “I’ll answer your questions,” it’s rough, concealing any feelings which might’ve lingered. “Jus’ watch yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, letting him take his hand back to his lap. And even though you think that after your slip up he’ll remain like a stone underneath your touch, you observe how his shoulders relax slightly, dropping down to large slopes. His breathing slows just a little, and he just looks at you expectantly. “Wha’s next?” 

You let yourself take a deep breath, you need to remember your goal here, but more importantly remember he’s just human too. Putting on a smile, you go through your mental checklist, smirking at him just a little when you know what’s next. “I’m gonna need to check my own handiwork, sir. If you could pull up your shorts a little, please.”

His scarred hands pull at the edge of his shorts, rolling them up his thighs until you see it—pinker than the rest of the healed wounds, neat and short. You nod as though you’re intently looking at it, but really you’re biting at your bottom lip trying to contain your self-pride. It’s the best work you’ve done—almost perfect. 

He speaks from above where you're feeling the wound, “you did’a good job.”

It’s hard not to beam at his words, ecstatic at the simplest praise only because it means you did something right last time, because then trying to keep impressing him is not a fruitless cause. You stand back up to full height. “Did you have any trouble with it? Like pulled or ripped stitches? Lingering pain?”

“Nah,” his voice is cooler, and you know that he’s finally loosened up. “Proud of yourself?” Moving back towards where his chart is on the counter, you begin to make brief notes on it. “Is it bad for me to say I’m a little surprised?” You laugh, letting the confession out easily.

“‘M a Lieutenant f’a reason. If you’re implying I'm unintelligent, you’d be wrong. I know how to take care of a wound.” You turn back around to find his gaze fixated on you, arms folded across the wide expanse of his chest.

“I’m sorry Lt, but with that stunt you pulled—you made me seriously doubt it.” You reach into your breast pocket for your light, pulling a lollipop stick out of a container on the side. “This is the ENT part,” you explain, coming in between his legs. “I’m gonna need to see your mouth.”

You’re waiting for him to resist, to yell or refuse—but he just shrugs, fingers reaching up to grasp at the fabric at his neck, dragging it up his face so anything beneath the bottom of his nose is exposed. Surprised by how easily he complies, you let yourself stare for just a moment longer than you had last time at the long scar which extends the line of his mouth on one side—drawn all the way to his cheekbone. It’s deep, just a shade darker than the rest of his skin. There’s another one on the other side of his lip, vertically cut through the flesh.

To think this man holds so many memories that he cannot erase or forget about. You’ve seen the way soldiers have broken under the pressure—from the trauma of this work that they do—left to live like empty shells. You can’t even begin to imagine the physical and mental challenges he’s been subjected to

Your thoughts don’t stray far as you continue on with the checks, diligent in your work but also attentive. He just sits calmly, letting you do what you must, answering your questions with brief answers and you come to enjoy this strange company of his. When you’re finished, he tugs the balaclava back down, hiding away the painful results of his hard labour. 

“I’m going to check your eyes now,” you note, standing impossibly closer to him. “Have you been having any trouble with your vision recently?” 

“None,” he says, following your instructions as you hold your finger up in front of him. Only this close do you see the lighter flecks of amber in his irises, glowing under the bright lights. They’re so unique, the lighter parts almost hidden by the rest of the colour—as if hiding some precious treasure. You’re reaching for your pen light again when you hear him quietly clear his throat, “how did you become a nurse?”

You look up at him confused for a moment, but then you see the genuinity in his eyes and you bite your lip to try to stifle your laugh. His nervousness seems to cost him some of his common sense, and he just waits for you as you click the light on.

“I went to medical school, sir,” you smile, the smallest giggle slipping past your lips when you see the way realisation dawns on him. “You’ll feel my fingers for just a moment,” and you place the pad of your index on his eyelid, lifting so you can check behind it. 

He looks down in turn, met with the plush of your parted lips and he swallows hard. “Oh right.”

“I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry,” you chuckle, taking your hand off his face and you notice his usually indifferent expression replaced by something else. It almost looks like he’s flustered. But only almost—there’s only so much you can infer from a masked man. “Look up at the ceiling please.”

He remains still, lost in thought with his focus set downwards and you close your lips as you awkwardly wait for him. “Sir, could you look up?”

His eyebrows raise slightly as he snaps back into himself, huffing and embarrassed as he looks upwards, murmuring “sorry.” You just smile at him brightly, stepping away to move onto the next part.

For the rest of the exam he keeps his mouth shut unless you ask for it, a delicate silence stretching between you as you take his vitals. He’s still cooperative, but you know that after making a slight fool of himself twice he’d rather not have it happen again. But you’re content like this, getting to shuffle around and tend to him with sharp focus. It’s a nice break from the mayhem going on outside the room.

When you’re finally done and he’s shrugging his shirt back on, you run through his results. “Flying colours, Lieutenant,” you hum, impressed. It’s not everyday you see soldiers of his experience and background do so well—without any background info someone could assume he’s still in his early twenties. “If anything changes, be sure to inform us as soon as possible.”

Nodding, he signs the forms you’ve handed him—this time without complaining—and you feel an urge to keep him for a little while longer. Something about the way he’s softened to your touch and presence tickles you happily, and for some reason you find yourself longing to drag your fingers over the ridges of his scars. 

“Is that it?” He asks, handing back the papers and standing to his full height. You check over each page, the tangled scrawl of his signature dragged over the blank lines. “Yeah, that’s everything, you’re cleared to go.” You reply, tucking everything back into his chart and picking it up to take with you, “let me walk you out.”

“‘S not necessary,” and he’s moving towards the door when he spots something directly outside the window. He practically grunts, suddenly focused and approaching the glass, capturing your attention until you see it too. 

Sergeant MacTavish grabbing a handful of Katie’s ass as they talk about god-knows-what. 

You choke on your laugh, both amused and shocked at the way her face grows hot and flustered at his debaucherous touch. But you see a disappointment in Ghost—that of a parent to their misbehaving child—and he’s knocking at the glass before you can even intervene. 

MacTavish’s head snaps over his shoulder to see his Lieutenant shaking his head, reprimanding him through the look of his eyes alone, burly arms crossed over his chest. The former doesn’t tolerate it though, snarling before throwing a middle finger towards Ghost, keeping an arm slung over Katie’s shoulder as they walk back to the front desk.

“Fuckin’ bastard,” Ghost murmurs, “tell your mate ‘m sorry about him. Always gettin’ carried away.” You nod in agreement with him, coming up to the door and opening it so he can get through. He accepts the gesture, and you notice how he ducks down ever so slightly as he enters back into the centre of the infirmary.

As much as you’d like to keep him for longer, to see how much more pleasant company he can offer, you can see he’s itching to go. Like on command, his phone rings and by the look on his face it’s important. “Sorry, ‘ve got to take this,” he murmurs, and when he says your name and thanks you, you know you’ve done something right.

As he walks away, you blurt out a final offering—something to solidify that he will remember you. “Lieutenant,” and when he turns around, you feel warm across your face. “Good luck out there.”

He nods, answering the phone and you’re left wondering when—or if—you’ll see him again.

chapter ii.

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[owenniasstars]

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

a/n: FUCK this one made me so emo. one chapter left

part 25: the final goodbye

word count: 2,791 tag: @bruhidkjustwannaread | @rubyxx16 | @bellabarnes1378 | @johnmurphys-sass | @strangeobsessed

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You'd felt it before—the torrid pulse of power. It felt like molten gold dripping from your fingertips. The gentle thrum of your heart beating reminded you that Gods didn't burn. It was here that you thrived, perched before your tormenter with a pistol aimed at his crotch. John and Arthur dragged him down into the cellar, bound tightly to a chair with his hands tied behind his back.

With a cigarette in one hand and your finger flush against the trigger in the other, your narrowed eyes playfully stared at Bingham. He didn't look bothered, but that didn't remove any of the amusement that coursed through your mind. He knew he would be dead in an hour, and you were the only one keeping him alive.

"Should we—"

Tommy held up a hand, interrupting Arthur. "We are not here for a mercy killing. Let her work."

"Fuck," Arthur grunted, throwing back the full glass of whiskey.

"I thought he'd be dead by now," John muttered under his breath.

You took a long drag from your cigarette, feeling the smoke fill your lungs before blowing the pale cloud into Bingham's face.

"Look at you, y/n," Bingham chuckled as blood dripped down his cheek. "Powerful. Commanding."

You pushed the tip of your pistol further in between his legs, but still, he didn't flinch. "This isn't the time for flattery, Alfred."

"You're the one torturing me. My beautiful little bird, finally with her first kill of value." He smirked.

"I'm not a bird, let alone your bird." You sat back and crossed your legs. "I'm a fucking viper."

The shot rang loud, echoing throughout the cellar with a sharp crack. Bingham hung his head low, hissing in pain in between a bitter laugh. He looked down. Your gun was still positioned towards his kneecap—shattered and bloody.

"Yes, y/n!" Bingham cackled, his eyes wild and manic. "How did that feel? Tell me."

"You'll have none of my thoughts," you sighed, perching the cigarette in between your lips. You pushed the pistol into his stomach, twisting it until it was clean of his blood. "That bullet was for Ezra. Not that you would know anything about that."

"Of course, I—"

"—I know the truth, Alfred. I've been free of that guilt for some time now. You seem to have neglected that the toying of others does not remove their consciences."

Bingham's eyes darted back and forth between yours as if he was trying to detect the lies in your speech. After a moment, he sat up straight with a sigh, shaking his head. "It was fun while it lasted, y/n. You were so beautifully broken. Had I known it would shatter you, I might've adjusted my methods. But you have another now." His gaze shifted to Tommy. "You wouldn't have found him if it weren't for me. You should be thanking me."

"And what am I thanking you for?"

"You would not be this way without me. Admit it, y/n. You're addicted to the power. Addicted to the feeling of that pistol in your hand, the blood spilling on the floor. The bloodlust runs deep in us ghosts."

The second shot rang just as loud as the first.

"That bullet was for no one in particular." You stared at him, emotionless and still.

Bingham looked down at his left knee, just as mangled as the right. "And what now? Hm? My elbows? Or perhaps, one of your friends over there would like to use those razorblades on my eyes. Wouldn't that be fun."

You pushed the tip of your pistol against his cheek. "If I were to use every bit of my anger on you, I'd run out of bullets."

"And yet, you delay the inevitable."

The doors to the cellar parted with a loud creak. Michael walked in followed by two of the Blinders, carrying in a small table. They placed it down between you and Bingham while Michael opened his satchel. He set down a stack of documents, fanning them out before you with a content grin.

"You were right, Alfred. I was delaying, but not for the reason you think." You sat up straight and snuffed out your cigarette on the table. "Once you sign these papers, I will kill you. But not until you sign."

Bingham ignored Michael's presence, staring at you until you continued.

"This is Michael Gray, the Shelby Company, Limited, Chief Accountant. He will witness your signature on every single one of these documents, passing on all that you own into the hands of the Shelbys. The warehouses. The land. All of it. And then, our business is concluded."

"An intelligent woman until the end. I must say I am proud of you." He chuckled. "Though, I am... Surprised. Perhaps, impressed. How did you know about all of my properties?"

"Ms. y/n was kind enough to turn over your old ledger." Michael placed the red notebook, the one that lay tucked away in Tommy's desk for weeks, on the table. "Every transaction and acquisition you've made in the last five years, all here organized by value."

Bingham looked down at the notebook. "So, you were watching all these years... Clever little viper. Very well, y/n. I will sign. This is, after all, the board you designed. Who am I but a pawn?"

John hastily cut the rope from Bingham's wrists. He didn't resist, signing each document one after the other. When he was finished, Michael quietly gathered the papers and slid them back into his bag before standing beside Tommy.

At last, Bingham's expression softened into something more somber. He said his final words gently with the nod of his head. His eyes met yours for the last time as you positioned your pistol in the center of his face. You pulled the lever back, finger flush against the trigger once more.

"This was fun—this game of ours."

You allowed yourself the faintest of smiles.

"Goodbye, Alfred."

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

The air in London was damp, carrying the faint tang of smoke and rain-soaked stone. The quiet cemetery, tucked away from the city's hum, was a place where time seemed to slow. You walked beside Tommy, steps purposeful but measured, as though each one required conscious effort.

He’d said little during the journey, sensing your need for space. As you approached Ezra's grave, he slowed to match your pace before letting you step between him and your destination.

The headstone was modest, carved from smooth gray stone, the letters etched cleanly into its surface:

Ezra Hargreaves 1896–1923 Beloved Son and Friend

You stopped a few feet away, arms crossed tightly over your chest. Tommy watched you, his hands in his coat pockets, letting the moment be yours as it should have been. From where he stood, he didn't feel like an outsider as he initially expected. It felt more like being a ghost on your shoulder, watching you deliver your gentle farewell to the man who'd loved you so dearly.

For a long time, you said nothing. You breathed in and out steadily, but your shoulders stayed tense, as if holding back a tide of emotion you weren't ready to face. Finally, you stepped closer, crouching to rest your fingers lightly on the edge of the stone.

“Looks like you got your wish to stay in London, darling,” you murmured. Your voice was soft, almost carried away by the wind, but Tommy caught every word. “Shame we never got to visit America like you wanted, but I suppose, now, you're free to go where you wish."

Your hand lingered, trembling slightly before you withdrew it. You straightened, brushing your palms against your skirt, and exhaled shakily. You removed Ezra's engagement ring from your pocket, turning it with your fingers until it was warm from your touch.

“I should’ve been here sooner. There were so many times when I tried. Every time I got to the platform, I felt the hand of guilt pull me back, and yet it always felt like you were waiting for me to say something, anything. You always said that being strong in the face of difficult times was something I was good at, but you were wrong. I thought… I thought if I came here, I’d have to admit it was real. That you were gone. And I wasn’t ready for that.”

Tommy lowered his eyes to the ground out of respect, feeling that any moment alone he could give to you would be best.

“I was so angry with myself, Ezra,” you continued, your voice gaining strength though teeming with the sadness that pushed gentle tears from your eyes. “And I've been angry for a long time. Longer than you would have wished. I was angry because I thought I’d failed you. Because I thought I didn’t deserve to miss you. To grieve for my own loss felt like a sin. But I see it now. I see it so clearly. Putting misplaced guilt above grief was selfish of me, and for that, I am sorry.

“I loved you,” you whispered softly, your gaze fixed on the name carved into the stone. You held the ring to your lips as if you were declaring every bit of your sentiment to seep into the metal. “With my entire fucking soul, God, I loved you. You will forever be the love I never thought I deserved. And I consider it the highest honor that I was the last woman to love you because I loved you fiercely. But it’s time… it’s time I let you go. I will let you go with the knowledge that, at last, I have found myself, and I have released the ghosts that have haunted me every night since you left.”

You closed your eyes with the slight shift of your head back until the sunlight warmed your cheeks. The weight you'd carried for years finally slipped from your shoulders.

"When we meet again, I will be a different woman. As I'm sure, if you were here now, you would have been a different man. It's time, Ezra. Time for the final goodbye."

You parted the soil with your fingers and gently placed the silver band down. You covered it softly, patting it down until it appeared undisturbed once more.

Tommy stepped forward, closing the small distance between you. He placed a hand gently on your back, a steadying presence without intruding.

When you turned to him, there was something different in your eyes—softer, less guarded. You looked at him for a long moment, as though trying to say something you couldn’t quite articulate. Then, with deliberate slowness, you reached out and slipped your hand into his.

Tommy’s gaze drifted down to your joined hands, the shift in your demeanor not lost on him. It wasn’t just the gesture; it was the way you leaned into his presence, the way your fingers curled around his as though anchoring yourself.

You didn’t need to say it—he understood. This wasn’t a goodbye just to Ezra; it was a quiet acceptance of what lay ahead, a tentative step toward a future you were finally willing to let yourself have.

Tommy gave your hand a small squeeze, his expression remaining composed, though a flicker of something softer passed through his eyes.

“Come on,” he said, his voice low and steady. “We’ll come back if you want. But for now, let’s get you out of the cold.”

You nodded, allowing him to lead you away from the grave. You didn’t look back, but the remnants of Ezra's ghost whispered in your ear that he watched you walk away with Tommy, content and happy to see you depart with someone by your side.

As you left the cemetery, Tommy glanced down at your hand still in his, fingers intertwined, and he silently sent his own thanks to your ghost—an uncommon gratitude for accepting your farewell.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

Tommy led you to a hotel in the middle of the city, a short drive away from the cemetery. He didn't speak much on the way there, but, then again, neither did you. It didn't feel like an uncomfortable silence—maybe, it was a somber one. Tommy gave you the opportunity to expel the remnants of bad memories from your lungs, and in that time, you found yourself smiling at the little moments from back then when Ezra was alive and well. It was a kind gesture, to join you for the dreadful goodbye, one that didn't go unnoticed.

When you stepped inside the room, Tommy helped you remove your coat. He gently draped it on the rack followed by his own while you sat by the fire, massaging the ache in your neck.

As you closed your eyes and the warmth of the fire trickled across the floor, you felt Tommy wrap his arms around your legs, resting his cheek against your thigh. You tangled your fingers in his hair as he sighed across your skin.

"Thank you for coming with me today," you whispered.

"Thank you for allowing me to." Tommy turned to face you, his blue eyes gleaming from the warm light.

"I can't imagine what this must be like for you," you chuckled, though it was humorless. "Accompanying me to the grave of my former love. You know, considering."

He raised an eyebrow. "Considering?"

Your eyes softened as you realized you didn't know what you wanted to allude to. Since the night you spent together weeks ago, there was never any discussion as to what this was—whether it was a budding relationship that would lead to forever or if it was a passing moment between two lonely souls, alike in their own way.

Tommy sat up, leaning against the sofa, as he waited for your answer.

"I don't know what you want me to say," you admitted.

"Would you rather I say it for you?"

You smirked. "Don't tell me Thomas Shelby is capable of romance."

Ignoring your remark, he rose and sat beside you. He reached forward and rested his fingers on your cheek, stroking softly. His eyes fluttered down while he searched for the right words, if there were any.

"I think we've been playing the game long enough, Tommy." You interrupted his silence. "If neither of us can say it aloud to each other now, we might never."

"Maybe it's time for a new game," he said softly. "You said it yourself so long ago. Your loyalty for mine. You have mine."

You expected him to ask if he had yours, but he didn't. He had no intention of asking. This was no longer a matter of an exchange of equal values—he was declaring it. You had his loyalty and all the broken pieces that came with it.

"You were wrong, what you said back then." Tommy's eyes were somber yet sincere as he spoke. "You said there was only one love that takes us as we are. One love that would accept every ache and flaw that would not so easily be cast aside. So, I have to ask you now—if Ezra was that one, would you allow yourself to have another?"

You searched for the answer in his face and were met with another mirror. He looked at you with a gentleness you'd seen before from another time long ago. This was a man who accepted everything he thought he earned and fought for. He fought for you, and now, he was letting you decide if he'd finally earned you.

You placed your hand on his cheek and felt him melt into your touch. Thomas Shelby, for all that he was and could have been, was laid bare for you. You swore, in that moment, he willed you to see all that lay hidden beneath his eyes—the pain and the torment. The lost loves and the cracks they left behind. The nightmares would never fade, but, in time, the dreams would fill the spaces in between. Wherever he found places for you to fill, he welcomed you.

He was asking in his silence to love him wholly and entirely. No longer was it loyalty for loyalty. It was dedication to the time it took to see the other change. A soul for a soul—buried beneath a mountain of heartache. He offered his to you, and all that was left was to place yours in his hands.

Tommy's lips hovered whispers before yours. It was a small temptation, to accept his touch and know there was no turning back.

The familiar hand of Ezra's memory faded into the background, and you felt the weight of the years spent hidden disappear with it.

"I love you," Tommy whispered against your lips.

It was a small gesture, to say it first, but was one he delivered gladly.

[owenniasstars]

Parking Spots and Matcha Lattes

Summary: In an attempt to get coffee, you meet a grade A asshole whose head you want to rip off. Meanwhile, Jake Seresin is pretty certain he just met his future wife in the parking lot of a coffee shop.

AKA Jake Seresin likes mean women, pass it on.

Shout-out to @p3mybeloved who isn't in the TGM fandom, but is the inspiration for this fic ♥️♥️

Part two is up! As is part 3!

It hadn’t been just a long day. It had been a long week.

And it was only Tuesday.

You were exhausted from working after hours to meet critical deadlines. If Barbara from admin found one more thing to nitpick, you were going to lose it.

So you decided to get coffee. Could you have made some at home? Absolutely. But you needed something, just a little something to make your morning brighter. Something that would remind you there was some good in the world and help you get through the first two hours of your day.

Instead of hitting snooze on your alarm clock five times, you got up after hitting it twice. You even remembered to apply deodorant and swipe on mascara. You left five minutes before your alarm to leave went off. Five whole minutes. You were on track to get coffee and get to work in plenty of time. Things were going well.

Too well.

You should have known something was about to fuck up your day when you saw the perfect parking spot. When the hell did that even happen? Never, you should have just gone to the back of the lot.

Foolishly, you started making your way towards the spot, thinking of all the things you could do with the extra minutes you would receive from your soon to be princess parking.

Your car and body lurched forward as you slammed on the brakes in order to not run into the white Jeep Wrangler that sped out from around the corner.

The heart palpitations you were experiencing from the sudden, potentially life saving decision descended into anger as you watched the speed demon take not just your desired parking spot, but also the one right next to it due to parking at an angle.

You gripped the steering wheel as rage seethed through your body. Instead of an elderly lady who just shouldn’t be driving, a tall blonde man dressed in some type of military uniform got out of the car. He didn’t even check his horrendous excuse of a parking job, walking into the coffee shop without a care in the world.

What a fucking asshole.

Normally you’d just find another spot and try to move on.

Not today. Because today was supposed to be a good day and you had done everything in your power to ensure it would start off on the right foot and this douchecanoe just ruined it.

So you found a nearby parking spot, walked over to the eyesore of a car and waited. All the rage and anger built up into you, thinking about his horrendous parking job, as well as the bullshit of your job.

You didn't even wait for him to say anything before tearing into him. The fact he was blonde and conventionally attractive added to your anger because of course a real life Ken doll would think it's okay to park like that.

"Hey dickhead! Who the fuck do you think you are, parking like that?"

"What the-oh wow," his voice trailed off when he took in all of you, not that you noticed.

"Is that how you drive tanks in the army? Because if so, holy shit, our country is-”

He scoffed, “Sweetheart, please. I’m a Lieutenant pilot for the Navy. And one of the best ones at that.”

Whether it was the Texan drawl that dripped through his voice or how he expected you to fall to your knees by revealing this information, you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, so you can fly million dollar planes but can’t park without taking up two spaces?” You remarked. He seemed to be taken aback by your comment, which gave you the motivation to keep going.

“First off, who the hell drives through a parking lot at forty-five miles an hour?! There are kids-well teenagers-who walk through here! I know your car is obnoxious as your personality, but not all of us get an adrenaline thrill from having to slam on their fucking breaks so they don’t crash into you.”

You didn’t notice how his emerald eyes were wide and staring right at you. You were on a roll.

“In fact, you probably wouldn’t have had to park so offensively if you had fucking slowed down. Or, you could have had a shred of decency and repark. Don’t they teach that in the military? To have honor or some shit? Or were you too busy doing bicep curls at the gym that day?”

It was then you noticed that his eyes were wide, reminding you of those stupid disney princes your cousins used to fawn over as kids. The look he had on his face made it seem like he was in a far off place, it was almost…..dreamy?

“Hello?” You waved a hand in front of his chiseled face, “Are you even listening to me?”

“I’m trying, but your eyes are super distracting, has anyone ever told you that?”

It took your brain several seconds to process what he just said. Then you had to take another ten seconds to process that he wasn’t being cocky or a smartass when he said it. He was being genuine.

What the actual fuck?

—---------------------------------------------

Jake Seresin woke up this morning, like any other day. He got up early so he could get coffee off base. The Starbucks they had on base was always overcrowded and bitter. Plus, it was nice to get off base for a little bit, get away from things and have a sense of normalcy.

He was not expecting to meet his future wife in the parking lot of a local coffee joint.

Nor was he expecting her to introduce herself by yelling at him.

But it was kinda perfect.

You were stunning, even though you assumed he was in the army, of all things (he’d let that one slide, you’ll learn eventually).

The passion in your eyes as you pointed out exactly what was wrong with his parking job was admirable, alluring, even enticing.

Jake couldn't lie, he'd thought you'd be impressed or at the very least, taken aback by his rank.

Instead, you steamrolled right past it, continuing to list what he had done wrong, taking stabs at him along the way.

It was hot.

You were making valid points. He didn't have to drive that fast, it wasn't like he was late.

But it was also extremely difficult to focus on what you were saying when those big bright eyes of yours were burning into him.

How could he focus on anything else?

So he was honest and told you so.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" You threw your hands up in exasperation.

That we aren't making out right now, is what Jake wanted to say. But his mother would smack him if she found out that's what he said to her future daughter-in-law during their first interaction.

"I have no problem darlin'. In fact, I'm pretty great. Got a matcha latte and have just met the most stunning girl in the world," he flashed that blindingly white smile, ready for you to ask for his number.

"You parked like that for a matcha latte? You couldn't have made me slam on my breaks for something that doesn't taste like dirt?" You spat.

Huh, normally that line worked. The fact it didn't was more exhilarating than nerve-wracking.

Jake honestly found it borderline erotic.

"I didn't realize I had met a parking and coffee expert," He preened, that award winning smile remaining on his face. He was curious, what could get you flustered?

You swore you could see red.

Oh, he was trying. Trying to knock you off balance. Trying to see if he could rattle you. It fueled you.

"I'm not an expert, it's called being a decent human being with common sense, you knockoff Ken doll." The lovesick look on his handsome face remained. If he was a cartoon, hearts would appear over his head.

Oh, you were perfect.

Outright asking for your number wouldn't work. Compliments were going right over your head. He had to change tactics.

He looked over at his parking job before facing you again, "Y'know, you're absolutely right. That was a shitty parking job."

Your eyes widened, surprised that this walking Crest Whitening Strips advertisement could admit he had done something wrong.

Jake continued, "And I'd love to learn more about how to park correctly from you…over dinner."

When you started ripping into him, you weren't exactly sure what to expect. Most likely an argument that would end with middle fingers thrown in the air as you both walked away.

Not him asking you out.

"You want me to continue yelling at you about your inability to park over dinner?" You asked. Perhaps the lack of oxygen he experienced from flying planes had affected his ability to think. Perhaps folks should study the effects his job had on the brain. Not that Congress would allow it (couldn't interfere with recruitment).

That stupidly white smile remained on his face, "I was also hoping I could learn more about you too."

Hesitation filled you. The officer (or whatever his rank was) was being genuine. His compliments didn't feel forced. It was just odd that after being yelled at for nearly ten minutes, the conclusion he came to was that he wanted to go on a date with you.

"Buy me coffee first." You challenged, crossing your arms over your chest as an attempt to come across as intimidating, despite how much taller the soldier was compared to you.

A smile broke out onto his face. Not a cocky one, but one that was soft and sweet.

It was almost endearing. Almost.

"Anything for you darlin'," he declared, sea green eyes sparkling, "I'm Jake by the way."

You didn't expect him to go through with it. Nor did you expect him to jog ahead so he could hold the door open for you.

A warm feeling began to flutter in your stomach, until you remembered his heinous parking skills. That warm sensation would transform into a quiet, bubbling rage.

"Hangman? The fuck kind of name is that?" You asked upon hearing him say it to the barista.

"It's my callsign darlin'," he explained, like it was the most obvious and sensible thing in the world.

"First off, my name is not darlin, I just told you it two minutes ago. Second, you are way too smug to be telling me how your callsign is after a children's recess game, Officer." You ignored the confused stare of the barista who handed you your drink.

"I didn't get it from the game and it's Lieutenant," he corrected, his voice the sharpest it had been since talking to you.

A nerve had been struck. Or so you thought.

You leaned forward, your cardigan brushing against the khaki shirt he wore.

"Learn how to park properly and maybe then I'll get your rank right, officer." You were quite proud of yourself for that one, considering he was actually silent for a few moments.

Meanwhile, Jake was doing everything in his power to not sport an erection in the middle of the coffee shop. Because holy shit, you were hot. It was ridiculous how your smirk almost made his knees buckle.

He wondered if you'd prefer an early summer or fall wedding. He had always envisioned getting married in late May. But the rust colored cardigan you had on perfectly complimented your complexion. You'd probably looked great in mustard too. But those colors were more appropriate for a fall wedding and not-

"Cat got your tongue? Or does the navy have their own expression?" Your voice broke Jake out of his thoughts.

He just smiled, shaking his head, "Just got distracted by how pretty you are. Gonna tell you now, I don't know if I'll be able to focus on parking standards during our date tonight. Might need a second one for review."

You rolled your eyes, "It's not a date it's…. actually I don't know what you call it when you are teaching a grown ass man how to properly park over dinner-"

"It's a date." The barista called out before turning around to work on the other orders. Heat rushed to your face as Jake slipped a five dollar bill into the tip jar.

"Whatever" you fumbled to get your phone out, pulling up a new contact, "just give me your number so I can text you the address of the restaurant."

He quirked an eyebrow, "You're picking the place?"

"You can't drive for shit and out of all the types of tea lattes you could drink, you go with matcha," you leaned in to look at the sticker on his cup, "with skim milk. The federal government may trust you with their jets, but like hell I'm gonna trust you to pick a restaurant."

Oh, he was definitely going to marry you. In his head, he already tried out pairing your first name with Seresin and it sounded heavenly.

He just grinned, his emerald eyes shining and you really wished he'd stopped doing that.

The scent of cedar wood flooded your nostrils as he leaned in, his face much closer to yours than it had been so far. Was he bending his knees to be at eye level with you?

Focus, you told yourself. He can't park for shit and got zero sweetener in his drink. Who the hell does that?

"I look forward to showing you on our date that I have great taste, as well as many talents that will have you overlooking my parking skills," his voice was low, dripping with a pathetic attempt of seduction that made you want to bang your head against the counter of the coffee bar.

"Type your phone number in before I throw my drink at you. I don't care if I get fined with 'defacing government property'." You all but shoved your phone into his chest, earning a chuckle from him that sent more heat to your body than rage.

"Anything for you, Venus." Did the obnoxiously bright smile ever go away?

"Y'know, you could have a really strong legal case for what all the lack of oxygen has done to your brain, like not being able to remember my name."

Jake shook his head, "Oh, I remember your name. Venus suits you better. Hottest planet, looks great in rust," he motioned to your cardigan, "Goddess of love and beauty. It's quite fitting for you."

This guy was unreal. The grip you had around your drink tightened, your bottom lip pushing forward to form an annoyed pout.

"I look forward to our date tonight, Venus," He said as he handed you back your phone, his long fingers brushing against yours.

Your eyes couldn't roll harder, "I look forward to serving my country by teaching you how to properly park, Hangnail."

"It's Hangman."

Now it was your turn to smirk, "Nah, Hangnail suits you better," your voice dropped, mocking his southern accent.

With that, you left the coffee shop. You had to, otherwise you were going to throw your drink at him.

You missed the downright lovesick smile that adorned Jake Sersin's face as he watched you walk out.

"Thanks for helping me meet my future wife y'all," He said to the very confused baristas.

"She looked like she wanted to murder you," one commented.

Jake laughed, shaking his head, "Don't worry. I'll win her over."

As you got in your car, a vibration from your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out, a message from an unknown number flashing on your screen.

Looking forward to our date tonight. Can't wait for your lesson Venus ;)

Oh that bastard. When the hell did he have time to send himself a text to get your number?

You shook your head despite the fact he couldn't see you.

A loud horn made you jump. You looked up from your phone to see the living embodiment of a Ken doll in his car that was now in the middle of the parking lot, right across from your car.

He waved. God, you wanted to wipe that smirk off his stupid face.

Instead, you rolled down your window.

"What the fuck are you doing?! You're going to block traffic!" You yelled.

"Text me your address Venus! I'll pick you up at seven!" He winked, driving away as he ignored your comment.

At least he wasn't speeding through the parking lot this time.

Maybe there was hope. Maybe. Doubtful. Probably not.

On the way back to base, Jake wondered if you'd prefer a silver or gold band for your engagement ring.

-------------------------------------------

@spidervee @sebsxphia @hangmanapologist @xbamboowishesx @rae-gar-targaryen @theharddeck @abibliophobiaa @mothdruid @stranger-nightmare @princessphilly

[owenniasstars]

Three Little Words

Summary: Peter is determined to tell the reader he loves her. Here are the three times he tries, and then one time he finally gets it out.

Warning: Some language, sexual innuendos (no smut, not yet), a little angst, reader has a nickname. Just a lot of fluff. I didn't proofread, so I apologize

Follow up to Glad You're Home (you will want to read it otherwise this won't make sense)

Part three is up!

“So when you’re gonna tell her?”

“Is this a question or another Tik Tok thing?” Either way, Peter find Miles’ timing to be awful considering they were in the midst of going after a pair of robbers.

“It was a question….but that is a line from a song that was in Top 40 radio, so you’re improving!” Peter didn’t expect to get a lot of Miles’ pop references-considering the ten plus age gap-but when MJ started teasing him about living under a rock, he wanted to do better.

MJ.

Despite three months of dating, there were still times he had to convince himself that he wasn’t dreaming. That all this was real. He could easily get behind the multiverse being real, the fact that there were other Peter Parkers-who also were Spider-Man-that existed in other universes. That was easy for him to wrap his head around. What he couldn’t wrap his head around was the older Peter’s suggestion that there was someone out there for him. It was just easier to accept that he was an outlier, that he didn’t have an MJ, that he already had a soulmate, and she was long gone.

And then he saw her. She was breathtaking, which was honestly the main reason he tried leaving at first when during their initial meeting because he knew if he stayed, he was going to be absolutely smitten by those bright eyes and smile that lit up the room by the end of the night.

But she refused to let him go, which made no sense in his mind until he heard that nickname, which simultaneously made everything in his mind click and send it into overdrive because shit that was MJ, his MJ, who was only inches away from his face, tending to his wounds.

“So do you have a plan yet on how you’re going to tell her that you love her or you going to wing it….no pun intended?” Miles asked, dodging a huge piece of metal that had been thrown at him.

“I have a plan.”

“Like an actual plan…..or like the ‘plan’ you had when you tried to ask her out?” Miles asked. Peter was glad he had a mask on so no one could see his redden face.

“Hey stranger, what brings you here?” You asked after opening up the window. You were surprised that it was Peter, not Miles, standing outside on your fire escape. He appeared to be in much better health compared to when he was brought to your place the night before. It was strange to see him outside of that spandex suit

“I…I wanted to bring back the clothes I borrowed,” He said, holding up a folded shirt and pair of sweatpants.

“Did you swing around while carrying clothes? Because that would be impressive, although slightly impractical.” You said, stepping outside to join him.

“No, I….I have my backpack. I keep all my stuff in it,” He pointed to the one he was carrying, “You were joking, weren’t you?”

You giggled, “Little bit. So is there a reason why you’re giving me these clothes?” You paused, “And not Miles? The owner of said clothes?”

Shit. He didn’t think this through.

“Uh, I figured…you know you see him more than I do, and this way, you can……” He stumbled, face turning red.

“Do you want to go grab lunch?” You asked, hoping to put the poor guy out of his misery. It was clear that the plan was to come over and talk to you. And the beginning of the plan was really good. He just hadn’t thought it all the way through.

He sighed, relieved that she was able to pick up on what he was trying to do, “Yes. I would love that.”

“Awesome. There’s this new Italian place I’ve been wanting to try, but it’s a date spot so I didn’t want to go without a date,” You explained as you began to crawl back into your apartment.

“Date?” He squeaked out. You looked back, a grin forming on your face.

“Yes, that is usually what you call it when two people have kissed each other and go out to lunch. Is that okay?” You asked. You would be really surprised if he wasn’t okay with it, but now would be the best time to find out.

“That is….more than okay.”

She was the one to initiate a date. Peter was thankful because it had been so long since he dated that he had no idea what he was doing. Usually his strong suit was quick comebacks and witty remarks, but his brain felt like cotton whenever he saw her. It wouldn’t be the last time MJ had to initiate things.

“So….this isn’t sushi?” He asked. You rolled your eyes because this was the fifth time he asked.

“Peter, it’s called Poke,” You explained before taking a bite of your bowl.

“It’s Hawaiian,” Miles added.

“But….it contains rice, raw fish, and stuff like avocado and seaweed.”

“Yes, those are common toppings people put on a Poke bowl.” You weren’t sure why he was having such a hard time grasping the concept. It was also entirely possible he was being an ass on purpose to get you to crack.

“No, those are things you put in sushi.” Peter remarked.

“He’s not wrong,” Miles whispered to you.

“Okay…fine. But sushi usually has all these things wrapped up and sliced into neat little rolls. This is not a neat little roll,” You motioned to your bowl.

“So, it’s deconstructed sushi. Why don’t they just call it that?” He remarked. You could see the smirk forming on his face.

“Because it’s not sushi. It’s Poke,” You held up your fork, as if that would make him realize he was wrong.

“It literally has all the same ingredients as sushi, it’s just in a bowl!”

“Why are you so upset about this?” Miles asked.

“Because it’s sushi! It should just be called sushi!”

“Wow, I didn’t know my boyfriend was so adamant about the name of a food he won’t even eat.” Your eyes widen and your hand flew up to cover your mouth. You two had been dating for a little over a month but had yet to label things.

“What did you call me?” Peter asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“I have to pee, I’ll be back,” Miles said, getting up quickly so he could watch from the sides without being involved. He would say he wanted to stay out of the drama, but the truth was he couldn’t pick between the two of you if his life depended on it.

You looked up to make eye contact with your favorite bug boy. It was time to own it.

“Boyfriend. That is what I’ve been calling you whenever anyone in my apartment tries to set me up with their nephew or delivery guy. At first it was to emphasize that I wasn’t interested, but also because,” You paused, “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

His face was hard to read. It reminded you of the look he had when he discovered your nickname the night you two had met.

After what felt like an eternity, he grabbed your free hand, entwining his fingers with yours.

“I would like that too,” He said softly. You see his eyes beginning to water and could imagine the wide range of emotions he was experiencing. You knew this was a big deal for him, which was why you hadn’t been pushing the need to label things.

“YES! Finally!” You two turned around to see Miles standing by the soda foundation machine, first in the air.

Peter hadn’t minded when she initiated their first date. Nor did he mind it that she had initiated the boyfriend-girlfriend conversation. But there was a saying: once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, but three times is a pattern. And it definitely became a pattern for her to take charge when it came to many firsts in their relationship.

You two were watching a movie. You texted Miles, telling him specifically to not show up. You had on the lowest cut t-shirt you owned and the jeans that made your ass incredibly difficult to ignore. You had your head in his lap, playing with the ties of his sweatpants. You really thought it could not get more obvious than this.

And somehow, Peter Parker remained oblivious to all your hints. You were pretty sure if you took your top off right now, he would just ask if you were feeling warm and offer to turn on your AC.

So it was time for Plan B.

You sat up and swung a leg over him, straddling his waist.

“I need you to rail me,” You enunciated every word, refusing for there to be any misinterpretation.

He heard you loud and clear. It was obvious by his widen eyes and shaky hands that were resting on your hips.

“Oh?” Was all he could squeak out.

“Now. I need you to fuck me. Now.” You breathed heavily. He nodded his head and before you knew it, his hands were gripping your thighs, allowing him to stand up and carry you to the bedroom.

She had initiated a lot. And while that was one of the many things he loved about her, Peter couldn’t help but feel…lesser. Like he wasn’t pulling his weight. You had created all these memorable, magical moments and he just wanted to do the same.

Which was why Peter was determined to say it first. He wanted to be the first one to say those three big words. He knew you felt the same way and were just holding it back-trying to take things slow since this was his first relationship in years. He needed you to know that you were the best part of his day, of his life.

“Are you going to tell her tonight after her show?” Miles asked. Peter looked up to see the two robbers were properly webbed, no way of escaping.

“I mean, I don’t know if that’s the best time,” Peter started.

“That’s the perfect time!” The two looked up to see one of the robbers looking down at them, the other nodding in agreement.

“Have….have you been listening to our whole conversation?” Peter asked, unsure whether to be embarrassed or upset.

“We were curious. It sounds like you really like this girl.”

“Uh yeah…I do, but it’s not exactly something I tend to talk about with the people I’m fighting with.”

1.

As much as Peter didn’t want to admit it, those robbers had a point. Tonight would be a good time to tell her. He and Miles were seeing the show she was currently in. He had flowers, had put on a suit jacket and tie. If there was any time to tell her, it was tonight after the show.

“Alright, I’ll stay back here. You tell her that you love her, you kiss, then I’ll hug the both of you and remind you how Miles Parker is a great name for a kid.”

Peter groaned, covering his face in the flowers so no one could see how red it was.

“I’m just saying-“

“Miles.”

“It’s a great name and a great way to honor the person who brought you together.”

“You realize in order for that to happen, I have to tell her I love her, she says it back, and then we have to get married. You do realize that’s a long process right?”

“I’m aware Peter. But it’s always good to start thinking about these things now-“

“Please just stay behind.”

“Peter!” He looked up to see you standing there, backstage. You were still in your costume, running towards him.

“I got you bro…..over there,” Miles said, running off. At least he was now picking up when the two should be alone.

You stopped running once you were several inches away from him. It wasn’t the first time a significant other had seen you perform, but something about looking out in the crowd and seeing him, seeing Peter with that big, lovesick grin you loved so much, was exhilarating.

“Are those for me?” You asked, pointing to the flowers. There were sunflowers, your favorite.

“Actually, they’re for the crew, I was just blown away by their performance.” You laughed, playfully grabbing his shoulder (you could never hit him-even if it was pretend). He leaned in, bending a bit so you and him were at eye level.

“You’re incredible, has anyone ever told you that?” He whispered. You were thankful you still had your stage makeup on, which made it harder for people to tell if you were blushing.

“Yes….but I like hearing it from you,” You teased. You leaned in to close the gap because you were tired of waiting. It had been maybe six hours since you last kissed him and yet it felt like the first time again. You broke away for air and he rested his forehead against your’s.

“MJ, I-“

His sentence was cut off by a cast member calling-no, yelling-your name. You broke away to see your cast motioning for you to join them back on stage, most likely to take a group photo.

You sighed, “I’m so sorry, I’ll be right back. I promise.” Before he could say anything, you ran off, wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible.

Peter sighed. The moment had come and gone. He would have to tell you another time. Maybe it was for the best? You probably wanted this to happen in a more private setting.

As soon as the picture was taken, you ran back to him, your eyes gleaming.

“What was it that you were trying to tell me before we were interrupted?”

“Oh, nothing. Just….I’m amazed by you,” He said softly.

“I’m so happy for you guys!” Seemingly out of nowhere, Miles was there, wrapping the two into a group hug-which was a common occurrence.

“Uh….why?” You asked, not seeing the daggers Peter was sending with his eyes, along with mouthing the word ‘No’.

“Why? Because,” He made eye contact with Peter and his eyes widen, “Oh. Because…you guys are just great together. You know, as soon as Peter told me he was single, I knew you would be great for him, MJ.”

“If you’re asking to make a speech at our wedding again,” You started, “I already said yes.”

“I’m sorry, you told him he could do what now?” Peter asked. You laughed as you motioned for the two to come back to your dressing room. You weren’t completely serious, but seeing Peter’s reaction to you mentioning the idea of your wedding was always fun to see.

-------

2.

“Babe, you know the recipe only calls for three cloves of garlic. You do know that, right?” Peter asked as his wrapped his arms around your waist.

“I’m aware. And the recipe is wrong,” You said as you peeled another clove.

“Is there a vampire I should be on the lookout for?” He asked, pressing his nose into your hair.

“I just like garlic. Garlic makes everything better,” You remarked.

“Yeah, except your breath,” He muttered into your hair.

“Oh please, like you would go without kissing me,” You said, walking over to the trash can to toss out the scraps of garlic skin.

You felt something sticky latch onto your hip. Before you could say his name, you were back in his arms. You had a love/hate relationship with his web shooters. It terrified you, but was also insanely attractive when he used them on you.

“You….” He paused, trying to think of a comeback, “….are not wrong.” You threw your head back to laugh. He leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to your neck. You wrapped your arms around his back so you could stay like this. Stay in his arms as he pressed soft kisses up your neck, up your chin, and finally, to your lips.

“Peter,” You sighed into his lips. It took every ounce of you to not say those three words. You didn’t want to be the first. You wanted him to say it when he was ready.

“MJ,” You leaned your head back so you could see his face, “I….I-“

“It smells amazing in here! What are we making tonight?” Peter closed his eyes to take a deep breath, as that was the only thing that could stop him from yelling at the kid.

“Teriyaki chicken,” You told your neighbor.

“Please don’t encourage him,” Peter whispered to you. He would give Miles a hard time later for interrupting a moment he knew the kid wanted to happen, once you were out of earshot.

---

3.

“You know, it would have taken us less time if we had just swung to the top,” Peter said as he climbed what seemed to be an endless set of stairs.

“I’m still reeling from that time when Miles swung me around,” You told him, looking back to smile.

“No offense to Miles, but he’s still working on swinging around,” Peter commented.

“How’s this, you can swing me around….from your Aunt May’s doorstep to the street,” You offered.

“That’s a waste of my web shooters,” He retorted, pretending to be offended.

“So is this view truly the best view of New York City? Because I usually like to burn my thighs in a different way,” You smirked, raising an eyebrow.

He was thankful that they finally reached the top, mainly so he didn’t need to respond to how much she liked having sex with him, because the thought still made him speechless.

“Alright, here we are,” He said, opening the door. You had long heard of his favorite spot, but until now you had only heard about it, never seen it in person.

Having lived in New York City for nearly ten years, you’d thought that you had seen all the breathtaking sights by now.

“Wow,” was all you could say as you stepped out onto the rooftop. It was easy to understand why this was his favorite spot. It was quiet, the sounds of cars and people below making great white noise. It was subtle, reminding you they were still there but not overpowering. All the different colors of the lights below blended, creating a beautiful illusion.

His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him. You looked up to see him with that smile that made you weak at the knees every damn time.

“Thanks for taking me to your spot Tiger,” You whispered, blushing as he pushed a strand of hair out of your face.

“Of course. I figured it was time I share my favorite spot with my favorite person,” You rested your chin on his chest, looking up at him. The sight of you, looking up at him with your big, bright eyes, made his heart flutter.

He cradled your face in his hands, stroking your jaw with his thumb.

“Hey tiger,” You whispered. It was moments like this you wouldn’t trade for the world. The world got to see Spider-Man, but you had Peter Parker. Peter, who was so sweet, so gentle and just full of devotion and adoration for you.

“I….I never thought I would feel this way about someone again.” You nodded your head, encouraging him to keep talking. Since you knew about him being Spider-Man from the get-go, it made things easier to talk about. Specifically, the past you two had before meeting each other.

“If someone had told me a few months ago I would be feeling this way, I would have told them they’re crazy. But….now you’re here. And I-“

An array of sirens-both police and ambulances- interrupted him this time. You groaned in frustration.

“You have to get that, don’t you?” You muttered into his chest.

“No, Miles said he could do the patrol himself tonight.” It wasn’t so much that he said he would, moreso that Peter asked him to.

“That was nice of him. What…what were you saying before we were rudely interrupted by the NYPD?” You asked, getting a chuckle out of him. He leaned down to gently kiss your hand that was he holding.

“What I’ve been trying to say is, MJ, I-“

This time it was his cell phone that interrupted. The catchy jingle, alerting him that something Spider-Man related was on the other line.

“You…should probably get that,” you said, trying to hide your disappointment. You knew something serious was going on if Miles was calling him while on duty.

It took everything in Peter not to throw his phone off the Empire State Building. He begrudgingly picked up, “Yes Miles?”

“Hey man, you know how I said I got it tonight?”

“Yes Miles, I remember that. Very clearly.”

“Well, I don’t have it.”

Peter sighed, “I’ll be there in five minutes.” He hung up and grabbed your waist.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“I’m not going to make you walk down all those stairs. That would make me a horrible boyfriend,” He said, making sure you were secure in his arm.

“Peter Benjamin Parker, don’t you fucking dare-“ Too late. You were flying and didn’t feel bad how loud you screamed in his ear.

-------

4.

Waiting was the worst part. You knew he would do his best to be safe-he made more of an effort to keep himself safe while fighting since you two started dating-but the possibility of him not returning was always in the back of your mind.

You had to force yourself to sit on the couch, your back to the fire escape. Looking at it would just make things worse. You tried reading a book, but his words just kept replaying over and over in your head.

“What I’ve been trying to say is, MJ, I-”

You wanted to throw his phone off the building so badly. You had a strong feeling what his next words were going to be, and you were desperate to hear them.

You still worried. Even though it was faint, and their appearance was rare, you could still hear that voice in the back of your head, telling you that this was too good to be true. That he didn’t feel the same way, that you were just a steppingstone. That one day he would find someone else, and you would be left in the dust, just like before.

It was why you had been so careful not to say it first. You didn’t want him to feel any pressure, to feel like he had to say it just because you said it. You wanted it to be genuine, for it to happen when he was ready.

The tapping of your window broke you away from your thoughts. You looked up to see him and relief filled your body. You ran over to the window, opening it so he could come in.

“You okay?” You asked, scanning his body for any injuries. You noticed some minor cuts, nothing too awful.

“You should see the other guy,” He laughed as he came in. He’s had a key for about a month now, but he never used it.

“I hope you gave him a punch for me. You know, for ruining our date and all,” You said as you inspected the cut on his upper chest. It seemed to be the worst one he had tonight, the one that would require some attention. You grabbed his hand to lead him back to your couch, your first aid kit already on the coffee table.

“I may have,” He said as he sat down.

“Alright Tiger, you know the drill.”

“You know, I think at this point in our relationship you can just ask me to take off my clothes for you.”

You rolled your eyes as you got the bandages and wipes. He rolled his suit down so that you could get a clear look at the cut. You began to clean it up with the wipes, because you will be damned if he gets an infection.

He couldn’t help but notice how cute you were when you focused on something. Your nose would scrunch up, your eyes narrowed in on whatever it was you were doing. He noticed it right away when he first met you, as you were tending to his wounds.

“Do you know why I wanted to leave that night we first met?” He asked. You stopped, looking up at him.

“Because…you were afraid of me knowing your identity,” He made that very clear.

“No.”

“No?”

“I knew if I stayed, I would be head over heels for you by the end of the night. I….you were so beautiful and warm and the idea of having feelings like that terrified me.” He didn’t hide how terrifying this was for him. How it had been so long since he had been with someone, that he had been able to convince himself that he wouldn’t have someone, that he didn’t deserve it.

“I’m glad I didn’t let you go,” You said, a small smile creeping across your face.

“Me too,” He whispered. You grabbed a bandage because you really wanted to kiss him. You placed it on his chest, knowing that would keep it from bleeding further, which would allow him to heal faster. As soon as it was on, he pulled you into him. You rested your forehead on his, feeling at peace now that he was safe and back in your arms.

“What’s up baby?” You asked. Touch was Peter’s love language, but something was different tonight.

“I never thought this would be possible,” He said softly into your shoulder.

“What would be possible?”

“You.” You almost wanted to turn away due to the intensity of his gaze, “You….healed a cold, bitter heart. You loved me back to life. I don’t want to imagine where I would be without you.”

You wanted to make some sarcastic comment, so you could quickly wipe away the tears forming in your eyes. But you knew it was no use-he could hear your heart beat from a mile away.

“I love you so much and I’ve been trying to tell you that for the last two days because I….I need you to know. I love you.” It was all over when you saw his eyes were glassy, just like yours.

“Peter, I love you too,” it felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. You had been keeping those words inside of you for so long and now you felt free to say it.

It was hard to kiss when you both had a huge smile on your faces, but you made it work. He gently hooked a finger around your chin, which allowed him to place sweet, small kisses all over your face, declaring his love for you between every kiss. You laughed, trying to chase after his mouth with your’s.

In that moment, only the two of you existed. Just the two of you, in your apartment, on the couch that was the focal point of that fateful night where Peter Parker was brought to you and you fell in love with each other.

[owenniasstars]

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

part 11: an even exchange

word count: 2,216

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

You leaned against the worn oak counter of your bookshop, the faint scent of leather bindings and aged paper swirling around you like a cocoon. You only managed to distract yourself for an hour at a time whether it was with a book out of place or the stray customer on a slow day. Still, your mind drifted, pulled from your focus, and it wouldn't stop.

"Fuck," you continuously swore under your breath. It felt less like an expression of your frustration and more like a reflex every time you thought about Tommy again. And when you did, you felt the flush return to your cheeks.

It had been impossible to focus the last few days. After you left Tommy standing awkwardly after the near... incident, you avoided the Garrison. You avoided the betting house. You avoided him. Unfortunately, that provided no solace. It seemed as if the longer you actively tried to steer clear of his face, your mind would wander again. His eyes would meet you in the depths of your thoughts, and once again, the flush returned.

The bell above the door jingled sharply, disrupting the comforting silence. You didn’t bother to look up. “We’re closed,” you said curtly, voice tempered.

“Good thing I’m not here to buy a book.”

The voice was familiar and confident, a grating blend of smugness and urgency. That got your attention. You turned slowly, your gaze void of curiosity as it landed on the man standing in the doorway. He was dressed plainly but carried himself with the kind of confidence that set your teeth on edge.

“What do you want, Kennedy?” you asked. Almost instantly, your guard was up.

He smirked, unfazed by your chilly demeanor. “Got some news you might want to hear.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Surprise me”

“Shelby,” he said, the name cutting through your composure like a blade. “He’s in trouble.”

Time froze, and the stillness of the bookshop's air started to suffocate you at the mention of the name.

“How would you know that?”

Kennedy chuckled, opening and shutting the books on the counter. “Don't overthink it, y/n. All I'm doing is returning the favor. You let me sell you out to the Blinders, and now, I'm in their good graces. Word is, Mr. Shelby is at a warehouse on the east side. Ran into a spot of bother with some lads who don’t much care for his business dealings. Thought you might want to know.”

You stared at him, your nails digging into your palms. You hated how your pulse quickened at the thought of Tommy in a precarious spot. Hated how the very idea of him—his voice, his smirk, the damn way he looked at you—got under your skin. If it had been anyone else, you would have wondered why this information came to you. Where was John? Arthur? Anyone but you. Even worse, your legs suddenly felt the twitch like you were ready to act.

Kennedy tilted his head, his grin widening. “You gonna stand there and pretend you don’t care, or are you gonna do something about it? I know how you are with your investments.”

You stepped closer, your eyes narrowing. “And why are you so eager to tell me this?”

He shrugged, unfazed by the venom in your tone. “Let’s just say I’ve got my reasons. Do what you want with the information. But if I were you…” He let the sentence hang ominously before turning on his heel and disappearing into the night.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more.

You stood there with your hands braced against the counter, breathing shallow. Your mind raced with possibilities, each one worse than the last. You wanted to ignore it, to shove the warning aside and let Tommy deal with his mess on his own.

But you couldn’t.

“Damn it,” you muttered under her breath, shoving away from the counter. Your movements were sharp, angry, as you grabbed your coat and revolver.

This wasn’t about him, you told yourself as you locked the door and stepped into the cold. It wasn’t about the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel like you were losing control of something you’d worked so hard to master.

No, this was about… You truly didn't know. Maybe by the time this was all over, you'd have a better idea. Maybe, eventually this would make sense. You swore, once, that you'd never do this again. Emotions—just like people and trust and loyalty—were collateral. You couldn't waste another moment on anything that would inevitably be your downfall.

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you stalked down the cobbled street, the faint glow of gas lamps lighting your way. You hated that you didn’t have a better answer.

Hated even more that you might have cared enough to not need one.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

The warehouse was silent, save for the soft rustle of wind seeping through the broken windows. Tommy Shelby stood in the center, his hands bound behind him and a fresh cut bleeding down the side of his face. The men circling him didn’t bother to mask their smugness. Tommy, as always, remained calm which naturally irked them more.

“Think you’re clever, don’t you?” one of them sneered, stepping closer. “Not so clever now, eh?”

Tommy said nothing, but even he could feel the weight of this one—this was a gamble, and for once, the odds weren’t in his favor.

The man raised his fist, ready to strike Tommy again.

The first shot echoed like thunder in the confined space. One of the men dropped before the others could react, a bullet buried cleanly in his chest.

The second shot took out the man nearest to Tommy.

The rest scattered, scrambling for cover. You stepped out from the shadows, revolver steady in hand, expression ice-cold. You didn’t look at Tommy. You just let him watch.

“Who the hell—” one of them started, but your sharp gaze silenced him mid-sentence as you raised your finger to your lips to hush him in an almost-playful manner.

“Leave now,” you said, your voice low but commanding, “or you won’t leave at all.”

Your calmness was unnerving, more terrifying than a scream. One man tried to make a move toward his weapon, but you fired a warning shot that grazed the ground near his feet.

“Gentleman, I'm being kind,” you said evenly with the teasing tilt of your head. "I have a habit of being cruel at the best times. Please, don't force me to be unladylike."

The men exchanged frantic glances before deciding it wasn’t worth the fight. One by one, they backed away, retreating into the shadows until the warehouse was silent again.

You holstered your weapon, crossing the distance to Tommy with measured steps. Stopping before him, you looked at him with an inscrutable expression. You tried to steady your hands even as your heartbeat roared over the night's usual din.

This was the second time you had to act on behalf of a Shelby, and all you could do was remind yourself that this was just another debt Tommy would have to repay. Somehow, the thought didn't help.

Tommy’s voice broke the quiet. “Always with the theatrics, y/n.”

You glanced at him, your expression unreadable. “By all means, refuse my help next time.”

He raised an eyebrow, even as his hands remained tied. “And here I thought you were going to stay hidden.”

“Turn around,” you said coldly, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you.

Tommy obeyed without a word, letting you cut through the ropes with a knife you pulled from your coat. He turned back to face you, rubbing his wrists, his piercing gaze searching your face.

“You didn’t have to do this."

Your eyes met his briefly without answering.

The space between you seemed to shrink, the air thick with something unsaid. Tommy took a step closer, his voice dropping. “So, why did you?”

Your jaw tightened as you stepped back. ���Like I told you before. It's just business.”

Tommy tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Just business,” he repeated.

You glared at him, hand tightening around the knife. You turned on your heel, walking briskly toward the exit. But Tommy wasn’t done.

“You walked away once before,” he called after you, his voice cutting through the darkness. “What’s stopping you now?”

You paused, your back to him. Your grip on the knife was tight enough to turn your knuckles white. Just as he did to you before, you let silence stretch until it was unbearable.

“Your life for your tragedy,” you replied stoically as you turned back, catching the full weight of his gaze. “Consider us even.”

The words hung between you, a statement of debt repaid. Your stare held his for a long, burning moment before you turned and walked away, leaving Tommy alone to reckon with the realization: you just bound yourself to him, and in your own way, evened the scales.

"Now, fucking drive me home."

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

Tommy stayed in the warehouse long after you disappeared, the smell of gunpowder still hanging in the air. The faint echo of your words twisted in his mind like a knife until he finally found the will to move his legs and meet you in the car. He noticed—though you probably didn't think he would—the slightest tremble in your hands. You tried to conceal it by clasping them together, steadying yourself in silence. He left you at the bookshop, and you didn't bother to grace him with a goodbye before you slammed the door shut.

You’d walked away from him before. That night when he'd come so close, your lips hovering near his, your breath soft against his skin, he could still feel it, the weight of your decision to step back, leaving him to wrestle with the raw vulnerability you’d exposed.

And now, tonight. You made your choice to save him, stepping out of the shadows like some avenging angel—or devil, depending on who was asked. Your calm precision, the cold fire in your eyes—it unsettled him.

It fascinated him.

Back at the Shelby estate, Tommy stood outside with his eyes turned to the moonlight. He lit a cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating the bruise forming along his cheekbone. The sharp sting grounded him, but it wouldn't quiet his thoughts. You weren't like anyone else he’d known. You weren't predictable. You weren't someone he could read as easily as the men who worked for him or the women who sought his attention.

You made him work for it, and he wasn’t used to that.

Your words felt like a challenge, a test he hadn’t even realized he was taking. You weren't just reminding him of his moment of vulnerability—you allowed him to see that you truly listened, though you’d never admit it. But your words also felt like an opening. Even now, every action taken between you two were weighted in value. If it was his life you granted in exchange for his moment of fragility, he couldn't imagine how heavy the burden of knowing his truth was to you.

The faint sound of footsteps broke his reverie, and Polly appeared in the doorway.

“You alright, Tommy?” Polly asked, her voice gentle and tinged with concern.

He nodded, taking a long drag on his cigarette.

“It was foolish of you to try to handle that situation on your own, but you knew that already. Heard she saved your skin back there.”

“I’m aware.”

“Not the first time someone unexpected did that, but none of them were her.”

Tommy exhaled a cloud of smoke, his gaze fixed on some distant point in the dark. “I know.”

Polly circled the room, clearly debating whether to say more. Finally, she settled on, “And will you thank her?”

Tommy’s lips twitched in what might have been a smile if it weren’t so fleeting. “She wouldn’t want that.”

“You say that like you know her, really.”

Tommy flicked the ash from his cigarette, the embers briefly glowing brighter. “Because I do.”

But did he? The question lingered as Polly left him to his thoughts. Tommy stayed rooted in place, the chill of winter seeping into his bones. He replayed the moment the gunshot rang in the warehouse as if hearing it again would change the memory all together.

The corner of Tommy’s mouth curled, though there was no humor in it. You needed an excuse to do what you did and tried to make it seem like his story was a debt you couldn't have lingering on your conscience. You’d turned the tables on him yet again, made him feel like he was the one being measured by value alone. He wasn’t used to that either because you weren't using it for your benefit, not for a moment alone in bed. You didn't want him, at least not in the way others did. You were just there, ready and willing as long as he was willing to give it all back to you. This was different.

And perhaps he didn’t mind.

Snuffing out his cigarette, Tommy straightened his coat and walked into the night with only his thoughts to fill the silence.

[owenniasstars]

[3]<-

[4]

›Bad Idea<

Pairing: Hong Woojin × Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst, Enemies with benefits to Lovers

Warnings: 18+, explicit Smut, under 18 DNI!, Fem!Reader, suggestive Themes, Swearing, pet names,, hate sex, ANGST, overstimulation, thigh riding

Word Count: 8.5k

Note: That’s the last Part of a Story that I really enjoyed writing. No worries I‘m already working on another Story about Bloodhounds. The chokehold these guys have on me is unreal… Hope you liked the Story. Comments, Likes and Reblogs are always a blessing. Stay healthy and much love! ~Sky

Summary: As Gunwoo‘s little sister he wanted you to finally meet his best friend. Unfortunately you don't get along. He gets on your nerves, you fight all the time and yet you can't stop messing with each other. One evening you get into a dangerous situation and end up bruised and bloody at his apartment. And you suddenly have to ask yourself: Why do you feel so attracted to that idiot?

Chapter 7:

The Secret

The very next evening you were waiting in front of his apartment and when he saw you there, he frowned.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, and you braced yourself from the wall you had been leaning against.

"I'm bored," you said monotonously, and his gaze was already glued to the hem of your short skirt.

"So what?"

"Wanna fuck?"

"Sure."

Already you stumbled into his apartment, ripped the clothes from each other and between heated kisses and greedy touches, you threw aside your cell phone where Gunwoo tried to call.

A few hours later you came moaning on top of him as you rode his dick. As he painted your walls white with a hand around your neck, pressing you onto his throbbing dick, you climbed off of him and snuggled up to him.

"You know..fucking you almost made me reconsider whether i hate you or not," he said, pulling you into his arms and leaning his chin into the crook of your neck as he stroked his fingers over your bare stomach.

"Oh really? What's the verdict?" you asked, wiggling even closer to his chest. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder and his hair tickled your neck as he did so, making you giggle.

"Hmm..nope not even a little less."

A little offended, you turned around so you could face him. You pouted and stroked your fingers down his chest.

"Not even a little? Let's see if we can change that... Round two?"

Your suggestive smile and the way you raised an eyebrow made him smirk. The warmth in his eyes enveloped you and you never wanted to get out of his bed again if he stayed here with you.

"If you're asking me that naked and all sexy, I don't think I can resist," he replied charmingly, stroking the contours of your face as if it were an expensive sculpture he couldn't get enough of.

You winced with a chuckle as he pinched your side and pulled you closer again. Your lips collided and you kissed him until you couldn't breathe.

That's exactly how it went every time.

You were still a trio. You Gunwoo's annoying little sister and Woojin the chaotic good-for-nothing best friend. You argued, pounced at each other and never missed an opportunity to show that you didn't like each other.

But as soon as you were alone, you leaped upon each other.

The fact that your meetings were a secret between you made it even more exciting.

You slept together all the time. The smallest arguments made you tear off your clothes and throw yourselves on each other, fucking in heat and with no hesitation. It was the best sex you ever had and you were actually happy when you were with him.

However, it didn't go unnoticed for long. It started one night when Gunwoo was looking for a movie in Woojin's room to borrow from him and instead pulled out your black lace bra from between his pillows. That combined with the scratch marks that were increasingly reflected on Woojin's back, and was mockingly acknowledged by his training partners, Gunwoo put one and one together.

"Who is it? Who is this girl? Are you together?"

He had been bugging Woojin until he admitted that there was indeed someone. However, he would die before he told him that it was his sister.

"So like... Do you like her or something?", he asked out of nowhere a few months later as he helped Woojin train. He held the punching bag and looked at his friend, who froze in motion.

"Why would you think that? How could you think that?" asked Woojin, the sweat on his forehead doubling.

"Because you keep daydreaming and you barely have time outside of training... You must spend a lot of time with her," he said and Woojin shook his head as he punched a little stronger than necessary.

"We're just fucking. Nothing special. I don't even like her, actually."

Gunwoo had nodded, wanting to let the subject go. After all, he didn't understand it anyway. Woojin was so secretive that he didn't want to bug him further. Still, Woojin kept talking, between strained gasps as he punched the punching bag:

"I don't know. Really. This has been going on for a while now. The sex is incredible, but she keeps driving me crazy. We can't be in the same room without me getting restless and my heart jumping out of my chest."

The younger one pressed his lips together and tried to stifle a knowing smile. Later, as they sat together on the rooftop, winding down the day with protein shakes and fresh dumplings, Woojin said:

"I think I have come to a conclusion".

Gunwoo looked at him and asked with his mouth full, "Which is?"

"I am allergic to her"

He snorted in disbelief and choked on his shake.

"Wait... what?" escaped him between gasps and coughs.

But Woojin just nodded insistently, "I am allergic to her..."

It was almost like being in a bad romance movie. You couldn't be with or without each other. Endless arguments over the stupidest things every day, that ended with the most amazing sex every night. One minute you were ready to kill each other and the next you were sneaking off to have sex.

No matter when and no matter where.

You were addicted to each other and at this point, you could say you were only arguing and maybe even using each other just to fuck. You tried everything to keep it a secret from your brother. But you also became careless as time passed.

Finally, in addition to your underwear, he found a shirt that he had given you, where you had left it in Woojin's bed. Of course, he had recognized it immediately and before Woojin could explain anything, Gunwoo snapped and had given him a strong punch in the face.

He was furious that you had kept it a secret from him for so long and he was very very stunned that such a thing had happened behind his back all this time.

Now Woojin sat on your couch and you pressed a bag of frozen peas on the bridge of his swollen nose.

"He got you pretty good..." you said affectedly, and you felt guilty. After all, you were partly to blame.

Gunwoo and Woojin had randomly come in, Woojin had bled all over your apartment after your brother had hit him unannounced in the middle of the nose, and after that he had brought him here to have someone take care of his bloody nose and most likely to confront you.

Since then, your brother had been pacing back and forth in front of you, trying to calm himself down. He could have guessed it. At the latest when Woojin was so interested that one afternoon. Gunwoo and he had made ramen on the roof of his apartment. A little ritual where they just chatted and let the training day end.

"I can't stand it at home anymore," he sighed, dropping into the chair next to Woojin.

"What's wrong?" asked Woojin, stirring the pot.

"Y/N's girlfriend is visiting and they talk all day! Without a break and I have to listen to everything even in my room... They're so loud!", he sighed exhaustedly and Woojin patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.

"Even in the kitchen, you're not safe from the chatter... I hear things really I don't want to know."

Interested, Woojin raised his eyebrows and paused.

"What do you mean? What are they talking about?"

"Don't make me remember," Geonwoo sighed, and that's when his best friend elbowed him in the side.

"You can't start and then not tell the details."

Gunwoo stretched, groaning, as if the coming words would cause him physical pain.

"I suspected she was seeing someone. She's rarely home. Sneaks at her room abnormally early in the morning and lately she's even humming when she's working at the store. It's really creepy by now," he began, and Woojin had to bite his tongue to keep from grinning widely.

"Anyway, I overheard her talking about it with her friend in the kitchen. She said it was the best sex of her life, but wouldn't say with whom..."

Gunwoo shook himself in disgust and took over stirring the ramen. The corners of Woojin's mouth slowly lifted and he tried not to ask too suspiciously.

"Best sex of her life? That's what she said?"

"Yeah... It was disgusting enough, can you please not repeat it?" he asked and Woojin nodded quickly, though he would have loved to hear more. Inwardly, he was as happy as a little kid who got an ice cream cone as a reward for a good grade.

Even as he had beamed the rest of the evening, Gunwoo had suspected nothing. You could both see how sorry he was. He really hadn't meant to hurt Woojin. But it had also been wrong of you to lie to him for so long.

The two most important people in his life had lied to him for months and abused his trust.

"Gunwoo..." you began carefully, meekly, but he interrupted you:

"No! Don't! I'm not angry... But I can't be around you right now. I need to focus on the fight."

That came on top of it, too. Gunwoo had an important fight in the next few days that he had been training for for months.

"That's okay. Talk to me when you're ready, bro. I'm gonna go now...", Woojin said and stood up.

He looked at the peas in confusion and held the bag out to you a bit dorkily.

"You can keep those," you said in an occupied voice, and he nodded. When he disappeared through the door, you stood up too and gave your brother a worried look.

He ruffled his hair and ran both hands wearily through his face.

Chapter 8:

The Date

Over the next few days, things calmed down a bit. Gunwoo seemed to come to terms with it. At least he didn't mention it anymore. At his boxing match, you were both there cheering him on. The friendship between the two boxers was too strong after all and the they needed each other. They were inseparable and even you couldn't destroy that.

Later that day you celebrated his victory and while you ate pork belly, laughed and carelessly spent time together as before, your guilty conscience gradually faded away. Before you could say goodbye to Woojin in front of the restaurant and run home with Gunwoo, he held you back by the hand.

Questioningly, you looked up at him and that's when Gunwoo said:

"I'll go ahead and wait for you."

Gratefully, you gave him a curt look, which he returned with a smile before walking out of earshot.

"He's not mad at us anymore. That's good," Woojin said, kicking a pebble into the road.

"What's wrong?" you asked curiously, watching him squirm around for a while before he managed to look you in the eye.

"Do you want to do something tomorrow?"

You furrowed your eyebrows in wonder.

"Sure. I can come over if..."

"No... Not just to fuck. I'd like to spend time with you. Outside, get something to eat, and then go to the park?"

Completely perplexed, your mouth was open and you looked at him as if he'd suggested you jump off a cliff.

"The weather is supposed to be nice..."

Since you didn't answer, he became more and more uncertain. You looked for sarcasm or some malice, but nothing came. He just looked nervous. He cursed himself and swallowed hard as he stared at the floor. Why the hell was he so restless?

"Nevermind. That was a stupid idea. Just forget about it," he dismissed it, wanting to turn around and just disappear.

Unconsciously, you grabbed his sleeve and he turned back to you. Confused, yet with hope in his eyes that sprouted like the first snowdrops in spring.

"No. That's a nice idea. Will you pick me up?"

His face lit up and he scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

"Uh, yeah. At two?"

"I'll help out at the store until three, then we can get going."

"Sounds good."

Silently, you just looked at each other. Nothing around you seemed to matter. The traffic, the people pushing past you on the sidewalk, and even the cloud pushing in front of the sun.

"See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," you repeated, and as soon as you caught up with Gunwoo, your cheeks glowed and your stomach did flips. He said nothing. He just smiled and put an arm around your shoulders as you turned into the street to your apartment.

While you waited for Woojin to pick you up, the same question played incessantly in your mind:

Was that a date?

Something inside you hoped so. As you took off your apron and checked your hair in the mirror, you heard the store door and Woojin's voice.

You almost cried out, you were so tense.

You had put on some makeup, were wearing a red summery dress because you knew that was his favorite color, and when you heard how happy your mom was about his visit, you felt warm. When you stepped out into the store, his eyes were immediately on you. His face lit up and his eyes wandered endlessly along your curves.

"Hey..." you said a little meekly.

"Hey. You look beautiful," he said, not knowing what to do with his hands. It was weird not meeting just to sleep with each other.

"Thanks... You too," you replied, and he really did. He was wearing ripped jeans and a tank top, so you could probably stare at his muscular arms all day. Your mom was obviously surprised by the sudden niceness between you and looked back and forth, puzzled.

"Shall we?" he asked, and you nodded. Before you could say goodbye to your mom, she came rushing out from behind the counter and thrust a bag into your hand.

"There's a little snack in there. Have a nice day," she said, placing a hand affectionately on Woojin's cheek before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Thank you very much Mrs Kim." he said enthusiastically and it was heartwarming how happy he was. You knew by now that he didn't have a very good relationship with his parents. That's why he looked up to your mother and enjoyed the affection she gave him.

As soon as you walked side by side through the streets, directly towards the park, a strange silence spread. It was completely absurd to spend time with Woojin without arguing. Birds were chirping and the park was decorated like a painting in various shades of green.

On the way, you picked up an iced coffee and eventually chatted as if it were a normal thing to be together. Only without Gunwoo. It was new how much you laughed even just the two of you and before you knew it half the day was over.

In the park, you spread out your jackets and lay down under a tree, through whose branches scattered rays of sunlight hit the earth and warmed your faces.

Although you thought it was supposed to be weird, it seemed perfectly normal as he put an arm around you and you snuggled up to him. You ate the donuts your mom had packed for you and teased each other until you fought over the last piece.

He may have been a good boxer, yet you were winning. At least that's what you thought as you proudly shoved the last piece into your mouth and he watched you, fondly smiling.

After a while, watching the sky, you asked:

"What do we do now?"

He propped himself up on his elbow and looked at you.

"What do you mean?“

"I mean, what is it between us?" you asked, as that question circled you over and over.

"I think we're friends?"

Friends? Was that really the right word? Did you want you guys to just be friends? You tried to tell yourself it was so perfect. With no obligations, no extra thoughts, if everything just stayed the way it was. But it felt wrong and something in you resisted it. By now you were sure: you wanted more than that.

You just didn't know what. You wanted more days like this, where you laughed together, got talked about nonsense, looked together in the sky. You even wanted more fights and arguments, if that meant falling into bed with him at the end of the day.

"Friends who sleep together regularly?"

"Exactly..."

He played with a strand of your hair and wrapped it around his finger, lost in thought. You looked up at him and his absent look made you suspicious. It was as if he wanted to say something, but didn't dare. You intertwined your fingers with his and leaned your cheek against his chest.

A couple with a dog walked by, talking animatedly.

The sudden silence became more serious than either of you wanted. You indulged your thoughts and it was almost intimate as you enjoyed the last rays of the day's sunshine snuggled together.

"I'm sure you have other people you can sleep with. You have the pretty face for it," you said to lighten the serious mood. You didn't want to deal with what could be.

What if he really just saw you as a friend? Someone to blow off steam with, but nothing more. But then why had he brought you here today, and why had the day been so nice? Was he already bored having sex with you?

"Additionally, you're a possessive little freak, but it's very endearing," you added, and he grinned in amusement.

"But I only want you."

Stunned, you looked at him and when your eyes locked, it took your breath away.

"I've gotten too attached to you already," he added quickly.

Woojin flashed another, kindly mocking grin. Teasing, as ever. He tried to keep it light. Better that than wanting too much, knowing he would never get it.

You averted your eyes again and followed the couple, arm in arm, as they watched their dog run across the park.

Was that disappointment squeezing the air out of your lungs?

"What about you?"

"Huh?"

You played with the hem of his tank top, and he slid his hand down your sides until it was firmly against your hip.

"Why do you put up with me? You obviously can't stand me. So why?"

You didn't dare look at him, afraid he might read your true thoughts and feelings from your face.

"The sex is good," you murmured, and that's when he looked up at the sky and laughed, chuckling and your body shivered excited.

"Is that all it is? Then why did you come today?"

So many questions you didn't know the answer to. You didn't know why you agreed, you just knew you wanted to. You wanted to spend time with him outside of your bed or his room.

Why wasn't clear to you.

"I don't want anyone else either. I may have started to like you," you finally blurted out and he thought his heart would burst.

"Really?"

He looked at you incredulously and straightened up a bit. Immediately you blushed with shame. All this could not be, but you could not lie. Your body betrayed you anyway.

"Stop staring at me like that, creep!" you drove at him and pushed him so that he fell on his back and looked into the leaves with a smile.

"I don't believe it... Did Y/N Kim really just admit that she likes me?" he gasped, running both hands through his hair as if you had just revealed to him that you could fly.

Immediately, you regretted being so honest with him and rolled your eyes in annoyance.

"Shut up. I said maybe. You just ruined it again," you grumbled and crossed your arms. Why did he have to be so annoying anyway?

You felt vulnerable and that was a scary feeling.

Woojin sat up again and when he saw your tense expression and the sadness you were trying to hide behind a carefree mask, the grin died.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around you and turned you so that you were looking at him. Then he pulled you to the floor with him until you were on top of him, his leg between your thighs, pulling you into a deep kiss.

He was gentle, loving, running his hands down your sides and letting his tongue slide over your lower lip as light as a feather. By now he didn't care at all that you were in the middle of public.

Especially when your lips were too kissable and he just wanted to litter you with kisses all day.

You buried your fingers in his hair and melted in his arms as you opened your lips and he slid his tongue into your mouth. This time, it wasn't a contest. Not a race either of you wanted to win. You were moving in unison.

Your body was made for him as he curved perfectly into his. The kiss was more intimate than anything before and full of tenderness.

You could feel his heartbeat and it was reassuring that it was racing just like yours.

Between kisses, you felt him smile and pull you closer by the hips in a demanding way. He ran his hands under your shirt, over your back, so that his fingers left a trail of heat on your soft skin.

When he lifted his leg between your thighs and brushed against your middle, you gasped involuntarily into his mouth. You almost couldn't help rocking your hips just a little. You were desperate for some sort of friction and relief. Just hearing his voice, his body so close to yours, made you tense. You began to slowly rock and sway your hips, letting out small groans and pants.

As your fingers pulled at his hair, he moved his thigh teasingly and gave more pressure directly on your covered cunt. Immediately you got wet and the desire made you roll your hips against his leg.

Embarrassed, you bit your lower lip as he bobbed his leg and grinned as he felt you heatedly rubbing your cunt against him.

"Look at you... All desperate and needy. And in public," he whispered in your ear and you whimpered softly as he rubbed his thigh harder against your cunt.

To outsiders it just looked like a couple cuddling and whispering loving words to each other.

"Woojin I can't...," you murmured tensely and he watched as your lustful face tried to keep its composure.

"Take what you need, sweetheart," he murmured to you, guiding your hips against his leg with one hand. With the other he pushed your head to the side to kiss your neck.

Time began to stop and you rolled your hips harder against his thigh. The thought that someone could catch you only sent more arousal between your legs and made your skin tingle.

He was peppering kisses down your throat, stopping to suck a pretty red mark over your pulse point.

Every shift of his hips bumped up against your throbbing core and he held you tightly by the hips as you lost yourself in pleasure. Even clothed the drag on your clit was brilliant, you knew you were going to ruin your panties but the orgasm that was coming your way was worth it.

He bounced his leg just right and watched as your hips stuttered slightly and ran one hand under your shirt to knead your breast. Too inconspicuous for anyone else to notice what he was doing, but you felt every little movement so intensely that you buried your face in his neck. With a sharp curse, your hips continued to roll against those muscular thighs and your eyebrows pinched together from the unbelievable pleasure.

Your lips traveling to his collarbone as you squeezed your cunt against him, the friction on your clit sending electricity through you and as he grinded your hips intensely against his thigh a few more times, you came with a gasp and your body trembled on his.

Satisfied, he stroked a few strands of hair out of your forehead as you calmed down and kissed your temple.

"My good girl," the boxer praised, "Do you feel better now, dollface?" he asked and you nodded slowly and sunk against him. You were too sensitive now but your hips continued to roll lazily, trying to chase the powerful release.

"Thank you..." you said and snuggled closer to his chest. He bit your neck gently, then murmured suggestively:

"You can thank me at home with your sweet pussy. After all, it's mine."

You shuddered and your eyes met. Lasciviously you grinned and you played with his waistband.

"Shall we go?"

He nodded and the lust grabbed you like a tornado, pulled you with it and left no hesitation. You walked together to his apartment, your hand firmly on your ass and as soon as you were through the door, you took off your clothes.

You didn't even made it to his bed this time.

Instead, he ended up on top of you on the couch and the romantic kisses got hot and fiery. As soon as you had your underwear off, he said impatiently:

"Turn over! On all fours!"

With glowing cheeks you did as he said and before you could prepare yourself you felt a hand firmly on your hip and him slipping out of his boxers. The sight was intoxicating as you waited on all fours, ready and willing for him. Your elbows and knees were propped up to support your weight.

"Let's see how much my doll can handle."

He licked his lips before pressing his throbbing tip against your entrance, rubbing and tapping. Fear and excitement filled your body, his tip at your entrance stretched you out already and made you gasp.

"Less talking, more fucking", you snapped.

"You little bitch," he laughed and when his tip entered you, your arms weakened immediately.

Your hands gripped tense, into the padding as he thrusted ruthlessly into you, a rasping gasp escaping him.

"Asshole," you hissed, your voice trembling with pain.

"Fuck... You're so hot when you're angry," he moaned with his hands firmly on your hips, he tucked himself deep inside you, giving you no mercy with his vicious movements. Your nosy moan echoed throughout the apartment, but you didn't have enough self-awareness to stop it. His thick cock stretched out your walls so deliciously, your pussy constricted snuggly around him. He groaned at your tightness, wet and warm all around him.

His thrusts were brutally quick, as if he was trying to win a race. Or prove a point. Your eyes rolled back in pure ecstasy as you lost reality. You felt your mind leave your body. You feared your brain would melt and run out of your ears as he slammed into you from behind. You swear you were dangling above yourself. His pelvis slamming against your ass, the sound of skin slapping and the squelching sound of your aching cunt filling the room.

He noticed that you've been almost cumming all over his cock, your tight walls spasming around him. With your lack of oxygen, the world slowly slipped away from you in a lustful haze. Your pussy tightened around his length as your orgasm suddenly waved over you. Your body and mind submerges into a blissful fog as your climax surrounded him. His thrusts became chaotic and messy as he felt your cum soak his cock and you moaned his name incessantly between unholy whimpers. Heavy breathing, hearts racing, muscles trembling, and sweat glistening. You were trapped in your world of lust and passion.

He let you catch your breath for a moment as he turned you around by your hips and pressed a long kiss to your lips.

"Your perfect. So perfect for me. I want that forever. I wish I could have that forever," he said, his voice wavering dangerously.

Your hands were tight against his chest and you wanted to ask what he meant, but you didn't get to as he thrusted into you again incessantly, your nails dug into his muscular shoulders, and the way he fucked you forced uncontrollable sobs from your swollen lips.

You wanted to hide your face against his chest as the next orgasm threatened to tear you apart, but he pushed you back by the shoulder and his eyes bored into yours caught in a swirl of bliss.

"I want to look at your pretty face when I cum," he gasped, and somehow the moment felt final. There was something strange in his eyes and briefly you thought you saw sadness flashing in them.

But then the next orgasm sent you into a bright light until you saw stars.

As soon as your walls clenched around him, he gasped sharply and his lips crashed against yours. He bit your bottom lip and his thrusts became incoherent as he was about to cum.

Simply kissing him in your dizzy state felt euphoric, your insides contracting,

„Fuck." he sucked in a sharp breath "Still so fuckin' tight for me."

You stared overwhelmed into his eyes, they were filled with so much passion instead of lust. But there was something else. Something that weighed heavier. It felt warm, loving and engaging. The word was on the tip of your tongue, but it weighed far too heavy to speak it or even to grasp it in your thoughts. It was a feeling you had only read about in books or seen in movies. Your heart fluttered, his stare was gentle yet his thrusts were rough as he came inside you and his eyes nearly rolling back. By now it felt like he knew your body more than you did. His tip kept on kissing your g spot, causing you to let out stuttering whimpers as he spilled into you.

"Shit..." he huffed, panting heavily. Your chest raised up and down, catching your breath.

Still buried deep inside you, he collapsed on top of you and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

You stroked your fingers along his back, along his tattoo, and he wrapped his arms around your body so tightly that you gasped.

"Woojin... Babe you're crushing me," you chocked and he immediately eased up a bit.

Without further ado, he turned so that you were on top of him, but continued to hold you as if he was afraid you might disappear if he wasn't careful.

He did not pull out of you. With your pussy still squeezing him and sucking him in so good, he just couldn’t.

"I don't want to lose you," he sighed, stroking through your hair. Looking at him a little puzzled, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more behind his words.

"I'm here," you assured him, taking his face in both hands before kissing him lovingly.

"Let's stay like this for a while. You feel so warm," he murmured and you nodded, resting your cheek against his chest. He seemed more affectionate than usual. You also noticed how desperately he'd cling to you: how he'd tightly hold your thighs at his sides, how his fingernails were digging into your skin, how deeply he was trying to bury himself into you. Looking at your flushed face, all tired out, you couldn't look any more beautiful to him even like this. He looked at how you closed your eyes to give your body a break.

He absorbed everything: your expression, your touch, your warmth, your moans, your pussy, and most of all, your affection was his at the moment. The entirety of you was his and his alone and he would not change it for anything.

The next time you looked into his eyes, there was this vulnerability that surprised you. He wanted to say so much and yet he couldn't bring himself to say a word.

He wanted to say how much he wanted you to be his, how much he had fallen in love with you. How he loved everything about you. Your laugh, the angry glint in your eye, every one of your strange mannerisms.

But that wouldn't be fair.

Not when he was soon gone.

Chapter 9:

The Dream:

Just a few days later, you walked through the door at home yawning, wanting nothing but sleep after a tiring late shift at the café.

But when you saw Gunwoo packing his bag through the door gap in his room, you became curious. You went to his room, jumped on his bed and watched him.

"What are you doing? Are you going somewhere today?" you asked, and he was already swinging his bag on his back.

"I'm just going to bring Woojin some things he left here and then help him pack."

Completely confused, you straightened up, slid to the edge of the bed, and asked:

"Packing? For what?"

Now Gunwoo looked at you just as uncomprehendingly.

"Didn't he tell you?"

"Told me what?" you drove at him a little more briskly than you intended.

"Woojin has qualified for the Amateur Boxing Championship in America."

The info threw everything inside you upside down.

"That's great! He's always dreamed of this!" you said excitedly. Gunwoo nodded vehemently.

"If he wins there, both of us might be able to compete in the World Championships soon. Wouldn't that be crazy?" he exclaimed excitedly and you followed him into the hallway where he put on his shoes.

"But what does that mean? When is he going to America? The competitions are taking place in a few months, aren't they?"

Gunwoo looked up at you and replied:

"He got an offer from a famous coach who wants to prepare him for it. He's already leaving this weekend."

"What?" you gasped in disbelief, your throat instantly tightening.

"How long will he be gone?"

"That's still unclear. Half a year until the competition in any case. What happens after that, no one knows yet. If he does well, he can go straight to the next competitions."

As exciting as it sounded, to your ears it was just a disaster. Stunned, you dropped onto the sofa as soon as Gunwoo disappeared. Woojin would be out of your life in just two days, and maybe forever. And he had told you nothing.

All night long you tossed and turned in your bed. Your chest ached at the mere thought of Woojin going to America. At the same time, your guilty conscience paralyzed you.

It was his dream to box in the professional league and it didn't seem so far-fetched now.

When the first rays of sunlight broke through your window, you still hadn't slept a wink. Sighing, you sat up in bed and made a decision. You had to see him. You had to confront him and ask him about it.

So you slipped into your jacket and shoes and left the house early in the morning. Outside his apartment, you took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell.

It took a while, but finally he opened the door and looked at you in amazement. Actually, you expected him to look completely sleepy, his hair a mess and sleep still in his eyes like every morning.

He was not an early riser, and yet he stood before you, alert and wide awake.

"What are you doing here at this hour?" he asked, letting you enter. In his living room you understood why he was already awake. There was an open suitcase on the floor and around it were clothes, his passport and other things. So it was true.

You turned to him with a tense heart.

"When do you wanted to tell me?"

He was obviously uncomfortable. Sighing, he ran his hand over his face and that's when you realized how tired he actually was.

"I was going to tell you... But I didn't think you'd care."

Stunned, you walked up to him.

"What, are you serious? You were just going to disappear without saying anything?", your voice automatically became louder and he stubbornly returned your gaze.

Actually, he had been incredibly afraid. Afraid that you really wouldn't care or that you were even happy when he disappeared. That would have broke him.

Since he had received the letter, he had thought of nothing but you. Instead of saying that, he shrugged.

"We're not together."

A lump formed in your throat. Did he really care that little? Your lower lip quivered dangerously, but you forced yourself to remain calm.

"Was it really that meaningless to you? Am I just a fuck toy for you that you could use at will?" you asked, and he would have loved to scream out loud. Would have pulled you into his arms and kissed the hurt expression from your face. But he was scared and frustrated.

He was afraid of what he would do if you rejected him and even more afraid of what he was willing to do if you didn't.

"Do you care, then? Didn't you just use me for your own pleasure? Or else you wouldn't come crawling back to me, begging me to fuck you so good you forget everything else," he drove at you and you took a few steps back as his jaw twitched furiously and he stepped at you.

"What do you want me to say?" you breathed, struggling to keep your voice steady.

You didn't dare give in. The anger, desperation, and frustration mingled into a sickening taste on your tongue. You didn't know why you were so angry. It only hurt to look at him. He was going to leave and there was nothing you could do about that.

"What you feel," he replied, anger reflected in his eyes as well. He hated that he felt that way. That you had done this to him.

He felt trapped in a spider web and every movement only made him sink deeper into it.

"I can't stand you," you replied, and every word hurt like someone was pressing red-hot iron against your skin. Maybe if you denied it, the feeling would go away on its own.

He came even closer, sparkling at you with mesmerising eyes.

"You don't mean that."

"You don't know what i mean," you shot back frantically.

You could see how hurt he was. But you didn't want to ruin his dream by being selfish. If you just told him, that he meant nothing to you, he could leave without wasting another thought about you and live his dream.

That's what you wanted for him and telling him the truth would only make things complicated for him.

"It's okay. Just leave! If I never see your face again, I'll be happy," you shot back at him, something inside you breaking more with each word.

"I wish i never-" but he interrupted you by grabbing your hand.

"Don't say something you don't mean. Don't you dare," he growled, desperately looking for something to prove otherwise.

"Don't you realize? This isn't working. We're going back and forth. When we're not fighting, we're fucking. It doesn't work like that. We're like poison for each other!", you retorted, the shards of what was left in your chest digging deeper and deeper into your flesh.

"You never change, do you? You never fucking change. Always so stubborn; always thinking you're right," Woojin murmured and you wanted to wrap your arms around him, tell him you didn't want to let him go.

But that would be selfish. He should chase his dream without another worry. You wanted him to be happy.

"I wish you all the best Woojin," you said, your voice finally breaking treacherously at his name. You turned quickly so he wouldn't see the first treacherous tears roll down your cheeks.

He sighed in anger before following you.

"Don't fucking walk away from me!"

He grabbed your hand and you pulled back as if he burned you with his touch.

"Stop telling me what to do!" you yelled back at him and he took a few steps back.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe all of this was a mistake. We would never work and all this is a big fucking mess. But please, before you go, tell me to my face that there's nothing between us. That I imagined all of it so I could have closure!"

All you wanted to do was cry and lash out. It felt like you were bleeding to death inside when you said:

"There's nothing there, and there never will be."

Every word was heavy as lead on your tongue and you feared your legs would give out if you looked into his desperate face for one more second. You wanted to tell him that there was so much you felt for him. That you believed you were seriously falling in love, but it would be selfish and dumb.

"All right..." he murmured, and the sadness in his eyes robbed you of the last of your hopes.

"I'm leaving now," you pressed out, and he watched as the door slammed shut behind you.

He didn't know how long he stared at the door, hoping you would come back and end the argument with a kiss, but that didn't happen.

Not this time.

Chapter 10:

The Love

With a curtain of tears obscuring your view, you stumbled home and as soon as you bursted through the door, past the confused Gunwoo, into your room, you collapsed on your bed sobbing.

Every muscle ached and you feared dying from the pain in your chest.

Putting his ear to the door, Gunwoo winced at the heart-wrenching sobs and cautiously walked in.

"Y/N?" he whispered, sitting anxiously at the edge of the bed.

You couldn't form a word, so tense was your body consumed by anger, rage, and grief. You didn't have to.

Gunwoo soothingly placed a hand on your back and pulled you closer until your head rested on his lap. Silently, he stroked your hair soothingly and was just there. Your big secure rock in the painfully raging waters. The anchor that kept you from sinking into the deep black tides of your mind.

For the next few days, you didn't leave your room. You couldn't bring yourself to touch the food your mom put on your nightstand and buried yourself under your covers, hoping you'd never have to leave your bed again.

By Saturday night, Gunwoo had had enough.

You felt the mattress beside you lower as he sat down.

"Woojin's flight leaves in an hour..." he said into the silence, as if you hadn't been counting the minutes.

"Why are you telling me this?" you grumbled into your pillow, trying to ignore the way your heart contracted painfully.

"You should tell him how you feel before it's too late."

Gunwoo's words made you look up, and as you looked at him, you realized he was dead serious.

"What, how.?“

"It's obvious. To everyone but you two idiots. You like each other and I want you to be happy. To do that, you have to tell him how you feel before he's gone."

"It's too late," you howled into your pillow as Gunwoo suddenly yanked the covers off you. The cool air against your bare legs gave you goosebumps.

"What are you doing!" you snapped at him, but he also ripped the pillow from under your head, causing your face to slam into the mattress.

"Get up! I'm taking you to the airport. Now!"

You stared at him, stunned, and slid to the edge of the bed.

"Are you serious?" you asked uneasily, and he was already tossing you a pair of jeans from your closet.

"I've never been more serious! Come on hurry up!"

So you picked yourself up, took new courage and got dressed. Excitedly, you kneaded your hands the entire car ride. At the airport, you already felt so sick that you wanted to throw up.

With Gunwoo, you ran past the many people. Like in an anthill, tons of people were scurrying around. Businessmen with suits, families with a convoys of suitcases, and groups of young people visiting relatives or were on vacation.

Hurriedly, heart pounding, you kept a lookout for Woojin, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Maybe we're too late," you gasped as Gunwoo stretched his head and kept a lookout. He was taller and thus had a better view.

But there he suddenly pointed to a counter where Woojin was about to walk through the gate.

"There he is!" he shouted. His curly head and broad shoulders clearly set him apart from the other people.

You didn't have to think for a second to sprint. Like a maniac, you pushed past the people, earning indignant stares, but nothing would stop you from reaching him.

"Woojin! Wait!" you shouted, almost running over an old man. You apologized hurriedly and kept running. He turned around in amazement and when he saw you, he took a step out of the crowd.

Your feet seemed not to touch the ground and as soon as you reached him you threw yourself into his arms so violently that he staggered back a few steps, but he held you so tightly that that you lifted off the ground.

His smell and touch glued the pieces that had once been your heart back together.

You held him so tightly and swore never to let him go. By now you had attracted the attention of most of the people around you, but that didn't stop you from sobbing in relief.

You broke away from him slightly, but only to look him in the eye. He set you down carefully and his amber eyes scrutinized you in complete wonder. You wrapped your arms around his neck and began to chatter away like a waterfall:

"I'm so sorry. I was so stupid. It's totally fine if you don't feel that way, but I'm pretty sure I fell in love with you. You mean so much to me and I can't sleep, eat or breathe without you... I just didn't want to mess up and get in the way of your dream.“

"Y/N..." he tried to interrupt you for the first time, but everything that had been building up burst out of you.

"You’re an amazing boxer and I didn’t want to make things complicated for you. Also I've never felt anything like this before and I was afraid you wouldn't want me."

"Sweetheart. Y/N?"

Sobbing, you didn't realize you were crying until he wiped the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs and cupped your cheeks lovingly. Breathing hard, you looked up at him and he smiled warmly.

"May I say something now?" he asked quietly, and there was so much affection in his eyes that you just nodded, sniffling.

"I'm in love with you. For quite a while now. I didn't know this feeling. When I was near you I felt things I had never felt before. But now I know: I'm deeply madly and head over heels in love with you."

"Really?"

He laughed at the look on your face. You were too cute with those puffy lips, reddened eyes, and beautiful affection in your eyes.

"Yes. Can I finally kiss you now?"

You nodded and that's when he pulled you by the chin into a kiss that blew away all the pain of the last few days like a violent whirlwind. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest as you snuggled up to him and deepened the kiss.

Now you knew what this strange feeling was that floated between you like a lukewarm summer wind. It was love.

The word suddenly didn't feel so far away anymore.

With closed eyes you slowly separated from each other, smiling and savouring the moment. You blushed when you saw how many pairs of eyes were directed at you. Nevertheless, you could not stop smiling at each other.

Then an announcement rang out, announcing Woojin's flight in a few minutes.

"I have to go..." he muttered in anguish, and you stroked his chest with your hands.

"Yeah I know."

He didn't want to let you go and it was obvious how much he was fighting with himself.

"Just to make sure: You're my girlfriend now?" he asked with that typical cheeky grin.

Your heart fluttered and you wanted to squeal with delight. You laughed blissfully and overwhelmed with happiness. He wanted to bottle up that sound so bad and keep it with him forever.

"Yes. All yours..." you replied and he looked at your features dreamily.

"All mine," he murmured and pulled you by the hips into a kiss again. It was getting harder and harder to separate from each other, but you managed somehow.

"You have to go! Otherwise you'll miss the flight," you gasped breathlessly, pressing your forehead to his.

"Will you call me?"

"Of course. After all, we're officially together now. We'll cheer you on from home until you get back," you said, and along with the joy, a little wistfulness now crept in.

After all, this was still goodbye. A temporary farewell, but still devastating now that you finally stopped being stupid and found each other.

"Take care of Gunwoo for me!" he said and that's when you noticed your brother standing behind you, smiling broadly but with teary eyes.

"Come here Bro!", Woojin said then and spread an arm invitingly.

Gunwoo literally jumped into the embrace and so you three squeezed each other tightly.

"Show them and win!" said Gunwoo and you thought you heard a muffled sob.

When you broke away from each other, you all had tears in your eyes and yet you were grinning broadly.

"We see each other soon...Maybe you can visit me?" said Woojin, and neither of you would move, nodding while sniffling and pouting.

When your brother pulled him sobbing into his arms once more, you laughed softly and wiped the tears from your eyes.

Then the idiot that you somehow fell in love with turned to you again, pulled you closer by your face, and gave you one last, loving kiss.

"I love you, dollface"

"I love you, idiot"

With that, you let go and watched Woojin disappear through the gate. Gunwoo put an arm around you and you leaned your head against his shoulder. That wasn't exactly what your brother had in mind, when he wanted you two to know each other but having your best friend as possible brother-in-law wasn't that bad either.

Before Woojin disappeared completely, he saluted Gunwoo, which your brother returned with a laugh. Then he was gone and there were only the two of you again.

With a muffled sob you hid your face in your hands, while Gunwoo led you outside the airport.

„I‘ll miss his stupid face“, you cried and Gunwoo chuckled slightly.

He shook is head and looked at you with a healing smile.

„Who would have guessed…“

The End

——

© Sky-yuna — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

@marked-unknown @littlebaby-bunbun @officialshania @choisoorin @fanaticnae @hoe4wonwoo @lola2004sworld @penny44224 @artisticbirb @amnmich @spaggedy @tasteskz-sworld

[owenniasstars]

me as an European

x

[owenniasstars]

Something Perfect, Something New

Plot: Geon-Woo and Woojin hit it off with the new server at Geon-Woo's mothers cafe, more than any of them are expecting.

Pairing: Geon-Woo x Gn!Reader x Woojin

Request: reader recently moving to Korea (you don’t have to be specific about where she’s from) and taking on a job as a barista in Gun-woo’s mum’s cafe? (I’d imagine she has bigger aspirations later on but we all need to start somewhere, right?) And while the dude bros pay a visit to Gun-woo’s mum they also meet her and hit it off? This can evolve into something romantic for sure ✨

Requested by: @auraee

Warnings: Mentions of being followed/stalked towards the end, creepy guy. but don't worry Geon-woo and Woojin come to the rescue. References to a Poly-Relationship.

A/n's: I hope you meant for this to elude to a poly relationship because that's what happened! lol I see Geon-Woo's name spelled different all the time so I hope I went with the correct spelling (its geon-woo in show descriptions, and gun-woo in translations, but idk which one it really is) I started writing this a few months ago and just came back to it, so if you notice a change in tone or vibes halfway through that's why.

Words: ~4.4k

You smiled brightly at a couple leaving the cafe as you said goodbye. The evening was drawing near, as was the end of your first week at your new job.

After making the sudden, and quite terrifying decision to leave everything behind and move to Seoul to start over, you landed a job at a cafe.

The owner, Yoo So-Yeon had been gone for a while after her cafe was nearly destroyed by debt collectors. She had told you about how her son and his best-friend helped her, and she finally felt secure enough to come back. Though she didn't give much detail, you could tell the ordeal had a toll on her and her family.

You had heard she needed help after re-opening and were lucky enough to land the job. Now you were settling in and trying to discover yourself all over again.

"Quite a busy day today huh?" Mrs. Yoo said with a smile as she walked past you.

You nodded as you finished cleaning off a table, "Nothing we can't handle though."

She let out a soft laugh as she patted your shoulder. She was fond of you, and you of her. She helped you get settled into the unfamiliar city, and had even cooked for you various times. You were glad you met her.

Hearing the cafe door open you glanced up, wondering if someone missed the 'CLOSED' sign Mrs. Yoo had just put up. Seeing two tall attractive men enter you felt your heart skip a beat.

"Ah, there you two are!" Mrs. Yoo greeted happily as she walked over to the two grinning men.

'That must be her son and his friend.'

You watched them for a minute as they spoke, before the one you assumed was Mrs. Yoo's son, due to the scar on his face she had mentioned, glanced over and caught sight of you.

You felt your heart jolt as you bowed your head lightly in greeting and smiled.

Mrs. Yoo followed Geon-Woo's line of sight and exclaimed with a small clap. "Oh, yes! You finally get to meet!"

Mrs. Yoo walked over to you before grabbing you by the wrist and leading you over to the two men.

"This is Y/n, the one who I hired to help. Y/n, this is my son Geon-Woo and this is Woojin."

You smiled at them, "It's nice to finally meet you."

The two of them bowed in greeting smiling at you. Geon-Woo had known his mother hired you, but hadn't made the trip over to meet you, seeing you now, he wished he had.

His heart was hammering in his chest, and as Woojin subtly nudged his arm, he knew his friend was feeling the same thing.

Now sitting around one of the tables, Mrs. Yoo brought over some coffee. You could feel Woojin and Geon-Woo eyeing you, and every time you looked at them they quickly looked away.

You wondered if they feared you would do Mrs. Yoo harm after all that had happened to her. But this fear of suspicion quickly faded as they started asking you questions and talking energetically, as if they were just curious about you.

Your conversation with the two men lasted almost two hours, and you tried to ignore the sly and amused looks Mrs. Yoo was giving the three of you. You couldn't help but wonder if she might try and set you up with one of them.

Eventually, Mrs. Yoo told you to go home before it got too late. The two men offered to walk you home, and after an attempted refusal that went unheard, you gave in and allowed it.

Your conversation flowed as you walked home, and by the time you got to your door, you felt as though you had known the two for ages.

Three weeks had passed since your first meeting with Geon-Woo and Woojin. You had become closer to them than you had expected in the short time you knew them. They came to the cafe almost every day, gave you tours of the city, took you out to eat, and even helped you build the new furniture you bought for your apartment.

The seemed to always be around you now, and you weren't complaining one bit, you even started to miss them after being away from them for short periods.

Mrs. Yoo teased you about them being your boyfriends. You thought she just enjoyed the way it made you bashful and embarrassed. You hadn't quite understood just how serious she was yet.

On the outside, it was nearly impossible to tell who you were dating between them, if either, or both.

It was obvious something was developing between the three of you, but what, you weren't quite sure of yet. You were too afraid to focus on the 'what ifs' that you ignored what was already happening.

Woojin sighed as he stretched his arm across your shoulders, smiling at the new bed finally set up in your bedroom.

"See? Told you it would be worth it."

Goo-Wan smiled proudly as he started to open the new sheets you had bought for the bed.

"I still think it's too big." You said while eyeing the large mattress. You were glad to be rid of the air mattress you had been sleeping on, but this was...a bit much.

You missed how Goo-Wan and Woojin locked eyes as they began unraveling the absurdly large fitted sheet that would surely be a pain in the ass to put on.

You giggled at the two as they struggled to put the sheet on, each opposite corner coming undone as soon as they finished one.

When finished, they high fived in celebration before sitting on the end of the bed. As the looked at you with grins you felt you heart flutter before clearing your throat.

"You know I'm gonna make you two come over and do that every time I have to change the sheets right?"

They chuckled, sharing another look before turning towards you.

"How about some lunch?"

They nodded energetically and followed you out of the room. You promised them whatever they wanted for helping you finish setting up your apartment. It was the least you could do.

Watching Geon-Woo strategically time flipping the meat on the barbecue, you slowly sipped at your drink. You were overly aware of the nearby table of girls eyeing the two curiously as they whispered.

You hated that it annoyed you, so you tried your best to ignore it. Its not like you were dating them.

Looking away from the girls, your eyes locked with a mans at a nearby table. You involuntarily made a soft noise of shock at the sudden eye contact as the man smirked and winked at you.

You looked away quickly, but Woojin noticed the action. He looked back at the man before he gave an obvious look of annoyance as the guy continued to stare at you.

Woojin took a piece of meat and set it on top of your rice as he spoke somewhat loudly, "Here jagiya."

Your eyes shot up in surprise, as Geon-Woo quickly looked over at Woojin as well.

Woojin looked over at Geon-Woo before subtly motioning his head to the man nearby. Geon-woo looked back, seeing the man looking between you and Woojin, a somewhat amused smirk on his face before he eyed you knowingly.

Geon-Woo swallowed as his chest tightened with his own annoyance at the man, understanding what Woojin was doing. Geon-Woo, deciding to do the same, grabbed a few veggies as he placed them on your plate.

"Have some of these too jagiya."

Your mouth was now agape as Geo-Woo joined Woojin in his attempt at shooing off the stranger. You saw the girls nearby eye each other in surprise as they began whispering more.

You leaned forward as you spoke in a bewildered tone, "What are you doing?"

Woojin and Geon-Woo locked eyes for a second before they looked back at you, "Making sure that guy doesn't do anything."

You glanced at the man as he now avoided looking over at you. "What makes you think he was going to do anything?"

Woojin scoffed softy, "Oh please he was looking at you like he wanted to eat you."

You grimaced at the expression as you shook your head, making Geon-Woo and Woojin smirk.

Looking over at Geon-Woo you frowned, "Why'd you join in too? Now we're being gossiped about."

You motioned your head towards he girls who were still talking in hushed voices, but obviously about the three of you.

Geon-Woo and Woojin thought for a second before shrugging and speaking at the same time, "So?"

You stared at them bewildered, "It doesn't bother you?"

They shook they're head as Geon-Woo asked in an innocent tone, "Why would it?"

"Yeah, it's not like we're offended at the thought of dating you." Woojin added.

You felt your neck and ears grow hot, "But you made it sound like you were both dating me."

They nodded softly as if that was obvious and you blinked a few times unsure of what to say now. Woojin let out a soft laugh at your perplexed expression.

"Cute." He mumbled, making your ears burn even hotter.

You glared at him, "Don't tease me."

Geon-Woo laughed under his breath as Woojin stared at you with a challenging glare. "Make me."

You stuck your tongue out at him as you began picking at your food in an attempt to get past the almost overwhelming shyness washing over you. Geon-Woo and Woojin shared a knowing smile as they watched you in adoration.

Making it back to the cafe, you entered to find a few customers scattered around, as Mrs. Yoo had a conversation with another from behind the counter. Spotting the three of you, she waved in greeting.

Heading to the back to get your name-tag and apron, you were glad you didn't come to work during a rush, afraid you had left Mrs. Yoo to fend on her own for too long.

Coming back out, Woojin and Geon-Woo were at the counter talking with her. Seeing you she motioned you over and talked in a soft voice as she motioned to a young man in the corner.

"Your admirer is here."

You glanced at the man and let out a soft scoff, "Have you taken his order?"

"He says he wasn't ready yet. I think he was just waiting for you." She winked teasingly as you left with a soft shake of the head before heading over to the table.

Mrs. Yoo looked over at Woojin and Geon-Woo and repressed a laugh at their glare towards the man.

Woojin turned to Mrs. Yoo and spoke in a hushed and annoyed tone. "Admirer? Who is he?"

"A customer who came in once, and ever since he met Y/n has been coming every day since. But he only orders when Y/n is here."

Geon-Woo and Woojin looked back to watch you. You smiled politely at the man as you took his order. Their chests both clenched tightly as the man stared at you intensely with a smile, obviously crushing on you.

Heading back to the counter, you handed Mrs. Yoo the man's order.

"Did he ask you out yet?"

You spared a glance at Geon-Woo and Woojin and were almost thrown off by their intense stares.

You cleared your throat softly, "He asked when I was getting off work but I just told him I'm not sure. I'm not interested in him like that."

Mrs. Yoo nodded her head in understanding as she glanced at the two boys with an amused smile.

You looked over at the two and paused, "What?"

Woojin spoke with a bold tone, "You should tell him straight that you are not interested."

"I don't want to hurt his feelings."

Geon-Woo leaned closer, "He might get bolder though if you don't stop it now."

You bit the inside of your lip as you glanced back at the man, finding him looking away swiftly.

You sighed, "You're probably right."

Woojin nodded, "We are."

You looked back over at them again, noticing the change in their behavior. It was almost as if they were jealous again.

"Weren't you guys going to the gym to practice?"

Checking the time they both startled, "Ah we're gonna be late."

Woojin ruffled your hair as a goodbye as Geon-Woo went behind the counter to say goodbye to his mother before he gently squeezed your shoulder as he left. You waved goodbye to them before catching the man in the corners eye again. Your chest tightened as you felt a bit guilty at the thought of rejecting him when he hasn't even made a move. What if he just wanted a friend?

Getting back to work, you paid more attention to the customer. Noting that he stayed longer than usual, well after he had finished his food. When he eventually left, you let out a sigh of relief, suddenly realizing just how much his attention weighed on you. You hadn't noticed before, but now that you did, you felt a bit overwhelmed by it. Maybe it would be best to show your disinterest.

Flipping the sign from Open to Closed, you big farewell to Mrs. Yoo as she left, heading out to have dinner with her friends.

You kept the cafe open for longer than usual to let a group celebrate a birthday. But it meant you were now leaving after it got dark.

Checking over the cafe one more time as you shut everything off, you left the cafe and looked around at the darkened sky. Looking down the road, your heart jolted a bit as you noticed a hooded figure lingering on the corner of the road.

Seeing they were standing under a Bus Stop sign you let out a soft sigh. "Don't overreact Y/n."

Turning away, you began heading down the road towards your apartment. It was about a fifteen minute walk, and the night was cool and quiet. You took in a deep breath, picking up on the hint of barbecue nearby, reminding you of how hungry you were.

Walking past a few shops, your eyes caught on the reflection of the road behind you. Yours steps hesitated as your heart sank. The hooded figure from before was across the street from you, and walking the same direction.

You let out a steady breath as you continued walking. "Don't assume, but be cautious." You told yourself, as you kept a vigilant eye and ear out.

Noticing the figure crossing the street and remaining behind you, you decided to test your theory. At the next cross-walk you crossed the street, and your heart raced when the figure did the same. Next you turned down a road you never take, and they followed. You crossed the street again, and so did they.

Having enough, you reached into your pocket and texted your group-chat with Geon-Woo and Woojin.

"Are either of you awake?"

A moment later a text from Geon-Woo came through.

"We're at the gym, what's up?"

"I'm walking home, and I think I'm being followed."

Only a few moments passed before your phone rang. Answering it you heard their concerned voices over the line and the sound of them grabbing their stuff.

"Where are you?" "Are you okay? Why are you out so late."

Already feeling more relieved to be talking to them, you kept glancing at the reflection behind you, still seeing the figure.

"The cafe closed late because of a party. I'm getting close to that store we get our smoothies from."

You heard Geon-Woo's voice in the background, "We're about five minutes from there."

"Go into the store and stay there. Don't let them get near you okay?"

"Okay."

"Stay on the line with me."

As you got closer to the store, you could hear Woojin and Geon-Woo on the line, obviously rushing out of the gym and running. Your heart raced with adrenaline, but also gratitude of Woojin and Geon-Woos care for you. You desperately wanted them there with you now, but took relief in knowing they were coming to find you.

"I'm at the store." You said softly as you entered, sparing a glance back to see the figure was closer than before.

They hesitated as you headed inside. You hoped they wouldn't come in, or would pass by and give up on following you.

As you smiled at the cashier who barely spared you a glance, you headed to the back of the store and acted as tough you were browsing. Hearing the bell of the store as the door opened and closed, your heart dropped as you saw the hooded figure enter the store.

You made sure to keep your distance and you maneuvered through the store, grabbing a few things here and there.

You whispered into the phone, "They came in."

"We're almost there!" You heard a panting Woojin on the line.

You swallowed nervously as you rounded the corner again, the figure getting too close for comfort. Finally hearing the door of the store open with a clang you looked over to see Woojin and Geon-Woo.

You let out a sigh of relief as your body seemed to relax from the building tension in your muscles. As they hurried through the store to you, they glanced at the hooded figure who was only on isle away. The person turned away as Woojin and Geon-Woo approached you.

Woojin spoke out loud, obviously so the person would hear him. "Jagiya there you are. Sorry we're late."

As he got to you he set his hand on your shoulder and nodded. You nodded in return as Geon-Woo reached you, "Are you okay?"

You nodded at him as he gently pulled you to his chest, "Let's go okay?"

Agreeing, you headed to the front, as Geon-Woo took the things from your hand and paid for them, his arm remaining wrapped across your shoulder.

Woojin looked back at the figure and saw his eyes. His face dropped as he was sure it was the customer from the cafe. The figure quickly left the store, avoiding eye contact. Woojin's heart raced in anger as he barely resisted the urge to chase after him. but not wanting to freak you out more, he resisted, knowing he would need to do something later.

Heading back into the street, Geon-Woo and Woojin looked around for any sight of the man. Not seeing him they let out sighs.

Woojin cursed under his breath, "I knew he would do something."

You looked at Woojin in surprise. "He?"

"It was the guy from the cafe."

Your heart jolted, but it made unfortunate sense. A few days prior, you had finally made it clear to the man at the cafe that you were not interested. He asked for your number, and you rejected him. Kindly, you had hoped. But his demeanor changed, and he left silently. You hadn't seen him again since except for once, when you saw him lingering outside the cafe, looking in at you.

"You rejected him but he couldn't take it."

Woojin's words made you shudder and Geon-Woo pulled you closer. "Don't worry we'll handle it okay? I promise." Woojin nodded in agreement.

Their words consoled you as you let them walk you home, allowing them to remind you to never walk home this late without one of them being with you.

The whole way, you continued to glance around, fearing he was still lingering. Geon-Woo and Woojin feared the same, so once they got you to your apartment, they had a conversation while you were in the bathroom.

When you came back out, now in your pajamas, they had made themselves at home on the couch as Woojin ordered food over the phone.

"You're hungry right?" Geon-Woo asked and you nodded, feeling much safer knowing they were there, but fearing when they would leave.

Sitting down on the floor in front of them as you leaned on the table you looked at Geon-Woo. "Should I call the main office and ask the security to look out for him?"

Geon-Woo moved from the couch to the floor in front of you, "We already did."

You nodded, "That makes me feel better. I wont be awake all night."

Geon-Woo smiled softly, "You don't need to worry, we'll be here."

You rose your brow, "You will?"

Woojin hung up the phone and joined the two of you on the floor. "We're staying tonight, we decided."

"O-oh. I mean...that does make me feel better, but are you sure? I don't want to-"

"We want too." Geon-Woo broke in.

Woojin nodded, "We'd feel a lot better staying with you, to make sure you're safe."

You smiled, "I'd feel better too."

After you ate and watched a movie, Woojin and Geon-Woo started to get ready for bed. Meanwhile, you grabbed what extra blankets and pillows you had and began making the living room comfortable.

Geon-Woo, coming out of the bathroom and seeing you, questioned you. "What are you doing?"

"Making it more comfortable for you."

"But we're not sleeping out here."

You stopped and eyed him, "Huh? Then where?"

Hearing a noise in your bedroom, you frowned as Geon-Woo repressed a smile watching as you headed towards the sound. Turning off the lights and checking the door, he grabbed the pillows before following behind.

Finding Woojin in your bedroom, fixing the bed, you watched him in confusion.

He glanced over at you, and spotting Geon-Woo behind you and smiled. "Ah perfect."

Walking over, he took the pillows from him before setting them on the bed.

"What are you doing?"

He looked over at you, "Getting ready for bed?"

"In...my bed?"

He looked at the bed, then to you, then to Geon-Woo and back to you before nodding. "Why do you think we got you such a big mattress?"

Your mouth was agape for a moment as you tried to find words. "S- So you could sleep in the bed with me?"

He nodded as he grinned, finding your realization and bewilderment adorable. Geon-Woo walked past you and finished helping Woojin fix the bed before they both turned towards you expectantly.

You looked between them, before they motioned for you, "Come on."

Hesitantly, you approached, "Which side do you-"

"You get the middle." Woojin broke in.

"The middle?"

"You'll be safest there." Geon-Woo excused.

"And warmest." Woojin added with a smile.

You nodded mutely as you slowly climbed into the bed, your heart racing as they climbed in after. You lied on your back and stared up at the ceiling, overly aware of how close they got to you. Woojin was facing you as Geon-Woo was still sitting up against the back of the bed, looking down at you.

Your mind was still stuck on the fact that they bought you the giant bed for the purpose of sharing. Finally breaking the tense silence, you looked between them. "But you didn't know something like this would happen so why would you be prepared to have a big bed to share with me?"

They shared a glance and smiled before Woojin cleared his throat, "Are you sure you don't know why?"

Your mind flashed back to the various times they flirted, made jokes, or acted as though they were both dating you. The various comments from Mrs. Yoo about them being your boyfriends, or you being like a child to her already.

Looking between Woojin and Geon-Woo again as they smiled softly and knowingly at you, you felt your whole body get hot with embarrassment and nervousness.

Grabbing the blanket you slowly pulled it upwards until your face was hidden.

Woojin and Geon-Woo both chuckled before they climbed further into the bed. You felt them both beside you, and were sure they were facing you.

Feeling Woojin grab the blanket you tightened your grip as he tried to remove it from your head. You heard Geon-Woo chuckle softly as Woojin pulled harder.

"Jagiya" He said softly, making your heart leap.

Suddenly the blanket was yanked from your hands again and you were met with Woojin and Geon-Woo's smiling faces as they lied facing you, sandwiching you between them.

"You don't have to be scared, or worried." Geon-Woo began.

Woojin followed, "We're still figuring this out too. We never expected to meet someone we would both have such strong feelings for."

Geon-Woo reached over and gently caressed your cheek, "We want to be with you, and protect you, and make you happy. If you'll let us."

"It might take some time to get used to the idea, but we'll wait for you." Woojin finished.

You looked between them, your heart racing faster than ever before. "But what if it doesn't work out? Or what if it causes problem's between you?"

They looked at each other and shook their heads gently. Woojin met your eyes, "We've been talking about this for a while, and I really don't think that will happen. But if it starts too I promise we will work it out. We want to make this work. We want to be with you. So we'll go slowly from here okay? But we want you to know our intentions."

"Is that okay with you?" Geon-Woo asked softly.

You thought for a moment, aware of their gazes on you as they waited patiently, though nervously.

It was obvious you had developed feelings for both of them, and your fear of choosing, or being rejected had both been subdued. You weren't sure if it was going to work out. But you knew how you felt now. You adored them, and trusted them, and felt safe with them. You believed their words, and you wanted to be with them too.

Nodding slowly, you looked between them, and they smiled, relief and joy washing over them.

Woojin, overcome by his giddiness leaned forward and pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek, making you chuckle out of surprise. Geon-Woo chuckled as well, before he leaned forward and pressed a much more delicate kiss to your temple.

After a few more adjustments, you found yourself comfortably and safely drifting to sleep as Woojin and Geon-Woo slept on either side of you, their arms draped across you as they both held you close.

xx End xx

Wasn't sure where to end it, so I chose to stop here. This became a bit of an indulgence fic, but if there is anyone who wants a part two, or continuance of this fic/relationship, let me know, I would def be willing to write it!

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry,

-Taglist Form-

[owenniasstars]

[owenniasstars]

someone needs to start writing marcello hernandez fics that man is so cute

[owenniasstars]

Butcher Ghost who sees a sweet little bird come in every week to his shop to buy ingredients for the dinners she cooks her boyfriend. She’s quiet, maybe just a bit shy, but goddamn if she isn’t the prettiest thing Simon has seen in his whole miserable life.

Except she starts coming in with bruises hidden under long sleeves worn during the bright burn of summer, her eyes a little sadder, her gait a bit wobbly. His keen eyes see everything and eventually he leans over the counter as their hands touch holding the pork loin he cut up special for her.

“If you need out, I can help.”

And his poor little bird’s face scrunches and she starts crying right then and there. Simon doesn’t look twice before flipping the open sign to closed and having her sit in his back office as he goes to deal with the bastard who decided it was a good idea to lay hands on what Ghost considers his.

[owenniasstars]

What's In A Name? Chapter Seven

Meg Harding and Kate Carter were inseparable until their friends died five ago, then she ran to New Orleans to save lives as a paramedic. But when Javi calls on his two oldest friends to help him collect data, counting on their matching natural instincts for tornadoes, Meg goes home for the first time in years. That's where she meets Tyler and the rest of the Wranglers, the YouTube storm chasers her dad likes to watch, and finds herself fitting in more with them than with Storm PAR. Meg only plans to stay for the week but will it be easy to leave when the dust settles?

If a certain cowboy has a say in it, nothing about leaving is going to be easy.

A/N: Time to get back to taming tornadoes

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

Meg woke with the sun, giving Tyler a kiss on the cheek as she snuck out of bed, sliding her pillow between his arms. She poked her head in Kate’s bedroom only to find it empty, could she have been in the barn? Meg rushed down the stairs and out the front door, ignoring the rain, and Cathy shouting after her, a glimmer of hope in her chest. Kate was sitting at the desk, flipping through her old research, wearing the same clothes from the night before. She looked up, grinning from ear to ear and Meg felt herself getting excited, smiling back.

“Are we back?” Meg wasn’t sure what she would do if Kate said no, she needed her best friend back, her other half, her matching shade. She wanted them to be on the same page just like they used to be. 

“We’re back, Mud Bug.” Meg shouted in excitement, jumping in the air. “Think Tyler can get me a new model up and running?” 

“You bet your ass, baby.” Kate hugged her tight, spinning them both around, their unbridled laughter filling the barn for the first time in a long time. “What changed your mind?” 

“You, my mom, Tyler,” Kate shook her head as they pulled apart, “He asked me how much more I was willing to let that tornado take from me and I realized I’d already let it take three of my friends, I wasn’t going to let it cost me another. Not you, not when I just got you back.” 

“You’ve always had me, Katie my Lady,” Meg hugged her again. “And we’re going to finish this together, for them.” 

“God, I’m so glad you’re doing this with me.” 

“Always,” Meg was grinning from ear to ear, matching the expression on Kate’s face. “Want to help me wake Tyler? Like we used to do with Jeb?” Kate snorted, 

“Definitely.”

The two girls strolled back towards the house, soaking themselves from head to toe. Cathy spotted them from the kitchen, smiling at their intertwined hands.

“I’ll cook breakfast, you’ll be needing it.” They thanked her, giggling as they trekked up the stairs. “But you’ll be cleaning up all that mud you’re tracking!” A small price to pay. When they got to the guest room, Tyler was still sound asleep, clutching the pillow, and with a mischievous glance, the girls threw themselves on top of him.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up!” 

“Huh? What?” Tyler struggled beneath their combined weight, blinking up at them. They were wearing matching grins, their drenched clothes soaking him and the sheets in seconds.

“We’re gonna do it, baby,” Meg wheezed happily, Kate wriggling on top of her.

“Do what?” Tyler asked, his voice raspy from sleep.

“Tame a tornado!” Kate cheered, beating excitedly on Meg’s back. “Get up, come on,” Meg and Kate scrambled off of him, heading straight out of the bedroom, Tyler calling after them. 

By the time Tyler got to the barn with his laptop, Kate had all of her data laid out on a workbench and Meg was up in the loft, using the pulley system Jeb had helped her install to lower barrels of solution to the ground. 

“Mornin’, darlin’,” Meg called out, tearing up her hands as she slowly lowered one of the heavy, yellow  barrels. “Kate, babe, you know where I left my gloves?” 

“Tyler, can you toss her the red gloves on that desk over there?” Kate pointed towards Parveen’s desk, which had been uncovered sometime in the night.

“Yes, ma’am. So, we’re doing this?” 

“We’re doing this,” Kate and Meg responded together, making him smile. He grabbed the gloves and climbed up the ladder to the loft, passing them over to Meg.

“You gotta stop sneaking out of bed in the morning, baby,” She rolled her eyes, giving him a peck on the lips.

“I’ll write it in my vows,” Tyler was staring up at her like a man in love, smiling softly with expressive eyes. She kissed him again, cupping the back of his head. Tyler’s lips were soft and warm against hers, his tongue slid across her bottom lip but she pulled back. “You know, I’m gonna find you gettin’ Kate that new model pretty sexy.” 

“Yeah?” He grinned, 

“Yeah.” Tyler bit his bottom lip, looking more handsome than Meg thought he had a right to, watching her turn back to the barrels before sliding down the ladder and joining Kate at the workbench. Meg took a minute, watching two of the most important people in her life, standing side-by-side, huddled close over a laptop. 

Meg wanted to get used to this, being back in the barn, watching Kate be smart, the excitement of an upcoming chase brewing in her chest. She could see it now, Lily working on Cairo at Parveen’s old workbench, Dani fixing up Tyler’s truck in the middle of the barn, Boone editing videos at Jeb’s desk, Dexter working on the scientific instruments in Addy’s corner, while she checked over her supplies. It would be like old times but different in the best kind of way.

Cathy made them break for breakfast at some point, preening like a proud mother hen that they were getting back to Kate and Parveen’s research project. Afterwards, Meg took the time to mop her and Kate’s muddy footprints from the floor before rejoining the duo in the barn. Only to be turned around by her shoulders by Kate and pushed back towards the house,

“Time to get dressed, Mud Bug.” 

“We goin’?” 

“We’re going,” Kate confirmed, “You ready for this?” She held out her hand,

“Born ready, babe,” And for the first time in years they did their secret handshake. “But I’m gonna need to borrow some clothes.” 

Dressed in Kate’s jeans and a Sooner jersey tied off at the waist, Meg did a check of everything she had left in her medical kit after the tornado from a few nights before, making a mental note of everything she needed to restock on. Mostly bandaids, gauze, and alcohol wipes. 

“Did you mean that, what you said in the barn?” Tyler came up from behind, kissing Meg’s neck. She leaned back into his chest, reaching up to cup the back of his neck, his arms wrapped around her waist.

“About bein’ ready to chase today?” Her squeezed her hip and it dawned on her what he was talking about. “About needing my gloves to move those barrels?” Her palms really were torn up but she had taken a few minutes to bandage them up.

“Are you always going to be like this?” Tyler kissed her neck again, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Obstinate? A pain in the ass? Teasin’?” His teeth grazed over her pulse point, stealing some of her desire to go chasing instead of staying in Cathy’s spare bedroom all day. “You askin’ me about what I’m gonna write in my vows, Arkansas?” Tyler hummed, covering her neck in kisses. “We’ve gotta go, Ty.” 

“You gonna answer my question?” Meg turned in his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck, taking in the moment. Tyler was too handsome, standing there in an orange flannel shirt, wearing a backwards baseball cap, staring down at her with those big green eyes of his. “I know it’s only been a few days, darlin’, but…” He trailed off, eyes squeezing shut. “I feel like-” He exhaled sharply. “I’m not good with words, baby.”

“You’re doin’ fine, Ty.” She brought him down into a kiss, “I’ll be writin’ it in my vows, hell, I could write them tonight, but,” He caught her lips in another, needy kiss. “Let’s give it a little bit more time before we call the preacher though.” Tyler kissed her until she was dying for air, her mind consumed by thoughts of him. 

What would happen when she went back to New Orleans? Her heart hurt at the thought but she couldn’t just abandon the life she had built there to what, see if when the adrenaline faded they were still infatuated with each other? It wasn’t practical, it wasn’t responsible, but a part of her wanted it more than anything in the world. 

“Let’s go tame a storm, baby,” Meg pulled away first, Tyler not releasing his hold on her waist. His eyes went wide, cheeks flushing dark red, “What?”

“You’ve got a really delicate neck, darlin’.” Meg groaned, knowing exactly what had happened.

“I bruise like a peach,” Cathy was going to have a field day when they got downstairs. “Let’s go.” 

Downstairs, Cathy sent Kate to the truck with a bag of sandwiches and Tyler with a cooler, pulling Meg into the kitchen for a quick word. 

“Is it time for me to call Rabbit and declare myself a winner?” She gently touched Meg’s neck, inspecting what she was sure was only a small hickey. Meg batted away her hands,

“No, there are no winners yet.” Cathy perked up,

“Yet?” Meg rolled her eyes, hurrying towards the front door. “Yet?” Cathy called out after her, throwing her hands up in exaggerated frustration as Meg basically threw herself in the backseat, telling Tyler to step on it. 

Kate could not sit still, she was far too curious about everything in Tyler’s truck to not look around like a kid in a candy store. She was fully slipped out of her seat belt, dangling over the center console, digging through everything on the floorboards.

“What are you two getting into?” Tyler asked, focused on driving but getting increasingly more distracted. Meg’s hand touched something that crinkled beneath the driver’s seat and hollered in excitement when she pulled it out.

“Cheese Doodles, hell yeah!” She tossed one back, it was only mildly stale. “Ooh, Sour Patch Kids.” 

“Stop it,” Tyler admonished, Kate settled back in her seat but didn’t stop snooping.

“You have a lot of stuff in here.” She flipped down the visor,

“Yeah, that…that’s a mirror.” Tyler sounded so done with them as Meg continued to list off every snack she found tucked away in the back. Kate opened the glove box, signed photos of Tyler spilling out. Meg burst out laughing as Kate reacted in a mix of horror and embarrassment, quickly shoving it closed. “Have you ever been in a car before?” Kate’s embarrassment didn’t last long though as she started flipping switches Meg knew she shouldn’t be touching. Meg, instead of saying anything, just sat back and watched the show.

“You got a lot of gadgets.” 

“Don’t touch that, there’s guards there for a reason,” Tyler warned but Kate went about what was decidedly not her business, flipping each of the red safety guards.

“What do these do?” Meg laughed, watching Tyler try to stop Kate from setting off the rockets and then trying to keep his composure when she did. Kate, to her credit, immediately apologized and stopped messing around with things. 

“Alright,” He pointed at the weather map on the screen showing three storm cells, “What about these two little ones just west of Enid?” 

“Yeah, but this one to the east has the sky all to herself,” Kate pointed at the screen. Meg rolled her eyes, texting Lily about the whole fireworks thing.

“Yeah, I’m not falling for that one again.” Kate threw Meg a “can you believe him” look that had her giggling and Tyler sighed. “You serious?” 

“Tell you later.” 

“Baby, tell her not to be mean to me,” Tyler whined, reaching his hand back. She squeezed it, loving that he was keeping her included even though she was in the back seat.

“Katie my Lady, tell the man which direction to go.” 

“Don’t start taking his side,” Kate sassed with a laugh, pointing Tyler in the right direction.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Hey!” 

Taglist: @theforevermorereject @beltzboys2015-blog @writingrose @sinners-98-world @nerdgirljen @candlejuice @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @football1921 @katiemcrae @emma8895eb @itsdesiree86 @closetspngirl @lostinwonderland314 @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @winterassassin1804

Next Chapter

[owenniasstars]

On Deck Part 4: Starting Line-Up

Pairing: Jack Daniels x Female Reader Baseball AU

Word Count: M - language, some mentions of past sexual situations, pining (but is it mutual?)

Rating: 10,185

Summary: In the days following Jack's first visit to your place, you're forced to think through just about every possible future scenario. And when he makes an offer you're not expecting, you start to believe that there might be just a little more to it than sex for him.

Author’s notes: 

I absolutely love this chapter. If you skip ahead to the end, there's a picture included to describe the type of view Reader has. I know not everyone is familiar with baseball stadiums and the opportunities they offer for seating, but I also don't want to ruin it too early.

This chapter ALSO features Jack wearing the uniform in this artwork - and is the entire reason this AU was started.

(On Deck universe masterlist for all the extras!)

While there are a lot of baseball references within this story, you only need to know the basics to enjoy it and understand what's going on - we're not getting overly technical here.

As always, if you have any questions or comments, please feel free to reach out.

The starting line-up is the official list of players who participate from the beginning of the game onward. This may change throughout the season, as players leave due to or return from an injury. Starters are usually the team's best players at their respective positions, and as a result, being a starter often comes with notoriety A spot in the starting line-up is hard-earned. 

You didn’t hear from Jack the following day, but you didn’t expect to. 

Not because you thought he’d used you, but because you knew how busy he’d be between driving to meet with the team in Louisville and then heading back to The Cavalry and playing in that night’s game. 

All day, though, you thought about him - and about the previous day… and night.

Your experience with Jack was different than those you’d read about online, or heard about at games. He’d treated you as an equal, giving you a legitimate explanation as to why he did and didn’t do or want certain things in bed. He hadn’t flaunted his status or reputation throughout the night, and his interaction with the girl at the ice cream parlor proved that Jack was focused on giving kids a good experience when they met him no matter where he was. It’s not just when he’s in uniform. 

You opted to work instead of taking the day off like you’d planned, and he was on your mind as you did so. The memory of his voice rasping in your ear and the feeling of his mouth on your bare skin sent shivers through you while you were poring over spreadsheets and drafting emails, and it made the day go much faster. By the time you were done for the night, you were almost vibrating, the truth of what had happened settling in. 

You’d slept with Jack Daniels. 

You’d met him for something he’d clarified wasn’t a date, and invited him back to your place without a second thought. He’d been nothing but kind to you, and you hadn’t felt that he thought less of you for being so forward. There was a small part of you that wondered if he thought you were easy. But he’s known for being a flirt. He’s been with a lot of people throughout his career, and … 

There was no way to know for sure what was going to happen until you heard from Jack again. You’d need to see how he acted the next time you spoke before you could assume anything - though with Jack, you figured it wasn’t safe to assume at all. 

You wanted to tell Erin what had happened. You wanted her to know everything, because in reality, it was thanks to Caleb that you were even in the position to meet Jack in the first place. But it felt wrong to talk about the not-date, and even more wrong to kiss and tell… so you held off.

And when you woke up on Tuesday morning to a text message from Jack, you were glad that you’d kept quiet. 

Check my Instagram. 

Before even sitting up, you did, groaning at the sight of his newest picture - a promotional shot for that weekend’s games, featuring a close up of his nickname on the back of a bright yellow jersey, the tip of his black bat’s barrel visible where it rested on his shoulder.

When do I get to see the whole thing? 

You double tapped the picture after replying, and didn’t expect a response. But Jack started typing back immediately, his message a completely unexpected one. 

Friday, if you come to the game. 

“Is that an invitation?” Blinking at your phone, you chewed on your lower lip. It seemed like it. It seemed like Jack was making good on his promise that you’d see each other again because he wanted to. But this time, it wasn’t to meet for ice cream. Instead, it was a personal invitation to his first game back with The Statesman. 

This weekend has been sold out for weeks, Jack. I’ll need to find a ticket, but I’ll see what I can do. 

You didn’t have a chance to open a search for tickets before your phone was ringing, Jack’s name on the screen. What the fuck? Why is he calling me? Taking a few seconds to compose yourself, you took a deep breath before answering. “Hello?” 

“‘Morning, sunshine.” He laughed and then scoffed. “That was real cheesy, right?”

“A little.” But you were laughing, too. “You’re up early.” 

“Have to stay on schedule during the season.” He paused and cleared his throat. “And I’ve got some packing to do before I come back to Louisville.” So he’s cleared. “I’ll be back for Friday night for sure.” 

“That’s great, Jack.” You rubbed at your eye with one hand. “Bet you’re happy.”

“I am. I miss my bed.” You didn’t know how to answer him, but he spoke again before the silence stretched for too long. “And about a ticket … I can get you in on Friday.” What? “Actually…” He trailed off, and a few seconds later, Jack sighed. “Do you think your friend and her brother would want to come with you?”

“I can see. I’m not sure. It’s a Friday night, so she’s probably going to be with her boyfriend, but -”

“Invite him too.” Jack said your name. “Give me a couple hours, and I’ll let you know for sure, but four of you shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“You don’t have to do that, Jack.” Sitting up straight, you held your phone tightly with one hand. “It’s -”

“I know.” You could tell that he was smiling, and when Jack spoke again, you heard the laughter in his voice. “I want to.” You didn’t argue, lifting your free hand and biting down on one knuckle. I want you to, too. “I know you’ve gotta work today, but can I call you back later? I need to make sure I’ve got tickets, and -”

“Of course. I’ve got a meeting at 11:30, but aside from that, I’ll be able to answer all day.” 

You hung up soon after that, Jack telling you to have a good morning and you repeating the same back to him. But you didn’t get out of bed right away, instead lowering your phone and staring at the ceiling in shock. What the fuck did I get myself into? 

— 

He called back a little after 1 PM, his cheerful voice loud in your ear. “Tickets are yours. All you’ll have to do is go to Will Call and give ‘em your name and they’ll be able to help you.” 

“Four of them?” He confirmed. “Thank you, Jack. I wasn’t… I didn’t think you’d…” 

“Well I did. And you’re welcome. I hardly ever ask for anything, and the ticket lady the players talk to loves me, so this was easy.” But the confirmation that you had tickets raised an issue for you - and it required you to explain it to Jack. 

“Erin’s going to ask how I got them.” Leaning back in your chair, you stared up at the ceiling. “And I don’t want to lie to her.” 

“So don’t.” His tone was matter of fact, Jack’s next words shocking you. “Tell her I got them for you.” But that will bring up what happened the other day. “Didn’t you tell her you were goin’ out with me last weekend?”

“No. I didn’t tell anyone.” He was silent in response, which surprised you a little. Why is that a shock to him? Did he really think I’d tell people? “That’s not my style, Jack.” 

“I appreciate that, darlin’.” It made you smile again, especially with the way his voice dropped as he spoke the word. “But you tell her whatever you need to. You don’t need to keep me a secret.” 

“I don’t think I need to tell her everything to offer her tickets to a game, but I’ll keep that in mind.” He laughed at you, the sound turning into a groan - and you savored the sound of it, biting your lip before you continued. “I’ll let you know for sure after I talk to her, but I’ll definitely be there on Friday even if they’re not.” 

“Good. That’s real good.” Jack cleared his throat. “I’m gettin’ ready to go to the stadium now, so if I don’t answer, that’s why.” He doesn’t need to explain himself to me. I don’t… why is he doing this? “Talk to you soon?”

“Sure.” Your smile widened, and when the two of you hung up a few seconds later, you tossed your phone down onto your desk. Shit. 

Things were escalating quickly, thanks to Jack taking the initiative - and it stunned you. He hadn’t mentioned seeing you again, though, which gave you pause. But he’s going to be busy before Friday, and then he’s got games all weekend, so there might not be time. Maybe that’s why he didn’t suggest it.

A quick check of the schedule told you that the team was leaving for a short road trip on Sunday afternoon, which meant that he’d be on the go almost immediately. So it makes sense. I’ll just see him from the seats. 

It was somewhat disappointing, there was no way around it. But the fact that he’d invited you in the first place cheered you up enough that you reached for your phone again, opening your messages with Erin. 

Hey, got something to ask you. Call me when you’re done with work? 

— 

Her phone call came just after 5 that day, Erin’s greeting friendly but curious before she jumped right in. “You usually don’t ask to ask me things. Why today?” 

“What are you doing Friday?” Tilting your head back, you closed your eyes and enjoyed the heat of the sun on your face. “Friday night, I mean. After work?” 

“Troy and I were going to go to dinner, but that’s about it.” Perfect. “Why? What are you doing on Friday?” 

“Do you want to go to the Statesman game?” You paused, opening your eyes and looking out at your yard. “You and Troy and Caleb?” She was quiet for a few seconds and you were too, waiting. “I’ve got four tickets, and -”

“Isn’t it Players Weekend? I thought it was sold out. Caleb’s been talking about it for like a month.” 

“It is. And yeah, it’s sold out. But I was offered tickets. Free tickets.” 

“From where?” There it is. “Did they reach out because they saw your post about Caleb and Jack?” You thought of Jack’s words - of him telling you to tell Erin, of his assurances that it was alright for you to talk about knowing him. I’m still not going to tell her everything, but … 

“No. It wasn’t the team, Erin. It was Jack.” You heard her intake of breath, but before she could say anything, you continued. “He messaged me after he saw it the other day, and we ended up going out on Sunday night for -”

“You what?!” She screeched the words in your ear and then laughed. “Shut the fuck up.” 

“We went and got ice cream. He was up here to work out with the team and to take pictures for next weekend, and had no plans, so…” 

“So you went out with him. Fuck me, that’s wild. I told you making that post was worth it. So you went out on a date and then he offered you tickets for another game? Why four? Why not just -”

“I’m not sure.” Standing, you stepped out onto the grass, the blades of it cool against your feet. “But he called me this morning and suggested it. He specifically mentioned you and Caleb, but I have no idea where the tickets are, so I can’t promise anything.” 

“He called you? He must like you.” She laughed, the sound turning into a hum. “What else happened Sunday aside from the ice cream?” She was teasing you - and there was no concrete reason for you to answer her, but you did anyway. 

“He came back here for a little while.” Curling your toes, you let out a long sigh. “He didn’t stay the night, though. So -”

“Good for you.” She said your name, waiting until you were quiet to say anything else. “And now he’s offering you tickets. You definitely made an impression.” Your mind wandered back to the time you’d spent with him - to the way his mouth felt as it met yours and the way his hands skated over your skin as they explored your body. He definitely left an impression on me. “I don’t think we should tell Caleb where the tickets are coming from, because he’ll never let you hear the end of it.” She hummed, the woman clearly thinking on her end of the line. “But we’ll go on Friday. It sounds fun.”

“We can take one car. I’ll pick you up.” Walking back to your patio, you paused at the edge of it. “And … Erin? Maybe don’t tell Troy either. Jack said that I could tell you that they’re from him, but I don’t … I don’t know what’s going on, so -”

“My lips are sealed.” She laughed again. “I do have one question, though.” I can already tell this is going to be a doozy. “What’s he like? He handsy? Does he talk a lot? How does he kiss?”

“He’s … thorough.” Your cheeks heated as you spoke, your fingers curling around your phone. Very thorough. “And I would very much like to kiss him again.” A lot. Erin snorted at your reply, muttering the words I knew it under her breath. “He’s nice, Erin. Confident and a little cocky, but not insufferable about it. A little girl interrupted us while we were eating, and he didn’t get mad. He took a couple minutes to talk to her about baseball, and it was just …a relief, I guess? I don’t know. I’m glad he’s not an asshole.” 

“I am too. That would be really disappointing.” It would. “But I’m going to drive home now. Work kicked my ass today, and I need to eat.” She let you know that she’d get ahold of you after she talked to Troy and Caleb, and then you hung up, deciding to go back inside so that you could start dinner, too. 

While you cooked, you sent a message to Jack, giving him an update. You kept it simple, giving yourself no time to overthink your words. 

Erin’s in. Looks like it’ll be all four of us Friday. 

You figured he wouldn’t reply, but your phone vibrated a few minutes later with his answer. 

Real happy to hear that. It’s gonna be a good game. 

You thought that was it, but moments later another message came through - and there was a picture attached to it. Second to last time I’m putting on this uniform.

It was slightly blurry and off-center, but it was of Jack. He was dressed in his uniform and missing his hat, the grin on his face wide. You looked closer, seeing that he was standing in front of his locker, and realized that he’d likely taken the photo only moments before sending it. That means it was for me, and… “Shit.” 

If he’d sent you a photo, that meant he was probably waiting for a reply. You didn’t keep him waiting, sending back a winking emoji along with the text: Looking good, Jack - DAMN. But I think I prefer your other uniform. 

It was just flirty enough to let him know you appreciated it, and not over the top the point he’d think you were being clingy. But after a few minutes, you saw that the message had been delivered - and unread … which meant he’d see it after the game. And that means I have a few hours to relax. 

But you didn’t relax. Instead, you ate dinner on the couch and tried not to think too hard about the Friday night game. 

— 

You were a few minutes early to Erin’s on Friday, and Caleb was already waiting in the front yard when you pulled up. 

You heard him yelling for Erin and Troy, even with the windows shut. By the time he was reaching for the door handle, you were laughing, head tilted down and one palm flat against your forehead. “Hey, Caleb. Let me guess… you’re excited.” 

“Of course I am.” He settled into the back seat, buckling in. “Aren’t you? Won’t be as cool as what happened the last game, but my mom gave me money to buy a new jersey.” Well, for me, it’s even more cool, but you don’t know that.

“Oh yeah?” You caught his eye in the rearview mirror, grinning. “Whose are you gonna get?” The look on his face was answer enough, just like you’d assumed. “Jack, then. Hopefully they have one in your size.” 

Erin and Troy approached the car, the woman letting him pass her so that he could sit in the back with Caleb while she took her place next to you. But it was him that spoke first, greeting you and reaching forward to squeeze your shoulder before he was fully situated. “Thank you for driving. And thanks for the tickets.” 

“Yeah, thank you!” Caleb joined in, nodding enthusiastically. “Mom also said we’re supposed to -”

“My mother,” Erin interjected, reaching for the volume knob to twist the radio’s sound lower. “She said we’re supposed to buy you dinner tonight, as a thank you.” 

“It’s not necessary.” Heading down the street, you shrugged. “It’s not like I paid for these tickets, so if we split parking, it’s even.” 

“Still.” She elbowed you. “We’re going to buy you dinner and maybe a drink or two.” I might need those.

The four of you made small talk on the drive downtown, though the closer you got to the stadium, the quieter you got while they kept things going. Why am I nervous? It’s not like I’m going to run into him. 

But there was a chance you’d see him, and that Jack would see you. It seemed inevitable that Caleb would want to go back down closer to the field in an attempt to meet the man a second time. And if that happened, you couldn’t just hang back with Erin, letting Troy sit with the boy. No. I’d have to go, otherwise it looks like I’m avoiding him after he did something nice for us today. 

You were early enough that there was still available parking in the attached garage, and before you could do anything about it, Troy stuck his hand out the window, debit card held firmly between his fingers. 

Erin laughed about it as you pulled away to park, but all you managed was a tiny smile and quiet thank you before slipping into a space. Here goes nothing. 

The four of you joined the slow trickle of other fans heading toward the elevators. After getting on, Caleb inserted himself between Erin and Troy while you leaned against the far wall, chewing on your lower lip. 

“We have to go to Will Call first.” You looked at the preteen, raising a brow. “We can’t just run to get in line like last time.” 

He grumbled back that he knew, and you laughed, your mood lightening considerably. And as your group exited the elevator and turned toward where the ticketing windows were, you stayed that way. Troy offered to wait with Caleb so you weren’t all crowding the line, and you agreed, thankful for a few minutes of time alone with your friend. 

“He’s going to want to go and meet the players.” She spoke quietly, leaning closer to you. “What happens when you see -”

“Nothing.” You shrugged, taking a breath. “Or, nothing weird, I hope. He seems like the kind of guy that wouldn’t make a big deal of what happened.” 

“What about you?” You stepped forward, only a few people between you and the windows. “Can you be cool about it?”

“I’d hope so.” You looked over at her, grinning. “It wasn’t awkward when he left, so I think I did pretty well there.” She didn’t say anything else until it was your turn, Erin stepping forward with you and waiting to see what you’d say. “Hi. I’m supposed to have some tickets waiting for me. I think I’m on a list?” 

The man behind the glass nodded. “I’ll need to see your ID.” Reaching into your bag, you pulled your wallet out and then handed the thin card over, sliding it through the opening. He took it and started typing, his eyes on the computer screen in front of him. “Oh.” He hummed, tipping his head to the side, and then reached for the phone beside the device. “Hey, we need to send someone from SL down to ticketing to pick up a group.” 

You glanced over at Erin, confused, but her expression was the same as yours. SL? What’s that? Turning your head, you looked over at Caleb and Troy, the little boy seated on a stone wall while he looked up to talk to the man. Why do we need to be picked up? The sound of your name got your attention, and you looked back at the window, sucking in a breath. “Yeah? Sorry. I -”

“If you and your group will step off to the side by the door,” he pointed, still smiling. “Someone will be down in a few minutes to escort you in.” He slid your ID back to you. “Have a good night.” You thanked him, somewhat dazed, and turned toward the door, Erin close behind you. 

���We didn’t get tickets? What happens now? What did -” 

“Fuck if I know, Erin. I have no idea what’s going on.” She waved her brother and fiance over, the two of them meeting you moments later. 

“What’s going on? Where are the tickets?” Troy looked between you, frowning. “Do we need to -”

“Someone’s coming to get us.” You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your shorts. “I know nothing else.” Jack had seemed certain that he had tickets available for you, so you weren’t worried about getting into the stadium, but as to whatever else happened, you were clueless. Maybe it’s one of the lower sections. Maybe it’s the club section and we need wristbands or something. 

No one had anything else to say, and by the time the door opened a minute or so later, you were even more confused. But the woman - who introduced herself as Mary - put you at ease. “Welcome to Players Weekend.” She opened the door fully, greeting you by name. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to your seats for the game.” Sneaking a look at your friends after you thanked her, you caught Erin’s eye, the woman’s gleaming with intrigue. “It’s a little busy tonight, so make sure you stay close.” 

You did - following Mary as she led you down a short hallway and then through another set of doors and onto the lower concourse. You felt better one you were inside with the crowd, the thought that since you were in the stadium, that was all that mattered crossing your mind. 

But your thoughts blanked as she led the four of you toward a third set of doors and used a badge hanging from her belt to unlock them. “Where are we going?” Caleb broke the silence, the boy pushing forward to stand next to you. “I’ve never been in here before.” 

“This is the entrance to the dugout suites.” Mary looked down at him, her smile gentle. “Not many people have been in them before.” The dugout suites? Freezing at her words, your mouth dropped open. Jack, what did you do? “Come on. Yours is one of the cozier ones, but it’s one of my personal favorites.” A fucking suite? 

You walked down another hallway, the space curving to follow the shape of the stadium, and you realized that you were heading toward the Statesman’s dugout. Your head whipped to the side and you saw that Troy had put that together, too, his eyes wide and his grin threatening to split his face. “A suite? Right by where the players are?” Caleb was next to Mary, the boy’s voice loud. “Why are we -” 

“I don’t know.” She stopped in front of a door that had the words CHAMPAGNE LOUNGE engraved onto a golden plaque next to the team’s logo before reaching for the keycard again “But I do know that you’re going to have an amazing time.” She swiped the card and the light turned green. “Go ahead. Open the door.” Caleb looked back at you and you nodded, lips pressed together in a thin line. 

He opened the door and cautiously peeked inside, but as soon as he saw something, he darted in, leaving the rest of you standing in the hallway. Erin called after him, rushing forward and following him inside, but Mary only laughed, pushing the door all the way open and gesturing for you to follow. 

“The view is incredible, I don’t blame him for being excited.” 

She wasn’t lying. The entire back wall of the suite was windows so that the field stretched out in front of you, a cluster of seats on a small porch visible through the tinted glass. Caleb was busy pulling the door open to get to where they were, but you stopped just inside of the room, shaking your head. “This is too much, I just …” 

“My advice?” Mary looked at you, raising her eyebrow. “Enjoy it.” I will, but… “This is the Champagne Lounge.” 

“As in the team owner?” Troy stepped forward, arms crossed. “That Champagne?”

“Yes.” Mary nodded, giving you a wink. “He chose the decor, so that’s not on us, but …” You really looked around for the first time and had to bite back a laugh at the way it was decorated. I mean it makes sense, but … 

Everything was rustic and warm, the countertops and table surfaces made from gleaming wood. The floor looked a little rougher and worn, and you saw a few small area rugs scattered throughout the space, which made it more inviting. “You have a full menu available to you.” She moved toward the counter, picking up a small binder. “There are snacks and drinks along the back wall,” she pointed with one hand, flipping the pages open. “Left fridge is water and soda. The other is filled with beer, and there are a couple bottles of the Statesman/Whiskey collaboration for you to use.” He shield the binder up. “But if you want other kinds of mixed drinks, they’re all in here and you can order them to be delivered. Same with the food options.”

“How much -”

“Everything is complimentary.” Her smile was soft. “You’ll have an attendant that will come and check on you once I’ve let them know you’re in here, and they’ll be available whenever you need them through the tablet on the counter. But anything in this menu is fair game.” 

It made your head spin. You’d assumed that you’d have tickets somewhere decent - maybe in the lower level - but hadn’t ever even dreamed that Jack would get you a suite, much less Champ’s suite. 

“There’s also something for you in that box over there.” Mary gestured toward a white, rectangular box that was sitting on a small side table. What the hell is that? “There’s a bathroom back here,” she pointed at the side wall, and then put her hand on her hip. “The door does lock if you go out into the hallway, so once all of you leave the suite, you can’t get back in.” 

“Ok.” You nodded, blinking slowly. “It’s taking me a little while to catch up. This is … I wasn’t expecting these seats, and …” She laughed, asking if there was anything else you needed, and when you said no, she turned away and headed for the door, letting you know that someone else would be in a few minutes later. 

And once she was gone, you finally exhaled, covering your face with both hands. “You must have done something right. This is fucking insane!” Erin put her hands on your shoulders, saying your name. “How did -”

“I don’t know.” Biting your lip, you shook your head rapidly. “I have no fucking idea, this is …” 

“Are you guys coming out here?” Caleb poked his head in, his eyes bulging. “You can see the whole place. We’re right next to the dugout. I can see the steps where the players walk out onto the field!” Troy took a few steps forward and Erin followed, looking back at you. 

“Give me a second.” You could tell she was worried, but she still went, leaving you alone in the interior of the suite. After spinning slowly around to take everything in, you reached for your phone, fingers shaking as you opened your text with Jack. The last message was from him, sent hours earlier - and telling you to enjoy the game. 

You didn’t know what to think. You wanted to let him know you were grateful, but didn’t trust your voice not to waver in a voice message. So you settled for raising the device and taking a selfie, the suite and field visible behind you. 

This is too much, Jack. But thank you. I don’t even know what else to say. 

He was likely getting ready in the locker room - and you didn’t know if he’d even see the message before taking the field. But he’ll see it later. And he’ll see what time I sent it. You were just getting ready to put your phone away and join your friends when a message popped up on the screen. 

You’re welcome. But where’s your jersey? 

“What jersey?” You hadn’t ever told him that you owned one, but when your eyes flicked over to the white box again, your stomach dropped. He didn’t. Leaving your phone on the counter, you approached the box, dimly aware of the sounds of your friends talking through the open door. Using both hands, you lifted the lid, swearing as the contents came into view. “Jesus, Jack. What the fuck.” 

There was a note sitting atop the bright yellow fabric, and with unsteady hands you reached for it, heart pounding while you read the words. 

(Note text: Couldn’t start the game dirty. Thought you might want this though. JD)

You lifted it out of the box, holding it up in front of you. Immediately, your eyes were drawn to a black smudge on one shoulder, and you laughed as you realized what it was from. He’s worn this. 

It was the jersey he’d worn in the promo shots, and the smudge was from the bat where it had rested on his shoulder. And I get to keep it? 

Before you could second guess yourself, you pulled the jersey on over the clothing you wore, leaving it unbuttoned. Shivering at the thought that the last person to have worn it was him, you leaned back over and grabbed your phone before heading outside. 

Erin’s eyes widened at the sight of you, and Troy also looked surprised, but after a swift shake of the head from your friend, he stayed quiet. Please do. I don’t want to talk about this right now. 

Caleb was standing on one of the seats, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the ledge in front of him. Instead of saying anything to your friends, you focused on him, calling out his name. “We got a pretty good view, hmm?”

“Yeah. The on deck circle is right there. Theres a net in the way, but it doesn’t matter. We’ll get to watch everyone while they wait to hit.” What? You crossed the small space and stood next to him, also resting your elbows on the ledge. “Do you think I can take pictures of the batters?”

“I don’t see why not.” You eyed the ground in front of you, the Statesman logo almost mocking you. It’s so close. He’s going to be right there before he bats. “Just make sure the flash is off. I feel like it would be pretty distracting otherwise.” He agreed with you, nodding. 

“Hey, take a picture of us.” Erin leaned forward, holding her phone out. “We’ll send it to my mom.” You did as she asked, taking a few of the three of them standing in front of the netting. It was only then that Caleb saw what you were wearing, the boy asking you question after question that you answered with partial truths. 

You didn’t want to lie to him, but knew Erin was right; telling Caleb that you and Jack were in contact wasn’t a good idea. Not yet. Not until I know more about what this is. But seeing your jersey brought up the fact that if you couldn’t get back into the suite after leaving, there was no way for Caleb to get his. 

He was disappointed until the suite attendant appeared a few minutes later to take your food order - and then asked if there was anything else she could do for you. “Is there any way he could go and buy a jersey? We didn’t know we’d be in a suite, so we didn’t stop on the way, and he’s -”

“Of course.” She looked down at Caleb, grinning. “I can take you, or one of the adults here can come with us.” She pointed. “There’s a team shop right above where we are.”

‘I’ll go with you, buddy.” Troy stepped forward, reaching out to ruffle Caleb’s hair. “Might want to get one of my own.” He looked over at you and winked, and it took everything in you not to groan. Smooth, Troy. 

They left you and Erin moments later, and as soon as the door shut behind them, she whirled to face you, her eyes wide. 

“We’re in the owner’s suite. He gave you the fucking jersey he wore to do promo shots for this weekend.” She scoffed, raising her voice. “Fuck, that’s probably the first Statesman uniform he’s had on since he got hurt, and now it’s yours.” She paused, gesturing toward the field. “You must have been amazing in bed, because -”

“Erin.” Holding both hands up, you shook your head. “I’m just as confused as you are. He said he wanted to see me again, but when he asked about tickets for this weekend, he didn’t mention anything after, just… this.” You used one hand to indicate the suite you were in. “And by this I mean tickets. I had no idea it was going to be a suite. It’s too much.” 

“Maybe he’s hoping for a really nice ‘thank you’ blowj-”

“I don’t think so.” You cut her off, sinking into one of the chairs and crossing your arms. “I asked if I could the other night, and he said no, because we didn’t know each other well enough. And I don’t think that’s changed.” 

You didn’t want to admit that the same thought had crossed your mind - that Jack was being so generous because he expected something in return. But he didn’t hesitate to ask for things in bed. If it happens again, he’d just tell me what he wanted so that I could either say yes or no. 

“You’re joking.” She sat next to you, crossing her legs and leaning closer. I’m not. “Did … did you even have sex? Because if you didn’t, and he’s doing this? Then -”

“We did.” It was a relief to admit it, even though you hated the idea of spreading personal details. “And it was good, Erin. Like, really fucking good. But there’s no way it was this good, especially for him. You’ve seen the same things online that I have about him. No one’s ever … people would talk about him doing this for them. And no one has.”

“So maybe they lied.” She shrugged. “Maybe they said he wasn’t attentive or interested in more than one night because it was their way of dealing with the fact that he never called them again.” She bit her lip. “Maybe it was them wanting to get the last word in and make it harder for him to do the same in the future.” She reached out, taking your hand and squeezing it. “And maybe the ones that he did this stuff for, if he has in the past? Maybe they respected him enough to keep it quiet.” 

She’s probably right. You swallowed hard, turning your head to look through the netting and at the field. For everyone that had said something negative about their experience with Jack online, there had to be others with good experiences that had kept their mouths shut. And I’m one of those. “What would I do without you?” Squeezing her hand before you let go, you stood again and went back inside of the suite, Erin following closely. “Want a drink? We can open these bottles of Statesman, according to Mary.” 

She did - and by the time Caleb, Troy and the attendant came back a little while later, the two of you were laughing over your drinks, a few of the bags of snacks open on the table between you. Both guys had bought jerseys - Caleb’s was a smaller version of yours, while Troy was wearing one of the Statesman home blues, Jack’s last name and number on the back. 

The food arrived shortly after, and once each of you had made a plate, you headed back outside to sit in the seats and watch the on-field activity, Caleb narrating around mouthfuls of chicken tenders and french fries. 

You relaxed the longer you sat with your friends, and by the time the players started to come onto the field for warm-ups, you’d talked yourself into a state of calm. 

Sort of. 

You were fine until Jack took the field, a chorus of cheers coming from further down the third base line - the same as it had been when you and Caleb had seen him the previous week. Erin shot you a look but you ignored it, instead watching as he began his stretches, the same dark-haired woman supervising each movement. 

He looked good, and even though it had only been a little over a week since you’d seen him play, you could tell that he was stronger, too. “He looks better, right Caleb?” You nudged the boy, smiling at him. “Less hesitation when he -”

“He’s really stretching out those calves, hmm?” Erin cleared her throat. “He’s very flexible.” You glared at her and she wrinkled her nose and winked, but didn’t say anything else, even as Troy snorted into his drink. She’s not wrong, though. 

“Sorry we won’t get to meet the players today, kiddo.” Leaning forward, you propped your elbow up on the ledge in front of you before resting your chin on your hand. “I know how much you wanted to do that.”

“Are you kidding?” He turned to look at you, rolling his eyes. “This is way better. We get to see everyone up close.” You agreed - and so did Troy, and for the next few minutes, the four of you watched the players in silence, though your attention was specifically on Jack and his trainer. 

When he stepped out of view to talk to fans in the stands, you decided to go back inside and make yourself a second drink - the last one you were planning on having, since you had to drive home. Once it was mixed you lifted the cup to your lips, your other hand on the bottle. Just enjoy tonight. It doesn’t have to be more than this. You swiped your thumb slowly over where his signature was etched into the glass and took a deep breath before turning to head back outside. 

But when you reached the door, you paused, sucking in a breath at the sight of Jack crouched down in front of the netting and talking to Caleb, Erin and Troy. He must have caught your movement in his peripheral, because he looked up and nodded, his grin widening. “There she is.” 

“Hello, Whiskey.” You raised your glass, giving him a genuine smile, even as your heart pounded. “Welcome back to Louisville.” 

“It’s good to be here.” His lips twitched, one hand lifting to pull his hat off before he repositioned it on his head, never breaking eye contact. “You got the good seats tonight.” 

“We do. The good liquor, too.” That got a laugh out of him, Jack rising to his feet and straightening his shoulders as you brought the drink to your lips. 

“Enjoy yourselves. I’ve gotta get goin’.” He turned away and paused, putting a hand on his hip before he spun back to face all of you. What are you going to say, Jack? “Nice jersey, by the way.” You nearly choked on the liquid in your mouth at his words, and if Jack’s quiet laugh was any indication, he was very aware of it. You jackass. 

You caught his wink and then he did disappear, heading down the stairs and into the dugout. Ok, that could have gone worse. It could have gone better, too, but at least you hadn’t made a fool of yourself in front of him - which was the important thing.

The sound of Caleb talking about how Jack remembered him faded as you went back inside, setting your drink down on the counter and then gripping the edge of it, head lowered. The hard part’s over. He saw me and he knows I’m here, and he saw me in the - 

“He likes you.” Troy was right behind you, and even though you jumped at the sound of his voice, you recovered quickly, spinning to look at him. What? “He walked over and immediately said hi to Caleb, but he looked around and he seemed disappointed. And then you came outside and his mood changed.” Troy’s smile widened, and he stuck his tongue into his cheek briefly before saying anything else. “And if he looked for you, that means he knew you were going to be here, and -”

Shit. Is it that obvious? “I’m not going to confirm or deny a goddamn thing.”

“You just did.” Troy laughed, reaching out with one hand to squeeze your arm. “Good for you, though. He seems like fun.” You have no idea. “We should go back out there. The game’s going to start.” 

Wordlessly, you followed Troy back out and into the seating area - just as the request to rise for the National Anthem blared out through the loudspeakers.

— 

By the sixth inning, you weren’t worried about what was going on between you and Jack anymore. Instead, you were upset, because The Statesman were losing. 

It was no fault of Jack’s, though - he’d gotten a single and walked in his two at bats, the crowd giving him a standing ovation each time he headed to home plate. He’d also made a few really good plays at third - one of them throwing out someone at home as the other team tried to bunt in a run. 

The rest of the team was the problem, with errors made in the outfield, a dropped ball by the shortstop and three really bad pitches that had resulted in six total runs scored. There was still time for a comeback, and even though chances were growing slimmer by the minute, a three run deficit wasn’t too much to overcome. 

When Jack took his place in the on-deck circle, there were two men on and only one out. You stayed in the position that you’d been in for most of the game - arms crossed and elbows resting on the wall in front of you, leaning as close to the action as you could get. 

Watching him up close was special, and you’d snapped a few pictures in his earlier at bats of him bending over and adding the weights to the bat before he swung, as well as of him with it perched on his shoulder and in motion. It wasn’t just Jack that you photographed, but you paid more attention to him than the others. 

You were so close that you could hear the players grunting and groaning as they took their practice swings, as well as some of the things they yelled back to the other players in the dugout and on the field, and Jack was vocal. It didn’t surprise you after the time you’d spent with him, but if you’d said that the way he was on-field and with his teammates and the ump crew wasn’t a turn on, it would have been a lie. 

Because if the fans got into the game, Jack was on another level. 

He paused in his swings to watch the at bat in front of him, and after one particularly bad call, you heard his disdain for the ump - the man’s shout of “That wasn’t a damn strike even in a little league game!” clearly audible, as was the way he ducked his head toward the ground and kicked the dirt in a side-to-side motion with one cleat while he repeated the word “bullshit” under his breath. 

During a visit to the mound by the catcher, Jack looked over at where you were, locking eyes with you and rolling his, mouthing the word “bullshit” again. You laughed in return, mouthing the words I know, before shaking your head. It was easier than you’d thought it would be to interact with him, and part of you wondered if it was because it was pointed but not personal, and that he wasn’t hiding his actions.

The entire stadium groaned when the batter popped out and the runners couldn’t advance, but those groans turned into cheers when Jack’s walk up music started, and your breath caught in your throat again when he looked over at your suite before he headed to the plate, smirking and giving you a quick wink. 

“He changed his song!” Erin leaned over, elbowing you a few times. “This is my favorite one!” It was yours, too - and you’d always thought that it was a little inappropriate for an MLB stadium filled with kids - but that day, you didn’t care. 

He strutted toward the batter’s box as Pony blared through the speakers, and you didn’t look away for a second. And neither did any of the other women in this stadium if those cheers are anything to go by. 

He stepped into the box and then got ready, kicking at the dirt and using one hand to tug on the front of his jersey, making sure that the chain he wore was resting flush against his chest, and not on top of the material. He took a few practice swings and then tapped the bat against the plate, releasing a breath and nodding before settling the lumber back on his shoulder. 

“C’mon Jack!” You yelled the words and smacked your palm on the wall a few times, shaking your head. “Bring ‘em home!” Erin laughed next to you, but she also cheered, and then Caleb joined in, the three of you going silent just before the pitcher set and threw. 

It was a ball - so far inside that it almost hit Jack, but he stayed in place, cocking his head to the side as he lifted the bat and took another swing before settling it back in place. 

The crowd was loud - roaring out his name when Jack swung at the next pitch and made contact. The noise increased until it hooked foul, everyone wincing and groaning. He didn’t even run, though. He knew it wasn’t fair. Jack adjusted his gloves and then stepped back into the box, getting situated just in time for another pitch - that one ball two. 

“A single scores one.” Troy reached up, linking his fingers through the netting as he leaned closer. “A double will score both, and -” Jack swung and missed, and you lowered your head, swearing. Fuck. “Come on Daniels!” Troy let go of the fence and clapped his hands. “Just wait for your pitch!” 

He didn’t swing the next time and as the count ran full, the atmosphere in the stadium changed considerably. If no one scores here, the game’s over. It was a nervous energy that coursed through you, but when you looked back at Jack, you saw that he was still calm, his grip on the bat handle loose as he stepped out of the batter’s box and looked around the stadium. 

“He’s going to strike out.” Troy sat back, shaking his head. “This pitcher’s been too good today.” 

“No, he’s not.” Caleb scowled at the man, phone in hand. “He’s going to get a hit.” He jumped up and down a few times. “He has to.” 

“Whatever happens, it needs to happen now because I feel sick to my stomach.” You mumbled the words, lowering your head and groaning. “Come on, Jack.” You wet your lips and looked back at him, watching as he rocked back and forth, awaiting the pitch. 

You knew as soon as he swung that bat that he’d make contact - and when, moments later, the crack of the connection reached your ears, you knew it was gone. And so did Jack, the man keeping his eye on the ball as he headed to first, and then throwing both hands up into the air and cheering as he rounded the base.

“Fuck yeah, Jack!” You jumped up and down and then turned to hug Erin, the woman squealing in your ear before she let go and reached for Troy, who was shaking Caleb back and forth in celebration, the boy yelling in excitement. 

You focused back on the field - where the two men that had been on base were waiting at home plate for Jack. When he rounded 3rd, you cheered louder, clapping your hands and yelling out his name. There was little chance that he could hear you over the others in the stadium, and when he got to home and stomped on the base, the other two engulfing him in celebration and knocking his hat off, you wished that you’d had your camera out - and had gotten the moment on video. 

The three of them headed back in your direction, Jack at the center of the group, and even though it was fast, you didn’t miss his glance at your suite, or the tiny nod and smirk he gave you when you grinned up at him, biting down on the inside of your lip. Oh, shit. 

“That was awesome!” Caleb’s voice broke the moment, and when you looked over, you saw that he was following the three men with his phone. “And I got it all on video!” He lowered the device and then beamed up at you and his sister. “If I send it to you, will you post it?”

“That’s a long video to post, buddy.” Troy settled back into his seat, scrubbing a hand over his face as the next batter swung and missed. “But it’s really cool that you got it all.” He looked sad but agreed, and when Caleb looked at you again, you raised a brow. 

“You can still send it to me if you want, though. I’d love to watch it.” And to see if he got that smirk in there, because… damn. 

He told you he would once you were out of the stadium, and then Caleb tucked his phone away and returned his attention to the field, where the batter had just struck out, ending the inning. But they’re tied now, and that’s all that matters.  

For the next two and a half innings, neither team scored, which meant that it all came down to the bottom of the ninth. Jack was due to bat third, which meant you’d get to see him once more that night. And that might be it for a while. 

You’d taken advantage of the suite during the game, getting more to eat and drink, ordering ice cream sundaes that were delivered by your attendant, and watching a few at bats on the TV mounted to one wall instead of live in front of you. It was an experience that you’d never forget, and you’d heard your friends say the same throughout the night. 

Neither Erin or Troy had said anything about Jack’s wink or the nod, but you knew that they’d seen both. She wouldn’t spill your secrets to him, but you knew he’d likely ask, and part of you wondered what would happen if things continued between you and Jack, even on just a friendly basis. I’d have to tell them then.

The attendant told you that both bottles of Statesman were yours to take, and so between the 8th and 9th innings, you’d packed them up into the provided boxes and then tucked them into a bag that she’d left for you, along with the partially eaten candy and popcorn - figuring that they were just going to toss it anyway if you left it behind. 

And when the Statesman came up to bat for the final time, you rushed back out into the seats, standing between Erin and the left wall of the suite and drumming your fingers nervously against the concrete. 

That time, Jack paid no attention to the crowds while he waited to hit, instead crossing his legs at the ankle and leaning against the end of his bat, eyes on his teammate. “Just get on base.” You whispered the words, looking toward home. “Give Jack a chance.” 

The game meant very little in the grand scheme of things. 

The Statesman weren’t close to leading in the standings, and it would have taken a lot to get them to a contending position for the playoffs. But you still wanted them to win, if for no other reason than to top off Jack’s return. He did his part, though. He tied it up. 

And the man at the plate did his part, too, knocking a single between second and third, which meant that Jack got to the plate with one on and nobody out, his walk up song back to the one he’d used for his first two at bats. 

Caleb was nearly vibrating with excitement, his phone out and aimed at Jack once more - and you decided to do the same. Fuck it, you thought, pressing the record button. I’m just a fan right now. He took the first pitch - a called strike - and you watched him shake his head in disagreement, though he didn’t argue for too long. 

The second pitch slipped from the pitcher’s hand and veered downward, and even though Jack moved quickly, he couldn’t get out of the way. It hit the ankle guard he wore and bounced away, and for a few horrifying seconds, you worried that his return to the team would be short lived. 

The entire stadium booed, but the sound turned to a cheer when Jack bent over and pulled the protection off, tossing it to the side along with his batting helmet, and jogged to first. His trainer was close behind, the woman’s arms crossed over her chest as she assessed his condition and finally gave him the go-ahead to stay in. 

The game continued once she’d jogged back across the field and into the dugout, and you - along with thousands of others - watched anxiously, waiting. 

You didn’t have long to wait. On the third pitch of the at bat, he blooped a hit into shallow right, the ball hitting the ground and then skipping through the legs of the outfielder. 

The entire stadium roared, and the four of you did, too, cheering and clapping as the winning run crossed the plate. Erin wrapped you in her arms in celebration, but you kept your eyes on the field. I don’t want to miss this. Jack didn’t even finish rounding the bases and instead cut across the infield and headed for home, both arms out in front of him as he clapped and cheered. 

He’d lost his hat again as he hurried in, and by the time he was hugging his teammate, all of them jumping up and down, his hair had curled over his forehead - one lock hanging between his eyes. He got swallowed up in the crowd of people and you turned away, pulling free from Erin’s hold. 

“Hell yeah!” Troy pumped his fist in the air. “What a win.” It took a few seconds, but all of you managed to calm down and look back at the field, watching as the teams did their congratulatory handshakes and then broke for the dugouts and locker rooms. 

Jack got pulled for an interview, but you could barely see it, and so the four of you began to pack up, heading back inside after one final look at the field. The attendant was back, and she asked if you wanted a group photo before you left - something that Caleb agreed to for all of you. 

But once those were taken on all four phones, you had no reason to stay in the suite. She led you back down the hallway and to the main concourse, thanking you for coming and telling you to have a safe drive home before saying goodbye.

It was strange to be around so many people again after having no crowd to deal with for the entire night, but the mood was cheerful, and that hadn’t changed after walking back to the car and putting everything you carried into the trunk. 

You hoped you wouldn’t have to sit in traffic for very long. Because you’d gotten to the game so early and were on one of the lower garage floors, you got your wish. Only ten minutes later, you were out of the garage and on your way home. Caleb and Troy were having an intense conversation in the back seat, and Erin was leaning against her window, head propped up on one hand. 

“That was really cool.” You nodded, keeping your eyes on the road. “Make sure you thank the person that got those tickets for us.” You knew what she was doing - but refused to take the bait. “Or I can, if -”

“I’ll text when I get home.” You narrowed your eyes and looked over at her. “I promise.” You heard Troy snort in the back seat, but Erin thankfully didn’t say anything else. 

Caleb was the first one out of the car as soon as you parked, the boy yelling a ‘thank you’ at you before he sprinted toward the front door, bursting to tell his parents about the game. Troy and Erin hung back, and you were surprised to hear him speak first, after leaning forward to slot himself between the seats. 

“That was really fucking cool. Please, make sure you tell Jack that we appreciated tonight.” You assured him you would, and when Erin reached over to squeeze your knee, you cleared your throat. 

“Thank both of you for being … discreet.” Shrugging, you gripped the wheel with both hands. “I don’t want to make too much of -” You were cut off when your phone rang, and thanks to the fact that it was connected to your car via Bluetooth, they were both able to see exactly who was calling: Jack. “Not a word from either of you.” 

Erin laughed, but as you reached for the screen to answer the phone, she opened the door and got out, Troy not far behind. Your finger hovered for a second and then you answered, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. “Hey, Jack.” 

“I’m not interruptin’, am I?” 

“No, I just dropped everyone off, and I’m getting ready to go home.” Backing out of the driveway, you turned in the direction of your place. “What are -”

“Come over.” You sucked in a breath, looking away from the road and toward the display. What? “I mean, if you’re not busy, and want to, you can come over tonight. You should come over.”

“I don’t know where you live.” You glanced down, realizing that you were still wearing your clothes from the game. “And I need to go home and change, I’m -”

“You still wearin’ my jersey?” Confirming that you were, you were relieved to hear his groan, Jack’s continued words spoken in a much softer tone than he’d been using before. “Then you definitely don’t need to go home. I’d sure like to see you in that without a net between us.” 

You stopped at a light, pressing your fingertips to your mouth and thinking. You wanted to see him again. You wanted to spend more time with him. And if he’d called you immediately after arriving home from a walk off win, he obviously wanted to spend more time with you, too. Fuck it. Why not? 

“Alright, Jack. Send me your address and I’ll be there soon.” 

—

Sample dugout suite view:

Alternate Players Weekend photo (thank you @stealyourblorbos):

[owenniasstars]

Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 12

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

A/N: Daisy needs to be alone to get her latest draft done but that leads to an unexpected situation...and confession...

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

I had checked into a hotel room a week ago to get some writing done, which had been driving Jake crazy. When I was approaching a deadline I took a note out of Maya Angelou’s playbook, except, to a more extreme extent. She would rent a hotel room in her hometown, using it as an office of sorts, removing all distractions while she got her writing done. As a procrastinator who worked at the whims of her muses, I condensed the routine into a sprint. I wrote from 6am to 9pm with nothing in the room to distract myself except for a deck of cards and a thesaurus. 

The reason it was driving Jake crazy was the fact that I wouldn’t tell him which hotel I was at and that I would only text him before 6am and after 9pm. If given the chance, I knew he would have caved by day three and stopped by to see me, which would have derailed the entire process, Jake had begrudgingly agreed to her reasoning of keeping him out of the loop.

Cassandra was closing in on her killer, her and her partner Timothy were standing in front of the apartment door, weapons drawn and ready to go. They were going to do it. Except the scene that was in my head wasn’t the one that ended up on the page, Timothy kicked the door open and the apartment was empty except for a note addressed to her. The killer got away. For now at least. Jason and Grace would be ecstatic that the sequel was perfectly lined up but for me it felt like a blow to the chest. My detectives always got their man by the end of the story. Always. 

I spent close to four hours trying to rewrite the scene in a way that even vaguely made sense but nothing felt right. I glanced at the clock, it was past ten o’clock, Jake was probably ready to file a missing persons report at this point. I chuckled to myself, thinking about how he was. Jake liked to be by my side, even without the looming threat of me running off because of Rudolph Lance, he spent so much time at our apartment that Natasha had joked about charging him rent…which he had shrugged at and asked how much. 

When I pulled my phone out of the room safe I had three missed calls from Jake and Natasha and texts from most of the Daggers telling me to please, please, please call my boyfriend and best friend.

“Baby,” Jake sighed on the other side of the call. “Everything okay?” I giggled, it wasn’t even a full hour past when I was supposed to check-in and Jake sounded like I had been missing for days. “Daisy,” His serious tone cut my laughter short. Something had to be wrong. 

“I’m fine, Jake. What’s going on?” There was a long pause that had my heart rate shooting through the roof. “Baby, what’s wrong?” 

“What hotel are you at?” I started to repeat what I had been telling him all week about the importance of being left alone but he cut me off. “Daisy, I love you and I respect your process but I’m going to need you tell me where the fuck you are.” I flinched, surprised, he had never taken that tone with me before. 

“The Marriott on Sixth and Kewee. What the hell happened?” Jake shouted that I was okay to whoever he was with, probably Natasha. It hit me at that moment that Jake had just said he loved me but the next words out of his mouth ruined the moment.

“There was a big fire at the Marriott on Stiltson, the news said people died.” All the air rushed out of my lungs. All I had told him and Natasha was that I was staying at a Marriott, they must have been so worried. 

“Shit, Jake. I’m so sorry, I’ll come home. I can be there in-” Jake cut me off again,

“Stay put, I’m coming to you.” I plopped down on the bed, chewing on my thumbnail. The hotel was a five minute drive from our apartment, twenty from his. “We’re not doing this again, okay? Somebody needs to know where you’re at, somebody. Even if it’s Amelia for Christ’s sake.”

“Okay, baby, I promise.” Jake exhaled sharply. “I’m in room 108, come in the front doors and go right, I’ll be just a few steps away.” Another exhale, “Unclench your jaw, pretty boy, or you’ll give yourself a headache.” He didn’t say anything but I knew he was listening to me. “Now relax your fingers, you can drive at a speed I don’t want to know about without white knuckling it.” The time the huff had a hint of a chuckle, “You can’t come yell at me then smother me in kisses if you wrap your truck around a palm tree.” 

“I’m not going to yell at you,” He didn’t sound convincing, like he was still mulling it over. We sat in silence while he drove, a few torturous minutes passed by. “I’m here,”

“I really don’t want to know how fast you were going.” Jake sighed, “I’m not going to lecture you, just don’t tell me. I’m going to unlock the door for you.” I crossed the room, flipping the latch so that the door was held open, then I stepped back towards the center of the room. Jake rushed into the room not long later, sweeping me into his arms.

“Hi, baby.” He kissed my temple, hands shaking as he held me. Jake’s whole body was tense around me, showing just how concerned he was. I rubbed his back,

“Let it out, Jake, don’t keep it in.” He pulled away, gripping my face tightly but not harshly. Jake looked wrecked, eyes rimmed red, brow pinched, his jaw tensing and relaxing like he was fighting himself. “I’m right here.” 

“At least last time I knew where you were,” Jake’s tone was harsh. “I knew that you were safe,” I gripped his sides, digging my fingers in. He kissed me fiercely but pulled away before I could respond. “I don’t want to be a controlling boyfriend who tells you what to do, Daisy, but you’ve got to stop doing this to me.” Guilt flooded through me, my grip on him loosening. Jake shook his head tersely, “Please don’t pull away from me.” 

“I’m not pulling away, Jake,” I wrapped my arms around his waist. “I’m right here, tell me what you need.” Jake buried his face in my neck, hugging me tight. “Tell me what you need,” I whispered. “I love you too, Jake Seresin, just tell me what you need.” He didn’t say anything right away, he just held me. With every breath I felt him relax just a little bit more into me until it felt like I was holding all of his weight. “I love you, Jake. Just tell me what you need, I’ll give it to you.” Jake stayed quiet and I found myself filling the gap. “Have you heard of Life360? It’s an app, Harvey and his wife have it, lets them track each other's locations. I just won’t look at the weekly driving report so I won’t see how fast you speed.” 

“You don’t have to,” He kissed the crook of my neck, pulling away just to rest his forehead against mine. “If it makes you uncomfortable.” 

“I don’t mind, Jake,” I kissed him softly, “Not if it gives you peace of mind. Okay?” I slipped my hands under his shirt, resting them on his warm back, pulling him even closer. “Are we okay?”

“I love you, Daisy.” Jake kissed my nose and pulled away, smiling softly at me. “Not exactly how I planned on telling you, it just kind of slipped out.” I giggled, pulling him to lay on the bed with me.

“Well, nothing about this relationship has exactly been normal since the whole ‘FBI showing up at my house’ thing. So, I think it’s fitting.” I sat back on the pillows and Jake laid his head in my lap, I carded my fingers through his hair. “Let’s talk about things, Jake. What do you need?” He looped an arm between my legs, snuggling me like a pillow. 

“Can we get that tracking app? I promise I won’t look at it unless I’m worried.” I rolled my eyes, knowing that if he checked the app every time he was worried about me, it would be constantly open on his phone. The…hypervillegance surrounding my whereabouts on Natasha’s orders had lessened but hadn’t faded away entirely. It was something I had learned about Jake, he cared with his whole heart about all of the people in his life, and with that came a certain level of anxiety. 

“Check it as much as you need to, pretty boy,” I kissed his hair. “What else?” 

“I want to take you home for Thanksgiving, introduce you to my mama,” My fingers paused in his hair, the thought swirling around in my mind. What would meeting Jake’s parents be like? Would they be warm and welcoming or stoic and standoffish? What about his sisters? Would they like her? “Stop thinking so hard, that hamster wheel in your head is starting to smoke.”

“Shut up,” I laughed, my fingers moving in his hair once again. “Yes, I’ll meet your mama, what else?” Jake gently bit my thigh and I tapped him on the head, “Jake, baby, is there anything else you need to feel better?” 

“I’m going to marry you one day,” 

“Okay.” Jake turned to look up at me and I’m sure I had multiple chins at that angle but he was looking at me with nothing but love in his eyes and I couldn’t find it in myself to care.

“Wait, so, asking you to meet my family takes a full minute for you to think about but getting married is an instant yes?” 

X

Daisy tilted her head back against the headboard, a small smile on her face. In the last few hours, my emotions had been wrecked. Going from bored, sitting on the couch listening to Rooster and Phoenix argue about something I wasn’t paying attention to, then worried beyond belief when the news alert popped up on our phones, and then instant relief when her name flashed on caller ID. 

“I’ve never met a boy’s parents before,” 

“One, I’m a man, baby.” Daisy scoffed at me, her hand resting on my chest. “Two, you’ve never met someone’s parents?”

“Jake, I hadn’t even cuddled someone before you,” I couldn’t help the smug smile that grew on my lips. Daisy liked cuddling but she needed the conditions to be just right, apparently I was a “human heater” and she needed a fan to be running, more than one if she wanted to keep her beloved pajama pants on.

“My mama’s going to love you, already does,” I reached up, wrapping my fingers around the duplicate dog tags of mine she wore around her neck to pull her down for a kiss. The angle wasn’t perfect but her lips on mine could never be wrong. “Told her all about your lasagna and the way you’ve been feeding the team. My sisters already love you too, they’re both true crime junkies, apparently they have all of your books.” 

“No way,” She snorted, dissolving into a fit of giggles. Her whole body shook as she laughed and it was a beautiful sight. “I’ll sign them when I come to visit. Did I ever tell you that Grace and Jason spent a week arguing over how my signature should look?” 

“Seriously?” 

“Seriously, I thought I had carpal tunnel by the time we figured it out. Well, I probably do but that’s neither here nor there.” I made a mental note to Google that later, see if there was anything to do to make it better. “What about your pops?” 

“God, he cannot wait to meet you,” I groaned, pulling her down for another kiss. “Pops won’t stop asking about his “new daughter” when I call him. I think my family’s going to propose to you on my behalf.” Daisy laughed but it wasn’t really a joke, my whole family had been calling, texting, even emailing me for information on Daisy and our relationship. Pops had even offered up his parents’ rings for us to use.

“There seem to be a lot of expectations for me to live up to, Jake.” She kissed me one, twice, three times before sitting back up, that same soft smile on her lips. “But I’m telling you now, if you propose to me before we’ve known each other for at least a year, I’m telling you no.” 

“Noted.” 

Taglist: @dizzybee03 @littlezee80 @nervousenemyduck @carolina-on-my-mind03 @mizzzpink @beltzboys2015-blog @writingrose @hookslove1592

Next Chapter

[owenniasstars]

What's In A Name? Chapter Five

Meg Harding and Kate Carter were inseparable until their friends died five ago, then she ran to New Orleans to save lives as a paramedic. But when Javi calls on his two oldest friends to help him collect data, counting on their matching natural instincts for tornadoes, Meg goes home for the first time in years. That's where she meets Tyler and the rest of the Wranglers, the YouTube storm chasers her dad likes to watch, and finds herself fitting in more with them than with Storm PAR. Meg only plans to stay for the week but will it be easy to leave when the dust settles?

If a certain cowboy has a say in it, nothing about leaving is going to be easy.

A/N: Meg has to make a very interesting phone call...

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

Meg woke up with Tyler curled around her, his heavy arm draped over her waist, a large hand splayed across her stomach, keeping her tight against him. It had been the best night of sleep of her life and she stubbornly gave credit to the softness of Boone’s shirt for it. She carefully slipped out of his hold and down the ladder.

At some point, the Wranglers had driven the camper and the rest of their vehicles to a different motel and they were all gathered up outside, bundled in blankets, sitting around an extinguished fire. Boone was the first to notice her, popping out of his chair to hug her tightly, rocking her back and forth.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Doc, and thank you, thank you, for keeping T safe.” The rest of the Wranglers were quick to join in on the hug, even Ben after she heard the shutter of his camera. Meg almost started crying from the sheer amount of love surrounding her, feeling at home again in Oklahoma for the first time in five years. “You hungry, Doc?”

“Starvin’,” Her stomach growled in agreement.

“I’ll rustle something up,” Boone patted her on the shoulder. “Also, do your parents watch our streams?” She nodded. “They were name-dropping you something fierce in the chat last night, asking for updates if you were okay.” Of course, they had. Meg knew better than to think it was just her dad demanding answers in the chat.

“The whole crew’s probably at my parent’s house debating whether they should drive out here.” She shook her head with a huff of laughter. “Dex, can I borrow your phone? I don’t know what happened to mine.” He obliged and she dialed the house phone, putting it on speaker.

“Harding’s phone,” Rabbit picked up. “Meggy, this you?” Dexter’s mouth fell open, putting all the pieces together faster than the rest.

“Yeah, it’s me. Y’all can stop freaking out, all limbs are accounted for and in working order.” 

“Bill, Jo, guys, it’s Meggy!” 

“Meggy, honey,’ Preacher’s voice was the next on the line. “You scared us half to death.” 

“Margaret Marie Harding,” Her mom shouted into the receiver. “Have you lost your damn mind?” Meg cringed,

“Mama, I’m just following in dad’s footsteps.” There were shouts of “The Extreme” in the background. “Also, y’all might be on speaker with the Tornado Wranglers.” 

“Holy shit, Meggy,” That was Beltzer.

“We’re big fans,” And that was Haynes. The Wranglers were watching her with amused and star-struck looks. Ben, thankfully, was the first to recover.

“Your daughter is quite remarkable.” 

“And alive,” Boone added, giving Meg a thumbs up that she returned, mouthing good job.

“We’re glad to hear it. Hi, Pumpkin.” 

“Hiya, dad. Did you want that mug of yours signed? Pretty sure I can swing it.” 

“Dani, get the man a mug!” Dexter pushed a laughing Dani towards the camper where Tyler still slept. The Wranglers and the original team energetically traded exclamations of excitement and amusement that Meg had kept her last name a secret for so long. That was until her mama started shouting again. 

“I don’t want you anywhere near a tornado unless you’re harnessed  in, do you understand me, young lady?” 

“Mama, please, you’re embarrassing me.” 

“Let me talk to Dexter,” Jo demanded. “He seems like the only responsible one.” Meg didn’t argue, taking her mom off speaker and handing the phone to Dexter.

“Yes, ma’am?” There was a shout of her name from inside the camper, signaling to everyone that Tyler had woken up to an empty bed.  The Wranglers snickered at her, Lily giving her a good-natured shove to the shoulder. “Of course, ma’am. I’ll make sure of it.” 

Tyler came stumbling out of the camper, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, a grinning Dani right behind him with a mug and a marker in either hand.

“Where’s Meg?” 

“That’s Meg Harding to you, Ty,” Lily teased and Tyler’s eyes went wide. “Yup, your girlfriend’s the daughter of storm-chasing legends.” Meg flushed, hoping her parents hadn’t heard that. Tyler looked at her, dumbstruck.

“Your parents are…”

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit,” Tyler ran a hand through his already chaotic hair. “You’re a-,” He pointed at her, “Your parents are-” Meg nodded. “Holy shit.” 

“My parents are big fans of your channel, Ty.” She saw the moment Tyler’s brain fully stopped functioning, giggling. 

“I need coffee,” Tyler’s shoulders slumped. He sat down in Boone’s abandoned seat beside Meg, grabbing her hand and squeezing it, like he was afraid she’d run off on him. Meg squeezed back. “Who’s he talking to?”

“My family.” Meg could get used to surprising the hell out of Tyler, laughing at the startled look on his face.

“Doc, Rabbit wants to talk to you.” Dexter jogged the phone over. “Can I meet your parents?” He whispered and Meg nodded, rolling her eyes with a smile.

“What’s up?” 

“Don’t let your mom fool you, Meggy. She’s giddy as hell you’re chasing again.” Meg knew that in her heart but the reassurance made her smile. “Also, we’re betting on how long it takes you to ride the cowboy. Don’t tell your dad.”

“Rabbit!” Meg shrieked, slapping a hand over her mouth. She glanced over at the sleepy man beside her who didn’t seem to have heard what Rabbit said. Meg was going to turn that man into rabbit stew the next time she saw him.

“Blame Haynes, her idea.” 

“Don’t blame me, blame Joey!” 

“She knows damn well it wasn’t me, it was definitely Lawrence.” Could they get any more embarrassing? She felt like she was fifteen again, listening to the group place bets on how her first date would go.

“Guuuuyyyyysss. Can you please just put my dad on the phone?” There was a brief shuffle.

“Hey, Pumpkin. What was Rabbit saying?” 

“Nothing, just being annoying. She glanced at her blonde cowboy, getting a mischievous idea. “Tyler’s here if you want to talk to him, he’s a fan of yours.” She giggled at the look on his face. “Well, you talk, he’ll hyperventilate.” 

“Be nice to that boy,” Her dad scolded playfully. “I’ve got fifty bucks on you marrying him.” 

“Oh my God, that’s so much worse!” She wanted to disappear into thin air. Tyler took the outstretched phone.

“This is Tyler Owens, sir.” Tyler sat up straighter in his seat, running a hand through his bed head.

Boone came jogging back to the group, holding a 7/11 bag above his head.

“I got you coffee, a muffin, and a burrito.” Giving Tyler’s hand one last squeeze, Meg went to collect her breakfast, thanking the man with a kiss on the cheek. “Dani said you take lots of cream and sugar.” Meg looked at the woman who shrugged,

“I guessed.” 

“You guessed right, Sweet Thing. Thanks again, Boonie Baby,” She gave him another kiss on the cheek before going back to her seat. Meg kept the burrito, passing Tyler the blueberry muffin.

“Yes, sir. No, sir,” Meg couldn’t help but wonder what her dad was asking him, nibbling on the corner of the lukewarm burrito. Bean and cheese, nice. “No, she didn’t tell us her last name.” Tyler chuckled, “Yes, sir. I’m starting to understand that.” He paused, eyes going wide. Meg shifted in her chair, letting her legs fall across Tyler’s lap. He rested a hand on her knee and Meg couldn’t help but think that she could do this every morning, sitting there, admiring Tyler’s stubbled jaw line while the rest of the Wranglers joked around with each other. “I’d be honored but first we’ve got to go find Kate, yes, sir. Sapulpa.” He tapped her knee, “Here, darlin’.” He passed the phone, trading it for her coffee, his nose scrunching up. “I prefer black.”

“Not everything’s about you, Arkansas.” Tyler stuck his tongue out at her. “Hey, dad.” 

“You should marry that boy, Meg.” Her eyes cut to Tyler who was eyeing her back with a small smile on his face, making him even cuter than normal. 

“We’ll see, dad,” She sighed. “Gotta chase down my other half first. Now go feed the guys, I love you.” 

“I love you too, Pumpkin. Come home before you leave.”

“I will, should I bring Kate?” 

“And Tyler. Keep an eye on the sky, Pumpkin.” Meg hung up, mumbling through a mouthful of burrito.

“Trouble makin’ busy bodies, the whole group of ‘em.” 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were Jo and Bill Harding’s daughter,” Her mom would have liked the way he put her name first. “No wonder you’ve got such good instincts.” 

“Get ‘em from my daddy.” Dani came over, presenting Tyler with the mug to sign.

“And here I didn’t think you could get any cooler, Meg,” Dani teased. “We gotta keep you around.” 

“Here here,” Boone raised his coffee in cheers. “T, buddy, don’t go fucking this up for us.” The Wranglers all added their agreement, making Meg laugh. She swiped the coffee back from Tyler, admonishing him for drinking more than half the cup if he didn’t like it. Then it hit her and she nearly spit out her mouthful of coffee. Lily had called her his girlfriend and neither she nor Tyler had corrected her. What the hell did that mean?

“Stop thinking so hard, darlin’.” Tyler squeezed her knee like he could read her mind. “Just enjoy the morning.” His hand moved up to her thigh as he kicked back in his chair to eat and she rested her hand on top of his, letting her attention fall to Boone and Dani as they teased Dexter for his fangirling. Ben started snapping pictures and Meg didn’t let herself worry about how she looked wearing borrowed clothes, eating a gas station burrito, mud from the night before still on her cheeks, with Tyler’s hand on her thigh.

Unlike when he was chasing, Tyler was an incredibly safe driver on the way to Sapulpa. Meg on the other hand was an incredibly unsafe passenger. She had the passenger seat pushed all the way back, her feet kicked up on the dash, and her boots abandoned on the floorboards.

Lily had lent her a pair of mismatched socks, one was striped and the other was dotted. They were both singing along to the country music blaring on the radio and Meg couldn’t remember a time she felt happier. And she was sad she had to ruin it.

“I should probably tell you what you’re gettin’ into before we get there, Ty.” Tyler turned off the radio, giving her as much attention as he could while driving.

“What, darlin’, you hiding a boyfriend from me in Sapulpa?” Meg snorted, she wished that’s all she had to confess. Instead, she held out her hands in front of her. Her fingertips were all kinked, not quite straight. They were also calloused and scarred, not only from chasing but from her time as a paramedic. Her favorite scar was one on the pad of her thumb, permanently messing up her fingerprints, from when she stuck herself with an EPI pen instead of the patient. 

“You ever notice how crooked my fingers are?” 

“I was a bull rider, healed breaks are normal to me.” She hummed at his non-answer, answer. 

“I met Kate in college and we became close, our friend Addy used to call us two shades of the same color. Always the same but slightly different.” Dandelion and Sunflower, shades of yellow, were her favorite comparison to make. She’d always make a joke about how they were happiest when the sun was hidden behind clouds, so they needed to be surrounded by bright colors. “Mama was her thesis advisor. There were six of us helping her with the research.” 

Meg let the tears roll down her cheeks without wiping them away.

“Parveen and Kate spearheaded the actual idea, Javi collected the data with Dorothy, Addy was there to take photos, Jeb,” She chuckled. “Jeb was just in love with Kate, so he’d follow her anywhere, and I was there to make sure no one got hurt. But they did.” She had spent a lot of time on her partner’s couch drinking and thinking about the situation, coming to grips with the fact that her EMT certification couldn’t have saved her friends that day. “Everything was going great and then an EF-5 came out of nowhere.” 

Tyler exhaled heavily, reaching out to rub her knee.

“We thought it was going to be an EF-1, maybe 2, so we didn’t have the good sense to be scared until it was too late.” 

“I’m sorry, Meg,” Tyler offered in sympathy. Because what the hell else do you say when someone’s telling a story like that?

“Our only hope was an underpass, which tells you how shit outta luck we were. Parveen couldn’t run so fast and was swept up first, then I fell and I dug my fingers into the dirt to hold on.” Her fingers and wrist ached at the memory, “I broke every single one of my fingers and debris shattered my wrist. While I was layin’ there, I heard Addy and Jeb fly away, screaming for their lives.” 

“Shit, Meg. That’s horrible,” She hummed in agreement.

“Kate survived of course but she won’t talk about it and Javi was in the follow vehicle. All he could do was watch as the tornado headed our way. To hear him tell it, it was the worst day of his life and it probably was.” The hurtful things Javi said the night before filtered through her mind, making her sick to her stomach. “Police officer found me and Kate stumbling along the highway, trying to get back to Javi, and took us to the hospital.” 

Meg took a long, deep breath. If things had gone differently that day, her life would have turned out a lot differently. She never would have moved, none of them would have.

“Kate ran away to New York, Javi joined the military, and I went to New Orleans. I was a wreck on the job but my partner Nick’s always had my back. You’d like him,” Nick was her rock, both on and off the job. “He took me to my first second line after one of our GSW patients, Tayvon, a fifteen-year-old kid, didn’t make it.” 

It had been her second week on the job, she had never been on the scene of a drive-by shooting before, there had been so much chaos and blood. They worked on him for a few minutes before they decided it was best to work while driving. Meg had still been an EMT, so Nick worked on Tayvon in the back of the rig while she drove through the busy streets like a bat out of hell. By the time they passed him off to the doctors, things were looking up.

  “To see everyone smiling through their tears and celebrating that kid’s life, it healed me more than anything else ever could. Everyone needs a Nick and Kate didn’t have one.” 

“I think I want to meet this Nick guy,” Tyler squeezed her knee, “Buy him a beer and thank him for taking care of you.” Meg chuckled, thinking about all of the embarrassing stories Nick would tell him about her.

“He’d buy you a beer, tryin’ to charm you into making me your problem instead of his.” 

“Be my problem, baby,” Tyler’s hand moved upwards to squeeze her thigh. Meg laid her hand over his, tears starting up again.

“I’m crying about my dead friends while you drive me to see my traumatized other half. Hate to say it, Sweetie Pie, but I think I’m already your problem.” Laughter filled the truck, first hers and then Tyler’s. “A little late to back out now.” 

“I’m not backing out, Meg, just making sure we’re on the same page.” 

“Which is?” She feigned ignorance. 

“You’re my problem, baby. All mine.” Her dad was going to be over the moon whenever she told him about this conversation. So would Nick.

“Thoughts and prayers, Cowboy. You’re gonna need ‘em.” 

Taglist: @theforevermorereject @beltzboys2015-blog @writingrose @sinners-98-world @nerdgirljen @candlejuice @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @football1921 @katiemcrae @emma8895eb @itsdesiree86

Next Chapter

[owenniasstars]

Summary: Task Force 141 operates successfully without an omega, at least that’s what Price has been saying since its formation. Two alphas and two betas balance the pack just fine, and they have the numbers to prove it.

It works for a while, until the Omega Initiative is born and the 141 find themselves having to adjust to the sudden addition of an omega to their pack. Fresh out of an institute, you’re hardly fit for their secretive, dangerous world, or so Price thinks. 

As each member of the team gets closer to you, things begin to come to light, not only about you but about the decision to force you into their lives.

Maybe, just maybe, Price was wrong and the 141 does need an omega after all. 

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz, Ghost x Soap

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, NSFW content, explicit smut, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), knotting, biting, claiming, mating cycles, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, age differences, military inaccuracies, canon typical violence, blood, weapons, language, no use of Y/N, brief torture, hurt/comfort, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Chapters containing smut are marked with a *

Updates are posted on the weekends, either Saturday or Sunday PST

This fic can also be found on my Ao3 -> HERE

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NAVIGATION PAGE CRCB DIRECTORY

Part 1 - The Omega

Chapter 1 - The Introduction Chapter 2 - Adjustments Chapter 3 - Speak Their Language Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful Chapter 5 - What I Want *

Part 2 - The Bond

Chapter 6 - One Step Closer * Chapter 7 - Sweet Strawberry Chapter 8 - The Thing About Ghost Chapter 9 - Save Me Chapter 10 - Treat Me Gently*

Part 3 - The First Heat

Chapter 11 - It's Coming Chapter 12 - Fire In My Veins* Chapter 13 - Piece Me Back Together* Chapter 14 - The Aftermath*

Part 4 - The New Normal

Chapter 15: Bonnie* Chapter 16: Big Brown Eyes * Chapter 17: Alone Chapter 18: Don't Let Me Go Chapter 19: Daddy Issues Chapter 20: The New Normal * Chapter 21: Crime and Punishment * Chapter 22: I Won't Be Gentle

Part 5 - A Pack of Five

Chapter 23: Regrets Chapter 24: The Last First Time * Chapter 25: Animals * Chapter 26: Fuck * Chapter 27: Drown In It * Chapter 28: Two Is Company, Three Is A Party * Chapter 29: There's Something Wrong With My Omega

Part 6 - The Tragedy

Chapter 30: Butterfly's Wings Chapter 31: Forced Proximity Chapter 32: The Tragedy Chapter 33: Ghosts of the Past Chapter 34: The Whole Truth

Part 7 - The Aftermath

Chapter 35: Threads Chapter 36: To The Sea

Title card made by the beautiful @141wh0re

[owenniasstars]

HEY! QUICK ROLL CALL!!!

To the Divergent Fandom! We've lost alot of people, or we're all just crazy quiet. It seems this beloved Fandom has died. BUT IM STILL HERE ALIVE AND KICKING MOTHERFUCKERS!!!

To those in this Fandom, reply and reblog so I can know y'all fuckers are still alive!

If ya wanna leave only a like, then please just reply with "here." I'm also willing to take any request you wanna send that are related to Divergent (smut, romantic, rejection, friendships, enemies, OCs, platonic, ships, hurt, comfort, crack ship, crack headcannons, random stuff, crack fic ideas) give them to me! IMMA ATTEMPT CPR, I MAY HAVE FAILED MY CPR TEST IM HIGH SCHOOL BUT IMMA STILL ATTEMPT CPR TO REVIVE THIS FANDOM!!!! 🦅

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