#I usually don’t have to think much about others will see it

[cerisereids]

𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐫 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐲- 𝐀.𝐇.

Pairing- Aaron Hotchner x Girly!Assistant!Reader

WC- 7.5k (LORDDDD) (literally belle shut up challenge level impossible)

Summary- With your birthday around the corner, you decide to throw a blowout bash. The people you work with have no idea how to let go. Least of all your boss, Aaron Hotchner. Yet, he doesn't show.

Contains- 18+ MDNI, angst to fluffy smut(ish), girly!reader, reader has long hair she can run her fingers through, spicy but no explicit smut (still 18+ tho don't play), non-explicit sex scene, reader standing on business, discussions of Hotch and Haley's divorce

A/N- divider from @thecutestgrotto !!

The satisfying click of your white kitten heels fill the hallway as you bounce off the linoleum tiles. You’re in a delicate balancing act, juggling a tray of your famous cupcakes as well as glittery pink invitations. Gold lettering splays across the front ‘You’re Invited!’ They’re cheesy little things you had made at the local print shop, but you couldn’t help yourself. Your gloomy office needs some cheer. 

You push the door open with your hip, backing into the room with small little steps as you enter the BAU. Your instantly relieved by a pair of strong arms guiding your through the doorway. “Got it, sugar?” Derek’s voice asks, his hands hovering in precaution. 

“I am just fine! Here! Take one!” You set the cupcake tray down, plucking one out for him, handing it to him with an invitation. His brow quirks, a small smile rising on his lips.

 “What’s all this for?” He asks, bemused. 

“Well, my birthday is coming up, so I thought I’d have a big, blowout, bash! It’s been too long since you guys loosened up, really got to let go and have fun!” You squeal, stepping back slightly as the rest of the team quickly finds the dessert. Like bees to honey, you like to say. 

“So, you decided that instead of celebrating yourself, to insist on us celebrating you?” Emily inquires around a mouthful of cupcake. 

“Pretty much!” You pinch her cheek affectionately, and she giggles. Your gaze turns ever so slightly, catching the window of your boss’ office. Bile rises in your throat. He won’t be so easy to coax out. Both now, and to the party itself. The mere thought of it makes you nauseous. 

Emily saddles up beside you, lightly nudging her elbow with yours. She nods to Aaron’s office, and blood rushes to your cheeks. Your gaze drops to the ground, which you scuff with the bottom of your shoe. You lift your head up, your hair falling down your shoulders like a waterfall. 

“He in?” You ask, resuming your naturally bubbly state, a wide smile plastered over your anxiety. 

“Yup, when is he not?” Emily responds, curious, like a cat. You snap out of your anxious state, giving a playful shrug. You bat your lashes and turn, grabbing the tray and remaining invitations. 

“Hey, I wanted seconds!” Spencer calls after you. You roll your eyes, your clicking heels once again the only noise as you walk away. It’s no secret who you’re going to see. 

Aaron’s office door is slightly ajar, so you enter the same way you did earlier, by hip. His brow quirks upon your arrival, but you don’t forget to clock the way his eyes catch you, scanning up and down your frame. You wore one of your favorite dresses today, a pink, ruffly number that resembles a sunset. It cascades down your body like it was made for you. By the way Aaron’s looking at you, he thinks so, too. The way he looks at you is electric, like a bolt of lightning cracking your spine as you take each other in. Your breath shortens, catching in your throat at the sight of his tired, brown eyes. 

“Hey, big guy,” you lilt, your voice in its usual effervescent tease. You don’t miss the way he flushes down to his neck at the nickname. 

“What is this all about, hm?” he raises a brow, his voice smooth like silk. His eyes widen as you set down the tin of cupcakes, revealing their chocolatey goodness to him. His favorite. You hand him an invitation, nerves bubbling in your stomach as he reads it over. Your cheeks heat, like you’re 17 again waiting for an invite to the prom.

Then, he glances up at you. There’s a sparkle in his eye when he looks at you. You’re not sure if he knows it’s there, but you cherish it. You cherish the way he looks at you like you’re the only person in the room, the world. You cherish the way not a single other colleague receives the exact gaze you do, soft, patient, kind. It’s your best kept secret. 

You breathe out a sigh at that look, relief washing over you like fresh sunlight. 

“Did you make these? They’re beautiful,” he inspects the card in his hands, and your heart thuds against your ribcage, nerves buzzing once again. His nonchalance is like a tightrope, inching you closer either to safety or certain death. 

“Thank you,” you reply. It’s quiet. You’re afraid that if you raise your voice, your heart will come out of your throat. “I make them all myself.”

You settle on his desk, resting a light hip on it while you watch him intently. He studies you, eyes flitting over your face as he takes in the glitter of your eyeshadow, the soft swipes of gloss on your lips. His own are parted, tongue peeking out in a tantalizing way that sets your heart aflame. 

You raise a brow, asserting an effective upper hand. You watch his brow go soft, and you know you have him. It doesn’t take much for you to convince him. Of anything, really. Since you started working for him, he’s taken actual time off (rarely, but he has), eats dinner at a regular time each night, and manages to get a little more sleep. The team calls it witchcraft, sorcery. You’d call it the sheer force of the desire to keep the man you’re deeply in love with alive and healthy. That’d be too complicated, though, so you bat your lashes and accept their praises. 

“That’s really incredible,” it’s soft, his tone. Gentle and low in a way that’s reserved only for you, for these quiet moments in his office. Whether you’re talking about a case, your weekend plans, or the next set of nails you’re getting, he saves this special cadence just for you. Smooth and velvety, liquid chocolate spilling from his tongue. 

“Thank you,” your eyes glimmer as you shift on his desk ever so slightly. Your hip pops toward him in a way that has him licking his lips. Confidence surges through, you sit up taller. “Will you be there?” You bat your lashes, your prettiest doe eyes on full display. “It would mean everything to have you there.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Hook, line, and sinker. 

“Yay!” You squeal, hopping off his desk. You fix him a cupcake, taking the last one on the tray and placing it delicately on a pink napkin. 

“You’re only allowed to eat this if you’ve had lunch. Have you?” You’re all business again, in the blink of an eye. You poise a sassy hand on your hip, your brow arching. 

“I had a piece of toast and a pickle,” he admits. It’s sheepish, and you roll your eyes. 

“That’s a disgusting combo. Have another piece of toast before you eat that,” you roll your eyes playfully before stalking off. A barely audible ‘yes, ma’am’, follows you out. You pause, smiling to yourself before heading to your desk. 

“You really think he’s gonna show?” Penelope asks, her tongue swirling around her third daiquiri of the evening. You sigh, popping your hands on your hips as you take a step back from your large window, inspecting your decorative work. 

It’s the night before your big party, an event you normally thrive on hosting. Now, though, it’s the cause of the anxiety sparkling inside you, like your heart’s swimming in carbonated water. You adjust the rollers in your hair, the fluffy sleeves of your pink silk robe falling to your elbows as you do so. 

You center yourself for a moment, focusing on the comforting way the delicate fabric frames your body, falling over your tank top and sleep shorts. You wiggle your feet, currently stuffed into pink bunny slippers. Your gaze finds the moon, full and round, you absorb it. You welcome anything that helps you not crush under the debilitating weight of your affections for Aaron Hotchner. 

“I don’t know! He told me he’d be there!” Your voice is antsy, you wring your hands together with a small smile on your face that doesn’t reach your eyes. While Penelope’s brilliant, she’s not a profiler. She’s also drunk. You pray these two things add up in your favor.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw him go out. Not since the divorce, but if he were for anybody, it’d be for you. That much I know,” she pats a supportive hand on your shoulder, though it does nothing to quell the nausea that comes from the d-word. 

You’d been a strong reliant for your boss while he’d finalized his divorce, almost a year ago now. Getting him late night coffees, sitting on the couch in his office while he completed paperwork, bringing in little treats just to make him smile. They always did, everything you did garnered a smile out of him. 

That’s why you were teased in your first week on the job, after you’d questioned the team’s comments about their stoic leader. “He smiles all the time, what are you guys talking about?” Their sarcastic grins and chuckling was the first time you were fully aware that the relationship you had with your boss was…different than the others. The amount of time that’s passed since then, the bond you’ve made with your boss, makes your head spin.

Still, you aimed to be respectful everyday. No matter how many details you knew about his issues with Haley, the stress of taking care of Jack while he was away, you kept a professional distance. You would not cross that line. In the year since he’d taken the ring off, though, it’s been…different. A wall has come down, a layer unshed. You don’t know what to do with it, with him. 

“Hey, does this look good over here?” Emily calls, snapping you out of your Aaron-induced haze. You plaster another smile on your face, though this time it’s not too difficult. You were thankful to merely witness J.J. propping Emily up on a stool so she can pin a pink disco ball in the center of your expansive living room. Relief washes over you, the love for your friends momentarily distracting you from the ache in your chest. 

“Looks great, thanks Em!” you pat her ass playfully, laughing when she squeals. 

“Anything for you, my darling!” She calls after you as you make your way through the living room to the kitchen, grabbing your own glass of the elixir that now has Penelope fully slumped forward on your kitchen island. 

“Pen? You good?” You nudge her slightly, and she jumps at the contact. 

“Oh! Yeah! Yeah, I’m great! Cool as a cucumber!” She adjusts her own pajamas, a buttery yellow silk set that comes with a matching eye mask. 

You laugh, shaking your head as you pour your own drink. “You really think Aaron will come tomorrow?” You ask her, your voice is meek. You hate it, that this is what he does to you. 

“I would be truly shocked if he didn’t, my sweet,” she answers, and though her words are slightly slurred, her tone is serious. You smile. 

“I agree!” Emily calls, walking into the kitchen to refill her own cup. J.J. trails behind her, nodding emphatically. 

“I mean, have you heard anyone else here call him Aaron? Like…ever?” J.J. says. You jokinglya move your head side to side, rattling the thought around your head. They all giggle at your response, and your cheeks heat up. You rest your chin on your shoulder, avoiding eye contact with the giddy group. 

“He’ll show. Don’t even worry about it,” J.J. states, the others nodding in agreement. 

You blow out a sigh, downing the rest of your drink in one swig. 

The bass from the speaker reverberates through your house, the walls nearly shaking from the vibrations. You’re only slightly tipsy, a bit dizzy as you slide open the glass door leading to the patio. Nearly every square inch of the pool is full of people, bodies bobbing around, elbows above water to preserve red solo cups. 

The wind blows through your hair, your eyes falling shut. You try to bask in it, absorb the setting sun as you had with the moon the night before. It’s not working. Aaron still hasn’t shown. Your attempts to not get upset about it are weak, feeble, an embarrassment. You thought fresh air would do you some good, but now, in your tipsy, clouded haze, you scan the crowd of faces. Some of them you know, most of them don’t. Above all else, you still don’t see the one you want. You feel stupid for thinking you would. Your heart splinters, cracks in the foundation breaking the whole. 

You sit on the porch step, your face falling to your hands. What’s wrong with you? Throwing parties is like a love language to you- Gatsby himself would be jealous. It’s not atypical for friends of friends of friends to find themselves in your yard. Tonight, though, you’re upset. Upset that none of them are there for you. Upset that you don’t even matter. Upset that the one person who could fix this feeling hasn’t shown. He isn’t here for you. After everything, everything you have done for him. After he promised. Tears prick the insides of your eyes, and you release a shuddering breath.

“Hey, Party Princess!” You look up to find Penelope, arm in arm with Derek. Both of them look a bit too drunk for their own good. Penelope’s face falls immediately upon seeing your teary gaze, your pouty lips. 

“Oh angel! What’s going on?!” She squeaks, sitting down beside you immediately. She wraps her arms around your shoulders, and you lean into them instinctively. 

“Someone special not here, pretty girl?” Derek asks, crouching down to meet your eye level. The acknowledgement of your situation only makes the tears fall. 

Penelope forces your head parallel to the ground. “Look down! Don’t let the tears streak your makeup!” You release a wet laugh at that, inspiring laughter from Derek and Penelope as well. You can hear the relief in theirs, that Aaron Hotchner hasn’t rendered you incapable of laughter. 

You feel Derek’s hand over the expanse of your shoulder, a warm, comforting grip that soothes you only slightly. Your gaze is still on the concrete, shame creeping up your spine at your emotions. “I’m sorry, guys,” you splutter, tears falling faster now. 

“No! No, don’t apologize,” Penelope squeals, finding a tissue in her bag and handing it to you. “Blot those pretty eyes, hon, and let’s go dance! Don’t spend your birthday crying over some guy!” 

You do as she says, closing your wet eye so your lash meets the tissue, small bits of mascara left as residue. You finally lift your head up, meeting Derek’s gaze. “There she is!” He smiles, “the most beautiful girl in Quantico.”

“Hey!” Penelope smacks his bicep. He laughs, holding a hand there in a show of faux pain. 

“Sorry, one of the two most beautiful women in Quantico,” he responds, walking backwards to the bar. He grabs you a shot of tequila, your favorite, and propositions you. 

“That’s much better,” Penelope smirks, satisfied. She moves from beside you, ready to assemble a lime and some salt. You stop her, a hand to her forearm. “No need.” You throw back the shot, your head tilting all the way back as you down the burning liquid. It singes your throat, and you wiggle your head from side to side as it goes down. 

That same counterfeit smile curls your lips, your eyes just as sad as they were before. “Let’s party!”

Aaron Hotchner  is a piece of shit. He knows this. His ex-wife knows this. Hell, Jack probably knows it, too. But now she knows it, and for some reason, that’s his final straw. He stands at her front porch, suit jacket long abandoned, tie forcefully loosened from hours of hunching over his desk. His hair is messy, thanks to his fingers running through it every 5 minutes. The bags under his eyes have darkened throughout the night, and he can tell from his reflection in the window that he looks like hell. The last place he should be is at a party, let alone this party.

He takes in her expansive house, a gift she inherited from her parents once they moved to Calabassass, she told him once. The front is made of classic white stone, a baby blue trim framing the door and windows. It looks as if it hasn’t been touched in years, only to fine tune and keep it looking pristine. Though, the perfection on the outside provides a direct contrast to what little he can see going on inside. He has a view of the kitchen from where he stands, empty beer cans line the kitchen island, pink streamers and popped balloons litter the floor. 

He sees the outline of someone familiar enter the kitchen. Penelope, if the bouncing blonde hair streaked with hot pink was any indicator. He watches as she stumbles about, a large figure, Derek, holding her up by the elbows as she attempts to make a mixed drink. He hopes it’s not for herself. He then realizes what a creep he must look like, a dark figure standing alone in front of a house that’s not his, staring in the window at a party he failed to attend. He turns, ready to leave, firm in his decision that this was all a big mistake to begin with. 

He stops, though from the opening of the door. He whips his head around, relief and disappointment washing over him to see Emily. He’s not sure what he would’ve done if it had been her opening the door. Fall to his knees, grovel, probably. His cheeks tint a bright red at her knowing, disappointed stare. “You fucked up tonight, Hotchner,” her affirming tone washes over him like he’s been dipped in acid, singeing his skin and finding its way to his guts. He’s nothing but a puddle. 

“Where is she?” He asks. It’s meek, feeble. A tone nobody he’s ever worked with heard him use. Emily raises her brow at that, both in shock and suspicion. 

“The backyard, near the pool. She’s had a lot to drink, though. So be careful. You may not be someone she wants to see right now.” Emily’s pitiful smile only makes him feel worse. He can’t leave now that he’s been spotted, though. It would catapult him from normal amounts of jackass to the jackass Olympics, something he’d never be able to recover from. Not when it comes to her. 

He follows Emily in, the remnants of what seemed like a blowout bash now diluted to a handful of bodies in each room. Most of them are the team, who are shooting him looks of shock and pity as he makes his way through the house. His heart beats through his ears as he slides the glass door open, stepping under the pink balloon arch to find her. 

She’s sitting alone on the edge of the pool, her feet dipping in slightly. He takes her in, giving him a brief moment of selfish reprieve before she sees him, before he has to confront the ways in which he’s broken her heart tonight. A floral pink dress flows around her, the sleeves billowing in the wind. The ruffles of the tiered dress are bunched around her hips as she sits, the hemline raised to prevent wetting the fabric. She’s a vision, the pale moonlight ghosting over her frame like a spotlight made just for her. His heart breaks. All of this, and he’s left her so lonely. He is a piece of shit. 

The creak of the porch step calls her attention, her head swinging around her shoulder to see who’s come to join her. The look on her face as she sees him…it’s too much to put into words, even for a profiler as experienced as Aaron. He watches each emotion cross her face. Her instinctual reaction was relief, her eyes brightening like a lightning flash through his heart. Her brows furrow soon after, discontent clouding her features. Anger is soon to follow, the pink gloss on her lips shining as they curve downward. 

She lands on anger. Stays there as she moves to stand, not caring where the water splashes as she swings her feet out of the pool. She stomps over to him, feet smacking against the pool deck as she barrels into him. The force is light, her drunken state impacting the collision. He still stumbles a bit, catching both her and himself as they tumble. 

“Where were you?!” she spits, the fire in her eyes paralyzing. He’s speechless. “I waited for you! I waited for you all night! You said- you said you’d be there! You promised!” Her voice gets louder with each syllable, her fists colliding into his chest with each breath. She turns, walking toward the water once more. 

He follows slowly, tentative. His hand reaches to her elbow, fingers lightly touching the skin. She turns, smacking his hand away. He flinches at the sudden contact, not expecting such force from her. “No!” She exclaims. Tears prick her eyes now, her hand is shaking as she holds up a finger in his face. Aaron’s heart splinters at the sight, guilt searing his veins like a deadly disease. 

“You don’t get to touch me, you don’t get to act like you’re the victim here. You. Didn’t. Show.” She spits, venom punching every word. He can see the group forming at the door out of his peripheral vision. It’s just the team, thankfully. Though he knows he’s lost this right, he’s relieved random strangers aren’t privy to his colossal fuck up. 

“God, I feel so fucking stupid!” She exclaims, running ten fingers through perfectly tousled hair. “Sitting here in this dress, that I picked out for you, at this party, that I only threw for you!” Her voice cracks on that last word, tears finally spilling over her lash line. 

“Me?” He mumbles. It’s the first word he’s said to her all night. It makes him feel like an idiot. There’s heat in her gaze, a deadly forest fire. But she’s silent. He keeps going. “You threw this party for me?” He sounds dumb. He knows it even before she rolls her eyes. A fantastic idiot, that’s what he is. 

“God, Aaron!” She’s yelling, now. The use of his first name knocks the wind out of him every time. This time, though, with the pain lacing her tone, it hits like a tornado. “For the best fucking profiler in fucking America, you have no clue how to read people!” 

He raises a brow at this, and she yanks at the root of her hair, a loud, desperate, ‘ugh!’ tearing from her lips. “I’m so hurt, Aaron, You hurt me. I’m so angry, and I’m so, so in love with you, that I’ll probably fucking forgive you in the morning.”

The words hit him like a bullet train, slicing him clean in half. His mouth falls open, a small ‘o’ that only serves to make him stupider. She stalks over to the bar on the deep end of the pool, leaning over and grabbing a bottle of vodka from the interior. She takes a long swig, eyes falling closed. Tears fall down her cheeks, streaking her perfectly applied makeup. She stumbles a bit, nearing the edge of the water, and his heart rate picks up. He makes the mistake of reaching for the bottle. It only results in a forceful shove, the bottle falling between the two and shattering on the ground. 

Her fury only intensifies now. Her vindictive gaze could turn him to stone. He looks down at the mess, catching her shoeless feet. He grips her wrist before she can move. Her bare feet, drunken state, and the shards of broken glass are a recipe for disaster. He doesn’t care how big of an asshole he is, how much she might hate him right now, but he can’t risk letting her get hurt even more. He’s expecting her reaction, an immediate instinct to shove him off of her. He can’t even register the impact it has on his already fragile heart, because in her alcohol induced frenzy, her shove knocks them both in the water. 

The splash envelops Aaron like a slap to the face. He opens his eyes immediately, and he doesn’t even register the sting of the chlorine in his eyes. His only mission is to find her, to make sure she’s safe. He sloppily wraps himself around her, bringing them up to the surface. They both gasp upon arrival, breathing as if they’d never get the privilege again. He splays a hand across her back, pushing her toward him until they’re chest-to-chest, until she can’t wriggle out of his grasp. He won’t let her go until she’s safely out of the water.

The frantic rise and fall of her chest against his steadies him. It’s enough to ground him, to help him find his bearings as he spots the ladder leading out of the pool. He feels her relax slightly in his arms as he begins to move, her own wrapping around his neck. He lets out the smallest sigh of relief. She doesn’t completely hate him. With how he acted tonight, he’s surprised he’s even been afforded that much. 

He lets her go first, hands finding her waist and lifting her to the first step. His hands hover around her as she stumbles up the ladder, ready for any possible disaster to strike. He follows quickly, his white dress shirt sticking to his skin in a way that would make him feel exposed around anyone else. He rolls his sleeves up to his shoulders, shaking his hair out like a dog. She flinches when he sprays her, giggling quietly. The sweet, fluttering noise is contagious, Aaron laughs himself before muttering a quiet, “sorry.” 

He watches her face change as she remembers again. Remember why they ended up in the pool,  why she’s mad at him in the first place. Light, joyful eyes darken into a cloudy, stormy gaze. Her eyes are like a bow and arrow aimed right at his heart, ready for the kill. He’s ready to admit defeat, to just lay there and let her skin and eat him alive. He avoids her gaze. Cowardly, he knows. 

“So. Fucking. Unfair.” They’re punctuated by a look of desperation and disdain, desire and destruction. His head shoots up again at that, shame creeping up his spine once more. It settles in his neck, constricts his airflow. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve treated you terribly tonight and-”

He’s cut off by a groan that could spark an earthquake. She pulls at the roots of her wet hair in frustration. “Not that. Well- partially that. It’s fucking unfair that you get to skip my party, break my heart, show up, and then emerge from my pool looking like some sort of Adonis. Un-fucking fair, Aaron Hotchner.”

She moves closer to him with each passing word, to the point where his name is merely a whisper, uttered to him only inches from his own face. He studies her, the water droplets falling down her tear-stained face, the look in her eye, now softened to one of desperate devotion, despite all he’s put her through tonight. She’s breathtaking. Just as she was the day they first met, and everyday since then. An otherworldly beauty that has seemed to captivate him, mind, body, and soul. 

She inches even closer, her fingernails raking up his bare forearms. A shiver unzips his spine, invoking a light chuckle from her. As her lips inch ever so closer to his own, he nearly lets himself get lost in it. When she releases a shaky sigh against his mouth, the potent stench of vodka strongly reminds him that she is in no place for such an activity tonight. He scoops her up, folding her over his shoulder as he turns to get her indoors. 

He ignores her squeals of protest, the splattering of her palms on his back, though he can’t help but imagine this exact scenario in a different light- one where she’s sober, and he’s carrying her through his bedroom door. He opens the glass door with one hand, sliding it the rest of the way with his hip. He thanks his lucky stars that the only people left are Penelope and Derek, who likely stayed in case of any possible drownings. He nods at them, a succinct, ‘we’re good, get out.’

The message is heard clearly, the two of them shuffling out the door, but not before taking multiple glances at their boss, who’s carrying his hammered employee like a sack of potatoes. He’s in for an absolute earful come Monday, he’s sure of it. 

Her room is easy to spot, a bright pink door with her name plastered at the top. He smiles to himself, his heart swelling at the way she revels in her inner child. Sparkly room decor, birthday party invitations, a birthday party in general. He’s almost envious of the way she effortlessly mixes her childish woe with her adult sophistication. Even around the office, she clacks around in whatever heel came out of her rotating closet that morning, all while spouting off fine tuned details of any current or prospective cases. 

These are things he’s lost touch with as he’s aged, that whimsy, the wild eyed gaze she gives to new challenges. He hopes she never lets it go. He hopes she’ll be 80 with bedazzled glasses and  the best hair in the room. Knowing her, he has nothing to worry about in that regard. 

He plops her down on the large couch on the far end of her room, not wanting to douse her bed with chlorine. She needs a good night’s sleep. She whines as she attempts to wiggle out of her party dress, the straps proving to be very stubborn as she maneuvers around the couch. He turns instinctively as she figures it out, her dress bunching around her thighs before she lifts it up over her head. The small sliver of thigh he did see is burned into his brain forever, though. There’s no escaping that. 

“Aaron, I need my pajamas,” her voice is soft, tired. 

Aaron clears his throat awkwardly. “Where are they, honey?”

He practically hears her gleam at his words. He knows she’s basking in his pet name the way she always does, like a cat who got the cream. “Top drawer. I want the silk pink set,” her voice has a certain lilt to it now that nearly has his eyes rolling in the back of his head. Pink silk. He’ll die. He could just die. It would probably be less painful than handling her delicate sleepwear, throwing it behind him without turning around. 

She giggles as she puts it on. “You can look now. I’m all covered.”

He turns, eyes trained on the floor, just in case. He’s truly not prepared for what he sees when he turns around. Her smooth legs are crossed at the ankle, her plush thighs filling out the fabric of her soft pajamas. The top is barely enough fabric to be called such, a thin tank top leaving so little to the imagination, he nearly combusts on the spot. The peaks of her nipples are enough to do him in permanently, to put him in the ground for all eternity. He’d deserve it, too. 

“I can’t move. Need you to get me to bed,” she mumbles, her body falling limp against the couch. He rolls his eyes, moving to scoop her in his arms, bridal style this time. The implication makes him choke on his own spit. 

“Wait!” She exclaims, just as he’s reached the foot of her bed. He stops in his tracks. “Need to get the rest of my makeup off, Aaron. Need the bathroom.” Her head falls against his chest, and he can’t say no. Sighing, he adjusts her in his arms and carries her to the ensuite bathroom. 

He sits her down on the closed toilet, covered in a pink, fuzzy fabric. She wiggles, getting comfortable as her eyes fall shut. 

“The soft, fuzzy washcloth on the counter automatically takes off makeup with water. If you could just wet it, I can get the rest.” She’s truly sleepy now, the alcohol taking her over almost entirely now. 

He won’t make her do all of that work, not after everything he’s put her through tonight. He heeds only part of her request, wetting the washcloth and ringing out the excess water. He crouches in front of her, putting a gentle hand to her jaw as he begins to lightly scrub the remaining bits of makeup off. She sighs, one of content and exhaustion. His heart soars. He thinks he may have to start going back to church just to make up for the grace he’s been granted tonight. 

After he moves through the next two steps- cleanser, then moisturizer, per her instruction- they’re back where they started, at the edge of her bed, her nestled in his arms. He lays her down gently, turning to sleep on her couch downstairs. He’s stopped in his tracks with a single tug to the wrist. His heart stops. 

“Stay,” she mumbles. He’s powerless. He peels off his wet clothes, making peace with sleeping in damp underwear, before she mumbles something more. “There’s extra sweatpants in the room to the right. Take them.” He has no choice but to listen. 

You wake with a pounding head, the morning light filtering in like a knife designed to split you in two. You groan, rubbing your eyes to adjust to the sober reality you’ve been thrust back into. You’re caught off guard when you roll into an absolute brick wall of a man, panic rising in your throat before you realise who it is. The only positive is that he’s familiar, that you know it’s not some random guy you hooked up with and let stay the night. On the other side of that coin, you’re waking up next to your boss, the day after you confessed your love for him. 

The arrival of that memory triggers the rest, and they flood in like a broken dam. Your tears, the vodka, the broken glass, the pool, the way his pecs looked in his white shirt, soaked to the bone and clinging to his chest. 

You shake off the thought, though the motion only wakes Aaron. You curse lightly under your breath. It takes everything in you not to crumble at the raspy groan Aaron lets out, seemingly just as surprised to be waking up in a foreign environment. His eyes widen when they find you, pure shock lacing his features before he slowly pieces together the events of the night before. A small smile curves your lips. “Good morning, party pooper.”

Aaron at least has enough gentlemanly instinct to make breakfast. He’s quick to tie your pink apron around his waist, cracking eggs and frying bacon with ease. You perch on one of the stools at your kitchen island, still littered with beer cans and empty solo cups. You sip your coffee as you watch him. You hate how gorgeous he is, how he has the right to look like that even when you’re mad at him. 

Sweatpants hang low on his hips, the lack of a shirt tantalizing. Your eyes zone in on the slivers of skin afforded beyond the apron. You squeeze your thighs together at the hair on his tummy, the hair that trails lower, and lower…

You jump as he puts a plate in front of you, not expecting for him to be done so soon. “Oh!” You squeal, the sound muffled slightly by your coffee mug. You’re using the glass dish as a crutch now, holding it in front of your face like a shield. You know he can tell exactly what you’re doing, and why you’re doing it, but it doesn’t stop you. He should know how you’re feeling right now, with him in front of you, looking even more delectable than the fresh, sizzling bacon. But he’s still the same man that broke your heart merely hours ago. 

He plates himself before nodding his head towards the semi-clean kitchen table. “Let’s eat there, so that way we’re not talking over pyramids of Sam Adams.”

You smile softly at this, swinging your legs around to hop off the stool. He takes your plate before you can, sitting it at the head of the table. You sit, and take a bite. It takes everything in you not to moan. If it weren’t for last night, maybe you would’ve. You sit in silence for a moment, soft chewing and forks clinking against plates the only noise. The only noise, at least, until Aaron looks directly at you. 

“I’m so sorry. I know that there’s not enough apologies in the world to make up for how I’ve treated you. I just- I couldn’t…” his voice trails off. The hairs on the back of your neck stand. 

“Couldn’t what?” It’s quiet as it leaves your lips, hanging between you two like a ticking time bomb. His eyes flit to the table, his hands clasped together in what looks like silent, desperate, prayer. 

“I couldn’t face rejection again,” he states, plainly. The wheels start turning in your head. Moving, but still unsure of the destination. “You saw so many details of my divorce, the ugly ins and outs. I couldn’t even fathom the thought that you’d be- that you would have any sort of feeling towards me. That you would love me in the way that I love you. Now that I know what I know…”

You’re there. You’ve reached your destination, and you can’t help but collapse your head into your hands and laugh at the stupidity of it all. His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline at the noise you emit, but it’s all worth it at the smile that appears on his own face, cheeks bunching up around his eyes. It makes your heart swell. 

“So, you’re telling me…you didn’t come to my party because you were afraid I’d reject your feelings, and I spent the entire night drinking and crying on rotation because I thought you were rejecting me…” You spell it out, wild hand motions matching the absurdity of the situation. 

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” He smiles, and heat rises to your cheeks. A silence settles over you then, the gravity of what this means hitting the both of you like a truck. “I’m so, so sorry I hurt you. I never meant to, though I know that sounds redundant because of my actions.”

You let out an incredulous chuckle at that, a huff of air conveying multiple emotions at once. “Aaron…I need to know that you won’t just run when things get hard. I know that you and Haley had something…else. I don’t want to be a repeat of that in your healing journey, or get in the way of your duties with Jack, or-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothes, a warm hand grazing your forearm over the table. “You’re not just a part of my healing journey. I learned a lot when Haley left me. You saw it. You held a heavy hand in that change. You gave me something to strive for, a glimmer after I’d thought I messed everything up. And instead of treating you the way I know you deserve, I ran right back to my old patterns. I can’t explain how sorry I am. How can I make it up to you?”

You raise a tentative brow. “The self awareness is a good sign, Aaron, but I need you to know that I’m a one and done kind of girl. Typically a none and done kind of girl. I’m making a very special exception here, sir.” He nods at this, eyes boring into yours. “You’re not going to keep me if you keep your old patterns. It’s one or the other, and you can make it up to me by making that decision. Do you think you’re ready for that?”

He nods emphatically, fingers lacing between yours across the table. You sigh, a true, genuine smile on your face for the first time since before last night. You finish your breakfast in a content silence before dragging him back up to your room. 

“It’s one of the only spots in the house not littered with alcohol!” You’d told him, your reasoning quite sound in your eyes. Aaron rolls his, though a smile persists anyway. 

You fall onto your mattress, lifting your arms up for Aaron to join you. He lays beside you, your finger grazing along the waistline of his sweatpants. You revel in the way he shivers at the contact. He makes himself comfortable and you sling a leg across his hips, neck craning up to look in his eyes. A tense silence falls over you two then, thick and wanting. He tests the waters, slowly inching his face closer to yours. You bridge the gap, greedily smashing his lips to yours. 

He kisses you like a man starved, his arms curling around your back as he tries to consume as much of you as possible. You break from the kiss, only for him to pepper multiple tiny ones on your lips, his own drifting to your chin, your jaw, your neck. You turn on your side so your chest to chest with him, the feeling of your tits pressed up against his was enough to make your head spin. His rigid body relaxes in your arms as his lips find yours again. 

You clutch at his shoulders, a small whimper fleeing your lips in between greedy kisses. “You’re so beautiful, y’know that? Drive me fucking crazy,” he mutters, hands finding the soft skin under your sleep tank. “Yeah?” you coo, and he groans. 

“Yeah,” he nearly moans, and you clench your thighs together. His ravenous hands frantically search for every spare part of your body they can find. “Walking around the office in those skirts, those cute fucking heels,” he punctuates his statement with more kisses. Your head is spinning. 

“I’m glad you like them, I pick them out just to drive you crazy,” you joke, and revel in the way his eyes roll back in his head. You rock against his hard length, and he shudders. 

“I need you. Now.”

Aaron lays still under the covers, fingertips raking up and down her back as if she’s made of porcelain. He releases a shaky breath, lips pressing to the top of her head. She’s drifting in and out of sleep, and the selfish part of him wants her awake, to be there with him, to kiss him some more. The nurturing part of him knows that she needs the sleep, that her hangover likely isn’t helping in her fight to stay conscious. 

“I can hear you thinking, y’know?” she murmurs, her words smushed in his chest. He laughs, a small, breathy sound escaping his lips. 

“Yeah?” He inquires, voice coated thick with love. “Just thinking about you. About what you need to feel better,” he exaggerates this point by rubbing thick fingers along her scalp. She shudders in response. 

“Think I need to sleep,” she mumbles, her lids half shut. 

“I think you do, too,” he answers, his never ending smile still on his face. “But I want to be with youuuu,” she drags out the last word, her lips pouty. He kisses them eagerly. She responds with the same fervor, her arms slinking around his neck. 

He can feel himself stir again, his now naked frame hiding nothing from the woman in his arms. 

“I think you want the same thing,” she says, suggestively. Her eyebrows wiggle as her fingers slide dangerously low. Against his body’s wishes, he grips her wrist gently. She pouts again. He kisses her again. He’ll never get tired of it. 

“Boo!” She pouts, and it’s so adorable he almost pulls her on his lap to finish what they started. 

“You need sleep, honey. I’m going to clean up downstairs, you let me know if you need anything, okay?” She nods as he slides out of bed. He jumps when she swats his ass. 

“Hey!” He exclaims, but she just smiles, resting her head on her propped hand. 

“What? Like it’s my fault you have a cute butt!” She shrugs. He shakes his head, cheeks flushing as he moves to put on his now-dry clothes from last night. 

“Sleep,” He orders. She wiggles her brows in challenge. 

It takes all his will power to leave her there, naked and wanting. It’s for the best right now, for both of them. Her lids have returned to their half closed state, and he ghosts another kiss over her lips before he goes. 

“I love you,” she whispers against his mouth.

“I love you, too. Get some rest.”

“As long as you’re here when I wake up,” she mutters, nestling into her pillow. 

After last night, he couldn’t dream of being anywhere else.

[teaboot]

Hi! Do you use spray bottles for your cat? Mine misbehaves A LOT, but I'm really scared to discipline him, as I don't want him to lose trust with me.

Do you have any tips?

I do, but I’ve only had to use it a handful of times.

The first time, he was playing too rough, and I did all my usual signals to stop- made “ow” noises, disengaged, walked away, and repeatedly said “no, ouch” out loud. When he followed me and bit my foot, I grabbed the bottle and pointed it to him where he could see it and said “no” again in a low tone. When he bit me again, I sprayed him with a small amount of clean water.

For a little while, he wouldn’t go anywhere near the bottle. Then he’d inspect it, but run away if I touched it. Now I can carry it around, but if I say “no” to something, he usually listens.

He’s MUCH more reward-motivated though, so we’ve been working on command words instead- As of last night, he is now consistently responding to “down”, though I haven’t tried it while he’s worked up yet, so I don’t know how effective it will be next time he gets too rambunctious for me.

I think it helps that I talk to him a lot, and repeatedly use simple words with distinct sounds that he can differentiate.

When he’s too close to something that could hurt him, I say “Danger” or “hot” or “hot, danger”- “Danger” is for an AREA that could hurt him that he should stay away from, and “Hot” is for an OBJECT. He likes to ignore these sometimes but it still slows him down so I can grab him.

When he’s purring or cuddling or listened very well, and when he’s eating dinner, I tell him “Good boy”, “Good”, “Good Ollie”, and “I love you”. I want these words to be positive associations I can bring up later when he’s distressed.

Command words he consistently responds to right now are “Come”, “Up”, “Down”, “Dinner”, “Paw”, and “Button”. (“Button” is the word I use to direct him to his “talking” button- they say words he understands so he can say them back to me, but the only one he knows right now is the “treat” request.)

I’ve never really trained an animal before but it’s been really fascinating learning how he thinks and communicates! It’s a lot of subtle body language that I wasn’t expecting, but it’s really rewarding when I’m cooking in the kitchen or whatever and hear a noise or gesture I know, and understand that I’m about to have a Boy land on my shoulder or use my arm as a bridge.

He’s honestly such a clever little man!

I wish I’d spent more time listening to my other cats when I had them. It makes me seriously wonder if I’d have understood them just as well or if Ollie is just somewhat uniquely skilled.

I don’t know your cat and I’ve never had an education in animal training myself, but I’d see if you and your cat can find compromises! I can’t stop Ollie from biting entirely, but I can recognize boredom now, and ask him to be gentle when he chews my fingers, and while he LOVES crawling around my fridge he knows now that he only gets á treat when he doesn’t, and when I clean it out he can play a little in it when it’s empty!

[miaoua3]

hi 👋 I don’t know if you’re accepting requests still but if you are, can you write something with s.coups and him talking to you after the show about the in ear delay that just happened at their show recently? Like how he was pissed and had to wrangle the boys back to the main stage?

hii! ofc i can! this is right up my alley because i LOVE it when coups gets all angry😖😩😫💦👅

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

(pairing: bf!scoups x gn!reader)

you just sit on the little couch that is propped against the wall of the changing room, following your boyfriend as he frustratedly walks left and right across the room, listening intently as he’s angrily ranting about the situation.

the whole scene that happened on the stage tonight shocked you, for several reasons.

one-the fact that it happened at all was shocking. the staff usually pay more attention to things like this, trying their hardest to prevent them from happening. but apparently, there have been some new people on the team, newly hired, but after the problem that occurred today, you can imagine that they’re going to be newly fired quickly as well.

two-the way your boyfriend, but also the team as a whole, handled it. you could see cheol angrily communicating with the staff behind the stage, his mouth and sharp hand movements making it clear that he was pissed. but luckily, they have been trained to be nothing but professionals, nothing but perfect, and they handled it as such. sure, their singing was a bit off tempo but honestly, they still sounded great, despite everything.

and now, here we are. the concert is over, and so is this situation.

that doesn’t mean that cheol didn’t give the staff a good earful about it, borderline yelling at them. but before he could get so far, you firmly pushed him back and sent him to change, apologising for your boyfriend’s (understandable) outburst.

cheol angrily takes his jacket off and throws it harshly on the chair, all while angrily ranting.

“fucking incompetent idiots, you spend so much of your parents’ money on the school so you could get this job, only for you to be too stupid to do it, the job that you literally got your education for. how fucking hard is it to keep your fucking eyes on that fucking sound board and keep control over it? who keeps on giving such fucking people jobs? a five year old could do a better job than them-“

if you think this is much, you should’ve heard the start of his rant…that started almost 20 minutes ago.

you watch him silently, completely content to let him get it out of his system.

but then he tries getting his necklace off, sighing angrily as it refuses to cooperate with him. you can see that if the necklace doesn’t get off his neck in the next 10 seconds, that he’s going to absolutely lose it.

which is why you silently get up and walk over to him. your hands gently push his away, taking over the task as you watch his face immediately relax (only slightly though) at your touch.

his eyes are purely black, pupils blown out due to the range of the emotions that he is experiencing at the moment.

you finally get the necklace to open, gently putting it on the little table behind you, before turning back towards him.

your touch is as soft as a feather as you take your hands and envelope his soft and slightly reddish cheeks with them.

cheol immediately deflates at this, closing his eyes as he sighs, all the frustration leaving his body.

cheol always wondered if maybe your touch had some magic to it, because it always managed to make him feel better immediately.

thumbs softly rubbing his soft skin, you gently ask him “how can i make it better?”

your boyfriend’s face transform into something between despair and sadness. with a quiet voice, he peeps “you already are making it better.”

for a few minutes, you two just stand there, enjoying each other’s presence.

but then cheol shuffles cutely a bit towards you before he hugs your waist and pushes his face into the crook of your neck, making your hands fall from his cheeks and instead wrap themselves around his upper back.

his quiet voice brokenly says “just…hold me. please.”

he doesn’t have to tell you twice.

for him, there isn’t the corner of this earth that you wouldn’t go to.

for him, there isn’t anything you wouldn’t do.

for him, you would try to make it all feel better.

[nadvs]

hii i love LOVE love power play! can i ask a blurb where rafe's pissy again so he's a bit hostile to reader but this time she doesn't take his shit? she's kind but this time she wants to reiterate that he can vent but she's not a punching bag

thank you!! ong the man has zero emotional regulation skills 😭 most of the time, she doesn’t take it personally and just makes a joke about him being a brat, but when he crosses a line, she doesn’t play around. blurb set in the power play au.

Rafe presses down on the horn yet again, earning another sigh from you.

This is not how today was supposed to go. He’s already been in the car for three hours just to get to you, and five minutes after picking you up, you hit standstill traffic on the freeway on the way to a place you said is your favorite spot for lunch.

This is the second time he’s seeing you this summer, only a few months of officially dating behind you.

You’d greeted each other affectionately, but his mood turned sour the moment you hit traffic. He honks again, glaring at the bumper of the car ahead of you.

“I don’t think that does anything,” you say lightheartedly.

“How is nobody moving?” he mutters.

“I’ll check when it’s supposed to ease up,” you offer, picking up your phone to open a traffic map. “Yikes. We have two exits to go.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Rafe groans. He wants the purge the stress he’s been under. This is only making it worse.

“Is that all you’ve had today?” you ask, pointing to the empty shaker bottle in the cupholder.

He nods tersely and you decide against making a joke about him being hangry.

He rakes a hand through his hair. He tried hard today. He wanted to look good for you, but his clothes are damp and wrinkled against his skin, and when he looks in the rearview mirror, he can see the fatigue in his eyes.

You clasp your hands together, determined to bring up the mood.

“How was the gym this morning?” you ask. Now that he’s fully healed from his injury, he’s just gotten back into training.

“I’m not even close to hitting what I used to,” he answers, disappointment laced in his tone.

You wince. That wasn’t the right question. He takes his conditioning seriously, and you obviously just reminded him of how much work he has ahead of him.

“We could work out together one day,” you say.

“Sure,” he scoffs, already grown to despise the distance between you. “When?”

You suck your teeth, your patience starting to wear thin at his harsh tone.

“Whenever you’re in a better mood,” you mumble under your breath.

Rafe shakes his head to himself. The last thing he needs is your judgement.

“I’ve been driving for so goddamn long,” he mutters.

“I know,” you empathize, “but we’re finally together again and we’ll be eating lunch soon and we don’t have to be miserable the whole ride there.”

“You think I want to be miserable?” he says with a sarcastic scoff.

“I didn’t say that.”

Rafe bites his tongue from muttering that you’re saying a lot. He only stares forward, trying to remind himself of how shitty he feels when he loses it on you.

You smooth down your pants, the silence biting at you.

“So, we should just not talk until we get there?” you ask. He shrugs in response.

You scowl. Frustration bubbles up inside you. You know your boyfriend well, familiar with how anger is his fallback, and you usually can take it in stride.

But this is too much. It hurts that he’d rather give into his temper than just enjoy being with you.

“You’re being mean,” you say quietly.

“I’m just tired,” he mutters.

“How do you think it makes me feel when you’re like this, especially after we haven’t each other in so long?” you say. “I thought you…”

You trail off into silence, trying to cool yourself down.

“Thought I what?” he mutters.

You swallow hard. You knew going into this relationship that even though you typically think on the bright side, you hold a pessimism about romance that you can’t shake. It rears its ugly head any time you feel like Rafe doesn’t care as much as he says he does.

“I thought you missed me,” you reply.

Rafe grips the steering wheel and says, “I do.”

“So, why make me your punching bag?”

His brows pull together, irritation pricking at him.

“That’s how you feel?”

“Sometimes, yeah,” you reply, on edge.

Rafe’s heart twists in his chest. Underneath the frustration, it hurts that you don’t see that he’s making an effort.

“I try to be better about it,” he says. “I’m always trying.”

You look out the window as he eases on the break, following the slow moving traffic.

“It’s not fair that I have to do this for you every time,” you mumble.

“Do what?”

“Tiptoe around you and talk you through your own emotions,” you say. “Is it that hard to say, I’m tired and hungry and none of that is your fault and I’m sorry I’m taking my bad mood out on you?”

Rafe meets your eyes, guilt seeping into him, cutting overwhelmingly worse than his anger is.

“I am sorry,” he says.

It cracks through your frustration. You have a weak spot for him, you always have, and you can tell by how quick he always is to apologize that he has one for you, too.

“And?” you say.

“I don’t think any of this is on you,” Rafe says. “I just want us to have a good day, alright? You deserve a nice date. Not this.”

You not, a soft smile on your face. He can be rigid and grumpy, but this is why he stole your heart; the softness underneath, the pressure he puts on himself to be lovable, the way that even when he’s annoyed, you can tell that he treasures you.

“Okay,” you say. “We can listen to some music to pass the time.”

“I want to listen to you.”

“You listen to me every night on the phone,” you remind him.

“And?” Rafe replies, echoing your tone.

You roll your eyes and chuckle. He puts his warm, heavy hand on your thigh, making your skin tingle with endearment.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says. “I know I got shit I gotta work on, okay?”

“Yeah,” you reply.

You put your hand on top of his, hope blooming in your chest, louder than the doubt.

[shiningmystic]

What are People/'s first Impressions of you?

Pick a Flower 🌺

This reading is about strangers specifically but if you do have someone in mind you can try using this reading as well. I don't guarantee you all resonating with these piles because they are first impressions but go ahead see whats there.

I would like to apologize for how long this took. I tried to do something new and it just didn't work out so here is me throwing together a graphic of some flowers. If your interested in private readings they are always open :) hope this helps out whoever.

{{ KO-FI | Shmfeedback | About Me }}

Pile 1: 4 of cups, page of swords, 5 of wands, 10 of wands, justice, judgement (rx)

Your first impressions from strangers pile one is that you are aloof and distant. I see some of you have a resting bitch face, or just a stoic look when you are at rest and not thinking of much. People I think get the impression that you have a lot going on or a lot on your mind. Usually pile one I see people see what you put out meaning if you are happy one day then strangers first impression of you being a happy individual. You seem to be readable and likable in that way but you may not be aware of this trait you have.

I see a lot of first impressions of you being that you must be a hard worker and possibly someone who is not afraid to verbally speak their mind. This does not have to actually reflect who you are but this is what people assume from first impression. From the back of the deck energy I can see you actually being a softy and a lovey dreamer who likes day dreaming or worrying about others and well being.

Just be aware pile one that your mood can either make you shine or darken. wow that is some powerful stuff and can be used to your advantage.

Pile 2: Queen of pentacles, Queen of wands (rx), 9 of cups (rx), 10 of swords (rx), The hanged man, page of cups

For you my pile two, I see a mix of people here. Some strangers see you as reserved yet also intimidating person but remember, those are just first impressions. You hold this respectable energy like you command respect in some way even unintentionally, you hold some regal energy. I see that others see you as patient but I see some people dislike something about you physically which is why you are intimidating. Some people are intimidated by your beauty or even your eyes, they feel like you can see right through them.

Some people will be stuck on how you look and act being misaligned, like for example you wear bold colors but you don’t talk much. I see some of you are admired with the way you hold yourself which would make sense with this regal feeling. Something min the way that you stand or sit people just turn to you. Even with this misalignment some people’s first impressions of you are very pleasant and see you as a surprising yet fun person. You hold many layers to you, hold that uniqueness close.

Pile 3: knight of pentacles (rx), 3 of pentacles (rx), 9 of pentacles, 8 of pentacles, 4 of swords (rx), strength (rx)

People first impressions of you pile 3 are that you are an independent attractive individual who knows what they like. People see you as a leader in some ways and a hard worker in others. I see with this independent energy you give off and self reliant attitude people may feel like you don’t need them or their help. It’s weird how I see that it is the opposite, that you desire help but people assume with how you present yourself that you’re fine.

I can see that see that you are tired and closer friends catch you worrying about things often. I see anxiety and hyper activity in this pile. Image isn’t everything and that being able to be open for help is another. It’s OK to not feel confident sometimes and you will find the right people who will see past your resilience, strong persona and help you out anyway. Overall for you my sweet pile 3, the first impression you give most people is that you are reliant, confident, and down to earth.

Pile 4: Ace of cups (rx), page of wands, the devil (rx), nine of swords (rx), the magician, seven of swords

For the people who pick pile four wow I see complete opposite impressions and that’s pretty funny. I get the phrase “hot and cold” so maybe with strangers you don’t give much of an expression so people feel like you are a bit cold on first impression but you are usually seen as someone excitable and free. I can see creativity, maturity and child like wonder. I can see some people are attracted to you and enjoy when you are happy, you are infectious.

On the other end some impressions from strangers and others around you are interesting. People find you attractive but you also give them heart breaker vibes like you are just totally unavailable and you having all this power over every relationships intentionally or unintentionally that causes different reactions. Some just get repelled and leave, others are a slave to it and want to impress you in some way. You give people a wake up call as well with your bluntness, you have a lot of power over how you can come off to others, use this to your advantage!

Pile 5: The Hermit, five of cups, Ace of wands (rx), the world (rx), the devil (rx), seven of swords

For you who pick pile five I see peoples first impressions of you are that you are anxious, reserved, shy and constantly in and energy of containment, like people can feel you hold back sometimes on opinions or expressions; you are a reserved individual. For others you always have a calm face that makes them a bit uneasy unlike pile 1 where people felt like they could come off as intimidating, you guys are nervous and anxious.

I get that a lot of people find you “cute”, I see soft features in my minds eye (for a short explanation of what a minds eye is, it is the space in my brain where I can day dream and imagine) yet I also feel people just find you to be a mystery, a curious puzzle of sorts. You don’t give enough for people to really make a judgment so there are a lot of assumptions here. You do not show yourself to the world enough so the world projects their own egos and insecurities onto you so all these impressions may be wrong. I can see a beautiful person beneath the mystery ❤️

Pile 6: eight of swords, The devil, The world, knight of cups (rx), the fool (rx), The hierophant (rx)

For you my pile 6 I see you guys being goth, dark cloths, punk aesthetics or something even on the other end of the spectrum, colorful, fun unique. This is the pile that is judged by people on who they are and the way they look even if it’s only by their skin color, race or ethnicity, your presence seems to be extremely loud where ever you live or lived. People feel as though they have the right to judge you because your so outwardly you. On the other hand other people admire you for who you are and are curious about you on first impressions.

People’s first impressions are not to trust you, that you are a rebel of some type and someone who goes against the grain. These judgments are just peoples ignorance and the person you are is needed in the universe and space because everyone belongs here. Many people seem to see you on the surface but the gem you hold exists and the people closest to you will always cherish your love and beauty.

Pile 7: two of wands, five of cups, Death (rx), King of swords, Queen of pentacles, two of swords

For you my pile 7 I see people’s first impressions are usually pretty positive. You give off this energetic vibe, someone who is excited and ready for life but I see this contrasting energy where you are also softer and more down to earth. The death card reversed gives me someone who holds a lot of power over certain individuals and with the king of swords this also reaffirms peoples inferiority towards you which it’s kinda shocking. You might be a manager or boss, someone who takes on a lot and it impresses many.

You come off as sharp and know what you are talking about but you also hold a mystery and sarcasm; witty intelligent energy. Some people just can’t put their finger on you and they don’t know why, people’s first impressions are pretty straight forward. Many feel you are a little sad or bitter while others are turned off by your natural authority but that's what happens when your energy makes a statement, people will either love or hate it but it’s there and you make things work.

[ribbitrabbot]

speculations

pairing : frank langdon x fem!resident

plot : you and frank have been friends for a long time , so much so that there’s always been a fleet of rumors circling you two . the rumors have never been without reason ; there’s always been sort of a shy tension between the two of you , but you’d never acted on it on the basis that dating between friends and coworkers has always been complicated . but a bad day at work seems to be enough for the both of you to finally acknowledge it .

warnings : uhh none that i can think of , just a bit of a spat with robby . just a bunch of sweet stuff , some fluff and comfort :3

a/n : frank’s not married in this ( idk if this is obvious or not , i’m just saying ) . this is my first x reader in a fat minute , i hope y’all like it !!

word count : 4.4k

“Besides,” You continue, braving the hot slice of pizza enough to gingerly pick it up, “If there’s any ‘next time’, Robby’s gonna kick my ass all the way around the block.” 

“No, he’s not.” Frank picks his own slice from the box, and you do little to hide your somewhat judgemental facial expression as he takes a bite from it, ice-cold. “You’re clearly the favorite. Unless you, I don’t know, kill someone, he’ll always let you off easy.” 

“Easy for you to say, you weren’t in here.” 

“Did he do the face?” 

“What face?” 

“You know, the face. The face he does so you know he’s really disappointed in you.” 

“Frank, I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” 

“Like this.” He says, dropping his piece down and then doing his best arms - crossed, head tilt, eyebrow raise Robby — an imitation that looks so stupid on Frank that you can’t help but laugh. You have to hand it to him, though. It’s a pretty accurate disappointed depiction.

The thing about hindsight is, is that it’s usually even more of a bitch than karma. Most people use hindsight to refer to obvious things — in hindsight, I wouldn’t have drunk that much, or in hindsight I wouldn’t have given that creep my number. Your hindsight was mostly about how much you should have listened to your gut screaming at you to call in sick this morning when you rolled out of bed and how stupid you were to ignore the dragging feeling on nights where you’d only gotten a couple hours of sleep. There was no reason for you to feel as crummy as you did; you’d worked in the pit long enough to at least try and shake the feelings away at the end of your shift, shower, eat whatever was left in your refrigerator, and turn on some show you’d already seen three times over. Maybe it wasn’t really healing, but it was enough to get by.

The adrenaline would fix you, anyway, it always did. Or at the very least you were hoping so. Maybe that was the real reason you’d picked emergency medicine as a specialty, besides the usual reasons of helping people, because you were half addicted to the rush of it all. But you were three hours into your shift, and not even the narrow rescue of four victims in a vehicle collision or being included in Perlah and Princess’ gossip had done much to raise your spirits. It must have been written all over your face, too, because it wasn’t just the interns who were tiptoeing around you like you were surrounded by eggshells.

“Mister Grant,” You sighed now, the very last your beside patience being damn near worn to a fray, “You need to understand how much this surgery could help Phoebe. Quite frankly, the longer we wait, the worse it could be for her.”

“But she doesn’t need the surgery right at this second. We can see if she gets any better.” The man insists. You can see the worry in his dark eyes, the entirety of his features aged by concern for his teenage daughter that had been brought in unresponsive by her friend. Any other day, you would feel more sympathetic for him; you would hold his hand and explain in painstaking detail why this procedure could be lifesaving. No parent wanted their child to be cut open needlessly, you can understand that, but today all his stubbornness does is grate on nerves you weren’t even aware of.

“I understand how upsetting this must be for you —“ You begin, a sentence from the nonexistent but universally known manual of Bedside 101, but his sudden anger cuts you off, his eyes flashing with accusation.

“Don’t give me that. All you doctors, it’s the same thing. You understand, you aren’t trying to upset me. You don’t understand. How could you possibly understand, you’re all trying to cut up my kid! Do you have a kid, Doctor? Can you honestly look me in the fucking eyes and say you understand? Fuck you.”

Your jaw ticks. You can see the emotion there, the fear, the need to find someone to lash out at. To blame. Everything in you is screaming to give him the benefit of the doubt, to chalk it up to a parent who sees tubes and wires sticking out of their whole world and immediately jumps to the worst possible conclusion. It’s not altogether an irrational reaction. Hell, if you were in his shoes, maybe you’d react the same way.

And then there’s the small voice within you that just manages to convince you that he’s an asshole. You shouldn’t listen to it. You shouldn’t. Had you been in a cartoon, it would have been the little devil whispering in your ear.

“Fine.” You say, with a sort of edged coolness that parents normally have when their children say something just a step too far. Your smile is tight lipped, and you wonder if your eyes flash with the barely restrained anger that you feel jumbling up inside of you. “Fine. I can tell that you, Mister Grant, clearly know more than me. It’s not like I’ve seen a dozen of these cases before. Hey, I’ve been to medical school, but you’re right. What do I know? I don’t have any kids.” You shrug sarcastically, then turn towards Donnie, who looked as though he was trying to walk past unnoticed. In fact, it looked like the entire radius in which you were speaking to Mr. Grant had suddenly turned into a danger zone. “Donnie, can you get Mister Grant any medical records he may need for Phoebe? And let O.R know — “

“Doctor L/n, can I consult with you?” The voice behind you stops your locomotive of orders dead. You turn just enough to acknowledge Robby, whose normally playful brown eyes have hardened to a coolness reserved for cocky interns and hardass superiors. But you’re surprised by the spike of annoyance that greets you, instead of any sort of remorse. The last thing you need is a chew - out from Robby, but there’s no avoiding it.

“Yeah. Fine.” You say curtly.

“Mister Grant, I’ll be back with you in a second, okay?” With a quick sentence, Robby confirms the trouble you’re in. ‘I’ll’, not your name or even we. He barely casts you a glance before turning on his heel, Mr. Grant still too stunned to even give a real reply. You pinch the bridge of your nose, tilting your head at the ground before sighing and following him.

You know the way to the break room, and even the looks that you’re getting as you follow Robby, even though you’re usually on the other side of them. The both of you are lucky it’s empty, and Robby almost slams the door behind him as he follows you in. You watch, biting the inside of your cheek as he tiredly rubs his face; you lean against the counter.

“Wanna tell me what the hell’s going on with you?” He asks, crossing his arms as he looks at you, head tilting.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve had a stick up your ass all day, so if I need to schedule OR to take it out, let me know.” Had he not been snippy, it would have been a better joke. Instead it makes you clench your teeth.

“I’m just tired.” It’s an excuse you’ve used a million times. Robby smiles and shakes his head.

“Oh, bullshit.” He’s right. You both know it. “You’re not the ‘just tired’ type, Y/n. You’re tired, take a walk. But you cannot talk to your patients like that.”

“Come on, Robby, you saw how that guy was acting. He was a fucking asshole!”

“It doesn’t matter, Y/n!” The laughter in his voice is stressed, dangerous. “You’re smarter than this. You’re tired, you’re stressed, take a walk, eat, do whatever you need to do. But you don’t lose your shit. Got it? Can you do that?”

You know it’s not personal. You know Robby has a thousand different things on his plate, that your temper is just another thing for him to worry about. That this is him keeping his own temper towards you — but it doesn’t make you feel any better. You want to feel angry at him, to only wallow in the hollowness that has haunted you since the day’s start. It makes his tone feel more patronizing than it normally would.

“Gee, I don’t know, that’s really hard, but I think I can handle it.” You sneer, your voice dripping with sarcasm. Robby looks at you, and for a moment you feel sorry. But before you can admit it, he gives a short sigh.

“Take a minute.” He’s out of the room before you can say anything else. Half of you wants to defy him, to stride out of the room and get back to work to prove a point. You don’t need Robby to put you in timeout, to punish you for acting the same way anyone would with the difficult Mr. Grant. Instead, you stare at the door he closed behind him, hands wandering up and pressing to your eyes after a long moment. The other half of you doesn’t care enough to prove a point. That half of you knows that it’s a losing fight, that if you go out there as hotheaded as you are right now, that it’s less a get back at Robby and more making everyone around you tense without reason. Maybe that would slide in any other sort of job, but the pit needed to work like a machine. No one could afford to be worrying about their coworkers when they already had worry enough with the patients that constantly came pouring into the door.

You’re just about to open the refrigerator to see what forgotten food you could raid when a knock snags your attention. You can’t place whether or not you hope it’s Robby or you hope it’s not, either way you scarcely bother to glance at the door before you call out.

“What?”

The door opens, but only some.

“Safe to come in?”

You’re unprepared for how welcome the familiar voice is, and it suddenly comes with a realization that you hadn’t heard it much at all today. You don’t bother to look behind you, but you answer.

“Whatever.”

Frank takes it as a yes. He closes the door gently behind him, then creeps up to look over your shoulder at the shelves of the refrigerator.

“Pizza’s probably your best bet. Unless you want to take your chance with yogurt that is either the same flavor or the same carton that was here in January.”

God, he’s so fucking annoying.

He’s close enough that his voice buzzes in your ear. Had anyone else done this, there was a very real possibility that you would have flipped your shit — someone with a lack of personal space would be a cherry on top of the shit show the last few minutes had already been. Instead, you try not to roll your eyes and slap your hand on top of the cardboard box.

“Move.” You order, and you can feel him back off from behind you. When you finally turn to face him, he’s already looking at you. His hands are tugging mindlessly at the stethoscope around his neck — you’d noticed a long time ago that he usually needed to be doing something with his hands. To ask him to sit still and do nothing for five minutes was as good as medieval torture. It was endearing most of the time, although a bouncing leg or a mindless tapping of his pen could get annoying. You don’t indulge him, instead you pull out a chair from the table and slap the cardboard box down.

Although you’re not in the most talkative of moods, you’re glad that he’s here. Truth be told, he was probably the only one you could handle being around at the moment.

You’d met him when you’d first started your residency at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical, not too long ago although it now felt like a lifetime. He’d been even cockier then, if that was even possible — a scrappy, difficult, smartass who had to learn things the rough way before he developed a begrudging admiration for Robby, which would later turn into a mutual bond. In those days, you remembered fondly, he often had unshaven stubble and a shadow under his eyes; those who didn’t know any better would think him a med student for all the time he spent here. You’d gotten along with him even then, even when people found his humor irritating and his doctoring methods questionable. Granted, the road had not always been smooth; there’d been a lot of banter in those early days. Well, maybe calling it banter was being a little too nice. Usually, he’d say something irritating, and you’d respond with something that would make him crack a smile of amusement. And other times he’d say something to make you laugh, genuinely, and he’d smile in response to that, too.

But the fun that came with the back and forth was only part of why the two of you had ultimately ended up being so close. Frank was smart, genuinely smart. Anyone, you’d learned, could memorize stuff from books and lectures and hours and hours of classes and tests, spit out the facts that they’d been forced to memorized like they were computers accessing files; and most did. But Frank knew people and because he knew people he knew his business. Most doctors you’d worked with diagnosed them and treated them like the print advised them to treat them. Frank would diagnose them and then treat them to get better whether it was textbook or not, and he did it in the span of a few seconds or the span of a few days. There was a genuine care that was veiled by the guise of a blunt sense of humor. Perhaps your ability to see past the veil was what had allowed you two to work so excellently together at the beginning, and later become a duo not unlike … well, whatever duo worked together really well.

“You’re a popular girl.” Frank murmurs, pulling a chair to sit, uninvited, next to you. You scoff and roll your eyes, fiddling with the pizza box as you try to decide whether you’re hungry or just upset. It’s unsurprising, the fact that the news of your flip - out on a patient’s concerned father has made the rounds so quickly. “Want me to try it first, make sure it’s not too moldy?” Frank asks after a beat, nodding towards the box. He’s worried, even if he’s trying to disguise it with a stupid tease. You can hear it in his tone. When you work with somebody almost every day, you get to tell what every single inflection means, every single pitch.

“You see me freak out?” You ask, turning your head as your rest your cheek in your hand.

“Uh, no, but you did that screeching thing you do when you get really mad.”

“Fuck you.” You have to try not to crack a smile. “I didn’t screech.”

It’s almost like just sitting in the room with him is relieving a tenseness you hadn’t even realized had been so heavy on you, like his voice was dusting a layer of soot away from your insides.

“Okay I wasn’t there, but Perlah said it got pretty ugly.” Frank drags the pizza box towards himself, then gets up with it, wandering over towards the microwave.

“Perlah said! Perlah’ll say anything if it’s good gossip.”

“Well, I gotta keep myself entertained somehow, and if you’re not gonna talk, Perlah’s my next best option.” Frank manages to find a plate to put what you imagine your slice, and you have to hand it to him — he’s got you backed into a corner where you have to answer.

“It wasn’t that bad.” You insist after a moment after Frank puts your pizza in to heat up, and then rotates to face you. “It’s just. Parents, you know. Sometimes they can be … “ you trail off as you search for the right word. “Irritating.”

“Stupid.” Frank agrees, giving the word that you were a little too nice to say outright. “I swear to God, I don’t know how some of them raise a whole person.”

“They’re raising a person that’s gonna end up with a bunch of disorders.” You joke, which pries a chuckle out of Frank as he pulls your food out of the microwave.

“When you flip your shit on a parent next time, can you make sure I’m there to watch? Or better yet, I’ll record it and then play it at your funeral in fifty years.” He puts the plate down in front of you, then sits back down with the box in front of him.

“You’re insane if you think you think you’re gonna be invited to my funeral. And I’m gonna outlive you anyway.” You smile. It’s strange thing to think of you two staying friends for so long, but then again it’s almost like you can’t even remember what it had been like when you didn’t see Frank most every day. You two were practically joined at the hip whenever you were on shift together, working together in sync the way doctors rarely did. It was no surprise that the rumors had begun to spark just a week or two after you two had just met. You wouldn’t be surprised if there was actually a monetary pool surrounding the idea if you two had actually slept together, considering that you’d been asked more than once if you two were an item. There were a thousand reasons to shoot it down — dating in the workplace, especially one where so much hinges on trust and teamwork, a fallout would be the last thing anyone needed. And you two had been friends for so long, there was the fear that anything more would ruin what you had already. But then again, there was the looks that lasted a little too long — the flirtations that lingered somewhere between a joke and the real thing that made you wonder if there could be something more.

“Besides,” You continue, braving the hot slice of pizza enough to gingerly pick it up, “If there’s any ‘next time’, Robby’s gonna kick my ass all the way around the block.”

“No, he’s not.” Frank picks his own slice from the box, and you do little to hide your somewhat judgmental facial expression as he takes a bite from it, ice-cold. “You’re clearly the favorite. Unless you, I don’t know, kill someone, he’ll always let you off easy.”

“Easy for you to say, you weren’t in here.”

“Did he do the face?”

“What face?”

“You know, the face. The face he does so you know he’s really disappointed in you.”

“Frank, I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Like this.” He says, dropping his piece down and then doing his best arms - crossed, head tilt, eyebrow raise Robby — an imitation that looks so stupid on Frank that you can’t help but laugh. You have to hand it to him, though. It’s a pretty accurate disappointed depiction.

“You’ve had a lot of experience with that?” You ask, unable to tamper down your grin as he smiles back at you.

“Absolutely more than my fair share.”

“Poor you.” You coo mockingly, and it’s his turn to roll his eyes as he chuckles.

A silence drifts over the both of you. Frank’s chuckle fades into a gentle smile as he observes you in a way that almost makes you nervous.

“You okay though? Seriously?” He asks, playful tone fading into something more genuine.

“Uh,” you shrug. “I dunno. Weird day.”

“Well it’s a slow day at the office. I can see if he’ll let you knock off early.” The fact that he’s willing to brave a likely already pissed off Robby for you is definitely sweet, and the offer of going home is enticing.

“I have patients.” You try to use that as

your excuse, but Frank is already shaking his head.

“I can take care of them, don’t sweat it.”

“You sure?”

“Look who you’re talking to.”

“Oh, I forgot. You’re Superman.” You mock, but Frank looks prideful at the obvious poke. “Nah, it’ll be okay. If you pick up my shift there’s bound to be speculation. More speculation.”

“What speculation?” He tries to play it off innocently, but you know better. The sly smile ticking across his features is enough to make you shake your head at him, tongue poking into your cheek to try and quell a matching smile.

“You know exactly what speculation, you’re too smart not too.” You remark like it’s supposed to be an insult, yet there’s a certain sort of softness to it as you look at him. The gesture, even if you had not taken up him on it, was an impossibly sweet one. Even if was a “slow day”, as Frank put it, that guaranteed nothing. It could be that things could pick up if you did leave, or that one of your patients could have difficulties, leaving him with a lot to juggle with his and yours. Not to mention the ruthless teasing that he would be sure to endure. You pick up the pizza slice — mostly cool by now — with the intention of finishing it off.

Frank watches you with the same gentle expression on his face as you do so. Had you been intent on going back home, he would have convinced Robby to let you — but then again, he knew you had the same sort of stubbornness that he did, and you weren’t likely to take him up on the offer even if there was cause for more concern. Had he thought there was something seriously wrong, he would have coaxed you into taking the day off. But just like you knew him, he knew you. He knew every tick of your face, what every inflection meant and every offhanded remark. He knew you the way he knew his own mind. There was no doubt in his mind that it was just one of those days; but even if you weren’t going home, he made a mental note to watch you for the rest of your shift, make sure you were really alright. After all, when Perlah had said something about your “flip - out”, he could feel the concern grip him like a rock in his stomach almost immediately. Dana had given him a knowing look when he’d asked where you were so he could check on you. You were right, he wasn’t taking a whole lot of care to avoid fanning any flames of speculation about the both of you; but it wasn’t like they were baseless, either. He cared about you so much it was almost stupid.

“Compliments will get you everywhere, my friend.” He returns with a cocky half smile that you were so familiar with as you turn put your plate in the sink behind you. For a break room, it sure is cramped if you don’t even have to stand up to do so. There’s another bout of silence as you look back at him. Even though he’s hidden it under a mask of light humor, you can still see the slight worry in his eyes. He wouldn’t have hung around this long if he genuinely didn’t want to make sure you would be alright. Again, there’s a slight pang in your chest — a momentary question of what if.

“Thanks for hanging out with me, though.” You say, trying to make it sound casual.

You can tell that the sudden genuineness catches him a little off guard. His cocky half smile fades into something almost unsure; his fingers tap at his knee like a nervous fidget.

“Yeah, you know,” he tries to shrug it off. “I’m around here. A lot. And I like you, so.” You blink, cock your head a little as he shakes his head, tries to reword his statement. “I mean, we’re friends. I wanna know you’re okay.”

Objectively you’ve never seen him so nervous, not even when Robby’s voice boomed across the pit in the tone he uses when he means business and not when the occasional patient, stunning, blonde, and, let’s face it, with a rack that would be the envy of almost any woman flirted shamelessly with him. He’s always been the picture of suave, knowing exactly which lines to say and how to look. But with you, he’s like a high - schooler on a first date. It’s like you disarm him completely — and the shyness seems to be catching.

Barely audible is his name on your lips. Perhaps you meant something to come after it other than the kiss that was maybe him or maybe you or maybe the both of you — almost timid at first and quickly something more intimate; something finally released that had too long been locked away behind harmless flirtations and barely disguised jokes, behind whispered rumors and the knowing looks the nurses and other doctors would give whenever the two of you would pass by, practically matching each other in your strides. Any trace of denial that you two had maintained for the years you’d been here was wiped away in the moment. When you finally pull away from him, your mind is spinning; but it’s almost like an invisible weight has been lifted from you, and you can’t help the subtle smile that plays across your expression.

“So.” He murmurs, practically against your lips still.

“So.”

“We should probably get back.”

“Probably.”

And then he kisses you again, quicker this time, something much more domestic, like he already could get used to kissing you in the days ahead, weeks … years? Yet he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. Even if it was hard not to.

You’re the one to get up first, considering that he’s still looking at you like you’re a muse of some sort. Whatever cloud had been hanging over your head, he had managed to whisk away completely.

“Come on.” You urge as you move to open the door, and with the instruction, it’s like he’s snapped out of some sort of reverie. He gets up out of his chair, wasting no time in following the command, and beats you to pulling open the door as if your kiss has turned him into some sort of gentleman.

“Doing anything tonight?” He asks softly as you fall in step with him, the two of you cautious to avoid any curious glances your way. You crack a grin at how quickly he gets to work, yet something about it is endearing.

“Besides sleeping?” You quirk, and you half expect him to make some lewd comment in reply, but he skips it.

“I have some excellent week - old Chinese food in my refrigerator.” He offers, and you snort and nod, taking a beat to try and come up with a satisfactory reply.

“Hard to turn down free food.” You finally come up with, and you can’t help but think that it’s cute that eyes seem to shine with hope. “We’ll see how this shift goes?”

“Heard.” He responds, before Whitaker snags his attention by calling out his name. As he strides towards the direction the voice came from, he turns on his heel to give you one last glance — one that is impossible not to grin at.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

butterflygirl738 (7)

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, sickness, medical bills, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You love butterflies and your mother, but life isn’t that simple. As life gets complicated, and expensive, you find yourself in need and an unexpected miracle presents itself.

Characters: Steve Rogers (CEO/Sugar Daddy)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

“You were right about the mac and cheese,” you say as you wipe your mouth with a napkin. 

S glances over with a smile. “You liked it?” 

“Sure do,” you tap the side of the plate. “But it’s too much for me. I could save the rest.” 

“Sure,” he gets up and crosses the room. He moves the cover back over your dish. 

“Oh, thank,” you say as you set the used napkin on the tray. You quickly catch a yawn in your hands. “Oof, I’m sorry. Woke up early for the doctor.” You rub your eyes and blink at him. “I’m not very fun company, am I?” 

“You’re... calming,” he says. “All the people I deal with... they’re always performing.” He tilts his head and gives a sardonic look. “It’s been nice to get away.” 

“Must be. Even to somewhere like here,” you swallow another yawn, blinking big until your eyes water. You flick away the moisture. 

“You made it worth it,” he lingers close. “If you’re tired, lay down. I don’t mind.” 

“That’s not fair,” you try not to show how tempting the offer is. “Coming over just to knock out.” 

“Go ahead. I’ve barely used the bed,” he points to the open French doors that lead to the bedroom. “I tend to sleep in intervals.” He clucks. “Buddy calls it strategic napping.” 

“Can’t be very restful,” you say. 

“Guess not but sometimes I don’t have eight hours to spare,” he taps his toe. “Please, go lay down. You look beat.” 

You give a sheepish smile. Why does he care so much? Another thorn digs in. 

“S?” 

“You been caring for your mom. Let me care for you,” he puts his hand on your shoulder and squeezes. He slowly draws away. 

You look down, “twist my arm.” You stand up slowly. “Don’t let me sleep too long. Just an hour or two.” 

“Alright,” he agrees. “I’ll get some work done.” 

You hesitantly move around him. It’s awkward. It’s just another thing you’re taking from him. His bed, his time... Won’t he get tired of that sooner than later? 

You stop and turn back to him. 

“S?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he glances at his phone, his eyes crinkling at what he reads. 

“Can I... give you a hug?” 

He puts his phone on the table and faces you. “You don’t gotta ask.” 

He opens his arms. You slowly unfold yours and step closer. It felt like a good idea but now it’s a bit... tense. You wrap your arms around him and he closes you in his. You shiver at the warmth seeping from him into you. 

“Thank you,” you press your cheek to his chest. “Really, I can’t say it enough.” 

He keeps one arm firmly hooked around you as his other hand rubs your back. The soothing motion makes your skin prickle. He squeezes. 

“No problem, sweetie.” He rocks you slightly. 

You stay like that, too embarrassed and too afraid to break too soon. 

“Alright, I think... I might fall asleep on my feet,” you ease from his hold and his hands brush along the robe as he pulls back. 

“Yeah, go, sleep,” he pivots away. “I gotta answer this before he sends another damn email.” 

He snatches up his phone and turns away. He mutters under his breath. You back up and watch how his shirt tautens across his shoulders. You spin and tiptoe into the bedroom. 

You can worry when you wake up. Right now, you’re just too tired to keep track of all your doubts. 

🦋

You wake with a start. You’re on your stomach, arm beneath the pillow you have your face buried in. Your head is cloudy as you lift it and your lashes stick together before you can pry them apart. You roll over and the sight of the dark window sends you into a panic. 

You kick away the blankets and scramble out of bed. You hurry to the doors, the left one left open just a crack, and you pull it open. S sits at the table, a pair of glasses on as he has a laptop open. You have no time to process the seen as you scurry out. 

“S, it’s late,” you cheep. “Why did you let me sleep so long?” 

He calmly looks up and smooths the creases from his forehead. He pushes his shoulders wide and takes of his glasses. He puts them beside the keyboard of the table. 

“I tried to wake you up,” he says. “You were so tired. I could get you to do more than roll over...” 

His voice trails off as his eyes fall down. You follow his gaze. Shoot. The robe hangs open, exposing your naked legs. You quickly pull it around you, hot from your accusation and accidental flash. 

“Um, I’m sorry to... I didn’t... I...” You sputter. 

“You slept heavy. Probably a bit disorienting waking up here. You’re not used to it,” he shrugs. “I really did try but... seems like you needed the sleep.” 

“Right, I... it was nice but...” 

“You can call your mom. Let her know maybe you got backed up at your new job?” He suggests coolly. He’s a fast thinker. You’re a terrible liar. The type that adds too much detail when a simple explanation will do. 

“Sure, I can let her know I’m gonna be home soon.” You agree and look around. 

You find your phone on the arm of the sofa. You don’t remember leaving it there but you can’t really remember when you last had it. You take it and head for the bedroom. 

“You can always stay. It’s pretty late.” 

“What would I tell her? I’m working overnight?” 

“You’re an adult, aren’t you?” He challenges. 

You flinch. 

“Sure, but... no, I should go home. She needs me.” 

“Uh huh,” he picks his glasses back up and exhales. “Well, now she’s not the only one that does.” 

You blink as your brow crinkles. You turn away before he can catch you chagrined expression. You go into the bedroom and lean on the bed as you dial out. 

Your mom doesn’t pick up. You sniff as the tone for the voicemail beeps. “Hey mom, sorry I didn’t message sooner. I got tied up. Anyway, I’ll be home soon...love you.” 

You hang up and drop your arm. You stare at the window. You don’t remember anything, not even your dreams. Not even him trying to get you up. You’re embarrassed to hink about that. 

You go back out. 

“Um, I’ll need my pants,” you say sheepishly. 

“Hung them up in the bathroom,” he says without looking away from the computer. His posture is tense. 

“Look, I’m sorry if... i wasn’t meaning to accuse you--” 

“I’ve been really honest with you,” he says. “I’d say extremely. Not a lot of people would be so transparent. You know, a guy like me, he’s supposed to have an easy life. Well, it’s not.” 

“I’m... I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t need to be sorry, I just wish you would trust me.” 

You stand in static silence. The guilt ripples over you. Not only has he been honest, he’s been so generous. You think of today and how he so easily promised all of that money. Even after when you showed him the pamphlet, showed him how tedious it would all be. He said yes. 

“I will. I do,” you say at last. “Um, one sec.” 

You cross the room to the bathroom and dip inside. You open the robe and hang it and pull on your pants. You can still feel the residue of rain in them. Oh well. 

You come back out. “I can call a cab. You seem busy.” 

“I’ll drive,” he assures you as he closes the laptop. “Told you, I’m taking care of you. Of everything.” 

“I know. Thank you so much.” You clasp your hands together. “Really, S, I can’t say it enough.” 

He slides his glasses off again and stands up. He puts them in the case behind the computer and snaps it shut. He stretches his arms over him. 

“Come back tomorrow,” he says. “I made us some reservations.” 

“Reservations?” You repeat. “Well, S, I... I’ve been calling in and... if I keep doing that--” 

“Quit.” He looks agitated. “You don’t need those jobs. That’s the deal. I’m gonna cover everything.” 

You nod as your stomach stirs. “Oh.” 

“Oh?” His mouth slants. “It’s what we’ve been talking about. You working all the time, well, I got a lot going on. We’d never get to see each other and I mean, I’ve already missed a lot too.” 

You chew your lip. “I’m sorry. I misunderstood.” 

“It’s new. For both of us. I get it,” he softens his tone and comes closer. “You’re so used to working and doing everything, it’s hard to let go. I’m the same way.” 

“Yeah...” you murmur. “I’m really sorry if I upset you, S."

“You didn’t,” he assures you as he reaches to caress your arm. “You can’t. I just... I get in work mode and the boss face comes out.” He chuckles and slips his hand across your back and angles you toward the door, “let’s get you home. I promise, I’ll try to get more than just a few hours before tomorrow.” 

🦋

You watch the streetlights pass, the glare tinging your eyes, tweaking the fatigue still nestled behind them. You yawn as the car whirs softly. It’s almost peaceful in the empty streets. 

S drives smoothly through the town. He knows it better now. He keeps to the speed limit, taking his time. Or maybe he’s just tired. 

He rolls up to your building and shifts into park. He sighs. “I’ll miss you.” 

You look at him, “really? I feel like I kind of overstayed my welcome.” 

“Trust me, you can’t,” he puts his hand on the back of your seat as he twists in his. “You not having fun?” 

“No, of course, it’s just new and... I guess I’m not used to it yet. The... trying not to worry part.  My mom is still...” you shake your head. “I’m going to stop that.” You look at him. “S, thank you. Really. I did have a good day even if I slept for most of it.” 

“You needed that,” he says as his hand slips onto your shoulder. “You, more than anyone, has every right to be tired.” His thumb rubs you. “Sweetheart, we’re just adjusting to each other and that’s fine.” 

“Sure,” you flutter your fingers in your lap. “Right, just... gotta be patient.” 

“Yeah, patient,” his hand inches closer to your neck. “Sweetheart... can I ask you something?” 

“Okay,” you try not to focus on his touch but your skin is all speckly from it. 

“Can I have a kiss?” 

Your lips part slightly. You close them quickly. You’re surprised but you shouldn’t be. Deep down, you know it’s inevitable. Despite what he says, you have that gnawing certainty in your head. You can’t just keep taking. And it’s going to be more than just a kiss, isn’t it? 

Right now, you can do a kiss. 

“Um,” your cheeks tauten and burn. “S-sure. I can--” 

“Only if you really want to,” he pets your neck with his knuckles. “But I can tell you I really, really want to.” 

You take a breath and undo your seat belt. You’re slow and deliberate in your movement as you angle around in the chair. His hand opens and cradles your jaw, fingers framing your ear. He leans in and you meet him across the space between your sets. 

Your lips meat and his heat floods into you. His fingers curl against your head and he hums. His tongue pokes out gently and you resist. Your chest is somersaulting. 

You part and sit back in the chair. You put your hand to your chest. “I’m sorry, it’s just—been a while.” You look down and cover your mouth. You drop your hand. “Was that... okay?” 

“It was... great,” he rasps. “And uh, been a while for me too.” 

“Really?” You glance at him, face alight with self-consciousness. 

“Oh, sure. Like I said... haven’t been out on the dating scene much. When I’ve tried, well, It’s just not... genuine, you know?” He clucks and pokes his tongue into his cheek. He smiles and looks you in the eye. “That was perfect. I’ll be thinking about it all night.” 

“You will?” 

“Of course,” he winks. “What about you?” 

Your cheeks pinch and you smile. It’s been a long time since you felt anything but anxiety and doom. That was something else. You can’t quite explain what. It just wasn’t as scary as you thought. You need one thing that isn’t utterly terrifying. 

“Yeah, I think...” you look away. “It’s... it was nice.” 

“Good,” he drags his hand down your arm. “Well, have a good night.” 

“You too,” you grab your purse and pull on the door handle. “Oh, what time tomorrow?” 

“Let me know, sweetie, I don’t need you til noon,” he answers. 

“Cool, um, bye.” 

You get out and walk towards the yellow light above the building entrance. You stop to look back. He’s still there. You’re glad. You hate being out this late. 

You enter the apartment quietly. The front room light is on. You put your stuff down and sanitize your hands. You find your mother on the couch, sleeping as she hugs a pillow. 

You hope she wasn’t waiting up for you. All that fuzziness fades. The dull weight settles back into your chest. 

You tiptoe around, careful not to wake her. You know she doesn’t get as much sleep as she should. You retreat to your room and flick on the light. 

You plug in your phone as the battery flashes. As you pull off your shirt, you hear something. A soft whisper. You go to the hamper and peer through the mesh. The butterflies. Two of them have hatches and they’re happily fluttering around inside. 

You smile. A real smile. They’re so beautiful. Black, red, and white. And they’re alive. It was taking so long, you thought they wouldn’t break free. 

You’ll have to find some fruit in the fridge to leave in there for them until you can release them. First, you’re going to take a photo. Everyone will be so excited to see. 

You get a good shot through the top before they try to escape. You’ll have to go down to the cafe to post in the morning. You really can’t wait to show S. 

You sit on your bed and watch the butterflies. It’s a sign, isn’t it? Not everything is dead. It’s not over. Maybe, things are just beginning. 

[mistressofthemanor]

masterofthemanor

For some reason - probably because he was too caught up with trying to untangle his emotions to make sense of them - Lucius had the impression that she was able to follow along and she knew exactly just what had upsetted him, so he simply gazed at her and attempted to explain what was wrong- or rather, why he was acting that way. "Yes... Bizarre. It's- I'm not sure. *shakes his head slighlty, tempted to brush it all off, but he tries to push on for her sake* It's just so odd to me... Yes, it is true and it's not new to me either *sighs* I guess I'm just not used to it, honestly" He admitted awkwardly, feeling like a fool for having that simple term get to him like that, however, he couldn't control his reaction and most importantly, he failed to realise that it wasn't the term itself that upsetted him, but the repressed trauma of an uncertain and dark part in his life it'd triggered. He didn't call or think of her as his ex-wife for a good reason, - usually referring to her by her given name or either as 'mother' or 'grandmother' when he was talking to Celeste or Ariadné- avoiding it as if it was some sort of fire that'd burn him each time he'd uttered it; and now, she was calling herself that and it didn't feel right for him... Not now- not even as a joke- not yet, when there was still so much uncertainty that could easily drive a wedge between them. It sounded sinister. "Yes, I've assumed... and honestly, it had an effect on me- a negative one" He admitted truthfully, then, seeing that she was approaching him, he took a step forward himself and held out his arms, resting both of his hands at either of her forearms as he seeked out her gaze, feeling slightly alarmed by the avalanche that'd been his impressions and worries. "I'm not comfortable with this, Cissa. I know we've drifted apart and... and we've separated when- you've left... *releases a heavy breath, struggling to find the right words to express his exact idea* I'm aware... and I'm sorry if this will upset you, but I just can't take this. Refer any other way to yourself, just not...- like that, please" He pleaded to her almost, frantically, as if the term would come true, if uttered... as if not uttering it and completely disregarding it, avoiding it would have made any difference in the past.

As she listened to him go on, the pieces started to fall in place. The only thing he could be upset and this taken aback by would be the term she had given to herself of 'ex-wife'. Narcissa stood still as he crossed the room with her, his hands warm on her arms, his voice thick with the kind of tangled emotion she rarely heard from him, not anger, not shame, not even regret, but something far more vulnerable: pain mixed with fear. It quieted something in her. She didn’t speak at once. She let her hands drift up slowly to cover his, her palms pressing gently against the backs of his fingers as if to still him, to ground him before she spoke. His words made her heart race facer in fear at first but as he went on, she realized what he was trying to convey.

“Lucius,” she said, barely above a whisper and she cleared her throat to bring more strength to it. Her voice didn’t carry the usual cool polish. It was softer and more fragile. “I shouldn’t have said it. Not like that. I wasn’t thinking about how it would sound to you. But you’re right…" She looked up into his face, into the furrow of his brow and the unspoken grief behind his eyes, and her own gaze gentled. “You never called me that. Not once. Even when I deserved it,” she admitted, a small, broken smile brushing her lips. “Even when I tried to pretend that we were… something less than what we were.” She paused, brushing her thumb along the edge of his wrist. She let the silence stretch, her breath matching his, steady and close. “I won’t call myself that again,” she said simply. “Not even in jest. Because I don’t want to be your ex. I want to be the woman who came back and stayed.” She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze again. “I left, yes. But I’m here now. And I am not leaving again.” Then, quieter still, Narcissa did her best to give an encouraging smile, in hopes of bringing them both to an understanding. “Alright?”

Bones of Contention

[wemalyri]

what are enhypen members like in a relationship? jay ver.

pairing: idols!enhypen × fem!reader

w/c: 2,1k

warnings: relationship development, kisses, physical touch, smut under cut

a/n: if you liked it, likes and reposts are welcomed. //posting this while you're waiting for diet pepsi release (I'll post it in a few days I'm sorry yall). also jay is bias wrecking me tbh...

heeseung jay jake sunghoon sunoo jungwon niki

! remember that it's just my vision! we don't know the truth and you may not agree with me

the first meeting

Well.

I honestly feel like Jay has high standards for his woman. He respects every single one, but it’s difficult for him to find the right one. He knows his own worth and wants to find a soulmate, a partner for a life, not someone who he’s not sure of. Jay takes it really seriously and a bit too much romantically (sees romantic relationships through pink-colored glasses due to his lack of experience). I’m not saying he doesn’t know about the difficulties and responsibilities that relationships come with, but he may underestimate it because he doesn’t know how everything happens in real life. So it’s really important for him to find someone as romantic as him.

When he meets you, it’s almost obvious. Jay’s fascinated. Like really. You’re calm, collected, kind. For me, he’s one of the few enhypen members who can actually fall at the first sight. Of course, it’s not love yet, but Jay may already be thinking what ring would suit your finger the best. 

When he meets you, he’s acting like a gentleman (not like he usually doesn’t though). He pulls out a chair for you, holds the door for you, watches you through the entire evening. A little reminder — you just met. I feel like he can get carried away with his dreams, letting his romantic side take control over him.

When the evening in the company of you is almost over, Jay watches you checking your phone. Other friends, who were sitting at your table, start gathering their things. It’s time to leave. Yet, he can’t take his eyes off you, nervously thinking of what to do. Is asking for the number too cliche? What if you say no?

You catch him staring at you and look at him back. He gulps and nervously asks, “Do you have Instagram?”

You smile to yourself at his words, finding him cute, and give Jay your account. He’s the happiest alive.

friendship

It’s the only member I don’t feel like writing a friendship stage for. He’s already head over heels with you, what friendship are we talking about?..

Yet, I can say that he asks you out the same evening he meets you. Jay makes sure you don’t have anyone and starts his plan. I also can say that even though he liked you at the first sight, he won’t rush with things, wanting to make sure you’re the one. He would invite you to different places, watching how you react to certain things and listening to your stories about yourself. He laughs, worries, smiles with you. When you encourage him to talk about himself, he feels loved and heard. The way you listen to his stories from the past, paying attention to details, sometimes asking about his feelings, makes Jay melt inside. When you tap his back in reassurance, he slightly blushes, feeling flustered. 

After a while, he knows everything about you. Full names of your parents, your hometown, names of your favorite plushies from childhood, who was your best friend in the primary school, why you were scared to sleep in the dark, who broke your heart on the prom of high school, why you broke up with your ex in college and why he was an asshole. Jay makes sure to remember every single word you say and the way he succeeds in it causes your heart to beat faster.

his confession

When Jay ensures you're the one, he wants to confess to you in the most romantic way. He doesn't care how much time or money he has to spend to make his confession to you perfect — Jay's ready to spend it all just to make you happy.

However, choosing a perfect way to confess is harder than he thought. Restaurants are already common for you two, late night walks are too simple. Finally, Jay decides on the restaurant with a terrace, where you can see the night sky.

After dinner, he clears his throat to start his speech.  “Y/n, I need to tell you something that you already might know,” Jay started looking at his trembling fingers on the table.  “It was difficult to choose this place. Even though it took me a long time to find it, I still don’t feel that it’s enough for you. I want to give you more. If you asked me to, I would try to find a way to give you this sky,” he chuckled, looking at the stars, “Just for you.” Your heart melted at his words, but you didn’t interrupt him. “You’re really important to me. And I hope you feel the same way,” he took a deep breath before saying, “I like you. A lot.” The smile on your face and a warm, whispered answer made Jay awkwardly chuckle. He felt relieved. “Can I?..” he asked, reaching for your hands on the table. As you gave him a nod, he held your hands, caressing their soft skin. 

relationship

I’m going to say the most obvious thing again, but he’s a gentleman. Everything that he did while not dating you multiplies by ten, when he’s finally your boyfriend. Flowers, gifts, acts of service, his full attention — all of that now belongs to you. However, at the first time of the relationship Jay can be awkward. You make him feel things he never experienced before. He smiles at the smallest things, his world becomes brighter. Everyone around him notices it. He’s not so gloomy in the mornings, and doesn't get annoyed as easily as he used to. He’s more patient with everyone, which makes others question his behaviour. Jay reminds himself everyday to do his best with you. You're the person he wants to stick with for a long time and he wouldn’t forgive himself if messed up. 

His love for you is luxurious. Not because Jay takes you to expensive places, not because he doesn’t care about prices of the presents he gives you. It’s all about the way he feels with you. Jay’s expression of love is romantic, he takes time with you, enjoying every single moment and making sure you’re enjoying it the same way. His confidence boosts when you listen to him, pay attention to his feelings. It’s really important for him — to be heard. Jay wants to be the first person you’d come to after something happens — bad or good. He wants to be your first place the way you are for him.

After some time, Jay gets used to you by his side. He still treats you the same way, but now your presence in his life feels more comfortable. He doesn’t get overwhelmed easily anymore, yet your smile makes him feel like he’s in the right place. 

Another obvious thing — he’s husband material. He’s a grown man — not the one who yaps about it, but the one who shows it through actions. He’s mature. Yet, he loves when you let him be childish sometimes. He’s responsible. Yet, he feels wanted and loved when you suggest cooking for him, taking care of him without a reason. Just because. Just because you want him to feel safe and loved with you.

When the relationship develops, Jay learns a lot of things about himself and relationships. He finds out that sometimes it can be even more difficult than he thought. But he’s ready to overcome those things for you, for both of you. 

I can also imagine him introducing you to his parents… (I’m sobbing rn) When Jay finds out you have to spend winter holidays alone, he immediately invites you to his house. His parents greet you warmly and at this moment when you’re surrounded by love and affection from him and his family, you feel like you’re finally home.

first kiss

The type to prepare in advance. Yet, he’s nervous as fuck. 

Jay makes sure to be attractive enough for you — brush his teeth, use a lipbalm, stare at you for the whole date (not like he doesn’t do it all of the time). He wants it to be romantic, memorable, perfect. He wants you to feel comfortable, wants to make you feel loved and cared about. 

Jay invited you to the restaurant where he confessed to you months ago. The night sky was covered in stars, the moon illuminating everyone and everything. As you were admiring the view, leaning on the railing, Jay was admiring you. “So pretty…” you mumbled, not looking away from the sky. “It is,” Jay answered and you turned to him with a small smile, finding him looking at you instead of the night city. Your cheeks went slightly red, but you prayed it would go unnoticed in the darkness of the night.  Jay brushed away a strand of your hair. The tension between you was evident, making you feel a bit heated. Jay leaned closer to you, stopping to give you a chance to pull away, his presence intoxicating, yet not forceful. “I really want to kiss you right now,” he breathed out heavily, “Can I?..” you nodded and he slowly leaned closer, softly pressing your lips together. So there were — only two of you and your flushed cheeks hidden in the darkness of the night. 

18+ UNDER CUT

first time

The type to plan it, but not forcefully. It’s like he can feel something’s coming by the way your lips press to his each time longer when you say bye after your date, or by the way you look at each other in silence, tension evident in the air. You’re both careful, communicating without words, yet both of you know what’s coming. That’s why Jay bought condoms and started carrying them around every time you go on a date, that’s why he started telling members that there is a possibility he won’t be back to the dorm tonight. Just… in advance.

When it finally happens, it’s so natural and expected that you don’t even talk about it first. You just make out, slowly like you have all the time in the world, but emotionally, putting your feelings to each other in the kiss.

Wet sounds of the kisses feel your apartment even before you make yourself close the door behind you. Jay presses you to the nearest door — not roughly, carefully. His hand flies to your hair, making sure to hold you close, another one settles on your waist. You hold onto his shoulders, making his stomach flip.  “You should tell members you won’t come back to the dorm today,” you whisper when Jay pulls away to take a breath.  “No need,” he hungrily presses his lips to yours again, “they already know.” You pull away with widened eyes, “Did you plan this?” “No,” Jay chuckles, looking into your eyes, “Just was waiting.”

I feel like Jay is the type to control himself during sex. He mostly focuses on your needs, forgetting about his own even when his hard cock clings to his pants.

His lips traveled down your neck to the collarbone, exploring your soft skin and making you arch your back already. “Gosh, you’re so responsive,” Jay whispers when his mouth is already on your tits. You feel his hardness pressing to your thigh and you make an attempt to tell him about that. “Jay, you-” he interrupts, spreading your legs, clearly understanding that he was already leaking.  “Don’t worry about me. Forget it,” his lips suck on your skin making you gasp for air, “Just let me make you feel good. Focus on yourself.”

When Jay slides inside he’s really careful. He goes slowly even though it’s hard and the way you clench around his dick only makes him more sensitive. 

“Shit, sweetheart,” Jay groans, throwing his head back (did you see that one clip btw—) His dick deliciously hits your G-spot and you whine at the feeling.  “You’re so tight…” Jay groans again, leaning closer to your ear. It makes you even more aroused and your legs wrap around his waist. He needs some good luck. After all, he’s just a down bad man…

+bonus

When you get used to each other, Jay still makes sure to please you in all the ways possible. Sex for him is a chance to express his dedication to you (most of the time), so he’s careful with it. The only thing he wants from you is to be honest with him and open about your needs. You want him to be rougher? He’ll do it. You want to add some spice? He’s up for it. You want to recreate your wet dream? He’s already there. 

He’s that type of man who knows he’s a pleaser for his woman and he’s proud of it. He doesn’t get shy about it as long as he knows you have everything you wish for. 

(you can tell how much jay bias wrecked me by the w/c to the fic (just look at other members' w/cs...))

[jjwolves]

What do you think ena or her coworkers would think of a reader being really strong? like, theyve defeated bosses or boss like entitys before?

TEST YOUR MIGHT ════ ⋆★⋆ ═════

What: 5 Headcanons of The Hub Coworkers & A Very Strong Reader

Who: ENA the Worker, Froggy, Coral Glasses and Dratula from ENA Dream BBQ

How Much: ~900 Words, ~4 Mins

Credits: Image Banner -> JoelG, Divider -> @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Warnings: None

You’re a bit of a powerhouse. You can do incredible things that others usually aren’t capable of—tying blood rivers into knots, sidestepping acid rain before you get burned and chopping through titanium gumball machines with your hands. During your interview, Froggy briefs you on your work target: the Boss. It seems the goal of today is to aim for the gut. You say OK, no problem. Point the way and pay me. Froggy seems taken aback. “Well, you’re definitely confident! But it’s no easy task. Listen, listen, it’s good to be eager, but the Boss is really strong!” You shrug. The Boss sounds about as strong as an Archon or Hypervisor. Different names, same things. Froggy is baffled, before relenting and saying that he “needs to make a phone call”. He walks in circles and pretends to deliberate before hiring you on the spot.

It’s not long before your other coworkers pick up on your abilities, even if you try to keep them on the down-low. At one point, you and ENA were sent out on a mission to retrieve coordinates, wandering through a gloomy city made out of churches leaking black water into the streets. ENA attempts to flick an ancient lever which should open the old steel gates you need to pass. They don’t budge. “Stupid lever, work already! I’ll eat your cogs, under-manufactured trash!” You nudge ENA inside and punch a hole through the gate, tearing it open into an improvised entrance. “Oh my! You’re quite the economic superpower. Thank you for the assistance, brave beast!” ENA seems a little wiry standing next to you, but later on, when she unsheathes her fan and slices a clock spirit into ribbons, you see a warrior. Like you.

You hadn’t known that Dratula was on your side as an informant. The pointy ears and claws made him seem monstrous—maybe he was sent by the Boss! You kicked into action when you saw him tell Coral Glasses something pretty incriminating: “I AM DRATULA! I AM THE BOSS!” Immediately, you were on him, grabbing his ears so you could fold him into a square like laundry. “NO! I AM DRATULA! UNHAND ME! YOU’RE GOINK TO HURT MY SECRETS!” There wasn’t much the supposed vampire could do besides use his face to note down an expression of surprise. Coral Glasses shied away from the bloody spectacle which was about to unfold in order to shake Froggy’s arm and hope that he would do something. Froggy stared on before remembering that he needed his sole source of intel alive. “Hey, hey, wait up! Leave him alone for now. We can get back to this once we find the Boss!”

Coral Glasses takes diligent notes of all of the ways you could help defeat the boss. She asks, you answer—it’s like a second interview. A few forms are printed out of her head and she begins diligently recording your answers in the spaces. “Could you aim for the gut with a cannon, perhaps?” Yes, you could do that. “How good are you in foot to mouth combat?” You were decent at it. Fortunately. Or unfortunately. Finally, she nervously peeks out over the top of the forms for her final question. “Would you win?” You hesitate before answering. Probably. She gives a neutral hum and goes to sort the paperwork somewhere. ENA spins over to you in a swivel chair, doing her best ‘color tornado’ impression. “How about terminating the boss by throwing paperclips at him? We have a surplus.” They’d have to be pretty sharp paperclips. “Maybe we could use a deluxe one!” What, like a giant one? Seems impractical to you. “Well then YOU come up with an office weapon, smartass!” You already did. You hand her two letter openers chained together like nunchucks and she’s already appraising them like you just handed her a bargain. You call it a chain letter. “I like the way you think! Positively barbaric! You’re hired!” You were already hired, but you graciously accept.

One night (or however time worked here) you and your coworkers all went out for drinks. And by drinks, of course, they meant bottles full of artifacting snowflakes bouncing around the inside like TV screensavers. It wasn’t long before ENA was drunkenly alternating between slurring buzzwords and yelling at the bartender, who kept a straight face (which wasn’t very difficult, as he was a faceless egg who had yet to hatch). Coral Glasses was breathless, laughing at everything like she had heard the joke that clowns hear from angels upon achieving holy initiation. You were still drinking and yet to be affected. The Receptionist was complaining that the cheap swill was freezing up her beautiful joints. Froggy was feeling the effects a bit, it seemed, but he was holding up OK, all things considered. “To the muscle of the group,” he said, to which monochrome sleeves, red mitten-hands and costumed arms raised unsteady winter glasses to the new hire. Everyone took another swig. A little later, Froggy scooched over to you and admitted something. “Hey. I just wanted to thank you. Everyone’s seemed a little grave looking towards our main mission. But I feel like they’ve been a lot more at ease with you around. Me included. So, thanks for all the help.” You patted him on the back. Your work was never done, but you were glad to help in the end. These people were worth it.

[ghostgirl-22]

i’ve been thinking of this for days and i cant get it out of my head but tashi and art playing good cop bad cop essentially with patrick in the bedroom, patrick had been pissing them off more then normally and they have had enough, art fucking patrick from behind making patrick lose any sense of speech going on and on about how pathetic patrick is for him, tashi holding patrick’s hand and tugging his hair while he eats her out whispering about how good he is being for them

whoops i went insane. Here’s 3.6k words anon. Help! Idk why this is so long. Also I’m really fucking bad at dominant Art like…i don’t know why it’s not clicking but here he is trying like i am.

CW: MDNI, NSFW, not really proof read, soft!dom art

—-

It’s always hotter when Art gets jealous. So pretty and sweet and compliant for her. He’s got this other side to him. This side of him that Tashi never really saw until Patrick came back into their lives. This side of Art that she’s kind of obsessed with. It comes out when Patrick’s flirting with other people… usually guys.  

Patrick’s always been flirtatious, it’s something of a default. But these days… the way the three of them have been unable to keep their hands off of each other… it’s just been so much… worse. And Tashi—well Tashi’s complicit actually. She often finds herself egging him on—sometimes even starting it. Both of them doing it just for a reaction. 

It’s an otherwise typical summer day, another hotel. Another tournament. Lily’s at home with Tashi’s mom, she’s going to day camp with friends from her expensive private school and she refused to miss any of it. 

So it’s just the three of them this week. On their best behavior.

Well… it’s only night one.

They have a couple hours off before a charity awards banquet and she and Patrick are lounging at the pool. It’s Tashi who notices when the pool boy spares an extra glance at Patrick spread out on the deck chair. Half naked, short swim trunks, still wet and clinging to his muscular thighs. 

“Someone’s got a crush,” she says softly, nudging between his ribcage and looking towards the pool boy. Patrick can’t resist. Suddenly he’s showing off, asking all about pool maintenance (like he fucking cares). Legs spread on either side of the pool chair, the beginnings of a bulge in his shorts just visible. The kid, he can’t be much older than 24, is practically drooling. Can’t keep his eyes off of him. 

It’s timed so perfectly when Art comes out of the hotel to join them on the pool deck.  Tashi can see the peak of color blooming on Art’s cheeks as he takes in the scene. Watches his eyes go dark and the way he grips his phone tighter. The pool boy is practically on Patrick’s lap. 

Art clears his throat and Patrick just waves, still flirting, acting oh so oblivious when he knows. 

Tashi grabs Art’s arm as he approaches, pulling him down onto her pool chair.  Whispers in his ear, “He’s so fucking out of control… I told him to stop flirting but you know how he is.” She pouts. 

They both look over at the manager who seems to be the only one more annoyed than Art. “Oh no, I hope he doesn’t get the kid in trouble,” Tashi says, genuinely.

That’s all the motivation Art needs. “Patrick let him do his job so he doesn’t get in trouble over you,” he says, coolly. Controlled. 

“Shit… I’m sorry. You can tell him it was all my fault,” Patrick says with a grin that makes pool boy blush. He stands up and stumbles a little. Tashi wants to laugh because she gets it… Patrick’s so annoyingly disarmingly charming he has that effect on people.

“Maybe I can tell you more about it later,” the kid says, eyes falling back down to Patrick’s shorts. 

“You can tell me whatever you want when you’re off the clock sweetheart,” Patrick smirks. 

Tashi notices the way Art’s white knuckling the pool chair, his jaw set.   

“Thank you mister… um…” 

“Just call me Patrick.” 

“Thanks Patrick,” the kid grins and then waves, hurrying back to his work. But he keeps glancing over, and Patrick’s always there to show off a little more for him. 

“What the fuck are you doing? You’re old enough to be his dad,” Art snaps. 

“Oh yeah, cause I was having kids at the age of 8,” Patrick laughs. “Don’t be jealous, baby. He doesn’t get to have it. He just gets a show.” 

But Art is jealous…so fucking jealous. “Tashi already told you to stop flirting. Maybe you need a lesson in how to behave,” He says it soft, but it’s definitely a warning. Tashi almost grins but she bites down on her lip instead.  

Patrick glances at her and then smirks, both of them knowing she told him no such thing.    

*

It’s the same thing at the gala that night. Patrick’s all dressed up in a three piece suit. It looks so good on him he might as well be naked. Pearlescent lavender tie, tucked neatly into his fitted waistcoat, perfectly tailored suit jacket to pull it all together. All the trappings of being a former rich kid slipping through. She can’t believe she’d ever worried he wouldn’t fit in. He's fixing his cuff links in the full length mirror and it takes everything inside her not to hike up her gown and straddle him before they leave. She can tell by the way Art’s gaze lingers on him that he feels the same way. Patrick knows it too… which is the problem. 

He’s preening all night. No one knows he belongs to them. They’ve all decided to keep it quiet just for the fact that they don’t really want the general public and all their crazy judgements and opinions in their bedroom. (She’s still seeing think pieces about Will and Jada’s open marriage for christs sake). 

But that just means it’s open season. 

Tashi’s playing both sides. In Patrick’s ear, pointing out all the pretty girls and boys who seem curious about the Donaldsons handsome new friend. And then pretending to be so furious alongside Art when Patrick flirts with them. 

She does sometimes wish that she was normal. That she didn’t find it all so exciting. She’s pretended to be normal for so very long. She’s a wife, a professional tennis coach, a mom. She’s even a token an honorary member of the stuffy all waspy parents board at Lilly’s school. She can’t imagine what any of those mothers would say if they knew what she was really like.  

“It’s pathetic really,” Art complains to her, clinking his whiskey glass on the table. Staring hard at Patrick who’s been cornered up against the bar by some handsome tall guy. Talking too close. Phone in hand for his number. ”How is he this fucking desperate for attention?” 

“Oh I know,” Tashi agrees, like she’s innocent. “I was thinking the same thing.”

She looks him over, he’s so fired up, blue eyes alight with hunger and frustration. It makes her wet. Makes her want to get on her knees for him right underneath their table and take him into her mouth… lick him till he feels better. Instead she reaches up and gently brushes his hair back, his hungry gaze falling onto her. “Mm sorry, it’s just annoying and we’re in public I wish he’d…” he sighs softly and kisses her on the cheek and then the shoulder, she responds by gently rubbing his thigh.  

“What if…tonight we taught him a lesson?” She suggests. 

Oh he likes that idea. For the rest of the night he’s eager, leg bouncing impatiently as they’re seated for dinner (Patrick flirting with the waiter). Nearly forgets himself as they get up to accept the award for their charity work. They’re taking pictures and shaking hands (and Patrick’s in the back chatting up some guy from the press).

Art can’t take much more. It’s how the night ends early. How they race to get Patrick back upstairs to the bedroom. All of them still in their finest dress clothes. Tashi sitting on the edge of the king sized bed watching Art play with Patrick’s tie, a gentle tug to pull him closer. “Why do you need so much fucking attention?” Art asks it like he’s shy.  

Patrick just grins, “What do you mean, Art? You’re the one who got the reward… I mean award.”

Art tugs a little harder on the tie and Patrick’s forced to stumble forwards. ”Come on… you know what I mean. Why do you have to flirt with everyone you fucking meet?” Tashi crosses her legs, leaning back on her palms, she’s so fucking obsessed with this dynamic.

“I can’t help it if everyone wants me,” Patrick says, Cheshire grin only widening. ”I’m not even married to you, sweetheart. You’re getting all this for free so honestly…you should just be grateful.”

That makes Art smile, but there’s nothing sweet about it. “Should I be grateful? Sweetheart?” Art asks, eyes so wide and “innocent” ...tugging full force on the tie so Patrick is made to lean in close, his hands flying up to brace himself on Arts shoulders. 

“Well yeah,” Patrick rubs at his neck, tenderly, still smirking. Their faces inches apart and Patrick’s tongue peaks out between his lips. Oh he loves it as much as she does. She can barely sit still. Barely be quiet. She had no idea this was in Art. He's so sweet with her. So compliant. So yes, no, whatever you want babe. Apparently takes it all out on Patrick. 

“I think if it’s attention you want…” Art shrugs, wrapping the tie around his fingers. “Maybe we should give you attention. What do you think Tashi?” he glances at her and Patrick follows his gaze, though he’s already on a really short leash. Two pretty boys, eager for her, eager for each other. Tashi tries not to reveal how desperately hot she finds all this. 

God she can hear the snobby mother of Lilys best friend now. “Two men. You have two men in your bedroom? I knew you were a freak.”  God forbid she found out they also fuck each other. This is so far from normal. But god she needs it.

She rests  her head on her shoulder, eyes darting back and forth between them. “I agree, I think he needs it.” 

“Bout fucking time,” Patrick says. 

His last bit of sass before Art makes him get on his knees. Patrick Zweig all prettied up in a ridiculously expensive suit, on his hands and knees on the floor of their fancy hotel suite, wiggling his ass suggestively for Art’s benefit. “Like this?”

”Yeah like that,” Art says, his tone light. Soft. He’s always so soft until he isn’t. “Now can you please say sorry to Tashi? Tell her how you’re really sorry that you acted like such a slut tonight.” 

Patrick snorts. “Sorry Tashi even though—“ 

“No Patrick…” Art cuts him off.  “Say it between her legs. Spell it with your tongue.” 

Tashi feels her heart rate pick up. She’s already squirming and now Patrick’s looking at her… eyes so hungry. 

“Mmkay,” Patrick grins as he crawls over, eyes dancing with their little secret. Co-conspirators. Both of them working together to get Art to this point. She uncrosses her legs and he plays with the straps of her heels for just a moment before he starts to move up her body. Slowly guiding the sheer fabric up her calves along her knees to her thighs. Peppering little kisses as he works his way up. She opens a little wider for him as the gathered fabric pools at her waist. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers. 

“Shh,” she smiles and he grins back. He plays his fingertips along her calves, under her knees, and she curls her fingers into his thick black hair as the soft scruff of his beard tickles her inner thighs. 

He mouths at her panties. “Mm, just like that,” she sighs softly as his hot tongue laps at the lacy fabric. He groans. She gazes up at her husband while Patrick’s tasting her, like she wants his approval. (“Am I doing it right baby? Is this how you wanna play it?”). It makes her giddy to be able to follow his lead.

He holds her gaze as he shuffles out of his suit jacket, his waistcoat, undoes his tie. There's a careful practiced control in his movements, years of being in the spotlight, a dominant player on the professional tennis circuit… he's got a good handle on his physicality by now. But everything’s still visible in his eyes. His gaze heated, intense, feral. She glances down, noticing the visible bulge along the inseam of his dress pants. 

God. Tashi bucks up against Patrick eagerly. Feels him slip his tongue just past her panties, directly into the wet heat of her cunt. It makes her gasp and he hums between her legs in response. the vibration of it makes her wiggle her hips, spread her legs wider. 

“Mm so good at that baby,” Tashi breathes. 

“Tastes good, Tashi,” Patrick breathes, hot against her thighs. 

“Why are you talking Patrick? I don’t think I told you to stop,” Art says, singsong, he’d been rustling around in their luggage. Now he’s approaching Patrick, a little bottle of lubricant in hand. Slowly he gets to his knees. Takes his time undoing Patrick’s pants, dragging them off of him. Followed by the deliberate tug of his boxer briefs. “God you’re a whore,” he sighs as he surveys Patricks bare bottom. 

Patrick whines and Tashi shivers in response . “It's okay baby, I've got you,” she says, trying to be gentle, but the tension in her body is rising. She feels so out of control she’ll probably end up shoving his face deeper into her cunt soon.

“Imagine if we weren't here to keep you under control.” Art continues. “I bet you’d let anybody come inside. I bet you’d let them line up for this. Men just taking turns loosening you up.” He slips his lubed up fingers inside, his eyes back on Tashi as he does it.

Tashi feels the ripple effect when Patrick moans.

“Thats what you want isn't it?”  Art murmurs, fingers working faster. “One man after the other after the other. All of them so hard for you. No time in between. Just boy after boy pumping you so full of cum you can’t think straight. Fucking you dumb like the horny brainless slut that you are.”

Patrick moans again. God. He’d love that. Boys standing in line jerking themselves off watching him take it while they wait their turn. He's already pushing back on Art's fingers while he laps at her, so hungry all the time. So greedy.

 “Oh fuck,” she whines, she can’t help pushing Patrick’s head down. She can feel herself thrusting up against his face, mouth and tongue, she drapes one leg over his shoulder. Pulling his hair to hold him there. His desperate lapping at her wet cunt starting to sound obscene. 

She feels it when Art takes hold of her heeled foot and places a gentle kiss to her ankle. “Fuck yes. Is he sorry baby? Does it feel like he’s sorry?” 

“Yes,” Tashi gasps, stunned by the whiny octave of her own voice.

“Mmm, i dont know,” Art’s voice breaking too… just a little bit. “I don’t think he’s sorry enough. I think he can do better.” 

Tashi whines as Patrick, desperate to prove Art wrong, presses his tongue deeper, teasing her clit. So much heated pressure all at once she’s holding her breath, toes curling in her strappy shoes. “Oh fuck Patrick… ohmygodohmygod oh. oh fuck,”  she whines, practically fucking his face as she feels the tension spill over and suddenly she’s clenching, over and over… her body spasming through orgasm, drawing whines from deep within her. 

“Fuck,” she hears Art whisper as she sinks back onto her elbows arching up while Patrick is gasping into her cunt. His big hands under her thighs dragging her closer to the edge of the bed, like even with his head jammed into her pussy, it still isn’t close enough. 

She has to shove his head away a minute later when it gets too sensitive. She catches her breath, pulling her leg off his shoulder. She realizes she’d been pulling hard on his hair so she makes up for it by gently brushing it back. He’s looking between her thighs like he wants to start again. She makes him look at her face, she wants to see the mess she made. His mouth all wet, eyes glimmering in the dim light.

 “Good boy,” she whispers. 

Patrick’s breathless and moaning and thats when she realizes Art’s still fingering him and he’s pushing back, eagerly. Whining as he presses light, eager, wet kisses into her inner thighs.

“Fuck Patrick…I'm barely two fingers in and you’re dripping all over the floor.” Art says, and oh he's breaking. she’s watching him fall apart in real time. He removes his fingers to the sound of Patrick whimpering and Tashi notices Art can barely keep his hand steady as he unzips himself. He’s shivering… the last crumb of control going out the window.

Art presses himself inside of Patrick, falling apart with every inch, desperate. Pretty, pretty boy. He's not gonna last. Patrick is taking it. Giddy for more. Needs it harder. Rougher. Faster. “Oh fuck yes, Art, fuck yes,” Patrick groans so giddy for something more substantial to fill him up. 

“Quiet,” Tashi says. She knows Art like Patrick knows Art. Too much talking will cut whatever time he has left in half.  

She slips two fingers inside herself and Patrick gasps watching her. “You want another taste?” She breathes. 

“God yes,” Patrick groans. She can’t help fingering herself just a little longer before feeding her sticky wet fingers into his mouth. God, shes so turned on watching Art fuck him it’s like she’s ready again. Like she didn’t just finish a minute ago.

She’s gentle with her fingers in his mouth at first. And then her mild tendency towards sadism takes over and she's sitting up…shoving more fingers in, shoving them deeper. Filling his mouth while Art fills his ass. Making him gag for her and then telling him, “it’s okay… shhh, you're okay.”

And Art so messy… so all apart. Skin slapping loudly as he shoves himself inside, talking like he needs it. Talking like its the only thing keeping him sane. “Dont you love it Patrick? All the fucking attention. Dont you fucking love it? ” voice like honey, sticky warm. punctuating his words with deep jerky thrusts. “You little fucking whore.” Fingers dug so tight into Patrick’s hips they’ll be etched there for days. “You think that silly little pool boy could do this? Hm? You think he could fuck you like this?”

Patricks whining with his mouth full. Eyes watering because of all the gagging. He wants to touch himself but Art wont let him. Its not long before he’s just a mess of moaning and whimpering and gasping. All sensation, all exposed. Like a raw nerve. 

That's when Art shatters. Groaning, hips stuttering as he releases, holding himself flush inside Patrick letting himself spill as deep as he can. It makes Tashi shiver. She pulls her fingers dripping from Patrick’s mouth and slides them under the buttery fabric of her dress. Pressing them back inside herself while she watches them.  

Patrick tries to touch himself again and she nudges him away with her foot because she knows it’s not what Art wants.   

“Fuck I need— I need—,” Patrick gasps. His breathing uneven, voice a raspy shell of itself. Christ. Patrick, absolutely wrecked, sounds so sexy.

Art begins to come down as he slips out. He lifts his pants back up over his ass and drops onto the floor, breathlessly looking at Patrick still displayed on hands and knees in front of him. “Look at you,” he hums like hes proud of his handiwork. “All dressed up just to be fucked like a whore.”

“Fuck, please Art can I— can I— just need a little—“

“Oh? You need more attention? After all that we just did for you?” Art says condescendingly. “Hey… why dont you go call that guy who gave you his number?”

Tashi giggles and Patrick groans. “Art, fuck, come on… tashi…” Patrick looks up at her desperately. Shamelessly. Her natural tendency isn’t to be nice but she’s fair… and to be fair they are kind of in this together. After all she did egg him on.

She gazes at him, slips her fingers out from inside where she’s been lightly playing with her clit and paints his pouty lips with her slick, his greedy little tongue following her movements. So gorgeous. “Baby be nice,” she says to Art. 

“Thank you, fuck yes, be nice. Thank you Tashi.” Patrick looks back at Art though…still begging him for permission.  

Art smirks at her and then shrugs as his gaze falls back to Patrick. “You’re so lucky aren’t you? You’ve got two people taking such good care of you…you little fucking show off… give us a show.” 

Patrick doesn’t need to be told twice. He clambers to his shaky feet. Stripping down to nothing for them. A strip tease that’s effectively more amusing than sexy…At least until he takes himself in hand. The full heft of him sliding between his thick calloused fingers, his biceps flexed, abs taut. Art on the floor, Tashi on the bed and he’s looking between them both as he gets closer and closer.

“Like it?” Patrick gasps out. “Just like when we were teenagers, huh? The time you asked me to do it while you watched me, Tashi.  Fuck. All those nights lying next to each other in bed while we did it together, Art.”

Tashi and Art exchange glances before looking back just in time to watch him finishing, blowing it all over his fancy dress clothes… puddled on the floor. Still tugging at it, heavy breathing, moaning as more of it spatters. Shameless.

Tashi feels antsy. She can see the way Art is beginning to tent his briefs. She knows this is only round one. No kids. Nothing to do tomorrow. They’ll be up all night. 

[gunwoo-bh]

The Night Shift Epilogue [Min Yoongi x f!Reader]

MIN YOONGI x F!READER UniStudent!Yoongi AU SUMMARY: You chose a boring, quiet job at your campus’s 24-hour library for a reason: it kept you away from drama, gossip, and parties. It was positively uneventful. Until it wasn’t. 18+ MDNI cw: so much fluff, so much love, happiness all around, as usual lots of swearing, reader and yoongi are so soft for each other, warning for kissing because they love kissing. wc: 10.2k A/N: HERE WE ARE! The final chapter. I just want to say a HUGE thank you to all the love this series has gotten and while the main story may be over, this doesn't mean I'm done with these characters. I still plan on writing drabbles or Yoongi POVs. Might even open up my asks to some requests if anybody has any. I am excited for what comes next. After some rest, I do have an idea sitting in my brain that I am excited to explore. I hope you enjoy this final chapter. ;D

THE NIGHT SHIFT

EPILOGUE

FOUR YEARS LATER

“Eunhye is gonna give him so much crap…”

You snort, “I would give him crap too if it was any other day!” 

“Why is today stopping you?” Yoongi jokes.

You click your tongue, “It’s his wedding day!”

The rhythmic ticking of the indicator keeps you aware of your surroundings, turning the wheel as you make the turn. Yoongi’s laugh crackles on the speaker.

“Won’t stop the bride…”

You laugh out loud, “That’s about to be his wife so, I don’t think much can stop her anymore.” 

“You on your way now?” 

“Yeah, I just left the hotel and I’m hating on this traffic right now.”

“This is why you and I are the early ones…usually.” 

You sigh, shoulder checking quickly, “Yeah, well, someone had to go and forget the rings at the hotel so here I am, less than an hour before the wedding and I just picked up the rings…”

“I can’t believe Seokjin forgot them.” You can’t help but laugh too when you hear his laugh. 

“He had one job!”

You sigh, “Okay, baby, I am gonna hang up now so I can focus on the drive back. Tell them I am trying my hardest to make it back before but I can’t promise anything yet…”

“I will. Please drive safe?”

“I promise.” You can just imagine him pacing in whatever room he’s in. 

“I love you, see you soon!”

“I love you too!” He waits until you hang up first and you immediately dial Hwayoung’s number next, listening to it ringing until her happy and mildly anxious voice answers.

“Hiiiiiiii…please tell me you have them.”

“Rings are obtained.” 

“Oh thank fuck,” you burst out laughing, “Eunhye was willing to commit murder for this.” 

“Oh? Was she willing to risk Namjoon seeing her in the dress to kill Seokjin?” You tap your wheel as you wait for the light to turn green. 

“Uh, yeah. I don’t blame her.” Hwayoung laughs. “Your man is anxious for your return by the way, it’s all very cute.”

Blushing, you clear your throat, “Oh, is he now?”

“He hasn’t seen you in your dress yet, right? You’ve been with the wedding party all morning?”

“Uh-huh…” you sigh in relief when cars begin to move, “haven’t seen him since this morning. He’s gonna be fine…he gets to see me for the rest of the day.”

“Babe, I love you so much, but he is absolutely itching to see you. I am not even kidding you.” 

Hearing her speak about him this way, knowing you can’t see him and that all you want to do is be with him right now makes you despise having been the last one to leave the hotel the first time around before you had to go back. 

“Well, I just got off the phone with him. I am trying to make it back as quick as I can…”

“We know, and Eunhye loves you very much for that.” You ‘awe’ at her words. “Okay, I’m gonna let you drive in peace. See you soon, be safe now!”

You don’t even get a word in before she hangs up, shaking your head as you see the roads opening up. Finally. The love you hold for the people in your life is almost overwhelming because of how unconditional it all feels. 

This being the second wedding this year, Seokjin and Sohee having tied the knot a few months prior, puts you face to face with the reality of how much life has changed for everyone these last few years. You have to face just how much you have evolved as a person. Grown up. 

Therapy all those years ago had changed so many things for you, and to this day you continued attending sessions bi-weekly at least. You learned so much from facing your inner demons and fears, no longer avoiding them like you did before. It made you a better communicator and you have become a rock in your friend group in a way you never could have imagined, while also continuing to put your mental health first. It was a tricky balance but you are proud to say you mastered it.

But you weren’t alone in all of this.

You have a group of friends, no, not that. You have a family that is far bigger than the one you were born with. Now at twenty-six years old, you have everything you could have ever hoped to have. 

As you wait, yet again, at a red light you take a quick glance at the logo in the middle of the steering wheel. 

Your very own car. 

When Yoongi had offered to teach you how to drive three years ago, he was met with a resounding no and excuses, left and right. But he’s good at coaxing you out of that anxious cocoon you often bury yourself in when faced with new things. And with a little bit of effort and patience, from both of you, he taught you how to drive enough to have the confidence to follow every methodical step needed to obtain your license. 

It took you a year to achieve that goal, but at the end of that year you weren’t only met with your license but with a gift you still chastised your boyfriend, and parents, about–the car you’re sitting in right now. You love the little SUV he bought two years ago, a year after he had just purchased his own vehicle. 

It’s incredible the things you two have accomplished as a couple. How you’ve helped each other. 

Pulling up to the venue some time later, you find a spot to park the car and you make sure to not forget the rings in it as you run as fast as your heels will take you. 

Navigating the small crowd of guests present to watch Namjoon and Eunhye say ‘I do’, you spot Hwayoung and Eunji waiting for you as they take you to where Seokjin is to deliver the man the rings he forgot. 

You enter the wedding party room where Seokjin runs to you, thanking you profusely as he hugs you as his wife looks on in amusement. 

“Yeah, we’re all just lucky I was the last one to leave the hotel and that I was still close…” You gently place the rings in his hands. “Don’t…lose them.” 

He laughs and slips them into his pocket safely, “I won’t.”

You grin as you hug him again, shaking your head, “I’m shocked I made it back this quickly…”

“I’m really glad you did. I honestly thought I was a dead man.” He confesses, making you snort as you push him playfully. 

Turning around to scan the room you stop in your tracks when you see Yoongi leaning against the wall with a glass of champagne in hand. Excusing yourself, your feet carry you to where he stands as you twirl to show off your dress. You curtsy playfully before stopping in front of him. 

“That’s my girl…” he pushes off the wall, wrapping his arm around you as he pulls your body flush against his. “You look gorgeous, by the way…That dress is…” he gives you a low whistle and you smack his shoulder. 

“Stooooop.” You shake your head, skin flushed just from his words. 

At almost twenty-eight, Yoongi was the most handsome he had ever looked but again, you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of seeing him change and grow. His hair was slightly longer now, shaggy and long enough for a half-bun on some days and to tuck behind his ear most times but your favourite? Long enough to tug when you were intimate. 

“Can I kiss you or am I ruining some makeup?” He waits impatiently for your answer, constantly glancing at your lips. 

“Just kiss me.”

He doesn’t wait another moment, pulling you up and your heels make that action far easier than ever as he captures your mouth in a kiss. You bury your hand in his hair and pull him closer, his hands slipping up the length of your back and pressing between your shoulder blades. 

You pull back for air, nose to nose, “Hey…”

“Hi.” 

Pulling away to stand next to him, Yoongi hands you a flute of champagne as you sip it gently. You still never drank much but some champagne or wine on certain occasions warranted a little bit of drinking from you. 

“How long did they push it back?” 

“Not long. We’re just waiting on the okay before we go sit down…” he wraps his arm around your waist, tucking you in his side. 

You check him out, eyes languidly travelling from his feet all the way to his eyes as you grin, “You look handsome in your suit…” Your hand settles on his chest. “Scratch that, you look hot.”

His cheeks turn red within seconds as he scoffs, “You keep doing that and making me fucking blush, what the fuck–”

“Gather ‘round! We’re asking everyone to go find your seats, we’re about to start!”

It’s Namjoon’s dad.

You’re grinning proudly at your boyfriend who chugs his champagne and yours down, with you protesting that decision but he simply makes a face at you, taking your hand in his as you walk out. 

And just like everyone you find your seats, your hand reaching for his left one as you place it in your lap. You ply his fingers apart as you wait for the ceremony to begin, looking down to see how he pushes his hand down to grab your thigh. You gasp softly and grin, giving him the don’t start look as you return your focus on his hand. 

Resting your left hand on top of his, you smile as you stare at your rings. 

You aren’t engaged or married, no, but about two years ago, on that second anniversary, he bought the both of you ‘couple rings’ to wear. As a promise of a future you both wanted. Some would even call it a promise ring but he had chosen to wear one too. 

“I want people to know I’m taken without even asking.” 

The words, then, made you blush and fall in love with him even more when you didn’t think that was possible. 

You look back at him and Yoongi just smiles at you, like he knows something you don’t. 

At almost 1AM you are driving back to Seoul to go back home from the wedding. 

Yoongi is driving your car back as you drift in and out of sleep, fighting to stay awake and to keep him awake enough for what little is left of your drive. He holds your hand the entire drive back, humming to whatever music is on the radio. 

You don’t realize how much longer there is in the drive because one moment you close your eyes and the next Yoongi is carrying you in his arms, and you’re at your place. You groan when he gently puts you on the bed, leaning on your elbows as you rub your face.

“Are we back?”

“Mhm, just got back.” He’s taking his coat off, placing it over one of the many boxes in your room. “You think you can be awake enough to get ready for bed?” 

You whine, falling back on the bed as he chuckles, “Sure. I guess I could.” You groan as you sit and stand up, turning your back to him, “Unzip me, please?”

He approaches you, gathering your hair as he moves it over your shoulder. He stops moving and you glance over your shoulder when you feel his lips ghost the skin at your neck. You sigh loudly, “I’m barely touching you…” he whispers. 

“Doesn’t matter…” you exhale deeply, “we’re four years in and I will forever feel this way whenever you do that…I promise you…”

His chuckle is low and hoarse, “Way to boost my ego…”

“Mhm, we really don’t need that now…” He grins against your skin, you can feel it. 

He pulls the zipper down, helping you until it pools at your feet. You step out of it as you remove all your unnecessary jewelry, but not the ring, obviously, and find some clothes to wear to bed. 

Everything being gathered in boxes has proved inconvenient these last few days, because as careful as you have been to label everything, somehow you can’t find anything. 

“How much packing do you have left to do?” 

You grab one of his stolen hoodies, slipping it on as you point at your dresser, “That and the storage under the bed. I can definitely do that tomorrow, easy…”

“When are the people coming to pick up the furniture you sold?” He removes his tie, changing into sleep clothes.

“In the afternoon. Around 2?”

He rubs his sore shoulder, “I’ll make sure to be there in case they need help…” 

“Sounds good…” you slip some shorts on, “when are the movers coming the day after tomorrow? Did they confirm the time with you?”

“At 1PM. They say everything will be moved in by dinner time.” He walks over to you with a soft smile, gathering your face in his hands. “Keys can get picked up that same morning after nine.” 

Yeah, you still had a hard time believing this was happening.

Yoongi and you were moving in together in a brand new place. 

“You wanna go together to pick them up?” He asks.

“Of course.”

It had been an easy decision to move in together. It had been discussed many times over your years together considering you never spent nights apart after your first year together. He essentially lived with you and the girls these last two years especially when Namjoon had moved in with Eunhye, and Hoseok was also almost always over at yours. 

Telling the girls had been the emotional part because even though all of you knew these changes were happening, it still meant that you had reached the end of an era together but entering a new one. 

Hoseok and Hwayoung had found a small studio apartment and were moving out at the end of the month. Jungkook and Eunji were moving in together with the singles of the group, Taehyung and Jimin, in your soon-to-be old apartment. 

“Namjoon was apologizing right until the end that they planned their wedding this close to our move-in date…” Yoongi looks at your reflection as you wash your face. 

“Oh? It was easier for them to plan their honeymoon, no? He does realize we won’t be holding it against them, right?” You rub moisturizer over your face, staring at him. 

He shrugs, “He wanted to be there to help us. I told him we’re just glad we get to see them tomorrow night before they’re off…”

You grab your body lotion but he takes it from your hands, nodding to the counter as he wraps his arm around you to lift you on it, your legs dangling in front of him. He applies some to his hand and grabs one leg as he lathers it up and down the length of it, focused on making sure it’s evenly spread. 

“That’s very cute of them, they literally just got married and they’re sorry they can’t help us? Pffft.” He grins, briefly glancing up to you before applying the lotion to your other leg. 

“You know, you’re like a little sister to him now. Whenever he has to tell you no, it breaks his heart a little…” You smile softly, looking at his hands. “He’ll make it up to us even though he really doesn’t need to…”

“Thank you…” He looks up to you then quickly to your legs.

“Anytime.” 

He washes the excess lotion off his hands, leaning over to kiss your temple, “Ready for bed?” 

Nodding firmly, you extend your arms out as he places each of your legs around him and you tightly wrap your arms around his shoulders. You giggle when he pats your bum, burying your head in his neck as he brings you to bed for your second to last night here. 

You throw the tape on your bed when you’re done closing up one of your last boxes. 

You step back, looking at what’s left of your bedroom. Walls are bare and so is every piece of furniture except your nightstand. You grab one more box and sit down on your bed as you remove the drawer, wincing at the amount of crap you’ve thrown in there.

You dig through the accumulation of random objects until your eyes lock onto it. The box. You break out into a smile the moment you see it, opening it in your lap as you’re met with a stack of blue post-its. 

Including the very last one you’ve received. 

FOUR YEARS AGO

When you wake up the morning after, you feel exhausted but your shoulders feel light as you rub the fatigue out of your eyes. You stare at the ceiling, reaching out to the empty spot next to you as you sigh loudly.

Where is he?

You sit up, glancing down to your naked body as you begrudgingly get out of bed. Finding clothes proves easy when you simply grab his t-shirt, far too big on your small figure as it covers past your ass. You slip your underwear back on, shuffling out of the bedroom to the kitchen where you’re met with your boyfriend. 

 “Are you making us breakfast?”

He’s startled, turning around suddenly, “Jeez, when did you wake up?” 

You stretch as you wander over, “Just now…”

He finally takes in your appearance, inhaling deeply and exhaling through his teeth as he smirks, “Wow.” 

You glance to yourself then back at him, “Oh fuck off.” 

He tries to hide the smirk behind his hand, “Why? You look…really fucking good…”

Your body grows warm, shaking your head as you avoid his eyes, “I feel really fucking good…”

Yoongi grows smug, turning back around to lower the temperature on the stove, “With that out of the way…” he looks back at you, softly checking on you, “how are you feeling after our talk last night?”

You pad over closer to him, leaning against the small island separating you two, “I’m okay. A lot to figure out but one thing at a time, right?”

“Mhm.” He nods. “Is counselling helping?”

You nod, “I was…resistant at first, I was probably just stubborn.” He chuckles, grabbing a tangerine from the fruit bowl as he begins peeling it. “But I hate to admit that my appointment yesterday left me feeling pretty…light? Does that make sense?”

He hums, “Yeah, it makes sense. Therapy does that. You love and hate the feeling, right?” 

You groan, “I really do! Because why is talking about my deepest, darkest worries and feelings so bad���yet so good?!”

He laughs, your favourite kind of smile adorning his face, “That’s the magic of therapy.”

Pouting, you take a piece of tangerine he hands you, “I guess…”

He turns back to stir the pot, grabbing bowls and cutlery as he plates the side dishes and food, with your help you place the entire spread on the small living room table as you settle in for breakfast. 

“Thank you for cooking.” You glance lovingly at him.

You both dig into your food and you moan at how tasty it is, not realizing how hungry you have been since the night before. He chuckles, his mouth full, every time you moan. 

“You gotta stop making that sound…” 

Your eyebrows quirk, feeling playful, “Why? Reminds you of last night…”

He coughs, choking on his food as you giggle, “...stop.” 

You laugh as you take a sip of your water, “I’m glad I was a bit dumb last night…” you confess. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I was gonna go grab food and come find you, but…I was tired so I decided I’d go nap at yours when I showed up. I thought I’d have plenty of time to get up and come back to meet you…” you let the sentence die, blinking softly, “Wait.”

“Mhm?” 

You put your chopsticks down, “Why were you home when I got here? You should have been at the library…”

He doesn’t look as caught off guard as you expect him to be. He simply stands, urging you to follow him as you follow after him. He stops halfway to his room and grabs your hand, tugging you with him as he lets go.

Standing there, you watch as he rifles through something in his drawer. He stops moving altogether for a moment before turning to face you. 

“So, I was looking for a hoodie the other day,” he pauses, playfully glaring at you, “but I should have known you’d stolen it,” you grin, “so, when I was looking for it I found a hoodie I hadn’t worn in a while…so I decided to take it and in the pocket I found…” he opens his hand, palm up, to reveal a crumpled piece of familiar blue paper. 

“A blue post-it?” He hums. “Babe, I’m sorry to tell you but it isn’t new, that’s like our thing…”

He’s grinning, a twinkle in his eyes, “It is…” you frown as he clicks his tongue, “except, it is pretty unique compared to the other ones…”

You’re curious now, “Why?”

“Because it’s the only one you haven’t read…” 

You gasp, blinking rapidly, “Baby?”

“Mhm?”

“Is this what I think it is?” He grins as he nods. “Can I?” 

“I wouldn’t be giving it to you if I wasn’t sure,” you reach for it but he pulls his hand back, “because I was planning on showing that to you last night but I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t find it…”

Your eyes are glued to the paper as you nod, “Mhm, that’s very sweet. Can I please…?” 

Snorting, he sighs, “I’m trying to be sweet…”

“You always are, you just underestimate how much you are. Gimme. Please.” You hold out your hands.

He squints as he stares at you, mouth open as he utters the smallest scoff, “Impatient and sweet, all at once. You are magical I swear…” 

You smile, “I love you very much, can I?” You point at it. 

“I just need you to know before you read this that I wrote this when I felt really confident about it…but then I saw you, and thought…no way you’d say yes so…” he sighs as he hands you the crumpled paper. 

You delicately uncrumple the paper, glancing at him one more time as you finally get to read the words he’d written on what could have been the second post-it, the one that never was until now. 

It’s not a tangerine, but…maybe instead we can grab some food and talk more? 

Maybe, make it a date?

A smile immediately spreads to your lips when you realize how quickly he wanted to ask you out, sniffling as you bite your lower lip. You stare at it for a while, reading the words over and over. 

You laugh, emotions bubbling up in your chest, “You really did like me for that long?” 

He nods, “Yeah, I liked you before we even met.”

“When…how?”

He chuckles, walking closer to you, “We actually briefly met once before that day in the library.” You look astonished to hear that. “I don’t think you’d remember, I had a different hair colour then but you helped this girl in my class when she dropped all of her stuff, and I had seen you before, around…” he blushes, “I thought you were pretty. Always did. But you reassured her when she felt silly for being clumsy and you were…you are still radiant…and I was looking for a reason to be helped…”

You gasp as you realize, “The library, that night…”

He nods, “Yeah…”

“You planned it all? Ahead of time?” 

“Yep.” He’s shy as he stands there. “I’d already read the book for class. I actually had a copy in my bag at the time…” 

You’re stunned into silence as you stare at it for far longer than you should.

“You were gonna ask me on a date?”

He’s nodding, “Yeah, I was…”

“Why didn’t…you?” 

He hisses, like the answer that pops into his mind hurts, “Because I saw you and I convinced myself there was no way you’d say yes…”

You snort, “But I did say yes.”

“Well, evidently.” You thwack his chest, Yoongi grabs your hand when it comes into contact with him. 

You stare up at him, “I would have said yes, y’know?”

He scoffs, “I know that now! But then? I never could have imagined you wanting to go on a date with me.” 

You grab his face in your hands, “Well, I’d go on dates with you again and again. Let’s make sure our life together is a lifelong date…”

He frowns, scrunching his nose as he laughs, “Lifelong date…Sounds like a plan.”

PRESENT

The memory is vivid in your brain, one you cherished and would cherish for the rest of your life. Just like these post-its. 

You secure the lid back on as you carefully pack it into the box, continuing and finally finishing your packing. And as you stand in the middle of it, it actually feels empty for the first time. Nostalgia hits you in different ways as you take in the emptiness. Many of your firsts and best memories have happened in this room, and this apartment too. 

You grab your phone, taking a photo of your empty room before sending it to Yoongi.

You [12:02 PM]: [image]

You [12:02 PM]: Finally done! 😮‍💨I’ll just wait for you to get here to make food. 

You know he’s going to answer quickly and just like expected, he begins answering. 

Yoongi 🧡🍊[12:04 PM]: I’ll be right over, I’m buying fried chicken for lunch. I’ll get you the usual. ♥️

You grin as you stare at his text because really.

How did you get so lucky?

Laughter rings loudly in the restaurant.

The energy is electric. Everyone is laughing with full bellies and plenty of alcohol flowing. Your heart is full, happy and relaxed as you scan the full table. 

It is filled with almost every person you love most on this planet. 

You sit snug into Yoongi’s side, still taking bites of the pork belly left on the grill in front of you. With his arm around your shoulders you safely secure yourself the best spot in your opinion. It is the weirdest feeling on the planet to think of how quickly things have changed between your group. 

Hard to believe there wasn’t even a group like this years ago.

Namjoon stands as he clinks his glass, making everyone groan at how sentimental he’s been recently but he knows how appreciated he is for it. 

He clears his throat, “I want to start off by thanking everyone for pulling everything together so fast for our…really sudden wedding. Without you we have no idea how we could have pulled this off,” he feels his wife grab his hand as he locks eyes with her sweetly, “and for that we’re so grateful to have friends such as you.” He raises his glass and everyone cheers, taking a sip. 

“And we’re also celebrating a lot of changes, are we not?” Everyone glances around the table. “Did we all have to grow up so fast? Like, damn.” 

You shake your head, quietly chuckling as you look at your hands in your lap. You feel Yoongi press a soft kiss to your temple as you look at him, meeting in a quick kiss. 

“But I also want to congratulate my best friend,” both Yoongi and you snap your heads towards Namjoon, “because I can finally say it. I’m proud of you. You’re starting your second year for your doctorate, you’re moving tomorrow–”

Eunhye speaks up quickly, “We’re still so sorry we can’t be there by the way!”

Everyone laughs, with Yoongi trying to hide the blush that’s creeping up his cheeks, as Namjoon continues, “And my favourite part of this entire thing for you?” Yoongi frowns, tongue in cheek as he squints at his friend’s growing grin. “You finally got the girl.”

Everyone cheers loudly, the both of you grow flush as you smile but you’re startled when Namjoon calls your name, “You have no idea how happy I am for you two. And I’m really happy because even though Yoongi and I aren’t actually brothers? I’m glad I get to have you as my sister-in-law some day…”

You start feeling tears brimming, touched by how loved you feel. You feel Yoongi squeezing you tighter against him as you nod to Namjoon. 

“I’m also gonna stop being emotional now so we can get back to drinking and eating, but I also want to recognize that so many of us are going through changes. Hoseok, Hwayoung?” They smile. “Congrats on moving in together soon too. Jungkook, Eunji? Make sure Jimin and Taehyung don’t turn the place into a party house…” he teases, earning himself some protests.

He turns to you guys one more time, “Have a good move in day tomorrow! We can’t wait until we get back to be able to have dinner together at your new place! Treat us well, huh?”

You all laugh and with one final cheer you all return to your eating and drinking. You feel Yoongi’s hand squeezing your thigh as you smile at him so bright. 

“Mhm?”

“I love you.” 

Your breath catches in your throat as it does every time he says those words, “Really?”

“Of course.” He smiles faintly. 

“I love you, too…” you whisper as he kisses your forehead.

You grab some meat and bring it to his lips as he takes it from you, gratefully nodding in thanks to you as he chews while looking at your friends. You note how he gives Namjoon a quick nod, his best friend returning with a sly smile tugging at his lips. 

“Does it feel weird to be leaving your apartment by the way?” Sohee asks you. “You’ve been there for a while, no?” 

“Yeah, it kinda does. I thought I’d be more nervous about moving in with someone new and without Hwayoung and Eunji, but we’ve basically been sleeping over every night for the last three years, just at his or mine…Now, it’ll just be ours.” You turn your head to proudly look at him as he nods. 

Yoongi chuckles, “I won’t lie, I’m worried some days I’ll be too tired that I might go back to my old place out of habit…” 

Everyone laughs, “If you ever get a text from me late at night it’s probably because I’ll be looking for him…” Yoongi knows you’re teasing but he squeezes your thigh tighter and higher as you gasp softly, hoping no one notices. 

“Don’t worry,” he kisses your cheek, lips close to your ears, “with you in our home, I don’t think I could ever forget where home is…”

You make a face, “When did you become so cheesy?” 

“Hey!” He looks offended as you break out into a smile, Yoongi fighting not to but his lips curl in the slightest. “You’re not nice to me.” 

“What do you mean? I’m plenty nice…” you lean into him, resting your chin on his shoulder. 

He grabs your face and everyone awes at you two as you share a kiss.

A few hours pass, getting late now when you all begin leaving. You’re standing outside when Yoongi says goodbye to Taehyung and Jimin, and you are waiting by the car.

“Hey.” Namjoon’s deep voice startles you, bringing you into a warm hug as he pulls back. “I’m really glad I got to see you before we’re off.”

“I am happy that we made all of this work. You and Eunhye have to come over when you’re back from your honeymoon and once we’re settled in.” You insist with a small tug at his sleeve. 

“We will.” Namjoon clears his throat. “When are you starting the new job?”

“Two days after the move.” You sigh, nerves visible on your features. “I’m so fucking stressed out.”

“Why?” 

“Because I started last year at a school and now I’m already moving on to a hagwon*, I feel like I’m missing out on the experience…” You look pained as he squeezes your shoulder. 

“Hey, stop that. You were recruited for a reason, no?” 

You pout, “Yes, but honestly there’s just something really intense about being recruited. Like…the expectations are higher.” 

He smiles, “And you’ll ace them. Give yourself time to adjust and you’ll rock it. You did great in your first year of teaching, you’ll do great there too.” 

You suddenly feel arms wrap around your waist, gasping at the intimacy of the touch as Yoongi hugs you. You’re so startled that you forget how to speak, mouthing the air as Namjoon laughs.

“Wow, bro. You guys have been together for how long and you still make her lose her ability to talk?” 

You yelp, reaching and smacking Namjoon as he laughs, “Don’t make fun of me!” 

“It’s sweet that you guys are just still so in love.” Namjoon looks proudly at you two. 

You’re pouting as you lean against Yoongi’s body, slouching into it, “I don’t know now, I think it might be getting old now that we’re about to move in…” 

They know you’re joking, because you wouldn’t be pouting like this if you were serious. 

“Liar…” Yoongi whispers in your ear. 

You shiver and elbow him, “Stop.” 

“But as I was saying,” Namjoon starts, he looks at you, “you are gonna do amazing at the academy. I’m super excited for what comes next for you, and for you guys…”

He walks into the both of you, squishing you between him and Yoongi as you whine, smacking Namjoon’s back until he pulls back. You say goodbye to his wife and wish them a good trip as you watch them walking away. 

You feel Yoongi nuzzling your neck, “You okay driving us home?” 

“Mhm,” you nod, “I had nothing to drink tonight.”

He hands you the keys to his car as you smile, “Let’s go home…”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! Of course. God, you guys are gonna be so busy. The least I can do is buy coffee and breakfast.” Sohee insists as she pays. 

You’re headed to Yoongi’s apartment since the movers are going there first and to yours later. It’s just a little past 10 a.m. now, and you’ve just returned from picking up the keys to your new place with Yoongi. Sohee had offered to buy everyone food and coffee, and you went with her for company but to thank her for her generosity. 

“You’re so sweet. We really appreciate it. And I mean it, without you we wouldn’t be here.” 

She smiles, nudging you playfully, “It’s a big day for you. I remember when Seokjin and I moved in together we were stressed out of our minds. You’re so calm, you’ll be fine…”

“Oh, I’m freaking out inside and I will probably stress way later…” You laugh, rubbing the back of your neck nervously. 

“You scared of living with Yoongi or is it just how big a change it is?” She asks, grabbing the coffees as you take the bag of food from her. 

Shrugging, you open the door for her, “I honestly never saw this for myself…not this early in my life…” 

“Moving in with a boyfriend?”

You hum, “Or even having a boyfriend for long enough to be able to move in with…” 

It’s mildly embarrassing to admit that you never thought you’d be likeable enough to meet someone who could fall for you like Yoongi has. 

“But here you are.” She smiles as she nudges you playfully. “I’d say, you two are the next ones engaged and married…”

You stutter as you smile, “Not yet but some day, I’m sure…” 

She bites her lip, “Have you thought about it? Marriage…”

You can’t hide the smile that spreads, “We’ve talked about it…”

She giggles, “And?” 

“It’s happening someday for sure, but life right now? Too busy.” You smile, glancing at her as she hugs you. “We’re not engaged yet!” 

“I know! I know! But with our wedding, Namjoon and Eunhye’s wedding having just passed…I’m in a very wedding mood and knowing my friends are most likely next makes me really happy…” You love her excitement for life but also her support. 

“I love your love of weddings…” She giggles as you walk back to Yoongi’s place. 

Entering the apartment, it feels odd to see it as empty as your room feels. In the living room Yoongi, Seokjin, Jimin and Taehyung are all stacking boxes and furniture closer to the entrance to make it easier when the movers come. 

You hand out breakfast to your friends, walking to Yoongi last as you rub his back and he turns to you with a soft smile, “Here.”

He takes it from you, “Thanks, baby…” he stands at full height, grabbing the back of your head and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You lean into him and he wraps his arm around you, tugging you closer. “You okay?” 

Nodding up at him, “I am. Just happy.” 

You share a look, the same thought passing through your heads at that moment. We're really doing this. You feel how his hand squeezes your waist rhythmically, swallowing thickly as he looks at you. You’re both nervous about what comes next but the fact that this signals the beginning of the rest of your lives appeases that nervous energy you’re feeling. 

You’re beaming when you stare up at him, “Just really happy…” 

When the movers are done at Yoongi’s, they head to your apartment to grab your things before finally taking everything to the new place. You stay behind to clean what remains of your room and to help Jimin move in while Yoongi, Seokjin, Hoseok and Hwayoung all go to your new home to help unpack. 

Jimin had protested, insisting you go enjoy the process but you didn’t want to leave him alone to move everything in. 

“I’ll help him. It’ll be over quick and I can come back after. I don’t want him to do it alone…”

Pouting had convinced your boyfriend to let you go, feeling his hesitance in not having you there to move things in. 

“You’re too nice. Don’t stay too long, you need to enjoy this process, okay?”

You finish mopping the room and cleaning the floorboards as you wipe your forehead, looking proudly at your work as you call out for Jimin who slides into his room with a gleeful smile. 

“Welcome to your room! It is clean and ready! I flipped the mattress over, it was steamed wash yesterday so maybe make sure it’s not damp…the furniture you wanted is all here. It’s clean and empty. You just gotta move your things in now.” 

He walks into you for a hug as you wrap your arms tightly around his tiny waist, “Thank you! You should be in your new home with that boyfriend of yours but instead you're here helping me, and Taehyung.” 

Shaking your head, “Hey, you guys have been so helpful with helping us plan this move. I’m glad I get to be of help and there’s nothing better than helping your friends…” 

He smiles as he pulls back, “But now, listen to me…” he cups your cheeks as he pulls back, “go home and get settled in. And enjoy that boyfriend of yours. I’m really happy for you guys…” 

Your cheeks feel warm, nodding as you hold onto his arms, “When we’re settled in and I’ve gotten settled at work? You all come over for dinner. It’ll be our treat for you guys…”

“Yes, ma’am!” He gives you the most playful of salutes and a wink. “Now, go. Today?” he stops as he stares at you. “Is the start of the rest of your life.” 

You mouth the air, “Wow.”

Jimin frowns as you huff a laugh, “What?”

Shaking your head, you bite your lower lip, “I was just thinking that earlier today. The start of the rest of my life…”

He playfully nudges you, “Go. Go start it.” 

You laugh as you wrap your arms around him one final time, squeezing him until he starts tickling your sides. Both pulling apart, you grab your purse as you head out into the living room where Taehyung, Jungkook and Eunji are assembling a new bed frame for Taehyung. After many hugs and good wishes you finally start walking to your new home. 

It’s a solid thirty minutes away but you need this walk to just come down from the intensity of the day. And for that, nothing better than to speak to your mom. Dialing the number and putting the phone to your ear. You smile so broadly when you hear your mom’s voice. 

“Mom!”

“Oh, my baby girl. You’ve been so busy today! Are you home now? Have you eaten?”

You can’t help the childish giggle that leaves your mouth, “Mooom!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You must be so tired…”

“I’ll be tired when I get home. There are still some things to do…” You rub the soreness in your neck. 

“How did it go?” 

You smile, “Really well. The movers were all on time for everyone. I don’t know how we managed to coordinate everything so perfectly but…” you sigh. 

“That sounds intense. Is everyone settled in now?” You hum.

“Yes! I’m just leaving my old place. I felt bad just leaving and not helping Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook get their things in…so I stayed to help. I’m headed home now…I’m sure Yoongi and I are gonna be up late trying to do as much as possible…” 

“Remember to eat, mhm? And try to rest too, I know you start your new job soon but try to rest too…” 

“I will. We want to try to get…kinda settled enough tonight so that we can relax the day before I start at the academy…” you wince, your nerves about your job making your stomach feel uneasy. “Ugh. I’m so nervous, mom…” 

“About the academy?”

“Mhm.” 

You hear her click her tongue, “Honey, you were recruited for a reason. There’s always an adjustment period. You’ll adapt and be an amazing teacher there!”

“You’re my mom. You’re supposed to say these things…” You pout. 

“Aish. If I wasn’t in Busan, I’d be next to you smacking you for saying that. You know I love you but if you do something silly or you can improve? I will be honest and tell you. In this case? Nothing. You’re going to learn so much…Give yourself a chance.” 

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“I love you…” 

You hear her intake of breath, smiling softly as you wait for the inevitable, “Yah…don’t make your mom cry. Silly child.” 

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth, “I just said I love you, that’s all!”

“I love you, too…God,” she sniffles, “I’m so proud of you. Look at you, moving into your own home with your boyfriend. You have a good job. Your life is moving just the way any parent wishes for their child…” 

“Oh god, don’t even continue this–”

“Next you just have to get married–”

“Mom!”

It’s her turn to burst out laughing, “I’m your mom I have to tease you a little! After all, it is going to happen…You two are just waiting, right?” 

She snickers when she hears you groaning, “Moooom!”

She knows you’re not annoyed by it because you’re laughing, trying to sound irritated but it doesn’t come across that way. 

“Okay, okay! I am gonna stop. You have to let your mom tease you.” 

“Mom, I swear…the moment Yoongi puts a ring on my finger? You’ll be the first to know.” You remind her of the promise you make every time she teases you this way. “Is dad with you?”

“No, he’s actually off to help fix Mr. Yang’s boat. He was having issues…” 

“Well, tell him I am gonna call later tonight. I wanna talk to him.” 

She hums, “Oh, call him in the morning, honey…After you’re rested a little. You said earlier you’d be unpacking and settling in tonight. He’ll want to talk to you for a while I’m sure…”

“Dad? Have you not met your husband? He hates talking on the phone for longer than fifteen minutes…” You glance around your new neighborhood, taking in the stores and restaurants that will become part of your new routine. 

“He’s going to want to speak with you for longer I’m sure. You have so many exciting things happening and you haven’t spoken to him on the phone in a bit. He’ll want to hear all about it…” There’s a playful lilt to her voice. 

You concede, “Fine. I’ll call in the morning while we’re having breakfast.” 

“Make it a video call, all four of us.” You shake your head. “I want to see you and Yoongi in your new place. Video tour!”

You laugh, “Yes, mom! I will make sure of that.”

“Good. Your dad and I will be waiting on that phone call.” 

You look up at your new home, seeing the lights on as you stare and smile contentedly, “Okay, that sounds good. Mom? I’m just getting home so I will hang up now, but I promise I will call in the morning to give you a tour of the place.” 

“Mhm~. That sounds great. You make sure to eat, okay? And rest too! Don’t stay up all night unpacking.”

You grin, “Yes, mom! I promise you I won’t.”

“Okay, honey, have a good evening. Say hi to Yoongi.” 

“I will. I love you, say hi to dad, please!”

You fight over who gets to hang up first until she does, making you laugh as you walk up the stairs leading to your home. 

Home. 

Even as you stand at the gate, this doesn’t feel real. And maybe it won’t for a while. When Yoongi and you had gone in search of a new place to stay you hadn’t intended to get a home. 

Right as you had been about to sign a lease for an apartment in some high rise building, your realtor, and friend, Sohee, had one more showing that she had to convince you to come visit. You had both been set on that one apartment and you were ready to just go for it. But you could thank Sohee for the rest of your life for insisting on showing you one final place. 

When she drove you to a nice quiet neighborhood filled with homes, you had been unsure at the time. But as it turns out, her grandparents were moving in with her sister seeing as maintaining their home was too difficult for them. And Seokjin had initially wanted them to rent and eventually buy the home, but Sohee enjoyed the place they already had. She tells you she knew if there was anyone that deserved a shot at it, it was you two. 

On the outskirts of a Hanok** village, mixed in with more modern infrastructure was a beautiful, quaint Hanok house that had housed generations of growing families, including Sohee’s. 

Even before stepping inside you had spoken against a home yet because of the costs but she had tamed your concerns very easily by insisting you take a tour.

“Just…look at it. Get a feel for it. And then we can talk, okay?”

You smile at the memory because of how right she was to insist. The home was beautifully renovated recently enough to accommodate her grandparents better years prior. A beautiful two bedroom home with a small private yard in a nice neighborhood. It felt too good to be true and you remember looking over to Yoongi in shock, because your heart was now set on this. 

“There’s no way we can afford this…”

He looked heartbroken too. You both had fallen in love with the home and walked back out to Sohee with solemn looks. But she had to surprise you. 

“I spoke to my grandparents and they’ve agreed to this…they’ve willingly signed the paperwork already as long as you two say yes.” 

You would rent to buy the home until you were able to pay it off, like a mortgage, or until you could pay the amount in full. Whichever worked best for you. Their only condition for agreeing to leave their home was that it had to remain in the family. And Sohee, the kind human she is, explained to her grandparents that Yoongi and you were family. 

And according to her, no more explanation was needed. 

You gently touch the wooden framework as you push the gate open, smiling as you shut it. Walking up to the door you key in, calling out for Yoongi as you remove your shoes. 

You smile softly as you take in your new home. Even at twenty-six, something such as a home makes you feel like such an adult. Like you’re actually doing this whole adulting thing right. 

“Yoongi!”

You call out again but hear nothing. Maybe he’s showering?

You place your purse on the ground, walking down the length of the short hallway into the living room and kitchen. It is not as messy as you expected. The boxes are neatly stacked in the corners, each divided per room. You glance around with still no sign of your boyfriend as you take your phone to see if he’s messaged. 

Of course. 

Yoongi 🧡🍊[7:14 PM]: Went to grab us some food! We need energy to take on unpacking 😮‍💨

You stretch, shuffling towards the fridge to see if there’s anything in it but you look to the kitchen island. You snort right away when you see because of course Min Yoongi would pull this off one more time. 

Laughing to yourself, you reach over to grab the tangerine that sits on a blue post-it. You grab the piece of paper and grin.

Welcome home, my love <3

Biting your lower lip, you hold the post-it in your hand over your heart as you revel in feeling loved by Yoongi. You’re still holding onto it when you resume your walk to the fridge, opening the door to find it fairly empty apart from some water and some cut up fruits. Pouting at the disappointing find, you shut it and walk to your couch when your phone buzzes on the counter where you left it. 

You check it and frown at the message. 

Yoongi 🧡🍊[7:18 PM]: Left you a surprise in the bedroom, go take a peak ♥️

You glance to the closed door leading to the master bedroom then back to the text, chuckling as you do what he says. You drag your feet tiredly to your room, twisting the knob and swinging the door open as you’re met with a sight different from what you expected.

The bedroom looks almost fully put together, a few things aside but what strikes you the most are the fairy lights hanging on the largest wall opposite of where you’re standing. What’s even more striking is what’s stuck to the wall. 

Blue post-its. 

All neatly placed in a grid like formation, five rows of four post-its each with something written on them. As you quietly walk closer, you look at the first one and recognize it right away.

Night shifts are tough…tangerines are good for energy, and for a snack.

MYG

You flick your gaze to the second one and feel your chest tighten. 

It’s not a tangerine, but…maybe instead we can grab some food and talk more? 

Maybe, make it a date?

You don’t know when you feel a tear crawl down your cheek, but you sniffle as you smile. You read each one and you notice then, the final post-it on the fourth row is unlike the others. 

Place the post-it you just got here, please. 

You laugh, removing the placeholder and placing the last one. 

Welcome home, my love <3

Your fingers gently stroke that one for a moment, looking around your room as you smile. Your eyes drift down to the final row of four post-its and you gasp, hand flying to your mouth as you stop a sob from escaping. Your heart beats out of your chest, heaving heavily as you reread them over and over. 

Each carries one word, spelling out what you least expected. 

Will you marry me?

You stare for so long, all your senses are jumbled by the flurry of emotions your feeling, and because of that you don’t even hear the noise behind you until you look down to your phone to text Yoongi.

“Would you?”

You jump, startled out of your mind with your hand still against your chest as you turn around. Yoongi stands in the doorway, leaning casually against it with the gentlest and most loving smile on his face. 

“Marry me?” 

He licks his lips nervously, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down multiple times as he looks at you. You notice his hand behind his back as you open your mouth to speak but you’re still too stunned.

He steps forward, stopping in front of you as he glances down at you and you meet his gaze. He makes you jump again when he drops to one knee and suddenly it all feels more real, emotions bubbling up into happy tears as you cover your mouth. 

“I know already what that gorgeous brain of yours is thinking,” he grins, looking up at you and grabbing your hand, “I know we agreed to wait to get married and I still stand by that, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be engaged while we do that. And I want to be…engaged to you. To call you my fiancée.” 

He breathes out deeply, his nerves showing now that he’s right there on one knee before you, “So, I am gonna ask you again,” he smiles, chewing on his lower lip before he asks again, “will you marry me?”

You’re full on crying now, squeezing his hand as you sniffle when you laugh as you nod, “Of course. Yes! Yes, I will marry you…” 

He exhales loudly, laughing when he finally hears the answer he has been dying to hear out of you. Relief washes over the both of you as you fall to your knees too. 

“Shit! Are you okay?” He’s laughing, reaching for what you assume is the ring when he pulls a small bag out of his pocket. 

“I’m fine, I’m more than fine…” you’re laughing, hands shaking as he takes the ring out of the small velvet bag. Your breath catches in your throat when you see the gorgeous yellow gold engagement ring with beautiful diamonds adorning it. It is exactly everything you could have hoped for in an engagement ring. 

He takes your left hand in his and slips the ring on your ring finger as you fling yourself into his arms, making the both of you fall as you cover his body with yours. Your lips are sealed to his, kissing him over and over as you laugh between each peck. He sits up as you remain seated on his lap, looking down to the ring on your hand. 

“How…what…why…when?” 

He laughs, gathering your face in his hands as he pulls your mouth to his in a heated kiss, nibbling at your lower lip as you moan. 

“Babe…Yoongi…” you tap his shoulder as he reluctantly pulls back. 

“Yeah?” 

“Was this sudden or planned?” 

He grins, watching you from under hooded eyes, “Planned. For a while. I knew I wanted to but…this felt like the moment.” 

“You proposed…”

He laughs, “And you said yes.”

“My mom is gonna freak out…” you remark as you go back to staring at the ring. 

“She did talk to you, right?” 

“Yeah…how’d you know?”

He looks proud, “I told her. I told her I was proposing today.” 

Your jaw goes slack, “So…so, you mean, when I spoke to my mom on the way home…she knew you were gonna propose to me?” 

“Mhm.” he nods. 

“When did you tell her?!” 

“About three months ago. Remember I said I needed to go out of town for the day for some research paper?” 

Your eyes widen when you remember that moment clearly, “Yeaaaah…?”

“Sorry, babe, that was a little lie. I took the train to Busan and I uh,” he starts blushing, rubbing the back of his neck, “I went and asked your parents for permission to marry you…”

You can’t help when your heart swells at his words, because how could you not feel that way when he tells you this?

“I can’t believe she knew the entire time and she still found it in her to tease me about us getting married.” Yoongi must find the look on your face funny because he snorts, cupping your cheek as he pulls your mouth to his. 

“I love you…”

You whimper against his lips when he kisses you again, “Fuck, I didn’t think I could love you any more than this…”

He smiles as he kisses you, his lips so soft against yours as you pull away. You gently cup his cheek and look at him as he lies under you, his eyes filled with adoration and astonishment at being engaged to you now. 

You collapse next to him, falling on your back as you look back to the wall where his proposal remains.

“Where did you find these?” You point. 

“That wasn’t part of my original plan for the proposal. But I was just going through some boxes to get an idea of what went where…and I found the box where you kept all of those.” He points to the wall. “Then I made up my mind about how to propose…”

You smile sweetly as you stare back at the question on the wall, leaning into his side as you push yourself up to kiss his cheek, “There’s something missing…”

He frowns, “Huh?” 

“Wait here…”

You shoot up from your spot as you run back out to the kitchen, rifling through boxes and cursing under your breath with every new box you pry open. You’re sure Yoongi is probably having a field day listening to you make a ruckus and swearing, only squealing when you finally find them. 

Post-its. 

You grab a marker from the counter, scribbling on the post-it and rushing back in the bedroom.

Yoongi is standing in front of his thoughtful proposal, looking over his shoulder to you as you sprint back in. You hide one hand behind your back, walking up to him. 

“I think it’s about time I partake in this…”

He’s confused but curious, “And what is this, exactly?”

You hold up the now bright orange post-it you have in hand, but the writing is facing you as you speak, “This. Don’t look yet, please.”

He chuckles as he turns around, pressing his back to yours as he waits until you walk around to face him once more. You snake your hands around his waist and hug him, craning your neck to look up at him. 

You’re now looking at your fiancé in your new home as you begin this new chapter in your life together, and like every new chapter that begins, there needs to be an end. 

“Your proposal will be the last blue post-it we use.” He frowns. “I think it really represented our entire relationship until now and maybe it’s not the last post-it ever, but as we’re entering a new chapter in our lives, let’s use a different colour. Let’s mark these new chapters in our lives with different colours to remind ourselves just how much we’ve changed.”

He starts smiling at you as you continue, “Because all of this can be something we can show our kids someday…” He blushes at that, inhaling deeply. “This makes one heck of a story…”

“So,” he clears his throat, “can I look at this magical last post-it?” 

You giggle, wetting your lips as you nod, “Mhm. You can.”

He doesn’t move yet, no. He waits a moment before he pulls you closer to kiss you, breathing against your mouth, “I love you. So much…”

You nuzzle his nose, biting your lower lip, “I love you too…” he’s about to lean in to capture your lips in another kiss when you playfully push him. “Check the wall, baby…”

He chuckles, stubbornly stealing one more kiss from you. He doesn’t let go of you when he twists both your bodies around to look back at the wall. And as you watch his eyes scan every single post-it, going down memory lane just as you do until he reaches the question he posed earlier to you. 

And next to the last note, there sits the post-it you just put up.

You watch as the grin grows on his lips, nodding gently as he glances down to you quickly then back to the wall at the end of a chapter and the beginning of another one. 

On that orange post-it marking a new beginning sits one single word. 

Your answer. 

Yes.

A/N: Again, I would love to thank everybody for the love this series has gotten. I will continue to be grateful for the continued support! :D I am not done with these two, ever. I still have much to write for them.

*hagwon: refers to a private educational institution, often likened to a cram school or after-school academy (taken directly from google)

**hanok: traditional Korean house, characterized by its wooden framework, typically built with stone and earth (taken directly from google)

engagement ring 💍 photo link here

tag list: @muchwita @kam9404 @ot72025 @lalazilz @janeelizabeth1216 @rinkud @yngisstuff @lolpanda94 @angelicbunnee @wubbz05 @illicitelle @legendarydreamqueen @flyxfall @mintmango-min @moorepls @gojomyoneandonly @yoongiiuu93 @wobblewobble822 @michaela0901 @ariakamil @watchingover-hypegirl @lovesvt17 @misschelliejeon @niieceyy @this-most-assuredly-counts @ronaa33 @yoonminv @meghanacloud @petroogorodnik @existentialzaddy @illnevertrustmyselfagain

Post separator credit to @hyuneskkami

[msfantasy-anime]

A Visit From Dear Ole Dad

Monkey D. Luffy x Reader

Summary: Your dad visits Marine!Reader to talk

A/n: rushed ending but shrug

Part IV

“Mrs. Monkey.” A teasing gravely voice calls out.

Standing at the bow of the ship, you turn around to see your father standing just behind you. His bright red hair and sunny smile beaming at you.

"Dad!" You call out excitedly. Shoving your tea cup into the nearest officers hands as you launch yourself into the arms of your father. His big arms wrapping around your form as he begins to spin you in circles as you giggle like a young girl again.

He finally places you down, “How’s it going little trouble maker?” He asks ruffling up your hair.

“Me? If anyone’s the trouble maker— it’s you!” You accuse back, all whilst Shanks throws his head back in laughter.

The ship seems to grow quieter at the unexpected visitor. Soon all you hear is the ocean waves lapping against the vessel as the crew shuffle silently behind the figure of your dad. All attempting to catch glimpses of him, but he pays no mind to the watchful eyes only looking upon your face instead.

“No more than usual— but you?” He says, raising his brow, “Imagine my surprise when I catch word about my little girl messing around with another marine.” He says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now I don’t like getting involved with you two but you better set the record straight before Luffy hears anything— aren’t you two married or did I miss something?” He lectures, making you shrink under his scrutinising gaze. “Even if it’s another one of your schemes, you know how Luffy feels about those tricky tactics of yours.”

“Might’ve …” you spoke hesitantly. “Told a small fib here and there to get out of a situation…” you mutter, twisting your fingers around your coat. “But it’s not true! Luffy knows I would never.”

Shanks couldn’t help but huff a sigh. “Kid— It might not be my place. But I think it’s time I finally had a heart to heart with you.” Shanks says, looking you deep in your eyes, making sure you’re listening. “How much longer are you going to play marine.” He says as you raise a brow at this. 

“Dad, it’s not like that. I want to be a marine.” You defend, but Shank doesn’t hesitate.

“Is it though?” He asks, making you falter, “I don’t know exactly where this dream of becoming a marine came from but I just wanna make sure that my little girl won’t make any decisions that she regrets in life. Even though you two love each other, love isn’t enough to keep you together. There will come a day that you will have to choose between your job and him and I don’t think you can live with that decision.” Shank says grabbing your shoulders. “So I’m asking you again, why do you wanna be a marine?”

Maybe it was the sincerity in his eyes, or the sorrowful look he’s giving you, or perhaps it was your own admission back that make your heart ache.

“I don’t know.” You answer back, your voice trembly as you painfully admit you’re unsure. It’s a terrifying notion to admit. For years you prattled on about becoming a marine as the boys prattled on about becoming a pirate king. You’ve made becoming a marine your whole personality and without that title you don’t really know who you are. Truth be told that thought sat in the back of your mind for quite a long time now; having become a marine and achieving such an esteemed title only trapped you further. To finally admit out loud that you’re not sure if the years of dedication to your craft was even worth it. Being a rear admiral almost felt like nothing, it feels like it should be a title you ought to be proud of having. “I was so angry when you left me on the island dad.” You say, meeting his gaze.

“I’m sorry darling you know if I had any other way then I would—“

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m not angry at you. I was angry at the situation.” You said, a tear spilling over the edge of your eyes. “I’m grateful that I got to have the childhood I did. Growing up with Ace, Sabo, and especially Luffy, was more than I could ever ask for.” You say, Shanks whipping away your tear. “I was angry that the Marines kept you away from me. I was even more angry when Ace told us about the world government issued an execution order when he was a fetus. The world wanted him dead before he was even born.” You said, your brows crossing. “And the idea cemented in my head when I watched the Marines just stand there when that celestial dragon launched a bomb at Sabo.”

Shanks just stood there for a moment mulling over your words. “Darling, if I had to be quite honest with you, I don’t believe being a marine is your dream.” in the words rattled your mind. “Say you achieved the highest rank as a marine. Would you feel complete and happy in the end?” You just stood there, your mouth left a-gape.

“I-“

“Say you go on countless adventures with that husband of yours, would you have regrets leaving the marines behind?” He asks, and something in his eyes compelled the honest truth from you.

“No.”

And with that admission, Shank smiles ever so slightly.

But you couldn’t even focus on that as you saw a hoards of your crew gathering behind your father. “Rear Admiral— we thank you for all your years of service but we think it’s time that you follow your own dreams as you have helped us follow ours.” One of the officers shout as the crowd begins to hold back their tears.

“Thanks to you. We understand the vision that you had for the Marines and we will do our best to carry out.” Your Lieutenant announces. “ Will leave for your name and document so they never even know that you’ve left—“

“No—“ you say firmly. “Tell Akainu the truth. That I’ve abandoned post to join my husband- as a straw hat pirate!”







Tag list: @rainbowcreepie

[sapphicautumn]

what abt a fix where bella ramsey ellie and reader are best friends and reader is insecure abt her body (a stomach, big thighs etc) and ellie says smthn along the lines of “do you trust me?” and ellie shows her how pretty she is :)) (and also maybe add in like some stomach grabbing it’s my weakness) (i’m so not self projecting rn 🙄)

Awe! Thank you so much for this suggestion, it’s so fluffy and soft and ahhhh! :(

Lotus Flower. E.W

Plot: your friend notices somethings up with you, and tries to cheer you up in the most Ellie way possible.

Pair: Best!friend ellie x afab reader. WLW!

Fluffy fluff fluff and corny FLUFF!

Men && minors, stay away!

“Did y’know that the Lotus flower can be used as herbal medicine in parts of Asia?” You spoke, your back pressed against the bed in your small little cottage.

Your friend, Ellie, sat across the room as her hands worked to fix a guitar she managed to find along yesterdays patrol with Tommy. Her fingers plucked at the strings, waiting to hear a tune that correlated to the note it was supposed to be. “Oh yeah…?” Her voice was distant, listening but not too involved.

“Yup” your voice popped the “p”, hands closing the garden book. Flowers have always interested you, it was evident for anyone. All they had to do was step foot in your room to see the decor on the wall, even the bedsheets, which you still can’t believe were in tact. Your tired body sat up, glancing down at your legs as you spoke once more. “What time are we heading over to Joel’s?”

Ellie glanced up, smiling gently. “He said dinner would be ready ‘round 6….that work for you?”

“I just need time to get ready and shit”

She scoffs, a laugh as she continued to pluck at the acoustic guitar. “You look fine, you don’t smell….like you usually do” her voice carried a tone that resonated with teasing.

“I’m serious….” You somewhat whined, feet helping you stand as you walked over to your closet and tried to find something that would work. Clothing hangers clashed together as your hand slid them across, scanning each jacket, flannel, shirt, jeans, or dresses. You had a lot of clothes for someone living in the world we live in, yet you hard such a hard time enjoying them.

It wasn’t anything new, sometimes you’d feel amazing, confident even. Other times, it would be like someone knocked the wind out of every ounce of admiration you had for yourself. It was difficult to convince yourself otherwise.

“So am I, you look fine. It’s just Joel, who cares? He’s not gonna be…inspecting the type of flannel you wear or some shit” the words mumbled out, eyes still focused on the instrument.

“Well you don’t have to worry about these things so I don’t really wanna hear it” your arms crossed over, holding your shoulders as eyes continued to scan the selection of wardrobe.

This made Ellie put the guitar down for a moment, eyebrows scrunched, “what’s that mean? What don’t I have to worry about?”

“Like, you don’t have to worry about how clothes look on you, is all I mean. Like you can wear anything and look normal and I just look-"

Ellie’s face showed major confusion. She thought you were beautiful, genuinely. She didn’t understand how you could even think against it. “Dude…trust me, you’re good”

Your feet carried you over to your bed, where you very …very, dramatically fell face forward.

“Oh my god, really?” She laughed dryly, making her way over.

You looked at the sheets, fidgeting with them as Ellie made her presence more visible. “Yeah really….I just don’t feel as pretty as I used to”

“And why’s that?” Her tone was careful, concerned. She laid on her stomach beside you, her hands fidgeting with her own rings so she isn’t looking at your sad expression.

“Ellie”

“What?”

“Don’t act oblivious, I’ve gained weight. Stop pretending you can’t see that”

She scoffed, “ok? As if this is some life changing news that’s gonna change the projection of my life or something.” Her voice ended with a laugh. “I don’t care, in the nicest way.”

You mumbled something before Ellie spoke again.

“How you look is no one’s business, the only person who should care is you, but besides that….thinking you’re not attractive isn’t an option by the way” she smirked, turning to you.

You laid on your back and huffed, rubbing your hands down on your legs. “But my thighs…”

“Are cute…they’re cute.”

“You’re such a shit eating liar” your voice laughed, in denial.

“Why’s it hard to believe I think it’s cute, huh?” She poked your shoulder with a stuffed animal that laid upon your bed beside them. “Is that such a bad thing? End of the world?”

“No, I just don’t think you’re being truthful…”

Ellie watched you for a moment. She inhaled softly before testing the waters. “You trust me..?”

“Not always” you smirked, rolling your eyes at her expression. “Kidding, dumbass….yeah I trust you…”

She nodded, satisfied with the answer as she moved to lay beside you again, almost spooning you from behind. You two usually cuddled here and there, so it wasn’t totallyyyy bizarre- but Ellie’s touch felt softer this time around.

She rubbed your love handle, “honestly, I don’t get how you could be insecure, this is probably the best thing ever right here.” She squeezed the skin around your abdomen, giggling.

You were taken aback before a soft smile spreads across your face, somewhat enjoying the softer affection from your friend. “What’re you doing?”

“I told you…think you’re cute….sue me” her hand messed around with your jeans thigh, squeezing a bit. She couldn’t lie, it turned Ellie on a little- but she wouldn’t tell you that. Not yet anyways ;)

You just laid there and let her cuddle you, enjoying the moment before she had to go and ruin it by tickling you.

“H-hey! Fuck you!” Your hands pushed her off, panting to catch your breath from laughing.

She held up her hands in defense “sorry!” Ellie’s lips curled to a smile before returning her hand to the edge of the soft skin covering your hip.

“Did Yknow the lotus flower has the ability to grow in dirty conditions?”

“What?” Your tone grew confused.

“Yeah, then it grows to becomes a beautiful creation…it is made with mud, and dirt, and still persists….”

You just watch her.

Ellie clears her throat, “Yknow, you grow with these,��stupid thoughts in your mind about how you look, yet you still come to be so beautiful…?” Her cheeks dusted pink, real smooth els, real smooth. Like butter.

“You read my flower book?” Your voice giggled, breaking the silence.

“That’s all you got out of that??” Her face fell, laughing along with you. “You’re awful….”

“You just said I was beautiful though” you teased.

“You can be pretty and awful…..at the same time”

You both smiled, watching eachother for a moment before finally,

“I can enjoy your little flower book too ok? Yeah I read it.”

You nudged her shoulder, laughing once more.

[faiszt]

cockwarming w bob. that's it, thats the tweet

COCKWARMING ╱ with BOB REYNOLDS ⠀◟ ୨ blurb !♥︎ minors do not interact⠀⠀⠀ ────⠀⠀⠀ headcanon based

diary notes⠀✴⠀·⠀i love your brain for thinking of this, i guess this is bob’s blurb that i enjoyed writing the most. touch-starved bob reynolds save me right now, pls ‹/3

he loved having physical contact with you, whether it was just hugging you, intertwining your fingers with his, or leaving loving kisses on your shoulder. bob liked everything that involved the idea of being able to touch you, of feeling your soft skin and being able to appreciate it the way he liked. he’s touch-starved, he needs it.

he took it literally when it came to deeply touching you whenever he could. not only because it was pleasurable, but because you could talk about anything while his cock was buried inside you, being warmed by your tight, comforting heat that he craved daily. you couldn’t deny him when he asked so politely, caressing your waist and giving you little kisses until you were straddling him.

telling him about your day was part of the process as he pulled his hardened length out of his boxers, moving your panties to the side just enough so he could rub himself against your soft folds. “i’m glad you had a good day, princess.” he’d murmur softly, smiling innocently as if he wasn’t trying to slip the tip of his cock inside you little by little. “i missed you, you know?”

cockwarming almost seemed so much more sentimental to him than sex itself, he liked knowing that you felt like he was a part of you, that he had the freedom to be inside you for more than just carnal pleasures. there was pleasure, for sure, but there was also a deeper connection than just what appeared to be on the surface. it made him truly happier, calmer... perhaps, it could even be said that you were, well... helping to take care of his mental health in a way.

“i missed you too.” you whispered, giving him a sweet smile as your fingers gently brushed some of his dark hair away from his face, he looked at you like you were the most precious thing he had ever seen. “and your day? how was it?”

by this point, he was already completely buried inside you—which made you let out a low moan for a moment, leaving him somewhat agitated beneath you. “the drums you gave me are cool,” bob answered. he snuggled deeper into the pillow behind his head, his large hands gripping your hips, just to make sure you stayed still and comfortable in his lap while warming him the way you both loved. “but, the neighbors will complain about the noise i made all afternoon... i’m not really good at this yet.”

his little giggled warmed your chest, you leaned over him and laid your head in the crook of his neck, leaving a few soft kisses there that sent shivers down his spine. “don’t do that, i get shivers...” he complained, but it was a meaningless complaint. if you never did that again, he’d probably complain that you didn’t love him anymore and that’s why you stopped giving him little kisses on the neck.

“if the neighbors complain, i can just tell them to fuck off.” your kisses rose to the corner of his lips, your eyes staring into his ocean blue ones. “besides, they never complained about the other noises at night... why would they complain about you playing drums in the afternoon?”

his eyebrows raised at your sentence, nodding and processing the words you had said. “other noises at night?” the question was more to himself than to you, so you could almost see the light bulb go off over his head as he really understood what you meant. “oh, yeah... the other noises. you’re probably right, i guess.”

“i’m always right.” you said smugly, pressing your lips against his soft ones for a quick peck—one he didn’t want to stop so quickly. bob’s hand, which was previously caressing your hip, rose to the back of your neck, keeping your lips against his without you being able to move away completely, he didn’t want just a few pecks, not today. he was usually a little more restrained than that, but come on, he was a good boy for you all day like you told him to be when he was home alone, he deserved it.

a low growl tore from his throat, deepening the kiss as his tongue slid across your bottom lip and almost begged for entry. in an intimate dance, your tongues touched and sucked each other while his other hand pressing your hip harder to the point where it slightly hurt as he kept you pressed against him. bob wanted to feel every inch of your body, every point of heat, being buried balls deep inside you still seemed like nothing compared to how much he craved you, not just your body, but everything that means you.

there was no safer place for him than inside you, feeling your body against his, your breathing heavy and your hands against his neck, just how he wanted, the fuel he needed.

when your lips parted, he continued to pepper kisses across your cheek, simply unable to keep his lips away from your soft skin. “you get prettier when you’re flustered by something i did.” he whispered against your ear before placing one last kiss against her earlobe, snuggling into the pillows again. “i like how you widen your eyes...”

these compliments were almost typical of him, always paying attention to every little detail of your expressions, studying your reactions to what he did. bob wanted to please you, in every way, ’cause you also deserved what only he could give you and there was no doubt about that.

“princess,” he called to you when you were silent, enjoying the feeling of being filled by him. “can i sleep inside you tonight, please? your pussy is so warm and it feels good... i don’t wanna pull out. can i?” his eyes almost looked like a puppy’s, staring at you while tenderly stroked your strands of hair. he loved your hair—the color, texture and the smell of your shampoo, every little thing about it—and he knew you liked it when he petted you like that.

“you wanna sleep inside me?” it wasn’t strange, it was just a new request, you had already thought of the idea back then, but it was something new when he was the one asking you for it. “okay, baby, we can do it.” there probably wouldn’t be a day when you’d deny him something, especially when you also wanted to do it.

his smile widened as if you had given him something he had been longing for—well, in a way, that was the case—and he pressed his lips against yours once more. “thank you, sweet pea.” his hand that had remained on your hip the entire time moved, going to your ass and squeezing it, massaging the skin his fingers touched. “i’ll give you your reward in the morning, yeah? pinky promise, love. you deserve all that.”

REQUESTS ARE OPEN.⠀⠀feel free to send me asks and suggestions in my inbox, you’ll be welcome. ꒰ ˶> ˕ <˶ ꒱ ♡

©⠀𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐙𝐓, 2025.⠀don’t use my work without my consent.

[ladykailitha]

Forever Young Part 4

Hey guys! We are back with this amazing fic! Since it's been a bit I'd recommend reading the last chapter: here or the from the beginning: here.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

A bit of a longer chapter with lots of twists and turns and a brief cameo of Joyce and Hopper.

~

Will and Dustin looked at each other and sighed heavily.

“I forgot that there is a distinct messy side to science,” Dustin said, putting his hands on his hips and looking at the bags and bags of garbage out by the garage.

“Let’s see if we can’t find gardening gloves or whatever to protect us...” he waved at the piles with a grimace, “from all of that.”

“Good idea,” Dustin agreed. “There is bound to be broken bottles in there and I really don’t have the desire to call Wayne about needing a ride to the hospital, thanks.”

They found gloves and got to work. They sorted out the bags that were clearly from earlier in the week and focused on the two bags that were the most likely culprits for being from last night.

“So I’m just seeing beer and joint butts,” Will said about twenty minutes later. “How about you?”

Dustin sighed and pushed his bag away. “A whole lot of nothing. Like chip bags and other junk food detritus, no real heavy alcohol or anything that might mix badly with the weed.”

Will nodded. “It just seems like their every day party with out us underaged teenagers. Different kinds of soda and other drinks but nothing that screams body altering drugs.”

He got to his feet and dusted off his knees. “This was a complete bust.”

Dustin got up too. “I don’t think so. Yeah, we didn’t find anything, but that means that it wasn’t drug or alcohol related. That’s something we cross off the list.”

“I suppose,” Will sighed as he pulled off his gloves. “Let’s go tell everyone we didn’t find anything.”

“Let’s hope Dr. Owens has some ideas,” Dustin agreed, pulling off his gloves too. “But I’m plumb out.”

The other four kids were sitting on the sofa, talking among themselves.

“Sorry, guys,” Dustin said flopping on the arm chair, while Will sat cross-legged on the floor. “That was a bust. All they had last night was the usual stuff to get high and drunk.”

“Ours was unfruitful as well,” El said with a sigh. “Dr. Owens said that they had never encountered physical regression before. But he’ll look into it further and call back. I worry he may want to take blood tests.”

“He can fuck off back to whatever hole he crawled out of,” Mike growled. “I’m not letting them do to Nancy what they did to El. I don’t care.”

Lucas put his hand on Mike’s arm. “And we won’t let them either. Especially with Wayne knowing what’s going on. I have a feeling that if they tried to take Eddie, he’d storm the lab with nothing but a shotgun and enough ammo take on a third world country.”

Mike straightened and blinked for a moment. “Oh, yeah. He’d go all Rambo on their ass. Huh. That does make me feel better. Thanks!”

“No problem,” Lucas said with a smile. “Plus if we add El and Erica to the mix, the lab would be razed the ground in seconds.”

El just batted her eyelashes at them sweetly.

“So we’ve got absolutely nothing,” Dustin said with a heavy sigh. “The lab was no help, the garbage was no help. They can’t tell us what went wrong. We’re pretty much stuck until something else happens.”

“Pretty much!” Mike huffed, throwing his head back against the couch cushion. “This sucks. I’ve looked up to Nancy my whole life and after the monsters I’ve admired what a badass she was. But that little girl isn’t the Nancy I grew up with. Like she knows she’s going to be a big sister, but she doesn’t understand what that means right now. For her it’s diaper changes and bottle feeding. Not being a reporter and shotguns.”

There was a creak on the stairs leading down to the basement and everyone looked over expecting Steve as he had slept earlier, but no it was Little Jonathan.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” he whispered shyly, sucking on his thumb.

Will was on his feet in an instant. One of the things that Lonnie liked to yell about either of his sons was that they were too soft. That they needed toughening up. The fact that Little Jonathan was still sucking his thumb at this age was sure sign that Lonnie was an ass and that there was no doubt he had hit his son for trying to get comfort somewhere in this big, wide world.

“Come with me,” he said gently. “I’ll take you to the one up here and then show you where the one downstairs is so you if you spend the night you know where it is, okay?”

Little Jonathan nodded, taking Will’s hand. Will led the way and as he was about to close the door behind the toddler, Little Jonathan looked up him and cocked his head.

“Will the Wise,” he said solemnly. “You’ll find someone who loves you for you some day.” Then he toddled into the bathroom and closed the door, leaving a very stunned Will staring at the wooden surface.

When Little Jonathan came out he didn’t seem to remember what he said before going into the bathroom. So Will just led him back to the living room where the teens were gathered.

“Hey there, buddy,” Lucas said with a soft smile. “Did you want to try to go back to sleep or did you want to color until everyone else woke up?”

“M’mm awake...” came the slurred voice of Little Eddie from the floor. “Just restin’ my eyes.” He sat up sort of cross-legged and rubbed his eyes.

Max giggled. “Sure are, big guy. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”

Then Little Robin came in, hair a mess and drool all over her face. “I’m thirsty, can I get some water?”

“Sure!” Will said, his voice cracking. “El won’t you take them to the kitchen, I’m sure Eddie and Jonathan are thirsty too.”

El looked at him curiously, head cocked to the side. Then she nodded. “Come on, everyone hold hands like they did for lunch.”

The kids did as they were told and El took Little Robin’s hand to lead them into the kitchen.

The kids ooh’ed and awed when El used her powers to get the glasses down from the cupboard because it was too high for her to get.

“Cups are easy,” Little Robin said with a giggle. “She can throw cars with her mind, too!”

El froze and the cup headed for Little Eddie stopped too.

“Supergirl!” Little Eddie agreed, clapping his hands and reaching out for the cup. It took everything El had to let go of the cup so that Eddie could take it.

“You should see her fly a helicopter!” Little Jonathan crowed. “It’s so cool!”

She watched them in wide-eyed amazement as they didn’t seem to understand what it was they just said. They just happily drank the water given to them and then handed the cups back to her. She put them in the sink and then led them back out to the living room.

There was Little Nancy and Little Steve sitting on the floor with their heads together, playing tic-tac-toe as they waited for the other kids to come back.

“I think they’re getting some of them memories back,” El said bluntly. “But only in spurts.”

“I agree,” Dustin said putting his hands on his hips. “But when it does happen, it doesn’t stick around for long. Just a memory and then it’s gone.”

Max narrowed her eyes and then cocked her head back and forth. “Well you want to know what I think? I think we should just let them be kids for awhile.”

“What?” Lucas cried, springing to his feet. “We need them as adults!”

“And that’s the problem!” Max snapped back, getting to her feet, too. “We rely on them too much. When do they get to be kids? Especially Jonathan, Steve, and Nancy. They were our age when they first met the Upside Down, when do they get to shirk their duties and have fun?”

Mike grabbed both Lucas and Max and started pushing them toward the hall, but before he could even get them turned around, Little Jonathan and Little Robin burst into tears. Mike closed his eyes.

“I was trying to avoid that,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Please take this argument elsewhere. Dustin and El, too. They don’t need to hear this.”

There was a lot of shouting and protesting as even more of the kids started to cry.

Suddenly there was a piercing whistle from the doorway to the hall. All the teens stopped arguing even though the kids kept crying. They turned to the door and there was Joyce and Hopper standing there. Hopper had his fingers to his lips, pointing to him as the cause of the whistle.

The teenagers stared at them in shock and maybe a little bit of fear too. They were so busted.

“Where did you lot get a bunch of children?” Hopper groused. “I don’t think I’d let any of ya babysit for love or money.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

Joyce smacked his chest. “Jim!” she cried in amusement.

Suddenly Little Jonathan broke from the crowd of children and dashed straight for Joyce’s legs.

“Mommy!”

Joyce scooped him up out of habit and then froze. “All my babies are grown up, little one.”

Will and El shared a grimace.

Little Jonathan traced a scar on her chin. “Daddy did that. I’m sorry, Mommy.”

Joyce and Jim both went wide-eyed.

Joyce moved Little Jonathan to her hip to get a better look at the little boy in her arms. “Jonathan?”

The little boy nodded.

Of course the other kids were still screaming so Mike and Lucas each grabbed one of the girls to calm down first. Mike took Nancy and began cooing a lullaby. She hiccuped softly, her sobs slackening until they stopped all together.

Hopper waded in and picked up the two boys, bouncing each on his hip. El immediately stood up and grabbed Little Steve from him so he could focus on getting the one quiet. El reading Little Steve’s mind to find a song that would calm him and started humming that.

Once everyone had stopped screaming and Joyce was over her shock, she sat down on the sofa, her son in her arms.

“Will, what’s going on?” she asked her other child.

“We don’t know,” Will huffed. “We know it’s not Upside Down related. El and I checked, but they just woke up like that.”

“They?” Hopper said, looking closer at the child in his arms. “Holy shiiiiivvva,” he said changing the last word at the last second.

“What’s a Shiva?” the little boy asked, cocking his head to the side and looking up at him with chocolate button eyes.

“Shiva is an Indian god,” Hopper huffed. “With too many arms and lots of rage issues.”

“So holy Shiva makes sense,” Little Eddie said solemnly, nodding. “Uncle Wayne said not to swear because they’re big people words. Can I say holy Shiva instead of cussing?”

“Sure, kid,” Hopper said with a huff of laughter.

“Oh no,” Joyce said softly. “If that’s Eddie, and this is Jonathan are those...?”

Will sighed putting his head in his hands.

“I’m afraid so Mrs. Byers,” Dustin said, putting his hands on his hips. “Steve was the first one found like this, then Nancy and Jonathan. We assumed, rightly unfortunately, that Robin and Eddie were affected, too.”

“Does Wayne know about his nephew’s cute-ifaction?” Hopper asked.

Max chewed on her thumbnail. “I think he was the first to know, but didn’t reach out to the rest of us because he didn’t know it had happen to the others, too.”

Hopper set Little Eddie down. “Sounds like you’ve got a bit of a mess. Especially since the reason Joyce and I stopped by is that we’ve got to head out of town for a bit. We were hoping to make sure Steve was aware he had to keep an eye out for you lot.”

“I’m not sure we can leave knowing the older teens are kids now,” Joyce said, holding Jonathan to her chest.

Hopper just shook his head. “I’d agree with you, but Murray was pretty insistent we both be there.”

“Is it Upside Down related?” El asked, cocking her head to the side.

Joyce sighed and then looked over at Hopper.

“We don’t know yet,” Hopper explained calmly. “We know that the Russians tried to open a gate before and if they’ve got someone like Henry Creel, they might try to insert them into the Upside Down to get control of it for their own ends.”

El nodded. “I’ve been keeping an ear out for any stirrings, but there haven’t been so far.”

He kissed her forehead. “That’s good to know.”

“How long will you be gone?” Will asked nervously. He remembered the last time his mom left and really didn’t want to repeat that experience.

Joyce looked up at Hopper and then back at him. “I don’t know love. I know things went bad last time, but that was because a general went crazy and tried to kill El. That won’t happen this time, I promise.”

“No offense, ma’am,” Lucas huffed. “But I really don’t think that’s a promise you can make. I get that it might be Upside Down related, but I don’t know about anyone else, I’m getting tired of grown ups leaving us behind to take on problems well beyond our capacity.”

“You watch your tone, young man,” Joyce said sternly. “It’s not your place to tell adults what they can or cannot do.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’ve still got PTO coming to me then, isn’t it?” Wayne growled from behind them.

“Wayne!” Lucas breathed in relief.

“Went out bought somethings for youngsters,” he said holding up his loot. “You two can go do what you want. I’ll handle this.”

Joyce chewed on her lip and then set Little Jonathan down gently. “I’m going away for a couple of days, but Mr. Munson is going to watch you and your new friends. You’ll be safe, I promise.”

Lucas rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut.

“I’ll take care of it,” Wayne repeated more sternly.

Joyce pressed her lips tightly and then nodded. She pulled money out her purse and handed it to Wayne. “To help cover any food they might need.”

Wayne set down some of the bags he had and took the money. “Thank you.”

“We’ll be in contact,” Hopper said squeezing his shoulder. “Keep the walkie nearby.”

They all nodded.

“Who wants to help me make dinner?” Wayne said with a grin, turning back to the other kids.

A cheer went up.

~

Tag List: CLOSED

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