#I’ve been wanting a buzz cut for three years now I’m just gonna fucking do it after Christmas ✌🏻

[foxgloveinspace]

I might have just put ‘price hair dye’ on my grocery shopping list to dye my hair red like iii’s🫣🫣🫣

[chubbology]

Inertia

prompt: a man gains weight trying to get his ex-girlfriend back, but goes way too far and gets addicted to gaining

He hadn’t gone to the gym even once in ages.

After a year of singlehood, he wasn’t ashamed to admit anymore that he’d only really gone in the first place to impress women. Ironic, of course, since his ex had never been more than vaguely dissatisfied about his gym habit.

When they first started dating, he had love handles he hated and his thighs had been too thick. He assumed she dated him despite these flaws. Only after he lost weight to please her did he find out that it was his chub that caught her eye. It was bigger guys she was into. It was a lot of miscommunication. A lot of insecurity on his part, since what her preferences meant was that she wanted him to be a little heavy, and he couldn’t possibly accept that with his society-ingrained doctrines about attractiveness.

But those doctrines meant fuck-all now; he was eating a double cheeseburger in his car, helping it down with an orange soda, thinking about dessert. He was wondering if she’d be proud of him now that he’d gained thirty pounds. He wondered if she’d look at him with half-lidded eyes like she used to, if he put on another thirty. Fifty. Whatever.

His phone buzzes. He sits up straighter, belly swelling a little into his lap. It’s her.

Hey. My friend needs to sell her two tickets. I know it’s your favorite band. Interested?

The next text was a link to an information page about an upcoming concert. He’d been so disconnected lately, he hadn’t even heard about it.

Even though he wasn’t actually all that interested, he replied that he was, and they set a date to meet up the next week. Shit. He looked down at himself. If she were someone else, she might be repelled. But she wasn’t someone else…

He was hit with a brilliant, maybe brilliantly stupid, idea. It’s execution began with going right back through the drive thru.

In the days leading up to seeing his ex again, he ate almost constantly. Since he was only doing freelance online at the moment, his work didn’t get in the way of this. He let himself eat whatever he wanted, in amounts three times what his body craved. He pushed himself to a state of being constantly past full. She liked fat guys? Fine. Even if she still didn’t want anything to do with him, he wanted her to see what he could have been, if he hadn’t been such a gym-rat douchebag. If he’d let himself become a lazy, docile boyfriend like she wanted instead, weak and overweight.

It was hard, gaining a lot of weight in a week. The number on the scale didn’t go up as much as he expected, even though he’d eaten enough calories to gain twenty pounds at least. He compensated by showing up to their meeting spot wearing clothes that tightly hugged his body, which now had a good forty-ish pounds of fat clinging to it. Looking in the mirror before he left, he’d almost seen what she was into. His ass had gotten kind of wide and dumpy, but in a sexy way?

He was all nerves when she showed up looking healthy and cute and indifferent about him, holding the tickets in her hands. Almost indifferent. She definitely gave him a once-over, when she thought he wasn’t looking. He could tell she bit the inside of her lip.

“Well,” she said, meeting his eyes fearlessly. Were her cheeks a little red, or was that wishful thinking? “I’ll see you.”

“Really?” he blurted. “Kinda miss hanging out.”

She smiled and turned to leave. “Maybe.”

He went home and binged hard.

*

In contrast to how he grew too slowly in the week before meeting up with her, in the weeks afterward, he gained weight doubletime. Fat rounded him out as easy as if he were a swiftly filling water balloon, engorging his thighs and belly and ass and hips wide and heavy. He ate compulsively as his appetite skyrocketed, as cravings crushed his will to restrain himself. His budget was thrown out of whack as he spent his savings on pantry loads of unhealthy food. His clothes stretched and seams snapped as he struggled to fit in his largest clothes. He shopped in the plus sized section first for comfort, then by necessity.

All the while he could only think: I wished she was watching.

He started imagining her with him. In the car as he ate fast food. At the store as he bought new clothes. Walking beside him as he forced himself to get exercise.

“Slow down, big guy.” “No, I think you need one size bigger.” “Sweating already? You’re so out of shape.”

Why did he like it? Imagining her mocking him? Teasing him? Eyeing his body, fleshy and overfed.

The next time she texted, it was late at night, and his eyes were glazed watching television, eating huge spoonfuls of that miracle drug called Nutella. His belly swelled out of his shirt. His breasts and face were puffy. According to the numbers he punched into Google, he had long crossed the threshold of obesity.

How was the concert?

He stared at the words. This was it. Maybe his only chance. He replied: Didn’t go after all. Been feeling off lately.

To his (very manly) delight, this prompted more questions, and it became clear she wanted a real conversation. Was she thinking of him? Missing him like he missed her? He thought out every response with the careful focus of a rocket scientist. He wasn’t going to mess this up.

He didn’t seem to, and they texted into the early hours of the morning, catching up. Finally, finally she asked to meet up with him again, and - feeling more eager, a little reckless - he tapped out a disclaimer. Or to her, hopefully: motivation.

Just so you aren’t shocked when you see me, I’ve put on weight since I bought those tickets from you. I’m not sensitive about it or anything, but it’s a lot. So here’s a fair warning.

He held his breath as he waited for her reply. Held his breath. Held it…

Oh. Really?

Like before, they set a time the following week. This time, to get coffee. No big deal.

He knew he had more than fulfilled his little scheme of putting on weight to catch her attention, and he could push the breaks now, but he felt helpless against his inertia. At this point, he’d cultivated half a dozen habits that had his weight steadily rising, and he couldn’t just turn them off. If he so much as thought of eating less, his whole body seized up in fearful anticipation and unhappiness, and he found himself cramming a couple moonpies into his mouth just to calm down.

He gained another six pounds between their text conversation and their coffee date. He felt so out of control, so out of shape, so out of line with the standards of popular society that he felt oddly…free. In a way, he felt free of anxious self-consciousness as he heaved himself out of his car and waved at her through the coffee shop window. She was sitting in a corner at a table for two. Despite his warning, she looked a little shocked.

When he sat down across from her, his huge ass hanging off the ends of the seat, she appeared to inhale deeply. Her expression was inscrutable.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said.

Blushing, he supposed he deserved a bit of tactlessness, for the tactless way he broke up with her. “What? Oh. Yeah, no. I wasn’t.”

She sipped her coffee, eyes flicking between his flabby chest and his flabby face. In a low tone that no one else would hear, she said, “What happened? For you to get fat as fuck.”

He opened his mouth and closed it. This wasn’t how he was expecting this to go. “Well. I’ve been working from home, stressed out. I let myself go and…” He trailed off when he realized her eyes were cold. No - so hot they seemed cold, like his shower water when turned to the highest setting.

“Is this because of me?” she asked, cutting to the chase. She crossed her legs, now openly surveying him. “Did you decide it was okay to gain a hundred pounds because you thought I’d be into it?”

He was speechless. He swallowed.

“Well? Do you want me back that badly? Ever since I saw you last time, all chubbed out, I’ve been thinking maybe I should give you a second chance.”

“Um.”

“But I don’t know…” She shrugged, but a smirk was hiding just behind that indifferent frown, and he wanted. He wanted her forgiveness, whatever that meant. “How about you gain a hundred more and we’ll go on a real date? Sound good? You’re not the only fat guy out there.”

She was full-on grinning now, and he missed her little games like this. He could play them, too.

“Maybe, but I bet I’m the only guy who’s gotten this fat for you,” he said. She was immediately affected by this, and he licked his lips. “You really want to wait to see me a hundred pounds bigger than this, or do you want to stick around to watch?”

Even quieter, she said, “You saying you like gaining weight? How convenient.”

So she still doubted him. He put out his hands for her to see. “Just look. Look at how fat my hands are. I can’t…” And finally his composure cracked a little. “I can’t stop. I couldn’t stop if I wanted. Even if you never talk to me again, I’m gonna gain weight.”

Any playfulness was gone now from her. She looked like she wanted him, too. “Hmm. Maybe we should go before you break that poor chair, huh?”

He blushed again. God, he was getting docile. “I’m not that bad,” he muttered. But she gave him a cruel grin. She hadn’t entirely forgiven him. “You will be.”

And he knew then: he was doomed. He was already a little bit into his own heaviness, and she was going to take that feeling and amplify it tenfold. She was going to enable every bad habit he had, watch him flounder under his increasing size and become weaker under layers and layers of fat until he could barely lift a two pound dumbbell.

He knew she wanted this to happen, and maybe he’d broken up with her before because he’d been afraid.

But he wasn’t anymore.

“Let’s go then,” he said.

*

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

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[roniscloud]

psh - love affair

park sunghoon [f. 8516 words] love affair

so when i’m gonna know what to feel inside, baby?

maybe it’s just all in my head, so

don’t overthink, this is love

maybe it’s just a crush

baby, is this your love affair, your love affair?

synopsis: what happens when two childhood best friends make a deal to help each other’s reputations? an unforeseen circumstance prompts sunghoon to approach you, intriguing not just you but practically every other student at your college. you believe your reunion with him can only end in one of two ways: you resort back to being friends and go on with your lives, or you use each other and once you’re both done, you fall out and never talk again. how will you two navigate your companionship? is it just the nostalgia coming up? a revival of feelings? a new crush? could it possibly be actual love?

genre + tropes : fluff. comedy. the slightest angst. childhoodbestfriends!au. enemiestolovers!au. college!au. fakedating!au. 

warnings: fem reader. a little swearing. slightly suggestive themes, sorta. a few cliches. mentions of underage drinking. the american collegiate school calendar. does them geeking out over fantasy/sci-fi sagas need a warning? unknown mutual pining. they’re so helplessly clueless of their feelings. also appearances of the rest of enha plus txt.

i. prologue

if someone told you that you would reconnect with your childhood best friend—let alone date him, you would’ve laughed in their face and told them to fuck off. park sunghoon is bad news. well, at least to you he is. one of the infamous campus playboys, you can spot him around the quad flirting with a different girl practically every day. 

but to you, he couldn’t have been anymore unlike the sunghoon you grew up with. you grew up with the sunghoon who couldn’t stand being around others, mind always focused on his own interests. you knew him as the little shy boy who would hide behind his mom whenever new people came around. the first person he opened up to was you. you can blame your mom for that. you can vaguely remember her words, something along the lines of mrs. park and i have been friends for longer than you have been alive. when we found out we were both expecting, we knew you two were destined to be besties. 

she was right. everyone thought you were two peas in a pod. wherever one of you went, the other followed. always stuck together, like true partners in crime. your close bond stuck for years. if anyone needed you, you’d most likely be found in the seats of sunghoon’s ice skating practices and competitions, cheering him on and being obnoxiously loud. likewise, he always attended your showcases, spending hours complimenting your artwork.

but then the villain of everyone’s lifetime eventually appeared. puberty. 

alas, your friendship did what anyone could predict of a couple of preteens entering high school. the usual “no matter what we’re gonna stick together!” leading to “sorry for blowing you off, got really busy,” to the imminent “what happened to us? we used to be so close,” and eventually the end of it all. senior year, the two of you attempted to leave on a good note. by that, you mean your parents made both of you apply to the same colleges to have a chance at sticking together. well, it worked, you got into the same university. funny how the universe does things.

back to present day, you’re now in your second year at hybe university. let’s just say, sunghoon isn’t the only one who went through a personality change. sunghoon traded his late night practices on the ice to one-night stands at frat parties. you, on the other hand, traded your once outgoing and fun-loving persona for a more… cold grunge meets artsy introvert. overall, let’s just say you both have reputations for not being the most approachable people. well at least you still have one thing in common.

ii. the cafe

the busy campus cafe was roaring with study groups filling every table. the aroma of fresh coffee and tea being brewed filling the air, creating a warm atmosphere—contrast to the cold winter weather just outside the walls. the college students scattered around, just like their minds scattered as they prepare for finals. not immune to the dreaded time of year, a group of four boys enter, immediately grabbing the attention of those already nestled inside.

a quick roll call of the four known by the student body as en-4, a combination of the dance crew name enhypen and the notorious f4. lee heeseung—the campus heartthrob, captain of the dance crew, center of the basketball team, and an unknown hopeless romantic. park jongseong, although everyone calls him jay—the resident bad boy and party animal, but those close to him know that he’s actually the responsible one. sim jaeyun, otherwise referred to as jake—the friendly and flirty frat boy who you can catch playing soccer in the quad almost every day. finally, park sunghoon—the handsome heartbreaker. he doesn’t need more of an introduction.

the four of them make their way to the counter, placing their orders. of course jake doesn’t miss his chance to sound extra sweet and send a quick wink to the barista, getting elbowed by heeseung in the process. after getting their drinks, they look around to see almost no where to sit. not a single table to fit all of them was available. 

in one of the tucked away areas, sunghoon spots an empty seat at a smaller table. the only catch was there was someone sitting across from it, hunched forward over her laptop. he can’t see much of her figure but he immediately recognizes her features. it’s you. well, a more mature and grown up you, but he couldn’t forget that face for the life of him.

sunghoon’s feet drag himself across the crowded room, catching the attention from the neighboring groups he passed but sneaking away quiet enough to not alarm his own friends. the three are too caught up arguing about what to do. sunghoon can hear the faint voice of jay suggesting going somewhere else while the other two shoot him down as he walks further away. he makes his way all the way up to your side. you look up, scanning him, confused but unamused. “this seat taken?” the first words he said in a year and half to you. still not not giving him any emotion, you hesitantly shake your head once, immediately bringing your focus back to your essay.

ignoring him only works for so long, his gaze not leaving the top of your head. you can feel his stare piercing into you, finally meeting his eyes. “what’s your deal?” the irritation and bluntness in your tone is all too evident.

he shrugs and answers nonchalantly, “nothing, just go along with it.” his answer is hushed, almost as if he’s a bit embarrassed.

“what are you trying to pull here, park?”

“can i not just sit here and peacefully drink my latte? am i that disturbing to you?”

“considering that the second you started walking in this direction, everyone had their eyes on us, then yes, you are that disturbing.”

“they’re not looking at us.” he pauses before continuing with his rant, “they’re looking at you.”

“and why the hell do you think that is?”

“they’re all trying to figure out what could possibly be so interesting about you that i would choose this seat.” he says it like it’s the most obvious answer.

you scoff and turn to see the lingering stares of the others in the cafe. “well, if it isn’t the god park sunghoon being as humble as ever, gracing me with his presence and having mercy on a peasant like me.” the sarcasm dripping off your tongue like venom.

he smiles warmly at your animosity and chuckles. “i’ve always loved your sense of humor.”

“funny cause i’ve always despised yours. i’m gonna ask one more time. what do you want, park?”

he only shrugs. hesitating before responding again, “i like it here. i like talking to you. it’s familiar… comfortable.” he sees your expression change subtly. it’s only for a second before you regain the prior look. he tries to read you. he caught you off guard and his pride brings a smirk to his face. 

by now, he finally tunes back into the situation around him and can feel his phone going off in his jean pocket. he pulls out the phone to see dozens of notifications, quickly stealing a glance back up at you to see that you’re already back to typing away on the previously forgotten assignment. he laughs as he sees the boys blowing up their group chat asking what he was doing. he looks up, finding the three sitting at a cramped booth with shock and confusion written all over them.

“enjoying the attention?” your turn to break the silence. when he turns back to you, you continue, “you’re no stranger to it but you’ve always loved it.” he gives you a slow nod, turning the question back to you. you answer him, “you know that it’s not my forte.”

“and why is that? scared people will get to know the real you?”

“oh please, like you aren’t afraid of me exposing all the dirt i have on you. imagine the buzz i could create with all of your old baby pics.”

he jolts up from his relaxed position, eyebrows raised, and completely on edge, “you wouldn’t dare.”

you lean forward in your seat, elbow resting on the table, cheek resting in your palm, and chuckle, “try me.” the words leaving your mouth quickly and a smile immediately replacing it.

“you’re finally smiling at me. good to know you still have emotions.” he gets you to laugh again. you spend the next 20 minutes catching up. looks like you two kept more in common than you thought. things run smoothly between the two of you, some of your old memories and inside jokes being brought up. “why didn’t this happen sooner?”

“what, us talking? i mean, you and i stopped running in the same crowd and school got the best of us. i will admit, though, freshman year sucked without you.”

he sighs when he hears your admission. “how about this? a proposition. i’m sure you’re aware that i don’t have the best reputation.”

you cut him off, “you can say that again.”

“haha, very funny,” he throws in another sarcastic comment. “you know you’re not exactly the most approachable either. hate to be the one to break it to you but you’re pretty intimidating.” he notices the expression on your face turned into one of annoyance at his last statement, “don’t look at me like that, you know it’s true.”

you dismiss the slight jab, telling him to continue. what you don’t expect is the next four words to come out of his mouth. “go out with me.” he sees your face drop, “oh come on, stop looking at me like that.”

“so i see, a little bit of time without me and you go insane.”

“look, i don’t mean actually date me, i mean… pretend to.”

again, you stare at him like he grew another head. “you want me to fake-date you? what are we, in a k-drama now? sorry hoon, you’re attractive but i would’ve preferred hwang in-youp or song kang.”

now he’s a bit annoyed, answering cockily, “i am so much better looking than them.”

“you wish.”

his jaw drops for a few seconds and then he chuckles. “i’m serious, think about it. we go out and spend time with each other like old times. i don’t look like i’m so incapable of being in a committed relationship and you don’t look like such a loner. no offense.”

“offense taken… but i see your point.”

“see, look at you using that smart brain of yours. this would be no strings attached. just two friends helping each other out while simultaneously deceiving everyone else. i know how much you love tricking others.”

you sit quietly, weighing the pros and cons in your head. “deal.”

iii. bro code

a few days later, sunghoon sits in his shared apartment with the boys, slumped on the couch as they eat dinner. “why are you guys so against it? i thought you wanted to see me in a relationship and now that i’m in one, you guys don’t approve. make it make sense. i should be free to date whoever i want.”

“yeah dude,” pausing to take a bite of his burger, “we get that.” jay answers, seeing how defensive his friend is getting.

jake interejects, “we respect your choices, but like… her? of all the girls that are falling at your feet, you chose her? the one that has no interest in you at all? i know you’re powerful but i don’t get how you managed to pull that off.”

“i feel like you could’ve consulted us about it first. bro code, man.” heeseung says as he shrugs his shoulders and sips on his soda.

“that’s kinda why i like her, because she isn’t all over me like the others. she’s cute and fun to hang out with. just give her a chance. honestly, what’s the worst that could happen? we go out and it doesn’t work. no harm in trying….”

that seems to do the trick as the boys lay off from the topic, going back to their own dinners and watching the latest episode of the penthouse.

later that night, sunghoon leaves their dorm to meet up with you. you agreed earlier that if you needed to meet up and talk that you’d go to the art department. perks of being an art major allows you a studio to spend your time in, secluded from the outside world. in this case, you and sunghoon don’t have to worry about nosy roommates.

when he arrives, he makes sure to take the back entrance like you mentioned. he makes his way through the deserted halls, glancing at each room he passes, and taking note of the various pieces framed along the corridor walls. he gets to the end of the building, finding a studio decorated with your name on the door. he silently enters. you don’t notice him at first with your back against the entrance and the music playing too loud through your airpods, focused on molding the clay on the pottery wheel. he grabs an empty stool, propping it beside you and taking a seat. he takes off one of your airpods, putting it in his own ear.

you finally turn your head towards him, “how long ago did you get here?”

“just now. how long were you waiting?”

you sit up, facing his direction. “i had a couple of classes today and came here to finish some stuff, been here for… what time is it?”

“um… almost 11.”

“then like four hours.”

“you’ve been working on that for four hours? what even is it, and when did you start doing pottery?” he points at the unfinished ceramic.

“not just that. i had some paintings that i needed to finish for my portfolio and those are in a separate room to dry. this,” you refer to the clay, “is just something i’m working on for fun. i got into it cause one of my profs suggested i try another medium.”

he nods along while you explain. “you can keep working on it while we talk.”

you hum in confirmation and turn back to the wheel, rewetting your wands. “so how do we make this believable? seems like people already know. word spreads quick when it comes to you.”

“we just need to act like a couple. so hanging out, going on dates, posting each other here and there, and being affectionate.”

“wow you finally found an excuse to kiss me,” you laugh as you joke with him, him following suit. “sounds reasonable, not much different from how we were as kids, just now we have to call them dates.”

“shouldn’t cause too many problems. just don’t fall in love with me, babe.”

you smile at the new nickname, “likewise, hoon.” you continue throwing the clay, molding it to your desired shape. you hyperfocus on the sculpture, tuning out the boy sitting next to you as he watches—he catches on that you still have the habit of pouting whenever you work on your art. you hunch forward, letting some of your hair fall in front of your face. too caught up, you don’t notice that sunghoon left his seat to stand behind you. he takes your locks and ties it into a messy ponytail. you snap out of your tunnel vision to ask, “why do you just have a hair tie handy?”

“i always had to carry some around for you because you always lost them. i never grew out of it, i guess.” he grins warmly, “do you remember how many times you had complained when you would get paint in your hair and i would have to clean it up for you?”

“how could i forget?” the night ends with more laughs and reminiscing on your childhood. time really does fly faster than you think.

iv. rated pg

the bell rings as you and sunghoon enter the convenience store. you two are discussing the movie you two just watched as you walk through the aisles. 

you split up agreeing to meet back at the register. you make your way to the drinks in the back while sunghoon goes to get snacks. you grab an iced jasmine tea for yourself and an iced vanilla latte for hoon. sunghoon yells over the stands as he browses, “hey, what should i caption for my insta post?”

you respond loudly, “i don’t know, something related to movies.”

sunghoon looks at the picture on his phone: a photo of you two snuggled up in the theater, most of your face hidden in his hoodie. he types in quickly “rated pg for park’s girl <3”, hits post, and goes back to browsing. he goes to grab bento boxes, honey butter chips, candy jellies, and practically everything his eyes landed on. 

when you make it to the cashier, you see sunghoon with his arms full. “you good there, park?”

a muffled “yup” is heard behind all the food.

you look around, walking away when you find what you needed. going closer to him, “why didn’t you just grab a basket?” you start to take some things from his arms, lightening his load. 

“i… uh… didn’t think of it.” he pauses in between, an embarrassed expression adorning his face. you giggle as you take everything to be rung up, missing how his ears turned red. you catch the worker’s name on his tag, jungwon. before you can take out your wallet to pay, sunghoon’s already entering his card into the machine. you whip your head around, ready to tell him off. “nope, do not look at me like that.” you roll your eyes at him as you grab the bag with what you just bought. 

“oh come on… you can’t seriously be mad at me.” no response from you. “really? the silent treatment?” he scoffs jokingly when you cross your arms against your chest. he comes closer to bend down and wrap his arms around your waist. “it’s snacks. it’s not that big of a deal.”

you release yourself from his grasp and walk out of the store, still faking being mad. you mumble, “whatever,” under your beath but still loud enough for him to hear.

he bids jungwon a quick “have a nice night”, not missing him calling the two of you a cute couple. sunghoon meets up with you outside, already sitting on the curb of the parking lot. 

v. pretty boy

the start of a new semester. en-4 are sitting out on the grass of the quad. surrounding them are various groups of students, typical for the buzzing campus on a crisp spring day.

“you need to cook the noodles first. end of discussion.” jake says sternly. he and heeseung are in a heated argument over the proper order of cooking ramen.

heeseung defends himself, “you are so wrong. you make the broth first to build the flavor.”

jay brings his attention up from his phone, “neither of you should be allowed anywhere near a kitchen.”

out of nowhere, a loud car horn is heard, drawing the attention of every student in the area. sunghoon looks up to find you leaning against the passenger door of your car and yelling, “hey, pretty boy! get in.” he chuckles at both the label and how bossy you sound, turning to his friends to grab his things. the three of them are stunned at him.

jake breaks first, “wait, what?”

heeseung lets go of his argument with the australian, “dude, are you seriously leaving?”

sunghoon only nods as he walks away, not letting them ask any more questions. he notices all the watching eyes and decides why not put on a show? he shouts out to you, “thought i was picking you up later, babe.” he makes sure to emphasize the nickname as his infamous smirk tells you exactly what his intentions are.

“lecture ended early, love. prof had some emergency. thought why not surprise you…” you wrap your arms around his shoulders as he reaches you and let him lay a quick peck on your cheek. “now come on, i’m taking you out on a date so either hop in or lose your chance. your choice but i don’t have that much patience so hurry up.”

“yes, ma’am,” he leans in closer and guides his hands lower from your waist. “but i’m driving,” he says as he sneakily takes your keys from your back pocket, 

“you sly fox.” he laughs at the new nickname as he opens the door, letting you sit down before closing it. he makes his way around the hood, noting that all attention is still on you two. he meets eyes with his friends again, the three looking much like the faces he saw in the cafe almost six weeks ago. as he buckles in and starts the car, you rest your hand on top of his on the gear shift. he raises his eyebrows and gives you a charming smile. “by the way, why’s your friend looking at me like that?”

he looks back up to face the boys, “which one?”

“jay. since we started doing this, he keeps looking at me weird—like weirder than the others.”

he tilts his head to the side when he realizes that jay is indeed looking in your direction, but his eyes are focused solely on you. “jay is… how should i put this? you know what i’ll tell you later. for now, tell me where to?”

vi. jukebox

the hazy red glow of the neon lights and checkered tiled floors welcomed you as you led sunghoon into the local diner. this place was a staple in your childhood, your go-to hangout spot with the aforementioned boy when you were still in your youth. 

“i will say, this is a nice surprise.”

you look up to sunghoon as he sits across from you in the vinyl booth seat, “i knew you would love it.” you laugh with each other as you get situated, seeing a young but tall—why is he so tall? he looks like he’s only a teenager—server coming towards your table.

“hey, i’m niki and i’ll be taking care of you guys today,” the giant says cheerfully. “anything i can start you guys with?”

sunghoon looks up at the boy to take your order swiftly, “two strawberry milkshakes, please.” you watch as niki nods and walks back to the counter.

“well, well, well, park… you remembered?” you question teasingly with a cocked eyebrow.

“you’ve always had a sweet tooth. no wonder you loved me so much,” his turn to turn up the typical park sunghoon charm.

you scrunch your face in annoyance, “you should become a comedian.”

“i will never get tired of your sarcasm. it really just… keeps me going.” his way of joking back. “stay here. i’ll be right back,” he says quickly as he looks behind you and gets out of his seat.

you wait patiently for him, assuming he’s just going to the restroom. unbeknownst to you, sunghoon is making his way to the jukebox on the other side of the restaurant. he flips through the song list, finally finding the one he wants. he quickly puts in the coins and sets it in the queue. as he turns to go back to you, he sees an engraving on the side. he runs his fingers along it as he inspects the writing. property of sunghoon and y/n. he thinks back to your last day of eighth grade when you two etched the label onto the wood. he joyfully walks back to your table, ready to let you know about the memory. he sits next to you now, resting his arm behind you and around your back,

“what took you so long, park?”

right as he’s about to explain, niki comes to your table, “two strawberry milkshakes. anything else i can get you two?”

you turn your head quickly to the boy sitting next to you, seeing his eyes are already focused on yours. “um… no, i, uh, think we’re good.” you stumble and stutter a bit. you watch him as he nods his head and walks away. regaining your composure, you ask sunghoon again, “so what did take you so long?”

once again, he gets interrupted. the sound of “purpose” by justin bieber playing over the speakers makes him stop. he gives you a second to register the song, “that’s why.”

you tilt your head down and look at him quizzically, “really? this is why?” you reach to your drink, sipping on the straw as you wait for his answer.

he mirrors your movement, nodding his head in confirmation. he too drinks from the tall glass, contrary to your use of a straw, he opts to drink straight from the rim. he pulls the milkshake away, leaving some on his upper lip.

you burst into quiet laughter, turning your gaze away to not spit out your own shake.

sunghoon furrows his eyebrows in confusion, “what’s so funny?”

you turn back to him, “you got a little something there, park.” you wipe away the liquid from his face with your thumb, popping into your own mouth to clean it up.”there, all good now.”

sunghoon freezes in his spot, trying to comprehend what just happened. it’s quick but he feels something. trying to shake off the foreign feeling, he turns to face forward again. he feels you lean into him, head resting on his chest. a small grin appears on his face, humming along to the justin bieber tune still playing.

“i missed hearing you sing.”

sunghoon looks down at the crown of your head, “really? you used to always tease me about it, though.”

you shake your head with a light laugh, “i never meant it. whenever you sang, it always calmed me. i used to think… if you didn’t pursue skating, you could’ve been a singer.”

“and then what? i would bring you around on tour everywhere and sneak you in backstage?”

“that could’ve been fun.” you now laugh louder than before, him along with you.

there it is again. sunghoon’s not sure what it is, trying to suppress the odd emotion. he sits there, cuddling up to you in the booth, finishing the strawberry milkshakes, just hoping you can’t hear the way his heart starts to beat faster.

sitting at the bar, snacking on fries, and trying to not be seen by you two are heeseung, jay, and jake. they ask themselves would they really be considered sunghoon’s friends if they didn’t follow them and stake out their date.

vii. nerds

sunghoon picked you up from the art department today. he showed up about ten minutes too early, and he got permission from your instructor to monitor your class from the back. he waited outside the door while you cleaned up, earning a few prying looks from your peers as they exited. as you drove back to his place, you agreed to have a movie marathon. 

opening the door to his dorm, you say “we are watching star wars. luke, leia, and han solo are a way better trio than three child magicians.”

sunghoon defends his choice, “first of all, they’re wizards. second, i’m offended. harry, ron, and hermione use magic with their wands. all star wars has is weird weapons and robots.”

“they’re literally in space and excuse you, but does something called—oh, i don’t know—the force ring any bells? they’re jedis, duh.” you rolls your eyes, making your annoyance clear.

sunghoon stops in the hall, “harry potter has spells and potions.”

“star wars has chewbacca.” you stand next to him with your arms crossed.

definitively and matter-of-factly, sunghoon says, “quidditch.”

“you can’t seriously believe quidditch is praiseworthy?” you look at him crazily.

“you two are such nerds.”

you both freeze, turning to see the rest of en-4 sitting in the living room. in the midst of your argument, you both failed to notice the others were home. you realize that jay was the one to stop you two. you also realize it’s the dreaded time for the best friends to finally meet the “girlfriend”. sunghoon seems to realize it as well, reaching to intertwine your hands to both sell the act to his roomates and to calm you down.

he leads you into the living room, meeting eyes with the boys. “so… guys, this is y/n, my girlfriend.”

“it’s so nice to finally meet you! i’m jake. sunghoon here has been holding out on us. i mean, come on, it’s been like two months and he still hasn’t introduced you to us.” the australian continues on with his energetic and positive ramble, asking you questions about your relationship.

heeseung butts in to tell jake to slow down. “i’m heeseung. jake’s right though, you two started dating before winter break and we’re barely meeting you now. sunghoon is always hanging out with you and telling us everything about it. honestly, all i can tell you is to run while you still can.” the others all laugh at his antics.

sunghoon scoffs, “hey, i’m not that bad.”

you excuse yourself to get a drink from the kitchen. you can hear jake spitting out more questions like rapid fire to sunghoon as you walk away. you reach into the fridge, fishing out a water bottle.

behind you, jay enters quietly. “you two are cute together.”

you flinch at his voice, “geez, dude. almost gave me a heart attack.”

he chuckles under his breath and leans against the counter, “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. i met sunghoon at freshman orientation and we immediately became friends, but i’ve never seen him like this.”

“really hoping you mean that in a good way.”

“don’t worry, it is. you know… he only has a soft spot for you. the three of us are his best friends but he only ever smiles like that with you.” he sways his head back and forth as he rambles, taking a pause between his words. “stay with him. it’ll be good for everyone.”

you smile at his approval, “you wanna know something? he actually said you would be the hardest to win over. he said something about you being super protective over your friends… yet, at the same time you trust their judgement. he told me that when he and i got together, he wasn’t scared to tell you but more worried as to if you would like me.”

he smiles with you now, “that all he said about me?” he asks while raising his eyebrows in curiosity.

“he also mentioned that you’re a good cook.”

viii. proud

a professor of yours is holding their annual spring showcase for contemporary art. every year, a handful of students are chosen to join and display their art amongst other renowned artists. you happen to be one of the few, a top contender chosen for your abilities.

you’ve invited your friends, including en-4 to come by the studio and see your work—albeit a bit nervous for their reactions. you stand on watch by your section, greeting the patrons and waiting for the boys to arrive.

thankfully, they show up within the first hour of the gallery opening. they each show up looking professional and chic, sporting all-black fits—most likely at the hands of jay. sunghoon immediately finding you and leading the way for the rest. you welcome them in, explaining your collection, the concentration being “vulnerability.” the works are a mix of several mediums, majority being oil paint, each displaying a closeup of various people. the paintings show their bare faces, imperfections and blemishes with nothing to hide.

the night continues with more and more passing by, complimenting your collection. by the time the exhibition ends, you and sunghoon are the only ones left in the studio. he’s stayed in the same spot, eyeing one piece incredibly closely. throughout the entire showcase, he had kept going back to the one canvas. you join his side, linking your arm with his. “this one is my favorite,” you hear him say.

you look up to meet his eyes, “why this one?”

“because…  it’s you.” you takes your arm out and moves to stand behind you, now wrapping himself around you and resting his chin in the crook of your neck. he holds your hands in his, “i am so proud of you. times like this, i am proud to call you my best friend.” he turns his head, kissing you once on your jaw, and then pulling slightly back to kiss you again on the cheek.

you turn around, hugging him closer with your arms around his shoulders, “thank you.” you hold each other for a few minutes. when you pull away, you lock eyes. you feel your heart beating against your chest and your breathing getting faster. you snap back to reality when you feel sunghoon’s lips on yours. you’re not sure why you tangle your fingers in his hair and kiss him back or why he grabs onto your waist while backing you into the wall. he continues placing pecks on the corner of you lips, creating a trail down to your neck. when you let out a sigh and say his name, he stops. there he stands, a few feet in front of you, awkward and unsure of what to do next.

he breaks the silence, “it’s late. i should drive you back home.” he watches as you slowly nod your head. the drive back to your apartment was dead silent. you tried to occupy yourself by looking out the window.

when he drops you off, he bids you a quick goodnight. “um… text me when you get back home.” sunghoon just looks forward, muttering “ok” before leaving.

in the elevator, you look at your reflection on the metal doors. you make your way inside your place and take a seat on your bed. your mind is too busy reliving the moments with sunghoon before. you try to comprehend what you should do but find yourself too tired, instead falling asleep and missing his text.

ix. spring break

it’s currently the middle of april and the boys have made you an honorary member of en-4. you and sunghoon have been pretending to be a couple and successfully tricking everyone for the last four months.

everyone has the week off for spring break. jay, being the generous guy he is, rented out a cabin in the mountains for the now five members of your friend group. you all rode in one car on the way up, and you totally didn’t fall asleep in the middle seat while cuddling into sunghoon’s side. 

you all decide to settle into your rooms once you arrive. “so there are four rooms, two downstairs and two upstairs.” jay pauses, looking towards you and sunghoon, “i assume that you’ll be fine sharing one.”

you immediately answer, “yeah, for sure.” you look to see sunghoon avoiding your gaze, sensing knowing looks from the others. sunghoon and you already guessed that they would make the two of you share a room and truthfully, neither of you minded. growing up together meant a lot of sleepovers and sharing beds so this was no problem.

he continues on, “great, you guys can take the master bedroom on the second floor cause it has the most space. i’ll take the room next to you, heeseung and jake can take the two down here.”

everyone agrees and sets off to their assigned rooms. you and sunghoon drop your bags onto the mattress, starting to unpack. the interior is spacious, the tall glass sliding doors allow lots of natural light to come in. the room itself is cozy, king size bed with matching bedside tables, and a big fluffy area rug. you’re too distracted to notice that sunghoon has gone outside to the balcony. he leans against the railing, taking in the scenic views and the breeze, basking in the setting rust-colored sun. when you finally realize that he’s not next to you anymore, you silently make you way onto the balcony, wrapping your arms around sunghoon from behind.

he tenses up at the sudden contact, relaxing when he realizes it’s you. there it is again, his heart is acting up like at the diner. he’s noticed it more often—the way that whenever he sees you, his heart beats differently. this weird feeling in his chest, this warmth that only shows up around you. he gets lost in his thoughts, envisioning what could become of your situation.

“what’s got you so lost?”

your voice snaps him back to reality. he turns around to face you, “uh… nothing, just thinking.”

just when you want to question him further and talk about what happened at the showcase, a knock is heard on the door. sunghoon walks away, going to open the door. both of you can feel the awkward tension when he leaves his spot. 

“hey, we’re kinda hungry so we’re gonna order some food and watch a movie downstairs,” jake informs you two when the door opens. “feel free to come down and join whenever.”

“yeah, we’ll be down in a bit,” sunghoon tells him as heeseung nods before leaving you two alone again. you both finish getting settled before heading downstairs. you gather around the couch as ponyo plays on the tv and you reach for a tray of sushi. 

the night continues, the moon sitting high amongst the stars. after the movie, dinner, and some drinking games, everyone retires to their respective rooms. you plop yourself onto the bed, tired after the day’s activities. you hear sunghoon getting something from his bag along with the rustling of some plastic. you crane your head up to see him approaching you. he sits on the edge of the bed, now with fluffy headbands and face masks in hand.

you scoot back a bit, “nope. no way you are getting me to do that.”

he laughs lightly at your antics, “oh come on… let me take care of you, at least just for tonight. please.” he gives you a pleading look with pursed lips, dragging out the “please” to show how desperate he is. 

that was the deciding point that led to a spa night. you both changed into comfier clothes, you borrowed one of his hoodies and sweatpants. sunghoon got settled in closer to you and you reached for his wrist to grab one of the elastic bands. you adjusted your position to sit on your knees, reaching up to tie his hair back. he, on the other hand, took one of the headbands to bring your hair back and away from your face. 

by the time midnight rolled around, you two were snuggled under the comforter with face masks, surrounded by junk food, and on the fourth episode of some random netflix show. as the night continues, a wave of sleep starts to overtake both of you. you help each other take off the masks and clean up, getting distracted every few minutes because one of you would start messing around. the boys had stopped by to say goodnight, catching you two in the middle of a mild pillow fight. after sending them off, you fall asleep in each other’s arms, basking in the warmth of your shared embrace. heeseung had snuck in at one point and stole a few quick pictures to tease you two with.

the dawn breaking through the sheer curtains causes you to stir in bed. you turn to see the alarm clock on the nightstand say 6:02. untangling yourself from sunghoon’s grasp, you sneak outside. you climb up to sit on the rooftop, feeling the cool chill of the dewy morning. the time alone gives you a sense of serenity.

meanwhile, sunghoon moves under the covers, confused why he can’t feel you. his eyes open and he doesn’t find a trace of you in the room. worried, he gets up and quietly searches the house, making sure to not wake the others. he goes into the backyard, seeing a shadow on the ground with an unusual shape. he looks up to find you perched on the roof, facing the opposite direction. he eventually climbs up to sit next to you. he hesitates before getting closer and putting his arm around you. you sigh as you lean into him. there you both stay, watching the sun come over the horizon in a comfortable silence.

x. disaster averted

the following week, you all return to campus. needless to say, the break was well used—the days at the cabin mostly being spent at the lake or around the campfire. another day spent hanging out at en-4’s dorm after classes. sunghoon went out to pick up food for everyone. you are in his room, trying to cram for an upcoming test and failing miserably because the other three are all playing fifa way too loud.

while the boys are playing, the doorbell rings. jay gets up to check who it is, seeing a young girl and immediately recognizing her. he lets in yeji, sunghoon’s little sister. she casually joins the boys around the tv, catching up on whatever has been happening in their lives. sunghoon arrives back home within twenty minutes. 

“i’m back with the food,” he shouts out loud enough for everyone to hear including you behind his closed bedroom door. he places the plastic bags on the table, looking up to see another face. “yeji? what are you doing here?”

she gets up to greet her brother, giving him a hug, “it’s my spring break and i wanted to stop by.” sunghoon then realizes that his family doesn’t know about him becoming friends with you again or about your current situation. he drags her into the kitchen hurriedly, “ok so here’s the thing… you remember y/n?”

“of course! she’s like my big sister.”

his breath gets caught in his throat for a second, “yeah, don’t call her that. anyways, her and i are friends again,” he sees yeji’s eyes widen with excitement and continues with his explanation before she can cut him off, “and she’s my girlfriend.”

“what?!”

sunghoon panics and covers her mouth with his palm, “fake girlfriend!” he rushes out the whisper. “the guys don’t know that our relationship isn’t real and i’d like to keep it that way. they don’t even know that we were friends beforehand. yeji, i’m begging you to go along with it. please do this for me.” he clasps his hands together in front of him with a pleading expression.

the young girl crosses her arms in front of her and pretends to think about it, “hmm… fine.”

sunghoon blurts out a chant of “thank you’s” not knowing that his sister only agreed cause she always thought that you and sunghoon would’ve been a good couple. he tells her to help the others set the table while he goes to you. he quickly explains what’s happening and you’re just excited that you get to see yeji again. you both leave his room and you make your own way to the living room, spotting the other girl and exchanging glances.

yeji stops what she’s doing to turn and face you, “who’s this?”

you answer back casually, “y/n. i’m a friend of the boys, and you are?”

“yeji, sunghoon’s younger sister.” she says it proudly, bringing a grin to the aforementioned boy.

“oh, you’re yeji? hoon was right… you are pretty.”

she tilts her head and cocks an eyebrow, questioning you “why would he tell you about me?”

jake chimes in like it’s second nature, “i mean, why wouldn’t he tell his girlfriend about his sister?” he states like it’s so obvious. “they’ve been together since december.”

“girlfriend?” she takes a step back in false shock, “since december? why didn’t i know about this?” 

“what? i don’t seem like your brother’s type?”

“it’s not that. i’m just surprised he managed to get and keep a girlfriend. you’re like, way out of his league and he’s a loser.” one thing to know about yeji is that as much as she loves him, she will never miss a chance to tease her brother. 

with a scoff, you finally hear sunghoon join in beside you, “not gonna lie, that one hurt a little.”

“i’m so telling mom,” she says with a mischievous smirk.

you laugh at sunghoon’s shocked face and smile at the younger park, “i like you, i think we’ll get along just fine.”

“i like you, too.” she looks at sunghoon, “keep her.”

everyone laughs at the interaction as they settle in to eat. sunghoon sits to your right while yeji sits on your left, wondering how his two favorite girls learned to be such good actresses.

xi. returning the favor

fast forward another month, the end of the semester means the dreaded finals week again. sunghoon has been, for lack of a better word, slacking on some of his classes and is now juggling to prepare for exams and revisions. couple that with yeji telling his mom about your “relationship” and her nonstop questions, all of this stress has been piled on. this all amounting to him getting sick. 

now, sunghoon being sunghoon means that he pushed everyone away and hasn’t told you about his condition. luckily for him, you’ve been cooped up in your studio trying to finish your portfolio and also prepare for your exams. unluckily for him, the boys have gotten worried and heeseung called you. 

which brings us to the present, sunghoon stuck in bed with a fever, congestion, and neglected notes. a knock on his door does nothing to help his headache but seeing your face meekly peek in makes him relax. “what are you doing here?” he asks hoarsely.

“did you really think i wouldn’t find out?”

he avoids your glare, “i didn’t want you to worry.”

“honestly i’m not upset that you’re sick, but that i had to hear it from your roommates.” you come closer to him, clearing out the scattered papers and textbooks from atop his bed. you sit on the edge, taking out some medicine and cooling packs that you picked up from the convenience store.

“you really don’t have to do this,” he twiddles his fingers in embarrassment.

you tie back his hair and place one of the packs on his forehead, “you’ve always been the one taking care of me, so i might as well return the favor.” 

you busy yourself with getting the cough medicine ready and sunghoon takes an actual look at you. he notices that you’re wearing his old skating jacket, the same one he gave you at your high school graduation. he makes more room under the covers, allowing you to come closer and lay next to him. he drapes one arm over you and holds onto the end of the jacket sleeve, “i can’t believe you kept this.”

“we stopped hanging out and we weren’t in each other’s lives for a year and a half after being together basically since birth,” you pause, a little saddened thinking back. “this was the last thing i ever got from you. it’s all i had left.”

he brings you closer, neither of you caring if you got sick. “well… now you have me again. for good.”

xii. the party

the end of the school year has finally arrived. some seniors from the txt frat are hosting a big party to celebrate. of course, en-4 was invited—mostly thanks to heeseung being close with them. although you have made more friends and now have a more active social life, parties are still not your thing. 

yet, much to your dismay, being friends with designated party people means that you’re getting bombarded with pleas to go regardless. sunghoon took the lead on convincing you, “please, i promise that it’ll be fun.” the boys join in, their voices overlapping. sunghoon practically tackles you onto your couch while pouting and furrowing his eyebrows in desperation.

“stop looking at me like that. i can’t think properly when you do that.”

right on cue, the boys start to tease you. jay clears his throat and jake makes kissing noises, meanwhile heeseung starts singing y/n and sunghoon sitting in a tree… while you just glare at them.

“if i say i’ll go, will you all leave me alone?” 

they all shout “yes” in unison. which is how you ended up at the crowded frat house. although they had begged you to come, they practically abandon you and sunghoon when you get there. jake had yelled back to you that his friend sunoo from his econ class called them over for beer pong.

you and sunghoon find a big bean bag in the corner and stay there for a bit. he offers to get you both some drinks and leaves to the kitchen. you’re not sure how long he’s gone but you eventually get uncomfortable. you start wandering the house for some space to get some air. you find an empty room and make your way into the connected bathroom to wash your face. you take some deep breaths, then realizing that you didn’t tell sunghoon. as you’re about to step out, he enters the room.

“i figured you would want some space.”

“how’d you know where i was?”

he comes up closer to you, “in the sea of people, in this mess, in this frenzy… i will always find you. no matter what happens or who comes into my life, i always find my way back to you.”

“what the hell is that even supposed to mean, park?”

“i mean…” he stops to compose himself, “oh for fucks sake, i’m tired of this being pretend. i’m tired of being allowed to call you my girlfriend in public but not treat you like it in private. when i kissed you at the showcase, i had wanted to do that for so long, and i’ve been wanting to do even more.”

“sunghoon, look-”

“wait, i’m not done. what i’m trying to say is that i want you to be my girlfriend, for real this time—not as a joke, not as a trick. i want us to be together as an actual couple because i like you, a lot more than you could believe-”

you cut him off this time, kissing him like he did all those weeks ago. you kissed him in the way that you weren’t sure what words to say other than, “i would love to be your girlfriend.”

sunghoon shines with the biggest smile, picking you up and spinning around. when he lets you down, he incessantly leaves pecks all over your face. he holds you close, “now, how about we go enjoy the party?”

you nod and lead him hand in hand towards the door. you turn the nob, only to have the three remaining members of your friend group fall at your feet. heeseung landing on top, shouting out, “i fucking knew it!”

[andreafmn]

I'm Not Afraid - Chapter 1

Word Count: 3,325

Characters: Female Reader Argent Character, Original Male Argent Character, Derek Hale, Allison Argent, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Chris Argent, Jackson Whittemore

Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father's sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin's, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Teen Wolf, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Jeff Davis and MTV Network. The only thing I own is Argent Reader insert, her immediate family, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others' storyline.

Chapter: 1/?

Chapter Description: (Y/N) finally arrives at Beacon Hills for the funeral of her aunt and meets a certain wolf to which she feels a special connection.

A/N: Second fandom I'm writing for. I love Teen Wolf so much and the trope of hard Derek but only soft for you makes my heart sing. If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

Next ->

Chapter 1

I hugged the black coat to my body as hard as I could whilst pushing through the sea of press. Our family's last name became quite known after the reports about my aunt, whose burial we were attending. She had allegedly burned down a house with people in it.  She killed them in cold blood. I hugged my grieving uncle and his less grieving wife, then my cousin who had a painful look on her face. I hugged her the longest. She let herself crumble on my arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Even though she was a horrible person she was still our aunt, family.

I took my seat behind Allison when my father, my mother, uncle Chris, and aunt Victoria stood up. Allison didn't lift her head and neither did I. I just tried to comfort her.

"It's been such a long time I don't expect you to call me grandpa." We both looked up to see a white-haired man who resembled the Argent features. "Don't worry about it, just call me Gerard." He hugged both of us, an overpowering aura emanating from his being. When we were engulfed, I looked to the side and saw two boys squatting behind a gravestone. If they were hiding, they were doing a horrible job at it.

"But I prefer Grandpa," Gerard said walking to his seat. I sat back down and drifted off during the whole ceremony. Once it was over, I joined my parents and we drove to our new house. I have a feeling that life here will be very interesting.

That weekend I decided that I had been putting working out off for too long. I changed into comfortable workout clothes and gave food to my dog, Brody. I headed out the door, put my earbuds on, and started to jog. I really didn't know where I was going since it was a new place for me, all I know is that I kept running until I reached the woods. The bad thing about this, I had no idea how to get back home. Even though I knew of this sidetrack and I knew I would be late to get back home, I kept running, needing a release from the mundane feeling of being new in town and having to reunite from our estranged family in a funeral.

I had gained a lot of momentum. God knows how fast I was running at this point that is until I hit something, it almost felt like a wall. When I looked up, I saw a very handsome guy. Spiked hair, green eyes, and slight stubble. If it weren't for the fact that I was already sweaty I would have started to sweat showers of how nervous I was. That is until he opened his mouth.

"Watch where you're going." He growled at me.

"How about you fucking move and not be a prick?" He looked at me with big eyes, probably in surprise, but quickly changed to his menacing look. Who was he trying to fool?

"Well, this is private property, which means that you're trespassing, meaning you should pay more attention to your surroundings."

"I'm sorry but a burnt-down house with almost no walls or roof is barely a property. So, how about you stop being an idiot and I can be on my way." I started to jog once again but he gained my attention once more.

"You're new here, aren't you?" I turned around to face him.

"What's it to you?" He raised his eyebrow.

"I'll take that as a yes." The cockiness oozed out of his pores.

"And why the hell should that matter?"

"Because no one would dare talk to me that way."

"Who would be afraid of a little sour wolf?" He tensed up. "Dude, chill. I'm just kidding. But I doubt anyone would be afraid of Mr...."

"Hale. Derek Hale." He said extending his hand to me. Gee, after screaming at me he wants us to be acquaintances. I thought about not shaking his hand, but I didn't want to be rude. Well, more than I have been already.

"(Y/N). Argent." I shook his hand. Strong grip. Suddenly I felt a rush of déjà vu; I had met him the day before. "Wait, aren't you that guy I accidentally hit with my grocery cart yesterday?"

"Yeah, that really hurt. You hit my ankle. You could've had me limping."

"But you're not, so be grateful I didn't break your ankle." He laughed. "Damn, if I had known how cocky you really were, I would've hit you harder."

"So, you admit that you hit me?"

"Oh yeah, of course, I hit you. Accidentally that is."

"Yeah, yeah."

I looked around trying to find where the hell I had come from but there wasn't even the slightest trail as to where I was to go.

"So, miss (Y/N). Do you even know your way home?"

"No, but I'm sure I can find my way back." Then, he took keys out of his pocket and pointed to his car.

"Come on, I'll drive you around and you just tell me when something seems familiar."

"And why should I go with the guy that almost ripped out my throat for bumping into him? For all I know you could be driving me to my death." I crossed my arms over my chest, and he let out a loud sigh.

"Look, I'm sorry for snapping. But I'm trying to be nice. That doesn't happen very often."

"Alright, Mr. Hale. I'll let you take me home just because you are being nice now, after being a prick, and I'm exhausted."

"See, no one can resist me." I rolled my eyes at his cockiness. Seriously does he buy cans of it on eBay?

"Don't get cocky with me. I can punch the living daylights out of you." He chuckled and started to drive.

We drove for about 20 minutes until I finally recognized the curb that led to my house. Upon arriving at my driveway, I got out of the car and walked to the driver’s side.

"Give me your hand” For some reason, I felt compelled to do so. He took a pen and wrote down a number. "Call me if you ever need a tour of the town."

Three weeks later, I walked inside the school to meet up with Allison. I moved here with my family since dad had some business taking float. Being the new kid in town is never fun. I would know. I switch schools almost every year. The pro and con about this would be not being attached to anyone. Usually, I'm the one who doesn't talk to anyone and is called a freak. A derogatory term given to people who are way too different from others, but a title I wore proudly.

"Oh my gosh, (Y/N)! How have you been?" Allison wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly. It was as if she hadn't seen me just three weeks ago.

"Hi, Allison. I've been good, getting acclimated to the new town. You?" You would think that because we were cousins, I would be more affectionate towards her but honestly, I wouldn't see her again for like three more years, so what's the point?

"I'm good. A little rocky at the start of coming here but good." Then, a boy with a buzz cut and one with great brown hair walked by and smiled at Alli. "Ooh, you should come meet my friends. Stiles, Scott!! Come here." The boys turned around with goofy grins on their faces.

"Hey, Allison. Who's this?" Buzzcut kid said.

"This is my cousin, (Y/N). She just moved here from Virginia."

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Scott." The one with the great hair said.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Stiles." I shook their hands and smiled.

"Nice to meet you, too, buzzcut." Allison and Scott laughed but Stiles only ran his hand through his hair, suddenly becoming hyperaware of his lack of locks.

"Allison. Who might this sexy lady be?" I rolled my eyes. The last thing I need is a narcissist with a god-complex trying to get close.

"Oh, Jackson, this is my cousin, (Y/N)."

"Hi." He extended his hand and looked me up and down.

"Hi." I smiled sarcastically, and when I didn't extend my hand, he dropped his.

Finally, after standing awkwardly behind Allison whilst her friends talked, the bell rang. Talk about saved by the bell.

"Hey, (Y/N), what's your first class?" I checked my schedule.

"Um, chemistry."

"Oh, good, then you're coming with us to Mr. Harris' class," Scott said pointing towards him and Stiles. I smiled and walked behind them.

Once we got to the classroom everyone turned to me, the ever-present sign of being new in the class evident in the stare of my classmates.

"Um, hi, my name is (Y/N) Argent and I'm new." The teacher, whom I guess is Mr. Harris, turned around to face me.

"Oh, yes, Miss Argent. Welcome. You will be sitting next to Isaac Lahey. Lahey, raise your hand." Once Isaac raised his hand, I noticed he was sat near Stiles and Scott. Two people I was trying to avoid. As I walked past, I accidentally pushed Stiles' book on his lap, startling him, resulting in an awkward descent from his lab stool onto the floor.

"Hi, again. I guess we are gonna see a lot of each other for the rest of the school year." I nodded and he scratched the back of his neck. "So, um, what school did you come from?"

"Lancaster High," I responded whilst writing down what Mr. Harris was writing on the board. Stiles kept trying to talk to me, but I would only give him short, cold answers or just ignore him. That is until Mr. Harris called our attention, that's when he finally got the memo to shut up.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to introduce myself since we're gonna be seated next to each other all year. I'm Isaac."

"I figured." I tried giving him my best smile. The vibe he was giving off seemed like he needed it. "I'm (Y/N)."

"Well, nice to meet you, (Y/N). Now I'll leave you to the class because if I don't I know I'll be failing even more than I am."

"Oh, well, maybe I can tutor you some time. I'm actually really good at science. My mom was a chemist professor once upon a time so I'm bound to understand all this."

"Really?!" His puppy eyes seemed to light up and I nodded. "That would actually be amazing."

"Sure thing. Now let's get back to class."

After Chemistry finished, I put everything in my bag as quickly as possible and sped to my next class, Math. Thankfully, none of Allison's friends shared this class with me but I did share it with Isaac.  I didn't consider him much a friend but more an acquaintance in desperate need of help.

As the day progressed, I noticed the rest of my classes were shared with one or more of Allison's friends. They all tried to strike up a conversation but were quickly discouraged when met with my one-worded or vague answers. Especially, Stiles. He tried especially hard to get answers out of me, only being met with the occasional laugh or stare at his comical occurrences. He seemed like the kind of person you could just open up to. The same could be said about Scott. His shy nature was alluring, and he portrayed himself as a very trustworthy and loyal being.

But I would not allow myself to let them in. My whole being yearned for a real friendship, someone to share nothing and everything; never again.

At lunch, I sat outside and ate my food quietly, a book in front of my face to shield my eyes from the sun the prevalent stares of my peers. After some minutes of appreciated loneliness, the empty table was filled with conversating teenage bodies. I smiled politely but, in my mind, I was cursing them out.

"So, (Y/N), how's your day been?" Allison asked whilst munching on an apple. I swallowed what was left of my bite and answered.

"Fine, thank you." This time no one pressed on after my short answers, finally getting the hint of my disinterest. In the corner of my eye, I saw Isaac sitting under a tree munching on half a sandwich. I excused myself and went to join him, heavily enjoying his tranquil aura.

"Oh, hi, (Y/N)." He smiled sheepishly.

"Hey, Isaac. Is that all you're eating?"

"Yeah. I'm not very hungry." He looked down as if he were ashamed.

"Nonsense! Here," I gave him the other half of my burger and another bag of chips I had in my bag. "You can't tell me you're not hungry. You're a boy in peak development."

"Thanks." He smiled as he continued munching on his food. I put on some music and we continued eating in silence. No conversation required.

The day went on smoother than it started. Classes flew by fairly quickly and the incessant chit-chat seemed to diminish. During last period I was like every other student, anxiously waiting for the bell to signal the end of the school day. When my pleads were answered, I packed the necessary book into my bag and left the rest in my locker, expertly avoiding any more social encounters. Quickly, I made my way to the waiting open car door of my father's car, ignoring Allison's beckoning me t.wards the small group of friends.

"How was your first day, darling?" My father spoke up breaking my attention from the scenery.

"Like any other first day I've had." I smiled. "The towns might change but school is always the same."

Finally at home, we were greeted with the sight of my mother cooking; people were coming over.

"(Y/N), honey, Chris, Victoria, and Allison are coming over tonight. So, go do a quick workout and come back to get ready." I nodded and ran to my room to change into workout clothes.

My routine would normally consist of waking up, working out, go to school for a dreading eight hours, come back home, workout again, do my homework, eat, and go to sleep. I lead a very monotonous life and it had been this way since I could remember. One of my earliest memories was of my father teaching me archery alongside Allison, a great distraction to our always disrupted home life. As I got older, my father started training me in boxing and knife maneuvering. How would these skills help me in life were still a mystery but I felt safe knowing them.

I got changed and decided to take Brody out with me on a quick jog through the woods. "Hey, boy, ready to go?"

He jumped on me which I took as a yes and started for the woods. We ran down the same trail I had been going on for the past three weeks. Mostly, I went down this track in hopes that Derek would make an appearance, and today was not the exception. As the ruins of his house came to view so did his tall figure.

"Trespassing again?"

"It doesn't count if I know the owner." During our greeting, Brody's leash slipped out of my hand and he ran to jump on Derek, leaving slobbering licks on his cheek. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it." He chuckled and helped me bring him down.

"I guess he likes you, even though he doesn't like anyone but me. Guess you're special."

"Maybe." He grinned.

Out of nowhere, I hit him in the shoulder. "What was that for?!"

"For trying to run me over with your shopping cart two days ago. It was uncalled for."

"No, it was revenge. You hit ME first. In the ankle."

"You're still on with that. Come on, sour wolf. That happened three weeks ago, and it was an accident."

"Whatever. Come on, I'll give you a ride home. It's getting kind of dark." This had also become part of my routine. After "bumping" into Derek he would offer to drop me off at my house, claiming it was for security.

"Okay, we're here. By the way, the offer to show you around town is still up. Just call me whenever." He said as he stopped the car in front of my house.

"Alright, will do, and thanks for the ride, Derek. I'd invite you in, but my family is coming over."

"No worries, maybe another time."

"It's a date. Anyways, thanks again. See you when I see you."

"Okay, goodnight."

"Night." He waited until I entered the house and drove away.

"Munchkin, is that you?" My father screamed from the kitchen.

"Yeah!" I screamed back.

"Okay, well, go take a shower and get ready your uncle will get here soon."

I hurried up the stairs and hopped in the shower letting the hot water stream down my body calming any aching muscle that was palpitating. In my room, I searched through my closet for an acceptable family dinner outfit, deciding a grey sweater and black jeans would be enough. I braided my hair out of my face and went downstairs to help my mother set the table.

After we put the last plate the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" I ran to the door and was greeted by my uncle. "Uncle Chris!" I jumped and he hugged me. There was no doubt that he was my favorite family member, his presence was always welcoming. His wife on the other hand was as cold as the winters we spent in New York. She was nice but absolutely scary. "Hi, Aunt Victoria."

"Hello, (Y/N)." I hugged her and said hi to Allison.

"Come in, guys." They walked in and I closed the door behind them.

"So, (Y/N), how have you been?" Uncle Chris asked while stuffing his mouth with mom's famous lasagna.

"I've been good. I mean, moving all the time takes a toll on you at first, but I got used to it. It's easy now to pack it all up once the school year ends."

"Oh, honey, that must be so hard on you," Victoria said. I could not read her tone, her words spoke in sympathetic notes with an underlying melody of sarcasm.  Not knowing what to answer, I bit my lip and nodded.

The whole evening was spent on us catching up and eating, laughing, playing games, but the good times came to an end when the clock hit 9:00 pm. It was stupid to set a curfew, but my mom usually had everyone in bed at this time, 10:30 as of late.

"You better come around the house more often." Uncle Chris demanded and hugged me.

"Yes, sir." I raised my hand to my eyebrow and saluted, as did he.

"Let's go, Chris. And thank you for the lovely dinner, Rebecca," Victoria said linking arms with my uncle and smiling at mom.

"No problem. Come by any time." They talked for a bit more and after they left, I went upstairs to change for bed.

"Momma, I'm gonna go to sleep."

"Okay, honey. Goodnight." I went upstairs, brushed my teeth, and put my hair in a ponytail.

Before bed, I made sure everything I would need for the next day was packed into my bag and made sure my alarm was set. I pulled all the throw pillows from my bed and set them aside, then making my way to the window to draw the curtains. Something caught my attention in the backyard, though. My eyes squinted trying to make out the figure in front of me. Blinking the confusion away, I made a double-take and looked back at an empty yard. I laughed to myself as I crept into bed. Why would Derek be in my backyard?

Next ->

[sinner-as-saint]

my sweet love

Professor!reader x uni student!bucky 

Run-through: You run into an ex-student of yours at a cozy pub. You immediately recognize him given he used to be the troublemaker of the batch. You two start a casual conversation, which ends with a certain confession; which then causes the night to take an interesting turn… 

Themes: smut, fluff

You lifted your head up to look at who had just tapped you gently on the shoulder. You soon found yourself staring into a pair of blue eyes. Eyes which seemed so familiar. 

“Oh my god! Bucky?” your jaw dropped a little, in surprise. Bucky smiled back at you, casually leaning in for a hug like you were an old friend, instead of his ex-professor. 

“The one and only.” He beamed as he pulled away. 

Bucky was one of those students whom you could never forget; he was always the loud one, the joker, the pretty boy all the girls secretly had a crush on and he pretended not to know. He was smart, but a bit of a pain sometimes - especially since he spent half his time flirting with you. 

“Wow,” he eyed you up and down. “You didn’t change one bit. You’re still the gorgeous woman who stole my heart, I see.” 

His words earned an eye roll out of you. “This again? Seriously?” you chuckled as you remembered all those times he complimented you without any hesitation. He even got you flowers for Valentine’s Day each year. 

He fake gasped, pretending to be hurt. “You hurt me, woman. What do you mean ‘again’? I never stopped loving you.” he spoke, dramatically as he took a seat on the stool beside you at the counter. 

You rolled your eyes at him and you couldn’t help but take in his appearance. Lose tie, dark blue button down shirt, slacks; it gave away that he was here after work. “You finally joined your father’s company, I see.” you noted as you remembered how much he used to complain about never wanting to work with his father ever in his life. 

He smiled, remembering the same thing, “Yeah. Dad wanted to retire, so I volunteered to take over. You know, like a good son. Like a responsible, mature adult.” He gave you that same smile he used to give you back in uni whenever he said some stupid stuff just to get a reaction out of you. 

You rolled your eyes and sighed. “You still haven’t changed.” You smiled back at him. 

“You didn’t either.” He gave you a look which you couldn’t quite understand. But you would admit that he didn’t seem like he was the same man-child he used to be back in uni. “Let me buy you a drink.” He spoke again. You began refusing but then he stopped you with puppy eyes. “Oh come on, I met you after almost three years. I insist.” 

“Okay. Just one drink.” 

-

Three wines later, the two of you were still in deep conversations, laughing uncontrollably at all the funny anecdotes you shared of your time as his professor back in university. 

He set his glass down after his final sip and turned to face you. The lights were dimmer than earlier, or maybe that was just the after effect of the wine. But the blue in his eyes stood out even more now. Or maybe that was because he had inched closer to you over the past hour. 

“Do you remember that day when I gave you a ride home?” he asked. 

You widened your eyes and chuckled, “Yeah and it was raining like hell, right? Some idiot slashed my tires, and I never found out who did it.” 

Bucky chuckled quietly before biting his lip. “That idiot was me.” He waited for a reaction out of you, his heart racing. He calmed down only after you cracked a smile, which then turned into a laugh. 

You shook your head at him, this was years ago and you weren’t mad anymore. “Why did you do that?” you were genuinely curious. 

He sheepishly answered, “I just wanted to spend some time with you, go on a drive and you know…” he finished, embarrassed now that he was saying it out loud. 

You pieced it all together. “So that bit where you got lost driving around in circles and blamed it on the rain and fog, that was all pretend?” you asked, he covered his face with both hands and nodded. You laughed again and it was the most adorable thing he had ever heard. “Why? Do you know how much trouble you caused me?” you shook your head, still surprised at his confession, yet something about it was adorable. 

He removed his hands from his face and lifted an eyebrow, giving you his famous smirk, “I can make up for it, if you let me.” His tone changed, his voice suddenly sounding deeper. 

“Bucky.” You said it like a playful warning. You knew what he meant. 

He inched closer and casually twirled a lock of your hair around his finger. “What, I’ll be so good to you.” He looked up into your eyes, letting his eyes linger at your lips first, then giving you that puppy dog look. 

“Stop it. Your puppy dog eyes don’t work on me anymore.” You smirked. You didn’t know exactly where this was heading, but for now, you were going with the flow. 

He smirked back at you. “Does that imply that it worked in the past?” 

“Bucky.” You used the same reprimanding tone as before. 

He chuckled. “God, I still fucking love it when you use that tone on me.” 

His words made you giggle. You took another look at him and smiled. He was adorable. You stopped yourself before eyeing him any longer. “It’s late, I should go.” 

He grabbed your hand gently, holding it in his much larger, warm one. “I fell in love with you in my second year.” He said it, finally. 

You chuckled. “Okay, that’s it.” You pulled your hand from his and stepped down from the stool and faced him with a genuine smile. “It was nice seeing you again. Make sure you get home safe, alright?” the professor in you added the last part, caring for anyone younger than you became a personality trait at this point. 

You turned around to leave, and he followed you with a loud, dramatic groan. “Don’t walk away, I just proclaimed my love for you and you’re leaving me stranded and alone here? Come on,” he complained after you as you stepped out of the pub. You had a silly smile on your face the whole time, laughing at his silliness. 

He caught up with you right outside the entrance of the pub, pulling you aside on the sidewalk. “Listen to me,” he grabbed you gently by the waist, pulling you closer. You would be lying if you said that this proximity did not give you any butterflies at all in your stomach. “I don’t know how to say this, but I feel things for you, I-,” 

You cut him off, chuckling. “Bucky, what you feel is called an academic crush. We all went through it at some point, even I did. You need to calm down-,” 

He cut you off again, leaning closer, smirking at first but then getting all defensive. “My poor little heart. How dare you just crush it like that, ma’am?” and he made you laugh again, you were beginning to feel just a little buzz from the wine. 

You shook your head. “Go home Bucky.” you got out of his embrace and walked away, keeping an eye out for a cab. You found one rather quickly, and once you got inside the other door opened as well and it didn’t come off as a surprise when Bucky settled right beside you. 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Now what, you’re gonna follow me home?” 

He shrugged, “I found you after three years, I’m not letting you go. I don’t care if you make me sleep on your porch, I will-,” 

You shut him up abruptly by placing a finger right on his lips. “Shh.” you giggled, the wine definitely giving you more than just a little buzz. “You are such a baby.” Bucky watched you in awe. He didn’t know where this was going either, but he liked it so far. 

He didn’t lie when he said he fell for you in his second year. He remembers the day like it was yesterday. He was stressed out, late at night in the library on the eve of an exam. And he remembers how you walked in and found him struggling so you helped him out. He remembers how patient you were that night, and that was also the first time he behaved and actually paid attention to what you were saying. And he aced the exam. He realized that night that no one was ever going to be this kind and gentle, and attentive towards him. No one but you. And just like that, his heart fell for you. 

While in the cab, he tried to hold your hand but you giggled and pushed him away each time. “Why do you hate me?” he asked, faking a frown. 

“I don’t hate you.” 

“Why don’t you love me back then? I’m good-looking, I’m funny, I’ve got a nice job and everything-,” 

You cut him off, “Because I used to be your professor a couple of years back Bucky.” You laughed quietly at how he groaned loudly when you said that, throwing his head back against the seat and everything. 

“This again, oh my God!” he groaned. “You used to be my professor. Past tense. Not anymore, and I really, really l-,” 

You cut him off by telling the driver that you had reached your destination. Bucky sighed but still followed you out of the cab and into your home. “Woah,” he looked around. It was a lovely home which you were grateful enough to be able to afford so you just smiled back at him. 

“Now what?” you asked, unintentionally smirking. 

“What’s the hurry, ma’am?” he approached you and you rolled your eyes. 

“Bucky…” you warned him again, playfully. 

“Okay, I deserve at least one chance to prove myself.” he raised his eyebrows at you, trying to look like he was making sense. 

You sighed. “You don’t have to prove anything. You’re a brilliant young man, and you-” he cut you off by leaning in and capturing your lips in a kiss. 

Your mouth moved against his wonderfully, you felt him smile through the kiss as he pulled you closer. He placed his hands on either side of you, his torso pressing into you, you smiled through the kiss again. Your hands found their way into his hair and you lazily ran your fingers through his soft hair.  

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the day I first saw you, you know that?” he whispered softly along your skin as he kissed, and bit down your neck and the side of your throat. You giggled in his arms, pushing him away playfully. But he came right back and held you even tighter. “Don’t push me away, not now.” he whispered in your ear and you found yourself shivering at the tone he used. 

You felt something shift in the air; it was a pleasant shift. You could no longer ignore the sparks which flew in between the two of you. You pulled away just a little to look into his eyes and that was it - you stopped thinking and analyzing; you just did what felt right. 

You found yourself leaning in again, and his lips met you halfway. You smiled into the kiss and tugged on his hair, gently but firmly as his tongue slipped into your mouth once again, slowly stroking the top of your mouth. Your lips moved perfectly together, Bucky nibbled on your lip and kissed your open mouth hungrily. His hand slipped under your top and he caressed your skin with his slightly cold hands; tracing imaginary shapes right under your boobs – most definitely leaving behind goose bumps where his fingers touched you so gently. 

You let out a little moan, and you felt him smirk right after. He pulled away to look at you, a lovesick look on his face and lust in his eyes. Your lips parted as you gasped for air; breathless after his kiss. 

“Bedroom?” you asked, and he chuckled, leaning in to kiss the side of your mouth. His soft lips pressed against your skin and your eyes fluttered shut. 

“Nope,” he kissed along your jaw till he reached your ear where he whispered, “Your study.” 

You let out a giggle. “What?” 

He pulled away to look at you. “I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on your desk.” His bluntness made you giggle. “Please let me.” he whispered in your ear again, making you shiver in anticipation and need. 

Fuck… 

Needless to say, once you gave him your approval; he rushed you upstairs. The two of you unable to keep your hands off each the whole time; stopping every two to three steps to pin the other to the wall and kissing each other like your life depended on it. 

Once you made it to the study room, Bucky’s hands and lips were on you again, not letting go for even a second this time. He kissed you with ardor, a moan escaping your lips and you whimpered with need as his hand reached your lower back and stopped right on your ass, giving it a little squeeze. He smirked at your reaction and did it again while walking the two of you backwards until he sat you down on the edge of your desk. 

He pulled away to look at you, “You okay?” he asked as he unbuttoned his shirt. Oh you were more than okay. You nodded at him, biting your lip and reached out and helped him unbutton his shirt faster. Bucky chuckled at your lack of patience and leaned in to kiss you again. Your hands found their way over to his toned chest, you traced his muscles with your finger tips and he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer. “I want you. Now.” 

He leaned in for another kiss, this time slowly lifting your top up until he finally took it off and tossed it aside carelessly, leaving you in just your skirt. He inched closer, your bare skin touching and making you want to moan again. His lips slowly moved along your jaw and down to the side of your throat, leaving dark red marks behind on your skin. 

You whined as he reached out and slipped his hand under your skirt, he ran his knuckles along your wet folds through your underwear, making you shudder at his mere touch. He smirked against your lips, “You’re dripping.” He commented, slowly sliding your underwear down. You moaned as you felt his fingertips gently trail down your legs, he eventually got down on his knees, spreading your thighs further apart. 

He placed a kiss on your inner thigh and you gasped. He reached out with his two fingers and gently circled your clit, gathering your wetness from your folds and smearing it around. “Did I do that?” he asked, smirking. You threw your head back and moaned as he lazily toyed with your folds, knowing exactly where to touch you to get you going. “Answer me,” he whispered against your skin as he kissed up and down your thigh. 

You looked down, bit your lip and let out a pathetic yes. He smirked and placed his hands on your thighs and spread your legs further apart and attached his lips to your core without a second thought; the lower half of his face completely submerged into your dripping core. You moaned out loud as you felt his warm mouth on top of your dripping core. His tongue slipped past your folds and teased your entrance; occasionally flicking your clit mercilessly. 

Your hands immediately gripped his hair and tugged gently at his roots. Wet sounds erupted from where his mouth latched on to your core, and the sight was just as sinful. His tongue slowly circled your throbbing clit, parting your wet folds with ease. You were sure your arousal must have leaked onto the table by now. “So sweet…” he whispered and got back to assault your sensitive spot with his warm and wet tongue, relishing your taste.

Your taste drove him wild, so did your soft whimpers. He moaned as he ate you out. You whimpered under his touch, feeling his stubble rubbing against your soft skin; it burned a little, but you enjoyed each and every second of it and craved for more. His deep blue eyes watched you in awe and how you lost control under his touch; legs shaking as he teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue. 

Your arousal drenched the lower half of his face as he ate you out relentlessly until you were nothing but a moaning, hot mess, squirming above him. He had been dreaming about this very moment since the day he first saw you. Part of him thought that he would never end up with you one day, but now that he had you, finally all to himself, he wasn’t planning on letting you go just yet. 

“Fuck…” you moaned out loud; your eyes closing and your head tilting back as you felt a wave of intense pleasure wash over you. Your hand flew to his hair and you tugged on it gently as he flicked his tongue over your clit over and over again.

His intense blue eyes watched you in awe and how you lost control under his touch; legs shaking as he teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue. His hands wrapped around your thighs, securing you in his grip as he pushed his face further into you, making you cry out loud.

You came violently all over Bucky’s tongue, body shuddering and shaking while you moaned his name out loud. It gave him an unfamiliar, but pleasant rush when he heard your strained voice moan out his name. Oh he had dreamt of this so many times, but none of his dreams felt this good. He kissed your inner thighs and licked you clean before standing back up. 

He smiled at you before gently pushing you back down on the table. Bucky leaned down and his mouth latched on to one of your nipples. He sucked on it gently as his teeth teased the bud and your back arched off the table in pleasure; whining. Your hands found their way into his hair and you tugged on his hair softly, making him groan. He kissed his way up to your neck once again as he aligned his cock to your core. You could feel his tip, leaking with precum, slightly pressing against your clit. 

Slowly, he slipped inside of you, groaning at how tight you were. You felt his length stretching you out entirely. He panted as he started rocking in and out of you slowly. You moaned out loud, feeling all of him; stretching you, filling you up, moving rapidly in and out of you to the point where the only thing you could focus on was his body. 

He hovered above you for a moment, looking down at you softly; watching you moan and squirm as you struggled to take his cock. “Does that feel good?” he stared deep into your eyes, his own filled with lust. “Yeah, you like my big cock inside your tight little cunt, don’t you?” he whispered against your lips, leaning in to just press his lips against yours. 

He moaned out loud as he pulled out completely and pushed back into you, you gasped at how he filled you up and stretched you out. He kissed along your jaw. “I’ve been dreaming about this for so long, you have no idea.” He murmured into your ear. “Now I’m not gonna let you go until you cry from coming too hard around my cock, you hear me?” 

You weren’t sure if you responded to that but regardless, he fucked you like an animal. “Fuck… you feel so good…” he whispered, pounding into you relentlessly, as he bent down to kiss your open mouth, swallowing all your moans and mewls in the process. You whined upon hearing the wet, slapping sounds your bodies made when they came in contact with one another. Mixed with his scent and the growls leaving his mouth, it was all too sinful. 

“Look at me.” He stared down at you, his ocean blue eyes seemed even prettier in the dimmed room. You could only nod, unable to form coherent sentences while he pounded into you like he owned you. He leaned in again, kissing you softly. “Tell me who’s fucking you this good, huh?” he whispered against your lips. 

You tried answering but it ended with a loud moan as his cock reached all the right places. He smirked and sped up into you again, relishing the feeling of you wrapped around him like you were made for it. Hearing you moan and squirm under him only encouraged him to thrust deeper into you, he wanted to feel all of you and he wanted you to feel all of him. 

He was relentless. 

He growled right in your ear as his body moved perfectly against yours. You whined; feeling a thin layer of sweat covering both your bodies as your walls milked him perfectly. A tear escaping your eye, out of pleasure. He was quick to wipe it away. He bent down and kissed your lips, pounding into you rapidly like his life depended on it.

Bucky felt you clench and tighten around him, “Come on, beautiful. Cum for me.” He whispered, his voice strained and raspy. Your mind was foggy by now, and it took your brain a few seconds to register and process his words. Not even a few moments later, you felt him twitch inside of you; his cock throbbing against your walls. He came with a growl, gripping your hips. You whined as you came around him as well. Swear words flowing out of your mouth like a chant as you felt his cum dripping out of you as he slowly slipped out of you. His body went limp and he fell in your arms. You felt his smirk against your neck as he kissed his way up to your lips again. 

“So did I do good, ma’am?” 

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part VII (x reader)

Summary: Reader tries to make things right, with a little push from her mama.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: none

a/n: I know, I know— please just let our babies be happy ♥️ and so it was. Also, big ups to my tumblr gf @idmakeitbehave​ for being my beta the past two chapters.

Series Masterlist

———

One week.

That’s how long it had been since their argument. Spencer had driven back to his apartment in silence, absolutely stunned by the way things had blown up.

They’d gotten back from the case in Utah on the fifth of January, and he’d driven straight to Y/N’s, ready to give her a belated New Year’s kiss. Immediately upon entering her apartment, he knew something was wrong. Her hug was stiff, her kiss brief, her eye contact minimal. He’d spent the night, but they barely touched, and she left early for work without waking him. He’d let himself out and texted her later in the day to invite her over for dinner.

Dinner hadn’t been any less awkward, and when he felt awkward, he knew it was bad. He finally couldn’t ignore it any longer, and he’d called it out. He had expected some resistance, but he hadn’t expected that. Y/N never spoke to him with any malice at all, even when he was actually doing something that irritated her. She was the queen of healthy communication. So for her to speak to him like that meant that the underlying issue was much, much worse than he’d originally thought.

He’d gone over their conversations a thousand times, looking desperately for the moment that it went wrong. After some deep consideration, he was certain that something had happened on New Year’s Eve. He just wasn’t sure what. Y/N was insistent that she wasn’t bothered by the declined call, but he still wished he could go back in time and answer it. He was pretty sure the seeds of their argument had sprouted in that moment, regardless of what she said.

Spencer knew she was a creature of habit, and that sometimes she needed space to process and experience her emotions. And if he was being honest, he needed some space after the argument, too. But usually she would have at least texted him by now.

He sighed and set down his newspaper, realizing he’d read the same page four times and hadn’t retained any of it. It was Friday, and he knew she was working. But still his fingers itched to dial her number. He picked up the phone, pressing a key to light up the screen yet again.

No new messages.

He dropped the phone back to the table with a little more force than was necessary. He decided he’d give her the rest of the weekend. If he didn’t hear from her by Sunday, he’d have to do something.

…

Y/N dropped her bag on the floor inside the door and turned to lock the deadbolt. She had managed to sneak out of the building without being stopped by Anita, and she thanked the universe for small miracles.

She didn’t want to have to explain herself. She didn’t want anyone to know what an absolute troll she’d been. Considering that Sam and Spencer had practically become attached at the hip since they’d started hanging out more, Anita was bound to ask about him.

She showered and ordered Thai food, snuggling down on the couch to watch a movie with Roald. She settled on Dumplin’— a favorite for the body positivity, the southern drawls, and the Dolly Parton drag.

And then she came to the argument outside of Harpy’s and lost what little emotional stability she had left.

“Never took you for the type that cares much what people think.”

“I can’t, Bo. And that might make me a coward, but—”

“It does. Willowdean Dixon, I think you’re beautiful. To hell with anyone who’s ever made you feel less than that.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until Roald meowed in distress. She choked out a sob and stroked over his ears, closing her eyes in defeat. “I really fucked this up, huh?”

It had only been one week, but it felt like years since Spencer walked out of her apartment. She’d stayed in bed for the entire weekend, crying on and off. She knew she had no one to blame but herself. Owen had knocked over the first domino, but she’d done nothing to stop the rest from falling.

Spencer had done everything right. He’d done everything she asked, and she’d thrown it all back in his face. He had made the comparison to Mitchell Park, and he was absolutely right. She’d done the exact same thing, only she had almost a year’s worth of ammunition, and she cut a hell of a lot deeper.

Roald nuzzled against her, but she nudged him away— she didn’t even deserve the comfort. Instead, she fumbled in the couch cushions for her phone, swiping open the screen and tapping her favorites list, thumb hovering over Spencer’s name. Then she tapped on the name right above it and blew out a breath.

The line connected and rang three times before she picked up. “Hey, sugar! Your ears must be ringin’, ‘cause I was just thinkin’ about callin’ you.”

“Hey, mama,” Y/N breathed.

Her mother’s tone changed from chipper to concerned in an instant. “What’s wrong, baby?”

She leaned forward to the coffee table to grab Spencer’s scarf— somehow left behind in her apartment— rubbing it between her fingers. “I— I really messed up.”

“Oh, Lord. You need bail money?”

Despite herself, Y/N laughed wetly. “Oh my god , mama. No, I don’t need bail money.”

“Well, if you made bail it can’t be that bad,” Rose insisted.

“I didn’t— I’m not in jail, for Christ’s sake.” Y/N ran a hand over her face. “I messed things up with Spencer.”

“Well, we can fix that,” Rose responded matter of factly. “What happened?”

“We were fighting, and I said some really, really awful things,” Y/N admitted, tears spilling over her lash line.

Rose scoffed. “Honey, I say awful things to your father all the time, and we’ve been married almost 40 years.”

Y/N heaved a long sigh. “Not like this, mama.”

Her mother hummed in consideration. “Well, what were y’all fightin’ about?”

“It’s complicated,” Y/N hedged, toying with the fringe of the scarf.

Rose clicked her tongue. “Do ya want my help or not?”

Y/N dropped her head back against the couch. “I ran into Owen on New Year’s Eve—”

“Well, I hope you told him to stick it where the sun don’t shine,” Rose practically growled.

Y/N closed her eyes as the tears tracked hot down her cheeks. “I didn’t. I— I let him get under my skin, and then I didn’t want to tell Spencer about it because it’s embarrassing, but he knew something was wrong, and he wouldn’t stop asking about it.” She had to pause and suck in a hiccuping breath, releasing it on a sob. “So I yelled at him and said all kinds of terrible things, and then he left, and now I think maybe we broke up, and I’ve literally never been so sad in my whole life.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and then she heard Rose sniffling. “Really shoulda had your brothers knock the mess out of that son of bitch when we had the chance. He's been gone five years, and he’s still hurtin’ you every chance he gets.”

Y/N swiped uselessly at the tear tracks on her cheeks, sniffling pathetically. “And now I hurt the person who’s spent the last year singlehandedly undoing all of his awful handiwork.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Rose cooed. Y/N could hear the creak of the floorboards as her mother walked through her childhood home. “You said he knew somethin’ was wrong, right? I can almost guarantee that he’s still just wonderin’ what’s goin’ on. I know he’s supposed to be a genius, but he’s still a man. And men are dumb, sugar. You gotta spell it out for ‘em. Have you talked to him since?”

“No.” Fresh tears spilled over Y/N’s lashes as the thoughts that had kept her from calling him spilled out of her mouth. “What if it was too far? What if I ruined everything? What if he never wants to speak to me again?”

Ross heaved out a long breath. “That’s a lot of what ifs, Y/N.”

“What if I’m right?” she whispered.

“And what if you’re not?” Rose countered. “That boy loves you. Anyone could see that, clear as day. He’d do just about anything for you.” Rose paused, and Y/N heard the springs of the bed squeak as she sat. “But you gotta let him, sweetheart. Right now you’re takin’ away his chance to do that. You’re makin’ the decision for him.”

Y/N listened as her mother’s advice crackled over the line, and for the first time in a week, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

“If he doesn’t want to be with you anymore, you need to let him tell you that. Don’t settle for a what if. Find out for sure, or you're gonna spend the rest of your life worryin’ and wonderin’, sugar.”

…

That evening found Spencer in his usual spot on the couch, reclined against the arm with a book in hand. He’d promised himself he’d give Y/N the weekend to herself— that he’d let her come to him. That didn’t stop him from checking his phone obsessively; it never buzzed with any new calls or messages, but he still looked every seven minutes.

The sound of the buzzer jolted his body to attention. He checked his watch and drew his brows together before closing his book and scrambling to cross to the intercom, a tiny seed of hope beginning to germinate. He pressed the button to talk, calling, “Yes?” into the speaker box and then listening for the response.

“Hi.”

Her voice was so quiet that he could barely hear it over the crackle of the speaker. He buzzed her in without hesitation, crossing to the door and opening it immediately. She made her way slowly up the stairs, turning at the top of the landing and pausing.

His heart broke at the sight of her. She looked utterly exhausted, dressed in black sweatpants and a soft purple sweater, a black puffer jacket over top. She was holding his scarf, wringing it in between her hands. Her eyes were ringed red, and the bags under them were worse than his.

He watched as she crossed the landing, coming to stand quietly in front of him. He’d known something was wrong, but the way she looked now made him wonder just how long she’d been battling whatever private demons she wouldn’t let him in on.

“I, um.” She cleared her throat, and it was clear she’d been crying from the thickness of her voice. “I have a lot to say— again. But since I was such an asshole, I wanted to give you the opportunity to say anything you need to say first.”

He’d imagined this conversation countless times over the last week, and never once had he thought it would start like this. “Um. Well. You— you really hurt me.”

She could barely look at him. “I know.”

He swallowed. “Please don’t do that again.”

She shook her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I won’t. I won’t ever again.”

Spencer tucked his hands into the pockets of his lounge pants. “I know I may not be the best at social cues, but I’m a pretty good profiler. And I can tell when something’s wrong.” He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t have to tell me everything. I’m just asking you to tell me when I do something that makes you upset.”

“You— you didn’t do anything wrong. I—” He watched her squeeze her eyes shut. “God, I’m so sorry, Spencer. I’m just— I’m sorry for so many things. For lying about being fine, for being up on my high horse about communicating and then not actually doing it, for being an absolute bitch.”

He wanted to argue— she wasn’t a bitch— but he could tell she was far from done.

“I— I thought therapy was supposed to teach me how to talk about things, but this still feels… impossible to say out loud,” she admitted, fingers fumbling with the fabric of the scarf. “It’s embarrassing and ridiculous. But I— I have deep-seated insecurities. That I’m not really that smart or interesting or particularly special.”

He thought back to that night in Mitchell Park and felt the guilt all over again. He’d practically said those exact words to her— it was no wonder she was feeling this way.

“And every person that I’ve ever been with has— really reinforced those ideas, so for a long time they were just… a set part of my self-image,” she explained, dragging a hand over her messy hair. “I thought— I thought that I was over it, but I— I don’t know. Maybe you never really are.”

His brain sorted through every moment of their year together, pinging off the countless examples of her self-doubt and insecurity. She was easily the most wonderful person he knew, but he could clearly see the cracks in the facade if he looked close enough. How had he missed it for so long?

“And then I met you, and you…” Y/N let out a wry laugh. “You’re easily the most interesting person I’ve ever met, but you made me feel like… I don’t know, like I’m interesting, too. Like I’m worthy of being with you, like I’m— like I’m good enough.”

He felt his heart splintering into a thousand tiny shards— good enough?

“But I can’t— I still have a hard time believing it sometimes. And I— I’ve been letting myself keep you at arms length. Letting you see parts of me, but… never giving you everything,” she admitted.

He watched her struggle to get the words out, her voice thick with the act of holding back sobs. He hadn’t realized she was carrying all of this. She was so good at supporting him and loving him through all of his trauma and issues, he hadn’t stopped to consider just how much she needed him, too.

She continued, “It’s why I took so long to say I love you… why I couldn’t talk to you last week. Because I just—” She shrugged as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to realize that I’m really nothing special. That you’re getting bored, or there’s someone who’s a better fit for you, or one million other things. That I’m needy, and annoying, and too much work.”

A fresh tear tracked down her cheek, and he felt his own eyes filling. She never failed to put a stop to his own insecurities— reminding him that she liked his rambling, that he wasn’t irritating, that he was just the right amount. In his eyes, she was perfect. He would have never guessed she felt this way about herself.

She continued, “That’s what happened before, and none of those guys were even half as wonderful as you are.” She swiped a hand haphazardly over her cheeks, looking at him sheepishly. “And then I was hurtful and awful, and I realized that I was just creating a self fulfilling prophecy and I don’t— I don’t want to do that.”

Her hand shook a little as she brought it back down to twist in his scarf. “Because it’s never— I’ve never felt like this. I've never been this happy with anyone else, and I don’t want to give that up. I don’t want to give you up. Even if sometimes I feel like I’ll never be enough.”

Her voice cracked on a stifled cry, and his chest physically ached. “And if you never want to see me again, I completely understand, and I’ll leave you alone, but I— I’m just so sorry. And I love you so much, and I’m trying so hard to be better.” She sucked in a ragged breath and let it out on an exhausted sigh. “And that’s, um— that’s it. If you want me to go, I—”

“I don’t want you to go,” he interrupted.

Her eyes went wide. “You don’t?”

“Of course not.” Spencer stepped forward and reached for her. “Of course not. C’mere.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, she was tumbling into his arms with a choked off sob. He pulled her inside and closed the door behind them, walking her to the couch and sitting them both down. She clung to him like she was afraid he’d disappear into thin air.

“Y/N, I’m right here,” he assured her. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But if you n-need space, I understand,” she sobbed.

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need space. I think a week was long enough, don’t you?” he asked, pressing a kiss into her hair.

She pulled back out of the hug, head down. “But I really hurt you.”

He held her hand. “Yeah. And I really hurt you, too.”

She huffed out a breath. “That’s not how this works. I don’t get to hurt you just because you hurt me.”

“I know that.” He almost laughed at how indignant she sounded. “I’m not saying that we should hurt each other. I’m saying that sometimes it happens. And when it does, we apologize, and we forgive, and we move forward. And it’s okay if you need space. But I don’t.”

“What if you change your mind?” she whispered.

“Then I promise I’ll tell you.” Spencer tilted her chin up so he could meet her eyes. “I promise I’ll tell you what I need, as long as you tell me, too. We’ve gotta use all those communication skills we learn in therapy.”

Y/N nodded, and he pulled her into another hug. He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. “If I hadn’t heard from you by Sunday, I was planning to bother you until you talked to me.”

He could feel the beginning of a smile turning up the corner of her mouth where it was pressed to his shoulder. “You never bother me,” she mumbled. She held him for a moment longer and then released him from the hug and sat back, fidgeting with her hands and letting out a breath.

“Sometimes I need to be told that my worst fears about myself aren’t true,” she admitted. “I know that’s so annoying, but—”

“It’s not annoying,” he interrupted, putting an immediate stop to that line of thought. “Telling you how amazing you are isn’t the chore that you think it is. I’m sorry that anyone ever convinced you that it was.”

He covered her hands with his own, rubbing his thumbs softly along her skin. He couldn’t stop thinking about her dealing with all of this by herself. He hated that she’d ever felt anything less than adored. More than anything, he hated that he hadn’t been able to help her through it. And he wanted to make sure that he never made that mistake again.

“A wise man told me once... that love is helping someone navigate their storms,” he murmured, squeezing her hand. She looked at him then, and he continued, “You’ve been my lighthouse for a long time, Y/N. And I— I’m trying desperately to be yours… But you have to let me.”

Her eyes filled with fresh tears, but she nodded. He let out a long breath and pulled her hands into his lap. “I understand that sometimes you need space, and that’s fine. I’m happy to give you whatever you need.”

He shook his head. “Just— please don’t try to weather the storm by yourself. You can’t do it all alone; no one can.” He smiled ruefully. “I can tell you from experience that’s pretty much a guaranteed way to capsize your boat.”

His voice cracked a little at the end, and he felt a tear slip over his lash line. “I’ll help you repair your boat, or build a new one, or you can just float on mine for a while. It’s not perfect but it’s pretty sturdy, I think.”

She brought her fingers up to brush at his damp cheeks, and he met her eyes. “What I’m not going to do is let you float out on the ocean by yourself. I love you too much.”

She was quiet for a long moment, sniffling a little and just watching him— almost like she couldn’t believe he was there. She brought her hand back to his and laced their fingers together, rubbing her thumb along his skin. “I love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree.” He gave her a small smile and leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead. “Want some tea?”

She was frowning when he pulled back, her brows drawn together. “I need to tell you about Owen.”

The conversation he’d had with Anita was suddenly on replay in Spencer’s head.

… a real piece of shit… telling her lies about herself… isolating her… destroying her from the inside out...

He squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. You don’t have to tell me at all if you don’t want to.”

She shook her head. “Talking about him takes away his power. I have to stop letting him have so much sway over my emotions.” She looked at him then. “I do things I regret and hurt people I love.”

He brought their joined hands up his lips. “Well, I’m here either way. And I’m still going to make you some tea.”

He stood and pulled her up with him, bringing her into the kitchen and refusing to let go of her hand. He filled the kettle and turned it on, found a bag of her favorite tea and ripped it open with his teeth. He dropped the bag into her favorite mug, and then made a mug up for himself.

“You know, it’d be a lot easier if you’d let go,” she said, the hint of a smile in her voice.

“Mhm,” he agreed, but he made no move to release her hand. In fact, once he’d fumbled a spoonful of honey into each of the cups, he dropped the spoon into her mug and turned to pull her into another hug. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and closed his eyes as she brought her arms around his waist. “I missed you,” he whispered.

She squeezed him tight. “I missed you, too. I’m so sorry.”

She buried her face in his neck, and he felt her breathe him in. He pressed a kiss into her shoulder and then settled his chin again. “Apology accepted, in case it wasn’t clear.”

They stood like that until the kettle began to whistle, and then Spencer kept her tucked underneath his arm as he turned to shut it off and pour the water into the mugs. They each grabbed a mug, making their way back to the couch and setting them on the coffee table to steep. Spencer kept their fingers intertwined and stayed quiet, letting her set the pace of the conversation.

Y/N took a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. “I guess I should start at the beginning. I, um— I had my first boyfriend in high-school: Cal Cunningham. He was older and cooler, and so I felt— I don’t know… special when he picked me.” She rolled her eyes. “In reality, he was rude, and arrogant, and kind of a misogynist. We didn’t date for very long, but it kind of… set me up on this path of dating guys who weren’t very nice.”

Spencer ran his thumb soothingly along hers, waiting for her to continue. “When I started college, I dated this guy Adam for a few months. He was nice enough but really self-centered and a little immature. When we broke up I just wanted to be on my own for a while.”

“I was single for two years after that, just kind of… finding myself and whatever.” Her eyes tracked the path his thumb traced along her skin. “So when I started dating Owen at the end of junior year, it felt like my first real relationship. Like— we were both adults, and he dressed up for our dates, and he paid for things and bought me flowers and fit all the cliches.”

“And it was great at first,” she admitted. “We had a lot of the same friends, so we’d been hanging out for a while before we got together. He was a perfect gentleman— and smart, accomplished, and ambitious. I fell fast, and I fell hard, and we were sort of— it feels so stupid to say this, but it felt like we were an it couple.”

“A few of us made plans to move to DC after graduation— my friend Jess and her boyfriend Chris, Sam and Anita,” she explained. “And Owen and I, obviously. We moved in together in an apartment downtown. And that’s when everything changed.”

She drew her brows together. “It was little things at first. Like he’d jokingly call me stupid for forgetting something, or he’d complain about one of my friends being annoying. But it snowballed pretty quickly. He’d tell me I was stupid, and he wasn’t joking. All of my friends irritated him to the point where we couldn’t hang out anymore— even our former mutual friends. He thought that teaching kindergarten was a mindless, pointless job.”

Spencer tried to keep his heart rate steady, his facial expressions neutral, but his blood pressure was on the rise. No one deserved to be spoken to like that, least of all Y/N.

She continued, “We spent the holidays at my parents’ the second year we were dating, and he spent the entire car ride home explaining, in detail, how ridiculous and low-class he thought everything was.”

She shook her head and rubbed her free hand over her face. “I know it’s insane that I stayed with him for five years, but I— he did a really good job of convincing me that I was... that I was nothing. That he was doing me a favor by loving me. That he could have anyone, but he chose me. No one else was going to, so I should be grateful.”

He balled his free hand into a fist to avoid squeezing her to death. When Anita had said Owen was a piece of shit… he hadn’t realized just how deeply she meant it.

She picked at the fabric of her sweatpants, staring intently at the tiny pills. “When someone says all of that to you on a daily basis, and you’re not hearing otherwise from anyone else— because no one knew what was going on— when someone tells you you’re nothing… you start to believe it.”

Spencer relaxed his fist to bring his fingers up to her face, gently cupping her cheek. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes for a long moment. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he pressed his lips to her forehead in a voiceless assurance that she was, in fact, everything. He felt her relax under the warm pressure of his lips, and he hoped that was enough for now.

He sat back to let her continue. “We were together for five years, and we only broke up because he cheated on me. It was a long term affair; they were sleeping together for almost a year before I found out. And… a lot of people knew. Almost all of his friends knew. But I didn’t. I was still being this ridiculous, desperate little Suzy Homemaker trying to make him happy, even though he was still treating me like shit.”

She laughed, but there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it. “When I found out, I wasn’t even hurt. I was… embarrassed, I guess. But I was so relieved. I was so fucking relieved that I had a way out.”

He watched as her shoulders settled, almost like an actual weight had been lifted off of them. “I got a therapist and dropped all of the friends that were still hanging around with him. I moved to a new neighborhood, started hanging out with Anita and Sam, and just— started fresh. And I was doing really well. I’ve had my moments of insecurity here and there, but for the most part, I’ve been able to recognize the moments when I’m falling back into old thought patterns.”

She looked at him then, and her eyes were so soft and lovely that his heart ached. “You’re a big reason for that. You’re so open with how you feel about me, and… it makes things a lot easier.” She dropped her gaze with a sigh. “But I— he was at the party on New Year's. And I didn’t know he was going to be there until I was already there , and then it felt stupid to leave. I thought I could handle it—”

“And then I didn’t answer your call.”

“No, no .” She shook her head and reached her free hand out to grasp his arm. “That’s— Spencer, none of this is your fault.” She furrowed her brow, and the crease between them was practically an abyss. “He sort of— cornered me on the patio. I hadn’t seen him in like, four years? And he was complimenting me, and asking about you, and then he tried to— well, he did kiss me actually. I shoved him off, and he didn’t like that, and he did his whole Owen thing. Told me that he’d cheated because I was uninteresting and worthless. That eventually you’d get bored of me, too. Just, um— generally awful shit.”

She took a deep breath, and the rest steamrolled off her tongue and over his heart. “And then he just— left . And he’d absolutely demolished my self-image in less than ten minutes, and I was embarrassed and angry at myself, and then you didn’t answer, but I was kind of glad you didn’t because I didn’t actually want to talk about it. And I thought I could just move on, but then I was being weird, and you knew something was wrong. And I just wanted to pretend like it never happened, but then you kept pressing me on it, and I just— I didn’t want to have to explain it all to you because I was afraid that— that maybe he was right.”

Y/N dissolved back into the couch, an unwelcome indication of the emotional exhaustion that came with reliving trauma. Spencer moved closer and mirrored the position of her body against the cushions, bringing his face close enough to bump their noses together. They breathed the same air for one noiseless minute before she finally met his eyes.

“I need you to understand that not one single thing he said to you— on New Year’s or ever— was right, in either sense of the word. None of it was factual, and none of it was acceptable.”

She gave him a weary nod, and he continued, “You are the single best person that I know. You’re kind, brilliant, and driven. You’re interesting, and wonderful, and lovely. You’re my absolute favorite person on the planet, and I will never get bored of you.”

He let his eyes trace over all the angles and curves of her face, and then raised his eyebrows. “He’s lucky that I respect you enough not to go over your head, because what I’d like to do is run a full background check and find any and every possible transgression that could be legally investigated and then use that information to ruin his life.” He tilted his head in thought. “That or— get really jacked and then beat the shit out of him.”

“God, please don’t. As much as I’d love to watch that unfold,” she cupped his face in her hand, “you’re better than that. And he’s not worth either of our energies… I already wasted enough time dwelling on it and hurt you in the process.” She dropped her hand back to her lap with a sigh. “I spent so much time in that relationship that my brain didn’t know what to do with this good, healthy one.”

He took both of her hands in his, squeezing them tight and then pressing a kiss to the back of each. He wouldn’t commit assault, since she’d asked him not to. But he wasn’t going to let Owen taint any part of his life with her.

“I’m so sorry that someone you loved made you think it was hard to love you. Because loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” He pressed his lips together and mused, “But I think maybe love has a learning curve. Especially when you’re used to being hurt. You have to unlearn all the bullshit. People will have you thinking that you have to water yourself down, or change who you are, or make yourself more palatable. I thought that, too.”

He brushed her hair back away from her face and waited for her to meet his eyes. “And then I met you. And you love all of it— all of me. All the rambling, all the quirks, and— even the dark parts, too.”

She sniffled a little, but really smiled for the first time that night. “What’s not to love about you?”

He smiled back. “I’m not sure if you realize that I fully reciprocate that feeling. What’s not to love about you? I have a hard time thinking of even one thing about you that I don’t absolutely adore.”

“Even when I act like a horrid bitch?” she mumbled, only half joking.

He leaned his head against the couch cushion. “A year ago, you stood on my doorstep and gave me forgiveness— after I’d been a complete asshole to you... I told you then that I wanted to learn how to love with you. I still do. In all the wonderful, and the weird, and the terrible. Even when we get it wrong.”

He shrugged, and then ran a soft fingertip down the bridge of her nose. “There is no one else I’d rather get it wrong with. Because when we get it right… it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to magic.”

Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and she brought both hands up to his face, holding him with an adoration that made his own eyes burn. “You can believe that you love me the most,” she whispered, “but just know that you’re wrong.”

He leaned forward to close the distance between them, pressing a kiss to her lips with a reverence that felt technicolor and devout and more magical than any trick he’d ever mastered.

“Agree to disagree.”

———

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[doubleleoenergy]

i. Losers, The Princess and the Pogue Series

Only losers go to school, I taught myself how to move. I'm not the type to count on you, because stupids next to "I love you".

Series Masterlist

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, possible season 2 spoilers (if you squint), underage drinking, weed smoking, swearing, fistfights, mentions of blood

Summary: It’s the last day before their senior year and The Pogues are throwing a rager at the Boneyard to celebrate. That’s where JJ meets her.

Words: 1817

“JJ, come help me with the keg!” John B shouted, grabbing one end of the keg and waiting for JJ to grab the other side. JJ passed the package of red solo cups to Kiara, strolling up to grab the other side of the keg, gripping it tight and lifting it up over the driftwood that rested in their path.

It was time for one of the Pogues famous keggers at the Boneyard, and the gang was gearing up to celebrate. The first day of their senior year of high school was tomorrow, and they were buzzing with excitement. The fact that the fivesome had even made it that far, alive, was a miracle. Especially with how many days they had missed school over the past three years. But it didn’t matter, none of it mattered, they had made it.

“Yo Pope, get the fire going, the sun’s about to set!” JJ instructed, dropping some sticks in the designated fire pit spot. Their eager and early attendees would be showing up within the hour.

“Kie and I got it.” Pope responded, working with Kiara to get the sticks in the perfect arrangement. They worked on the fire while Sarah started filling solo cups up with beer for each of them, passing them out one-by-one until each had a cup in their hands.

Pope and Kiara had finally sparked the fire, the flames roaring to life, lighting up the Boneyard along with the large lanterns they had set up across the space for extra illumination.

“Alright guys, gather around.” John B commanded, each of the Pogues huddling together in a circle, raising their cups high in the air. Sarah wrapped an arm around John B’s chest, leaning into his side and looking up at him.

“We’ve been through hell and back, Pogues. And somehow the devil hasn’t devoured us yet. To the start of an unforgettable senior year, and to trying to go a few days without almost being murdered.” He moved his cup to the middle of the circle, the others banging their glasses together, droplets of beer spilling into the sand.

“Don’t get soft on us, John B.” JJ teased, chugging the rest of the beer in his cup before tossing it playfully at the man. John B laughed, chasing JJ down the beach to tackle him. The sound of voices in the distance fills the air, the wafting noise of a speaker playing a soulful beat hitting the gang’s ears.

“Yo, John B! JJ! Get your asses over here, it’s party time!” Kiara screamed, waving them over as the first group of people appeared past the tree line.

Hours later and the kegger was in full swing, groups of the working-class derelicts and Kooks talking amongst their kind. Pope and Kiara were chilling at the far end of the beach, Kiara picking up some solo cups that had been dropped in the sand, complaining about how no-one cared about the Earth anymore. John B and Sarah were over with a group of kids from their school, discussing the upcoming year and some of the kids talking about where they planned to go to college.

That left JJ alone, filling up his cup with a third helping of beer for the evening. He had smoked a blunt earlier with a few of his classmates, and he was floating on the perfect high. JJ loved to watch people when he got like this, watching the different groups interact, hyper focusing on the way the flames of the fire flickered, sending smoke into the starry night sky. Damn he loved this place.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard some commotion coming from the right side of the beach near the fire pit, a group of Kooks blocking his view of what was happening.

“Kelce, the girl said to back off.” Topper noted, tugging on the back of the man’s shirt.

“Topper, I’m not doing anything, man. I’m just getting to know the new girl.” He stated, stepping closer to y/n, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Isn’t that right, beautiful?”

Y/N slapped his hand away, squaring her shoulders and standing up straighter, looking up at the man.

“Don’t call me that.” She hissed.

JJ heard the group talking amongst themselves, gathering around the two, and he pushed his way through the crowd of people to take in the situation. That’s when he first laid eyes on her.

Her body was sucked into a black lace bodysuit, the string laced like shoes along her chest. Her light denim cutoffs hung from her hips, the bottoms coming just below her ass. She donned a pair of black Ked sneakers, her outfit casual yet classy. Was she a Kook?

“Why? It’s a compliment. You don’t like compliments?” Kelce questioned, taking a step closer, their faces inches apart. “C’mon, just one dance, Princess.” He placed a hand on her arm, stroking it as she pulled back.

“You’re repulsive.” She spat, turning on her heel to walk away.

“And you’re a miserable bitch.” Before Y/N could turn to respond, JJ had stalked forward, shoving Kelce backwards onto the beach.

“You dirty fucking Pogue!” Kelce fumed, standing back up and shoving JJ back, almost knocking down y/n in the process. The sentence spurred JJ on, throwing punches at Kelce before the other man socked him right in his left eye, having him stumble backwards for a moment.

“Not so tough now, huh JJ? Did your piece of shit dad teach you how to fight too?”

That was the last straw, JJ lurching forward and knocking Kelce to the sand, his fists flying wildly as he punched him once, twice, three times before getting off him. Kelce gasped for breath, spitting out blood onto the sand as Topper got down on the sand next to Kelce, holding his hand out for JJ to stop.

“Cut it out! Kelce, let’s go.” Topper urged, helping the man to his feet before the two disappeared into the crowd, a few Kooks following them.

JJ let out a chuckle, wiping at the fresh cut above his eyebrow that was dripping blood onto his cheek. His eye was killing him, groaning as he held a hand up to cover it, y/n appearing before him on his right side, his only side with vision now.

“Are you alright?” She questioned, knowing he probably wasn’t considering the state his face was in. JJ spit blood into the sand, tilting his head down to look at her. She was at least a foot shorter than him, which wasn’t hard, considering he was 6’0.

“I was actually gonna ask you that.” He retorted, his injured eye twitching beneath his hand.

“M’fine. Let me at least get you some ice for your eye.” Y/N gestured JJ to follow her towards a group of coolers someone had brought, digging inside to grab a few pieces of loose ice. She pulled down the olive-green bandana that she had tied into her hair, unraveling it until she had enough space to put the ice inside, wrapping it up tight before turning back to JJ.

“Sit down.” She instructed, gesturing to the large tree trunk along the ground. JJ didn’t protest, sitting down before y/n plopped down beside him, holding out the makeshift ice pack to him.

“I’ll live, I’ve had worse.” He pointed out, taking the bandana from her hand and placing it upon his swollen eye. Of course, he’d attend his first day of senior year with a black eye. Nothing new in his life.

“I’m just trying to be nice, y’know, for what you did back there.” She noted, staring down at her shoes.

JJ turned his head and shifted his body so he could face her, nursing his injured eye with the bandana. “Kelce is a piece of shit; you’ve caught onto that pretty quickly it seems.” He stuck out his hand to her, his knuckles starting to swell from the punches he’d laid to Kelce’s face. “I’m JJ by the way.”

She grabbed his hand in her own, shaking it up and down, her eyes locked on his. “Y/N.” They kept shaking hands for a moment before y/n finally pulled away, her cheeks heating up from the blush on her face.

“S’nice to meet ya, y/n. Never seen you around town before.” He shifted the ice to his right hand, his left needing to thaw from the cold that the ice produced.

“Just moved back last week, I’ll be starting my senior year at Kildare tomorrow. I lived here until I was three then my mom had us move.”

“Moved to where?” He questioned, relaxing his posture.

“Missoula, Montana.” She picked at a loose string on her shorts, listening to a group of guys behind her egging each other on to chug their drinks.

“Welcome back, I guess.” This clearly wasn’t the greatest welcoming committee for her, but that’s what life was like out here. Before JJ could say anything else, he was interrupted by the sound of John B’s voice calling out for him in the distance. John B walked towards the pair, his hand laced with Sarah’s, stopping a few feet from where they sat on the log. His eyes moved back and forth between the two, a confused expression on his face as he took in the site of JJ.

“Uh, I was just about to ask you if you wanted to get out of here, Sarah’s Uncle Matt will kill me if I don’t get her home by at least midnight, since it’s a school night.” The aftermath of the past few years had Sarah living with her Aunt Linda, her Uncle Matt, her cousin Elizabeth, and her sister Wheezie. JJ had been living with John B for the past year, and the trio had arrived together at the Boneyard in John’s van.

“Yeah man, I’ll be right there.” JJ stood up, offering y/n back her bandana ice pack, but y/n protested.

“You keep it.” She gave him a warm smile, resting her thumb against her lip bottom lip.

“I’ll wash it and give it back.” He announced, backing up in the direction that John B and Sarah had headed. “I’ll see you at school then?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Sure thing. Thanks again, JJ.” 

JJ didn’t respond, instead giving her a one-handed salute before doing a 180 spin towards John B and Sarah. He jogged up after them, flanking John’s right side as they walked towards his van.

“What’s with the shiner?” John B asked.

“And the cut that’s bleeding above your eyebrow.” Sarah added, squeezing John B’s hand in hers.

“Kelce was bothering that new girl. It was an excuse to beat the shit out of that Kook.” He mumbled, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

“Whatever you say man, let’s hurry up before Sarah’s Uncle sprays me with the hose for making her late again.”

Tagging those who may be interested. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list: @midnightf​, @bucksmotel​, @blackwiddows​, @sokovianheadtilt​, @astrydis​, @moniamaybank​, @matbarzalschain​

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

Ink on his heart

Summary: Here’s how Bucky Barnes got a haircut and then decided it was about damn time he controlled his own destiny - starting with a bit of ink. 

Star Spangled Bingo Square: “A thoughtful gift”

Characters: Bucky Barnes x TattooArtist!Reader

Words: 7,400 Warnings: Tattoo experiences, a couple stories about war. Some swearing. Mostly lots of feels and fluff.

A/N: This one has been in my head a long time, I love tattoos and I love the idea of Bucky getting them! While I desperately wish I could draw the designs in my head, hopefully you get enough of a word picture to imagine. And yes, it is kinda long (I know, I know), but I couldn’t stop myself! 

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

Not that Bucky’s counting, but it’s been three days, 18 hours and 26 minutes and he can’t get over it.

In the damp, chilly hours before dawn, he sits on the floor of the tower living room, watching the marshmallows in his hot chocolate melt in white swirls. Now and then, he lifts his eyes to the windows, finds the faint edges of his reflection in the dark glass, and tilts his head. Tentative fingers scratch through close cropped hair and a slow smile appears. Even now, he expects long strands trailing through his fingers. Believes he can feel the phantom tug of a snarl.

It was just a haircut. What a simple, ordinary thing.  

But Bucky Barnes has never been ordinary.

That small act triggered a startling transformation. Decades of heartbreak fell away with that dark hair, revealing the shape of a man he begins to remember, and it makes him think. About small things, about change. About simple acts making an extraordinary difference.

The last haircut Bucky remembers before the beginning of his first ending, was January 1945. The memory came back one evening, of a tent in Austria, the heavy silence of snow drifting down. He remembers Steve with a dull scissors, snipping carefully along his ear, remembers the catch of a knife gently shaving his neck. It was a ritual they shared for years. When pennies were tight and life was tough, they took care of each other.

And then? Then there was after.

After the fall, after capture, after the world went pear-shaped. Hydra wasn’t concerned with the formalities of self-care, a haircut was functional. Sharp scissors biting into his scalp, rough hands tearing his hair, a harsh slap if he considered resisting. Get it done and get it done fast. The Asset has work to do.

He despised those haircuts.

But now, here he is. No more handlers and horrors. No more running. No more hiding. No more ropes dragging him somewhere he doesn’t want to be.

Wresting back his independence was exhilarating.

When Steve had finished this haircut - because Bucky still preferred a Steve Rogers special to anything - he’d dusted off Bucky’s shoulders and waited. Sam stood behind him, and Bucky rolled his eyes, expecting a barrage of sassy comments.

But Sam just ruffled the freshly cut hair and laughed.

“Not bad old man. Still not as handsome as yours truly, but hey - maybe someday.”

Such a simple thing, a haircut.

It makes him wonder what else he might do, just for himself.      

Fuzzy and disconnected, an old memory flickers to life. It buzzes in his brain, images and connections filtering through the cracks and Bucky lets out a breathless laugh.

“Yeah,” he murmurs to himself. “Okay.”

He closes his eyes and sips his hot chocolate.

*****

Steve yawns when he answers the door. Blond hair spikes in every direction and he rubs his eyes, looking for all the world like a sleepy, overgrown toddler.

“Hey, man. Everything okay?”

Bucky leans against the doorframe and chews his thumbnail while he gathers his thoughts.

“Sure, just - can I get a favor?”

Bemused, Steve ushers him inside and Bucky plops in the red bean bag chair Steve keeps tucked beside his dresser. Stretching out his legs, he waits for Steve to flop back into bed and snuggle his pillow, before he speaks.

“Remember back in ’37 when we were coming home from that shitty bar in Midtown, and we saw that sailor getting a tattoo?”

Whatever Steve expected, it wasn’t this. It takes him a moment to conjure the image, but when it comes he belts out a laugh.

“That terrified kid gettin’ a big heart on his arm? Looked ready to shit his pants?”

Bucky grins at the memory, a milk-faced kid with hair dark and shiny as an oil-slick.  

“Thought he was gonna puke on the guy.”

“Yeah, and didn’t we stand outside that window arguing while you tried to convince me we both needed one? Something about good girls liking bad boys?”  

“Hey, I stand by that statement!”

“Oh fuck off, you know exactly what your Ma would’ve said if we’d come home with tattoos.”

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles. “God, she’d a skinned me alive.”

“Damn straight,” Steve agrees and they fall quiet, momentarily lost in shared memories of a woman with a voice of steel and a heart of gold.

Bucky leans forward and rests his chin on his knee.

“You know, all these years and I’ve never really - done anything like that,” he admits wistfully. “Gotten something done to me, I mean. Something I decided on my own. If that makes sense?”

Controlling his own destiny, choosing to do something by himself, instead of always accepting things done to him - the idea is intoxicating. He remembers the pained grimace on that sailor’s face and he relishes the prospect.

Pain you choose to feel holds a different meaning, than the torture he knows.

“S’never too late, Buck,” Steve says drowsily. “You can do anything you want.”

Bucky contemplates Steve’s words. He can do anything he wants. Heart beating fast, he takes a deep breath.

“So listen, I was thinking -”

*****

For two straight weeks, Steve works on ideas.

The floor of his bedroom is littered with sketches and concepts, crumpled sheets of paper dappled with flowing lines. Finally, after midnight on a dreary Thursday, he knocks on Bucky’s door. The moment it opens, he shoves his tattered leather portfolio in Bucky’s hands.

“So, I guess, uh - here.”

Steve crosses his arms, his toe tapping nervously, and Bucky chokes down a laugh. Some things about Steve Rogers remain comfortingly unchanged. No matter how incredible his work, all confidence seems to evaporate the moment Bucky lays eyes on anything.

—

“Give it back asshole!”

“God dammit Steve, YOU’RE the one who asked me to look!”

“Yeah well, I changed my mind, now give it back!”

—

Bucky remembers laughing while Steve chased him around their apartment. He remembers the neighbors banging on the wall, shouting at them to shut up, and he remembers the smell of their forgotten scrambled eggs burning. But most of all, he remembers that drawing - he tucked that portrait of his mother in his rucksack the day he shipped out and it stayed there, a good luck charm all through the war.

Steve had cried when Bucky told him.

Because Bucky’s opinion was always the one that mattered. Seventy years changes nothing.

Tonight, he opens the leather case, revealing three separate drawings. Outlines of black ink and a rainbow of colors paint over the curves and breaks of a human form and he pores over each page. Each drawing is utterly unique, telling the story of Bucky Barnes in metaphors and moments.    

There are no words.

His throat feels suddenly thick, cotton lodged in his windpipe.

“I can redo them,” Steve blurts out. He snatches at the paper, but Bucky spins sideways, blocking the reach.

“The fuck you will. You ain’t touching these,” his voice cracks. Blinking back the flood of emotion, he looks up. “This is - they’re perfect, Steve. Thank you.”

Steve blushes petal pink and coughs to hide his delight. He fails miserably, of course, but that’s one more reason Bucky loves the little punk.

*****

One week later, Bucky stands before a demure brick storefront on a slow Brooklyn side street, the portfolio housing Steve’s three precious drawings clutched tight in a sweaty hand. Glancing at the address in his hand, he looks up to find stenciled letters curving across a glass window.

BROOKLYN INK ESTABLISHED 1973

“Here we go,” he mutters. Before he can lose his nerve, he shoves forward.

Three steps inside the tattoo parlor, he pulls up short.

Wow.

Black iron chandeliers hang from the ceiling, splashing sparkles across plush velvet chairs, rich violet and bright turquoise. The floor is an eclectic mix of reclaimed barn board, full of knots and whorls in every shade of brown. Artwork in black and white frames line the brick wall, tattoo designs, letters and fonts, photos of finished work. The entire space overflows with warmth, and Bucky feels instantly at ease.  

The front desk is empty, but he hears someone rattling around back, so he takes a seat. Piled high on an end table are bundles of photo albums, full of work; he sinks into the cushions and starts flipping through.  

Immersed in the images, he misses the sound of quiet footsteps.

“Are you James?”

The voice startles him and in one swift move, he manages to throw the album on the floor and tumble from the chair. Pages of photographs spill everywhere and he crawls over, hastily scooping them up and babbling one inappropriate apology after another.

“Shit! Sorry, I’m sorry! Shit, I mean I’m sorry for saying shit. Fuck, I didn’t - oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m not usually so - ”

Soft laughter greets him and he looks up in panic, a more refined apology on his lips, but the words evaporate.

Crouching beside him, graceful hands gather up the mess of photos, slipping them back into the album. Dropping it carelessly on the end table, she bounces back to her feet and offers him a hand.

“No worries,” she says with a breathtaking smile. “I shouldn’t have startled you.”

Although he has no need for the support, Bucky reaches mutely for her outstretched fingers because he can’t help but take them. When she tugs, he allows her to pull him up.  

“I’m, um - Bucky. Please, call me Bucky.”

“Hello Bucky,” she says. She shares her name and he repeats it slowly. Clearing his throat, he takes a deep breath.

“Thanks for meeting me so late, I know it’s after hours.”

“Sure,” she says lightly. “So, what can I do for you?”

This is the tricky part.

“On the website, it mentioned you had experience with - with tattooing around scars,” he begins carefully. “Scar tissue I mean. Is that right?”

With his question, her expressions turns serious. She observes him for a long moment.

“Yes, I do. Can I ask how long you served?” she asks delicately and Bucky acknowledges her perception with a short nod. He toys with the zipper on Steve’s portfolio, debating his response.

“Seemed like forever,” he finally says, and it’s the most honest answer he has.

Nodding silently, she motions him behind the counter.

“Come on back, let’s see what you had in mind.”

Hugging the pictures to his chest, Bucky follows, eyes saucer wide as they weave through the work area to her space. The shop smells like the woodsy smoke from the candles sitting along her table, mixed with ink and latex and an odd sterile tang. He inhales and discovers he likes it, the strange scent lighting him up.  

Dropping to her stool, she gestures for him to have a seat. Bucky sits gingerly, wide eyes still staring. When she catches his eye, he flushes.

“Sorry. First time I’ve been in a shop.”

“That’s okay, there’s lots to see,” she says easily. Looking at the portfolio still clutched against his chest, she grins. “Did you have some ideas already?”

He thrusts the portfolio at her. Propping it on her knees, she flips it open and he beams when he hears her astonished gasp.

“I like the colors there, if you think they’re possible?”

“Sure, might take some extra time, but I can do it,” she murmurs, pinching her lip. Turning the page sideways, she examines every minute detail, shaking her head in disbelief. “This is exquisite.”  

“I’ll tell my artist. He’s a real diva sometimes.”

“I’d say he’s earned that right,” she laughs, tracing the paper with a light finger. She flips to the second picture and tilts her head. “The grays and silvers might look nice with midnight blue for contrast?”

Bucky nods eagerly. “Yeah, I love that idea.”

She looks again, examining the intricate design.

“Can you tell me about your pain tolerance? The designs are beautiful, but they’re complex. Each will take multiple sessions to finish.”

Bucky drops his eyes. He heaves a sigh at the obligatory question.

“It’s high,” he mutters. “Very - high.”

Silence follows his admission. When he dares to look up again, he feels a twinge in his chest at the compassion he finds. He offers a rueful smile and she slowly returns it.

“Would you like to come after hours? It can get noisy during the day, if you prefer things quieter. Most soldiers like that better.”

There is a sweep of relief at her casual acknowledgement. He huffs out a shaky breath.

“That would be great. If you don’t mind, I mean.”

“Not at all. I’m a night owl anyway.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says quietly. “Me too.”

She looks back to the portfolio, carefully shuffling the pages.

The third picture appears.

And Bucky sees it, that precise moment when realization sinks in. When she realizes exactly who is sitting in her chair tonight. There is no doubt the drawing gives that fact away. Heart pounding, he flinches, steeling himself for the inevitable.

But nothing happens.

She meets his nervous gaze head on and yet - that gentle smile remains.

“Bucky,” she repeats and this time she understands. “Oh. It’s nice to meet you, Bucky Barnes. Come back tomorrow night, 9pm. Don’t be late.”

He leaves the tattoo shop feeling lighter than he has in years.

*****

TATTOO 1: FOREARM

“Show me a man with a tattoo and I’ll show you a man with an interesting past.” - Jack London

*****

Perpetually early for everything, Bucky arrives at 8:45pm the next night.

The bell over the door tinkles when he enters, and she looks up from the front desk and waves. His stomach unexpectedly leaps and he thinks it must be nerves.

“Hey, Bucky,” her voice is soft.

“Evening,” he says shyly.  

“You ready to do this?”

“Could hardly sleep last night,” he confesses with a grin.

Sliding timidly into her black leather chair, he watches her arrange tools on a shiny silver tray. An arm rest is attached to his right side, and he dries his sweaty palm on his jeans before easing his arm onto the cushion, palm up. When she drops onto her stool at his side, he offers a weak smile.  

“You got the email I sent with all the information, right? Did you have any questions?”

He scrunches his nose, recalling the long, detailed summary she shared. For each of the three tattoos he requested, she gave him a detailed analysis of the process for creating each design; broke down how long each session would take; gave explicit instructions on the healing and care process; confirmed each individual color and how it would be applied; clarified the tools that would be used, including their brand names and how each one worked; she even provided floor plans of her shop - outlining entries and exits and bathrooms and locations of fire extinguishers.

It was a novel of information that must’ve taken her hours, and he was inexplicably grateful for the time she spent just to make him comfortable.

“No questions, I just, uh - thanks. For putting all that together. It was helpful to have all the information. Helps me keep my head on straight.”

“Of course,” she says. “So this first design should take probably 5-6 hours. Since you’re new, we’ll start with short blocks and see how it goes.”

Bucky gives a jerky nod and she pauses, pressing her fingertips against the smooth skin of his forearm.

“Here are the rules. You’re in charge, okay? We can go as fast or as slow as you need. This is not a race, and I have nowhere to be but here. Any time you want to stop, you say the word and I stop. We can take a breather, grab a cup of coffee and start again - or we can call it a night. This is your experience, Bucky. You’re in control. Understand?”

There is a fierce surge of gratitude at her words. Gratitude for her kindness, for her acceptance. Gratitude for her.

“Got it,” he whispers.

And with that, they begin.

Bucky follows each step, while she measures his arm, while she considers the contours and angles of his muscle, while she cleans and preps his skin. When she finally applies a stencil, his heart is hammering so hard his teeth are chattering.

The low buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears with a click.

When the needles touch his skin, sweat instantly beads his neck. Adrenaline drenches his tongue and for one wild moment, Bucky panics. Wonders if this was a terrible idea, because what idiot asks for pain, seriously Barnes, what the hell is wrong with you, why’re you so stupid all the -

And then - oh.

Huh.

Interesting.

Wide-eyed, Bucky follows her careful strokes, black lines appearing on his skin.

It does hurt - sort of. Obviously nothing he can’t handle; in the grand scheme of his life, this would register as a minor inconvenience, but there is a pinch.

But that spark of pain vanishes, when the raw symbolism behind Steve’s design hits him full force.

Holy shit.

How many times through the decades did Bucky Barnes die? And how many times did he rise, born again from the frozen ash of oblivion? It was simply what the Soldier did. But it was a shadow-life, nothing more. Bucky never knew how close he was to giving up, until that day above the Potomac, Steve’s bloody face beneath his furious fists. He was so far gone, so lost and forgotten, until those memories cracked the Soldier’s fierce veneer.

And suddenly he was Bucky again. Awake and alive. For the first time in 70 years he felt fire in his soul. For the first time in 70 years he could breathe.

Tears inexplicably fill his eyes.    

“All okay?”

Through a tunnel, Bucky hears her voice. Hypnotized by the metaphor inking itself into his skin, his head feels waterlogged when blinks up at her.

“Sorry?”

She scans his face, her thumb rubbing the pulse thrumming at his wrist.

“Everything okay?” She asks again and Bucky feels a potent rush of euphoria.

“Yes,” he says slowly. The excitement bubbles over and he lets out an ecstatic laugh. “Yes! This is incredible. This is - fucking hell, this is amazing.”

Chuckling to herself, she bends back to her task.

“So I guess we’ll keep going?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Yeah, let’s keep going.”

Two hours later, the outline of the Phoenix is inked into his skin, crisp black lines like fresh paint. Long tail feathers are curled around his wrist, the lush feathered body splashed over his forearm, her wings spread open and curving around his arm, her head reaching toward the sky.

Born from ash. Alive again.

Bucky hates to cover it up, but she insists.

“Follow the cleaning instructions and it should be fine. We need to wait between the sessions, give you time to heal.”

At that comment, he fidgets.

“Actually, I heal pretty - fast.”

“I assumed you might. Usually I say 2-3 weeks between sessions, so how about you come back in 1 week and we can see. Let’s just make sure. Does that work?”

Bucky glances at the crisp white bandage on his arm.

“Okay, that works,” he says.

She squeezes his hand and he meets her eyes.

“You did great,” she tells him.

Bucky smiles in return. And he doesn’t stop for the next six days.

*****

When he walks into the shop for his next session, he carries a large coffee for himself and an extra large iced peach green tea for her. When he gets to the front desk, he thrusts the cup at her.  

“Evening. Um, here. Saw you had one last time, so - anyway.”

“Bucky, thank you. I’ve been craving one all day.” She gives the straw an experimental bite, before taking a long drink and for some reason, the silly quirk makes his heart bounce.

After a quick check on how he’s healed, she declares him perfect and they get started, settling into a comfortable silence. After an hour of buzzing, Bucky clears his throat.

“Is it okay to talk while you work?”

“It is,” she affirms, dabbing at the ink. Glancing up, she sees hesitant blue eyes. “I’m good at listening too. Sometimes it’s nice just to listen.”  

Bucky figures that’s a fair statement. He fiddles with a stray thread on his shirt.

“Do you read much?” He asks hopefully, picturing the teetering stack of books beside his bed. She perks at the question.

“I love to read. Have a pile of books on my nightstand waiting for me to find time. What about you? Are you reading anything good now? Any favorites I should know?”

Bucky swallows the happy surprise. If he could, he’d be content to spend the rest of his years with a comfortable chair, a cup of coffee, and an unending supply of stories. He could talk about books for days, he just normally keeps quiet, because most people aren’t interested in that facet of Bucky Barnes.

So he begins to talk.

He tells her how Natasha lent him all her Russian copies of Pushkin and Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, insisting that reading in the original language was infinitely better. He describes how he found a copy of Rumi’s poetry at a yard sale, and what an incredible treasure it was. He flusters recounting how much he cried reading ‘A Fault in our Stars’ and says he was scared shitless to even see a clown for a full year after reading Stephen King.    

He talks and talks and talks, and when he finally stops to breathe, she glances up.

“It’s nice to hear a man who’s so well read,” she says and Bucky preens at the compliment. “Do you have an all time favorite? Something you never get tired of?”

A favorite? No question.

“Yeah, I do. Something I read during the war and kinda fell in love. It’s about here, I guess. About Brooklyn.”

At the description, her mouth quirks, but she keeps working.

“Did you ever think about a book quote for a tattoo?”

Now there’s an idea. He makes a mental note to think of a quote he could add as another tattoo. Or maybe another couple tattoos. Hell, one session in and he’s already addicted.  

The comment tumbles free before he realizes he’s spoken out loud. He blushes at her laughter.

“It can be addicting,” she agrees. Bucky understands completely, seeing the vibrant crimson ink soak into his skin, painting the bird’s feathers. And then she pauses, meeting his eyes with a peculiar expression. “The right words can make you feel invincible.”

Setting the tattoo machine down, she rolls her chair back a bit and sits up straight. Lifting the hem of her shirt, Bucky sees a line of gold text inked below her ribs, his eyes following the flowing cursive.

“She was all of these things and of something more,” he reads aloud.

“‘A Tree Grows in Brooklyn’ is my favorite book too,” she says quietly. There is a long, unbroken moment where they stare into each others eyes. He should say something, he thinks. Something intelligent or witty or anything, but instead he just thinks about the fact that he found a woman in Brooklyn to permanently carve pictures into his skin and she has the same favorite book as him.

Bucky always was a sucker for fate.

“That’s - that’s really - I love that,” he finally says instead.

*****

A week later, Bucky arrives with a bundle of folders and an exasperated expression.

“This is really annoying, but do you mind if I finish some reports while you work? Got behind, someone’s gonna have my ass.” Bucky raises the papers apologetically.

“No problem,” she says easily. “Let’s keep your ass safe.”

Bending back to her task, Bucky snorts a laugh. They’re just a handful of mission reports, normally he types them soon as he returns, but lately he’s been slacking, because lately he has other things he finds more interesting.

Like the scene in front of him.

Together they work, each with their own pen. Bucky writes, she colors, and the clock on the wall ticks along. After awhile, she takes a break to stretch. Rolling her shoulders, she observes him.

“Are you left-handed?” she asks curiously and it takes Bucky a moment to think.

“Oh. Uh, not really,” he says. “But I can switch. Never been a problem.”

At the confession, she raises her eyebrows.

“That’s impressive. I wish I had a talent like that.”

He ducks his head at the praise. And he keeps writing, of course. Maybe adds a bit more flair. After all, the old Bucky Barnes did like to swagger.    

*****

“Well, I think that’s it.”

It takes a beat before Bucky understands what she means. Confused, he peers up at her with a dopey expression and she gestures at his arm.

He feels his heart lurch.

It flames to life along his arm, painted in vibrant ruby red and rich crimson and deep plum, highlights edged in shining gold. Mesmerized, Bucky stares down at the lines of ink and he flexes, the tendons of his arm shifting, and the bird moves. For one wild moment, he believes if he stays still, it could leap from his skin and take flight.  

It leaves him breathless.

“God, this is better - fuck, it’s so much better - than I ever imagined. How did you - wow. I don’t know how you did it, but - thank you. Thank you so much.”

Unanticipated emotion makes his voice tremble. Because this is the first time Bucky Barnes chose something permanent for himself. Serums and metal arms and bullets and blades, those were always forced upon him, his pleading refusals met with violence and sneering indifference.

But this?

This.

This.

This is all his.

*****

TATTOO 2: BACK

“Wear your heart on your sleeve in this life.” - Sylvia Plath

*****

“So, uh, how exactly does this work?”

Standing beside the leather chair while she organizes her inks, Bucky wrinkles his nose. She looks up and motions for him to turn, straddling the chair with his chest pressed against the back.

“Are you comfortable completely removing your shirt? Or would you prefer to leave it part way on? I’ll just need it out of the way for the right side of your back.”

Bucky grimaces. Eventually she’s going to see his shoulder - he knows that - but he’s not in the mood to rip that band-aid off yet.  

“Uh - let’s do part of the way if that’s okay?”

“That’s okay,” she confirms and he awkwardly tugs his right arm free, baring the broad expanse of his back. Tucking his arms in front of him, he slings a leg over the chair and rests his chin carefully on the headrest.

He says nothing, simply stays still while she absorbs the sight. Littered up and down his back are a litany of scars, puckers from the occasional bullet, thin lines from errant blades, and a few other marks he prefers not to define. His voice is muffled when he warily asks.

“Are you able to - work with it?“    

“Absolutely,” she answers firmly and Bucky warms at the decisiveness in her tone. Her confidence makes him feel infinitely more positive.

This is the largest of his three tattoos, stretching from the tip of his shoulder blade and flowing down to his waist. It will also take the longest, but Bucky assures her he has no issue sitting perfectly still for hours.

It’ll be worth it. He can’t wait to show Sam - he’ll get a kick out of this one.

Once she applies the stencil over his skin, she goes to work, dropping into that headspace of deep focus. She works so quietly for so long, he falls into a trance, lulled by the melodic buzz.

When she speaks, it startles him.

“What made you decide you wanted a tattoo?”

He lays his cheek along the edge of the chair so he can see her from the corner of his eye when he answers.

“S’random, but back in ’37, me and Steve were out and I remember walking by this old tattoo shop over in Midtown. They had one of those big glass windows with the chair in front, so people could stand and watch. Anyway, we walk by and there was this kid sitting in the chair, and no fuckin’ joke, he was getting a big heart on his arm with ‘MOM’ written in the middle.”

“Ah yes, the ever popular ‘mom’ tribute. I’ve done a few of those,” she says and Bucky grins.

“Well anyway, I always kinda wanted something, you know? Thought about getting one before I shipped out, but I didn’t, and then it was - “ he pauses for a moment, but she encourages him with a questioning hmmm? and Bucky bravely pushes forward. “I had lots of years where I didn’t get to make my own decisions. And there was so much - bad shit that happened to me. Anyway, I guess I thought if someone’s gonna do something to me, I wanted it to be on my own terms. You know?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I think that makes perfect sense.”

Bucky sits quietly, contemplating. The question has been rattling around his brain for awhile and it spills free before he can stop himself. 

“The whole process, it feels sort of  - intimate, doesn’t it?”

He flushes at the insinuation, but intimate is the best way to describe it, he thinks, this practice of someone permanently carving their art into your skin.

“It is intimate,” she says softly, leaning closer. “It’s almost like you’re - leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin? I don’t know if that makes sense, but that’s what it’s always felt like.”

Bucky nods, watching her capable, artistic, beautiful hands as they move, slowly transferring bits and pieces of herself to him.

What a gift. He holds on tight.

*****

It was bound to happen at one of the sessions.

It’s been dark and rainy for days, buckets dumped from the heavens, the perpetual grumble of thunder always near. When Bucky comes through the front door, he feels like a wet dog. He shakes out his jacket, stomps his boots. He feels off base tonight, the result of bad sleep, bad dreams, and one particularly bad mission. He’s frustrated with himself for bringing it with him, thinks maybe he should’ve cancelled, but the thought of skipping his session - both the ink and her - was too depressing.

So instead of holing up in his room and moping under the covers, he braved the storm.

The one inside and out.

Searching for calm, he licks chapped lips.

“Hey,” he says, cringing when his voice cracks.

“Hey, Buck,” she turns cheerfully, but when she sees him squinting at her through the droplets cascading down his face, his shoulders hunched and tense, she stops. Looks him up and down and her expression softens. Beckoning him back, she digs up a towel and a dry t-shirt with ‘BROOKLYN INK’ stamped across the front, ushering him to the bathroom.

“Take all the time you need. No rush.”

Bucky mumbles his thanks and shuts the door. Gripping the sink, he glares at the mirror, at the smudge of dark beneath his eyes, at the clench of his jaw. Closing his eyes, he breathes slow and deep.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.”

He repeats the mantra, determined to settle. He’s been eager for this session all week, he’s sure as hell not ruining it because he can’t get his idiot brain to stop spinning.

When he finally emerges, he finds her arranging her work space. Halting in front of her, he keeps trembling hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes downcast.

“I’m afraid I’m poor company tonight,” he admits quietly.

“That’s okay. We can reschedule, Bucky,” she says softly and Bucky feels the disconcerting sting of tears. He rubs the heel of his hand against watery eyes.  

“If it’s okay, I’d - I’d rather go ahead. Been looking forward to seeing you - uh, seeing you work, all week. It was just - “ he pauses and fights the temptation to spill his guts. No, he snarls internally, she doesn’t need to hear all your shit.

He clamps his mouth shut and shrugs instead.

She says nothing, but when she gives his hand a comforting squeeze, Bucky feels that familiar surge of gratitude. She guides him carefully toward the chair and he slumps into the seat, automatically tugging up his new shirt.  

“Just close your eyes and breath. You’re okay.”

Bucky rests his chin on the edge of the chair. Troubled eyes flutter shut, and the comforting buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears, muting the sound of the storm raging outside. When he feels the prick of the needles, he lets out a weary breath. And when he feels the easy pressure of her fingers, he begins to relax.

For hours, she works. Firm strokes, painting the story across his skin.

The dark night begins to fade before she finally sets her tools aside. When he climbs to his feet, she pulls him into a gentle hug.    

Bucky sinks into her arms.

That morning, the sun begins to shine.

*****

Bucky’s been sitting for a couple hours now, eyeing the brick wall behind the chair. A question pops into his head and he feels like a jerk for not asking sooner.

“Hey - all these hours together, and I never asked you - what made you want to draw on people for a living?”

She hums at the question, and he can hear the happiness in her reply.

“Well, I always wanted to be an artist. For my eleventh birthday, my best friend Mike gave me this set of gel pens, there were a million colors. When I told him I wanted to be a tattoo artist, he let me draw pictures all over him for practice. He insisted on being the first person I inked, once I got my license. Would always tell people he was the ‘original canvas’ for my brilliance.”

When she laughs, Bucky chuckles with her; it reminds him of Steve.

“Sounds like a good man,” he says.

“Yeah, he is - he was,” she quietly corrects herself. “He was an EOD specialist in Afghanistan. Right before he left for his last tour, I drew up plans for the arm sleeve he always wanted; he planned to get it when he finished. A month later, he was in a convoy that was moving through the Gereshk Valley in the Helmand Province, when an IED hit his vehicle. He didn’t make it home.”

The story hits home like a kick in the face.

Too many soldiers, too many lives. Bucky reaches back to still her hand. He slowly turns to face her, gently tugging the tattoo machine free and setting it aside. Wordlessly, he offers his hand and she accepts it gratefully, weaving her fingers through his. It takes a few attempts before she speaks again.  

“It took me a long time to get through that. One day I met a friend working down at the VA, and I heard a vet talking about the scars on his legs. He sounded so - sad about them, you know? Kept saying he didn’t recognize himself anymore. And I just stood there thinking, maybe I couldn’t help Mike, but I could still do something.” Staring resolutely down, she considers her fingers still entangled with Bucky’s. “I did some research and took some classes and - learned how to tattoo on scar tissue.”

Bucky gazes at her. He feels a sweep of pride at the way she turned her tragedy into something beautiful.

“I’m so sorry that happened,” he says and she finally looks up, meeting blue eyes bright with compassion. “But you should know, what you’re doing for people, it’s incredible. And if you don’t mind me saying, I think he’d be real god damn proud of you.”

A tear slips down her cheek and she ducks her head, her whisper so low he nearly misses it.

“Thank you Bucky.”

*****

Hours later, Bucky hears a clatter of tools and her huff of relief.

“All done.”

Wiping her hands, she pops excitedly up from the stool and Bucky pushes back from the chair to follow. Without a thought, she grabs his metal hand, tugging him impatiently over to a set of floor length mirrors along the wall. Bucky grips tight and obediently follows, his pulse racing. When she positions him at the mirror, she adjusts the panels so he can see himself from all angles.

“There, have a look.”

Along his spine, the single metal wing bursts free, so intensely realistic, Bucky’s jaw drops. It arches gracefully up, curving over his shoulder blade and sweeping down his back, razor sharp feathers tickling his rib cage before billowing out above his waist. Made from silvers and grays and shaded hints of midnight blue, it glows in the light. When Bucky reaches toward the sky, the muscles shift beneath the ink and it creates the strangest sensation of feathers unfolding.  

All the scars littering his back, a flesh and bone patchwork of memories left by vicious handlers and fights too close for comfort, have disappeared. Blending into the steel of his new wing, their only purpose is to strengthen the image.

After all this time, he’s come to terms with the metal arm so unwillingly gifted all those years ago. But it’s remained a relic of a past life, something heavy, to drag him down.

But now, he rolls his shoulder back and his new metal wing lifts him higher than he’s felt in a long, long time.

*****

TATTOO 3: SHOULDER

“I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.” - Haruki Murakami

*****

“So our last session.”

“Our last session,” he murmurs.

Bucky thinks for a moment that she seems glum, but maybe that’s wishful thinking.

“This is a tough one,” she warns, “but I think we can do it in one session. I won’t try and cover them up, it won’t work. The best solution is to incorporate your scars into the design. Make sense?”

Bucky pictures the pattern Steve drew, bright green leaves and vines tracing the seam of his arm, melding with the thick ribbons of raised tissue. It doesn’t matter, but he timidly asks anyway.

“Will it hurt?”

“No,” she says gently. Pressing her hand to his galloping heart, she shakes her head. “It won’t hurt much there, but you need to tell me if it hurts here. You need to tell me if I should stop. Remember, you’re in charge, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers.

Steeling himself, he whips off his shirt, balling it up in nervous hands. The cool air blowing through the shop is a relief for his overheated body.

“Do you mind if I feel the skin here? So I can make sure I approach it right?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Bucky mumbles. Staring at his hands, he waits.

Leaning close, her fingers brush over him, feeling the lines and ridges, assessing the canvas. For ten minutes, she tests his skin, lightly pushing and pressing, observing the scars and bumps where metal meets man.  

“Does it still hurt?”

She doesn’t want to ask, but needs to know what she’s working with. With a grim smile, he shrugs.

“Not really. Aches sometimes, but doesn’t hurt. Can’t feel much there besides some pressure.”

Nodding, she pinches her lip. “I was thinking last night, um - would you want to add anything else into the design? Nothing big, but a few flowers? Some daisies maybe?”

“Sure, I’d like that. Any reason for daisies?” Bucky asks curiously.

Pulling out a few additional bottles of ink, she absently touches the necklace at her throat, and Bucky sees a silver daisy spinning.

“Daisies represent new beginnings. Thought it might be a nice way to end, if you like?”

Does he like it? The idea of having this small thing in common?

Hell yes he likes it.

Maybe - maybe he even more than likes it?

“Yeah. That sounds perfect,” he says softly. He swallows hard and she nods encouragingly.

“Okay. Remember - stop me if you need a break.”

This one, Bucky knows will be hard. It was the reason he left it to the end - the mental fortitude required here is much different.

As she begins, he contemplates the pink furrows gouged into his skin. The memory of how they got there flashes before him, a sick image of shredded skin raked bloody beneath his blunt fingernails. Faint screams of a past life echo in his ears, the smokey cry of his own voice desperate for relief from the pain.

Cold sweat slides down his face and he slams his eyes shut, but that seems to make it worse. The images glow technicolor bright, and he grunts a frustrated breath.

And then, through the thin latex of her glove, he feels her cool hand press against his pounding heart. Cracking an eye open, he finds her calm face and he focuses on her, until his breathing begins to ease. Blinking rapidly, he drinks in the curve of her nose, the shape of her mouth, the beauty of her eyes.

His heart stutters, stunning him into a different kind of breathless.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, wide eyes locked on hers. “Yeah, I’m okay. You can keep going.”

When she bends back to her task, Bucky melts. It occurs to him, that perhaps if she might let him, he could be content watching her forever.

But for tonight, this forever lasts only a few hours before she’s done.

And there it is.

Shades of green line his shoulder, the vines curling and winding around his scars, blending them seamlessly into the foliage covering his skin. Spidering vines trail across his chest, and it seems incompatible in a way, something alive bursting from the stark metal, but the leaves look so real, he swears they flutter with each breath he takes. Strewn throughout the greenery, small splotches of yellow and white reveal her daisies and he sucks in a breath.

For the first time in his life, Bucky stares at his scars and a foreign word comes to mind, one he never, ever thought to use.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. “They’re beautiful.”

*****

And so, after 3 months and 30 hours together, they were done.

Hands in his pockets, Bucky gazes at her. Ink on her hands, ink on his heart. It hits him then, this is it. They shuffle, making small talk, neither ready to say goodbye.

“Promise you’ll come back if you decide on anything else. Tattoos, piercings, anything,” she teases and Bucky laughs.

“Told you, I might be a little addicted,” he admits, knowing full well he means to tattoos and to her. “Soon as I can think of a reason, I’ll be back.”

“I hope so,” she says. There is a brief moment where she seems to gather her courage and then she leans in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “You’re a work of art, Bucky, but - you were before any of this. Remember that.”

Dazed, Bucky touches his cheek.

Indelible and perfect, the tattoo of her lips inks itself straight onto his heart.

*****

When she arrives at the shop the next day, there is a new sight sitting on the front desk.

Daisies, their white petals and yellow faces as fresh as the afternoon sunshine filtering through the window. Bemused, she looks around the bustling shop and spies the card propped beside the overflowing vase, her name scrawled across the front.

-

“When I got home, I stood in front of the mirror for hours, staring at your artwork. Every time I told myself to go to sleep, I found something new I loved. The tail feathers on my Phoenix or the petals of your daisies. What you’ve given me is more than I ever hoped - I can never thank you enough.

But anyway, I remembered what you said - how this kind of art is like leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin.

Well, I won’t lie - you must have done, because I miss you already.

So at the risk of being forward (although I did break into your shop and leave this, so maybe this won’t seem that forward), would you have dinner with me?  

I think there’s another new beginning waiting out there, if you’d like to find it with me.  

Yours,

Bucky”

-

At the bottom of the note, a phone number is printed.

Brushing her fingers over the delicate white petals, she pictures him, that dark haired man with eyes like blue ink, so heartbreakingly beautiful inside and out. She feels the unconscious pull of her heart, telling her all she needs to know.

A new beginning.

She says yes.

*****

[hollyhomburg]

Reasons Wretched And Divine (Pt. 8)

(Yoon Min Joon x Reader) (Hybrid au) (Mafia au)

Summary: After years of abuse, you’ve all finally found each other. But for one of you- the fear still lingers in hidden lies and dead bodies. Yoongi doesn’t want much, just a few more weeks. The clock ticks closer- every second he has with you bringing him closer to zero.

Tags: pregnant! Reader, Dead bodies, hybrid on hybrid violence, referenced police mistreatment/indifference, mentions of emotional/physical abuse, referenced drug use/overdosing, Angst, touch starved characters, violence, explicit sexual content, foursome, voyeurism, exhibitionism, lactation kink, pregnancy kink, Breeding kink, knotting, dirty talk, unprotected sex, unrealistic amounts of cum, cumplay, marking kink, Dom/sub undertones, Dom! Namjoon- Sub! everyone else, Cum control, Overstimulation, squirting, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving)

W/c: 20.3k~

A/n: get ready for some nasty af smut~ But also be mindful of the angsty tags. You guys are gonna hate me for the cliffhanger! 

Series Masterlist

One month after your husband's death

- Yoongi had learned when and where not to provoke his owner over the years. Yoongi hadn’t been born with the ability to hold his tongue, His biting proclivities earning him more than a few broken ribs and bloody noses in his lifetime. But no matter, his owner had trained his tongue out of him, had even threatened to cut it out on occasion.

- And yet, his personality couldn’t be measured in the same way, a simple eye roll or a huff or sigh was enough to land him in trouble. Which is why he’s in the position he’s in now; Bloody lip, another bruise likely forming under his eye and on his ribs. His head spinning from what is likely another concussion. How many could a person get before they had brain damage? Whatever the number- Yoongi was probably toeing the line or already over it.

- He’s trying to avoid more damage, which is why he sits outside of the living room of their double-wide trailer. His owner has a nicer house somewhere- but this is the place that’s always functioned as the stomping grounds for all of her illegal business. And It’s the only building that Yoongi’s ever been able to call home.

- The yellowing walls that have turned greasy with cigarette smoke over the years, as well as the thin blanket and the pillow that he uses on the couch when no ones hanging around. If they are and the house is filled with gangsters- Yoongi’s usually doomed to the floor or until they leave for the night. Only able to sleep without his back to the wall when the gangsters stop their drugging (usually methamphetamines) and intoxication (most often moonshine)

- More than one person’s overdosed on the couch that Yoongi calls his bed. He tries not to think about it when he goes to sleep. What did it matter if someone else had died here- at least Yoongi was still alive.

- Even breathes stick in Yoongi’s lungs like honey, something dammed and impure. It’s a testament to his nerves (or years of learned abuse) that he doesn’t flinch when the crashes and bangs increase from the other room. It’s just glass breaking- now gunfire- that would have Yoongi ducking and running for cover.

- Revelry like he’s used to surviving through hasn’t existed in recent months, not since the business, or lack thereof had started to seep into every moment like a slow-moving poison. Gang wars are messy and they take years to play out. But it hadn’t been until four weeks ago that his owner’s gang had suffered its first casualty. A gang couldn’t exist without its plug, and now there was a power vacuum in the underworld. And whoever controlled the supply would be the most in-demand.

- “I’ve had enough of your bullshit excuses! If you don’t find the shipment this instant I’m going to start blowing brains like bubbles” his owner screeches. A tumble and shatter sounds from the other room, probably the plate of food Yoongi took in before. Cooking was one of his only valuable skills according to his owner, and he’s spent at least a quarter of his life avoiding a beating by becoming a better cook.

- The threat doesn't bother him. Yoongi barely lets himself think about the business of the gang, the bloodstains and bodies that they’ve most definitely left in their wake. He tries not to let it bother him knowing that there will probably be more in the next few months. His only concern is making sure his body isn’t one of them.

- Yoongi doesn’t care about anything other than keeping himself alive. And even that just barely.

- He listens from outside the door, her screaming finally quieting. This isn’t the first meltdown of her’s he’s witnessed this week. He hears the rustling of papers, silence from her as whoever's on the other side of the phone speaks. “Yeah I have it, fuck- his bitch must really be moving if she already has this in the goddamn paper.” She pauses, and Yoongi hears one of the gangsters stoop to try and clean up the mess that she’s surely made, “If that’s true, I think I know the perfect person for the job- if you can even call it that.” 

- It helps that Yoongi’s not expected to speak. Sometimes, when there’s a loud enough noise, or when he sneaks out to walk the sum mile to the beach, Yoongi speaks. Just a sentence or two at a time, his voice gruff and sore after a few words. Just to make sure that he can still do it and hasn’t forgotten how. That his voice still exists hidden somewhere in his chest and his throat. Locked away like a delicate yolk- only able to be seen if you break the eggshell outside.

- “Yoongi!” his owner shrieks, and he has the good sense to hasten to a place where she can see him. He stands in the doorway and doesn’t meet her eyes. There are a few assorted gangsters here. His owner looks unhinged, her flyaway hairs sticking in front of her face, wiping away smudged lipstick and a fair amount of saliva that had dripped down her chin from all her screaming.

- “I have a job for you” She tosses a newspaper at him, and Yoongi catches it easily. Careful not to step into the mess of glass that would surely cut his feet. A drawn red circle cuts through an article on a local high school to highlight something in the purchased ads. Just a little map with a heading “hybrid sanctuary: a safe place, three meals a day. If you or anyone you know has witnessed hybrid abuse, please call this number for help.”

- Yoongi looks up, giving her a short nod. Yoongi will do whatever she needs in order to survive. Anything to keep the blood in his veins and his heart beating. 

- He listens patiently while she explains the plan.

---------- Now---------

- The clock ticks, and You don’t find the body until noon. By then there are flies buzzing around him. Blood already dried on those fingertips and underneath His fingernails- the sun warming his body like the hybrid could still be alive.

- You’re just retiring from a day working in the garden (usual and ordinary) when one of the bear hybrids thunders through your door- his eyes wide, shouting for you (strange and surprising). Yoongi is the only one with you; Jimin’s just set off down the hill to change. Namjoon’s not in the house either; helping Jin with more fencing for the animals. 

- Your grim expression is mirrored in the terse face of the teenage hybrid that had been going for a walk when he’d found him. You’d started down the hill at a run At least until Yoongi had stopped you. Eyeing your stomach with a worried expression. It’s not that you can’t run or that he doesn’t think you should it’s that the hilly path down to the front entrance is littered with potholes.

- It’s not your first time seeing a dead body (that honor is owed to your late husband) but the unnatural way a body lies still is always incredibly unnerving. You lean over the body nausea rolls in your belly worse than it ever did in the first few months you were battling your morning sickness. But you know you can’t vomit over a crime scene.

- You recognize the body, It’s one of your hybrids; a coyote hybrid that came to you after the second month you were open, and had come and gone quite a bit since then. You need to look at your ledger to know for sure if he was in-between stay or if he’d been here prior to today.

- You tend to be a little laxer with the hybrids that aren’t permanent residents of the farm. You barely even learn the names of the deer hybrids that come for a dinner or two here and there before they go. You’re used to the nomads and this hybrid was one of them. You’re kicking yourself for that now. Because if you have a killer in your mix- a shiver goes down your spine at the thought of any of them being in danger. You need to get all of your hybrids in one place to make sure they’re safe. Right now.

- You turn to yoongi and the teenager; a bear hybrid from Tae's group- Beomgyu. You recall the little details you know about him- how he likes to hang around with Yeonjun and the other cats in the kitchen sometimes. He’s so young, eyes wide, shaking his head making his curved ears flop when he finally tears his eyes away from the body and looks at your face. 

- You make your voice more soothing, “Ring the lunch bell- get everyone by the main barns okay? We need to make sure everyone is accounted for” the bear hybrid turns to run up the hill but you catch his arm. “The barns have to direct a line of sight to here- so keep the children in the far-field, after you ring the bell- get Namjoon and Taehyung and tell them to come here before you tell anyone what's happened.” The last thing you need is a group stumbling around here and contaminating a crime scene.

- He leaves with a thunder of footsteps in the dry grass, “Yoongi” you say, “Would you mind going up to the main house to get the logbook and my cellphone?” Yoongi looks like he doesn’t want to leave eyeing the road with a suspicious glare. Making a noise in his throat and staying put. “Yoongi” your voice is strangled- like you’re trying not to cry. “He’s been dead for hours, any danger here has passed, I’m safe- I promise.” but Yoongi shakes his head, reaching for your hand and then thinks better of it.

- At the sound of heavy footsteps you both look back up the hill- Namjoon racing in your direction, his ears pinned to his head with Taehyung not far behind. He gives you one final glance and nods before he takes off up the hill. Namjoon stops when they pass, calling his name but Yoongi doesn’t stop. “let him go Namjoon” you call behind.  

- The bell that they use to call people in at mealtimes tolls out across the field.

- Yoongi watches as the kits raise their heads from their playing in the field. A look at the sun telling them that it’s too early to be called in for dinner, lunch just finished. The confusion that gives way to panic as he travels through a crowd of older hybrids. He almost runs into one of the cat hybrids as she leaves the kitchen. Shouting back to her friend that’s fussing with something. “Just turn off the stove- something’s wrong we need to go.”

- Yoongi snatches the book from your small office off the living room and thunders back down the porch steps, pausing when he sees it. Anyone else might not have noticed the difference- or noticed it at all. But Yoongi used to survive by noticing the small day-to-day differences in his world; and it’s a habit that hasn’t died even though Yoongi no longer needs it to survive.

- There is a piece of paper stuck behind your windshield wipers on your car. Not a ticket and not a note- but a business card. And Yoongi knows it wasn’t there yesterday.

- Yoongi pauses, your phone in one hand, and the logbook in another. He shoves your phone in his pocket and wastes precious seconds to retrieve it. It’s simple- just plain cardstock a single sentence on the other side. “You’re welcome” there isn’t any signature beside a small doodled bunny rabbit. 

- Yoongi knows that signature. Memories dredge up from the bottom of his mind like a swell of cold water washing over him. He’d seen his old owner- (his current owner- his own internal monologue berates him) go into a rage after seeing that same moniker spray-painted across her truck or buildings on more than one occasion.

- Yoongi rolls his tongue over his teeth, putting it together. His owner’s words- dimly alluding to a second mole at the farm- warning Yoongi to be careful. And now this- a thank you card from a rival gang. Chaos whirls around him as different groups run to the barns. He hears Taehyung’s raised voice “Everyone quiet! I need you to listen to me- please!” 

- Other hushed words echo from the field as Yoongi puts it together. In a moment, Yoongi knows what’s happened- but he can’t for the life of him understand the motivation.

- What motivation could his owner’s rival have to kill their mole? And if he knew who at the farm was connected to the gang life- why didn’t he kill Yoongi last night too? This body and this note raise too many questions.

- Yoongi doesn’t think it through, just shoves the card into the bottom of his work boot, hiding it so that it lies flat under his sock. Knowing it's better to hide it then hand it over to the police. Yoongi’s hands shake with the very idea of you being caught up in this mess. Although it looks like it's already too late for that. How much less involved can you be with a dead body on your front doorstep?

- If the note is addressed to you? How much do you know about your late husband's business- if anything?

- You attribute Yoongi’s shakiness to the dead body you’re deceptively calm- nausea set aside when he gets back. yoongi nearly runs into taehyung on the way down the hill. Anger an annoyance and worry rolling off the bear hybrid in heady waves. “Don’t worry- Jimin and I have nearly everyone in the barns already, and Daehyun and Hoseok are taking care of the cubs on the other side of the field” 

- Taehyung barely looks at Yoongi as he passes, shouting at you over his shoulder. It helps to hear that Jimin is all right, but Yoongi doesn’t think he’ll believe it until he sees the other hybrid with his own two eyes. Namjoon looks much the same. Though he holds your hand tight as he can.

- You call the police the second Yoongi hands over your phone. And together- you wait for them. Namjoon sends an anxious glance both of your ways. It doesn’t take long before you can hear the sirens heading in your direction, echoing out over the empty hills.

- Back up at the barns, Jimin sits on the second floor, the windows are opened to their full capacity to let in a nonexistent breeze. The top floor of the barn isn’t really the most comfortable place to be in the middle of the day, the heat muggy, and all-encompassing. But every dog hybrid is in their bunk room. but it’s too hot to be comfortable regardless of the fans running at full power. Jimin sits on the floor dangling his feet over the side.

- Below- Jimin watches Taehyung as he does a headcount. Clipboard in hand, shouting names and waiting for people to respond. the hybrids have separated themselves by type, bunny hybrids on the outer edge, bear hybrids close to the center around Tae, Cat hybrids on the ground floor to stay out of the sun. Jimin and dog hybrids- the most easily riled up and hardest to contain because of their energy- on the top floor where they’d all stay put and not sneak off. 

- Jimin’s room has already been counted, there isn’t much left to do but wait and watch. If he looks over the hillock he can see the police cars and you. The flashing blue and red lights and a small group.

- A small crowd has gathered to watch and linger, police tape set up to the entrance of your farm. A few of your neighbors gathered too at the sound and small-town gossip is sure to follow. Your two closest neighbors- an elderly couple come over to ask you a few questions about all the commotion. They’ve never been unpleasant to you or hostile, still happy that you took their farm animals off their hands many months ago. But they remain firmly separated from your hybrids on either side of a circle of crime scene tape.

- When Jimin looks to the other side, he can see Hoseok and another dog hybrid with the children. Sequestered them with a bunch of games and ice pops on the other side of the hill, away from any and all possibility of them seeing something they shouldn’t.

- Even some of your hybrids linger around the crime scene. the leaders of various groups that need to see for themselves. Beomgyu is here too as well- even though you gave him a look that said you dont need to see this. As it is, you give the teenagers that refuse to go a questioning cross look. Yeonjun in particular just shrugs at you when you give him an expectant look. All of the teenaged hybrids are particularly used to your no-nonsense looks. It doesn’t help that he’s several inches taller than you. 

- “You really think this is the first time I’ve seen a dead body?” one of the other cat hybrids has the good sense to cuff him over the back of his head for that one. You know he’s young, but some respect for life and death is something he’ll have to learn at one point or another. If he wants to stay that bad- you’ll let him. 

- Namjoon might hate the police, but he does speak their language, and it’s easy for you to sink to his side and rely on him to take over the story as you relate everything you know (which isn’t much). The pack leaders- or what would be the pack leaders all waiting on the fringes. Taehyung comes back to tell you that there isn’t anyone but a few bunny hybrids missing- quickly sniffed out by one of the dog hybrids, all of them looking a little pink-cheeked and embarrassed from whatever they were doing.

- That gets a few laughs out of everyone that’s gathered- Taehyung shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but tempers still remain raised. From the top story of the barn, Jimin watches it unfold. Taehyung shoots him a tired look.

- A quick look at your ledger shows that the last time the hybrid left was just a little over a week ago. Your fingers hover over the date. The book is photographed by the crime scene photographers too, the camera bulbs flashing, a few of your more sensitive hybrids have to turn away- the bright flash too glaring. The officers take little notice of their discomfort.

- They tell you that they might come back to collect it for official evidence. It’s nice to have something to give the police to show them that the hybrid wasn’t in your care when he died. You have a good reputation with them because of your ex-husband as much as you hate to admit it. And it’s jarring to hear you referred to as his widow, especially with Namjoon standing so close, a protective presence between you and the police. 

- A few months ago you might have started breaking down when you heard his name, but all you have to do is look at Namjoon to know that you’re okay, you’re both safe. 

- Well maybe not now- if you have a killer in your midst then you’re all certainly not as safe as you thought.

- For all the feaux concern they have about the dead hybrid- the ones around you might as well be window dressing. They would have ignored Namjoon entirely if he hadn’t introduced himself as an ex-police hybrid.

- It’s more than that, their unconcern sinks under your skin and makes you want to shout at them as they take his body away in a black body bag. They promise you they’ll try to find whatever killed him. They don’t look too bothered- another dead hybrid isn’t anything new or a cause for panic to them, about as regular as finding any other pet- and not a fucking human being- dead or murdered.

- The police tell you they’ll do what they can- but a dead hybrid is hardly their priority, even if it makes a growl build in Namjoon’s throat when they brush off your concern. Your blood boils. 

- But as the sequestering drags on and on into the afternoon- and the temperature increases with every moment everyone still has to stay put. the idle chatter quickly turns agitated. In the main barn- A few of them have been playing cards on and off, most of them in states of undress because of the heat. Jimin is the only man still wearing his shirt, though it’s only his tank top.

- “What the fuck do you think it is? Who do you think killed them?” Jimin listens in on the other hybrid's conversation against his own violation. He’s never been close to the other dog hybrids at the farm save for Namjoon, and he’s not about to start right now. They laugh, but it sounds more like a bark- or a hyena chuckle, “you know me- if there’s an issue my money's always on the snake,”

- Jimin’s head whips around, “Excuse me?” the hybrids turn to him, “oh Jimin- we forgot we were here” if they want that insult to sting- they’re going to have to try a little harder. Jimin was used to being forgotten for the first half of his life, and that won’t start hurting now.

- Sweat drips down the back of Jimin’s neck, “he has a name you know,” he says with no real venom. it’s greeted with resounding scoffs from a few of his bunkmates. He lets the silence sit for a moment before the weight of it grows too oppressive for him to handle, “What?” he says feeling like he’s missing something. The rest of the hybrids in the bunk room fall quiet.

- The dog hybrid- Taeyong- Jimin’s brain reminds him, snickers. “Nothing- just- figures you’d be possessive of him after yesterday.” A flush of heat hits Jimin’s cheeks that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. Someone must have seen Yoongi leave the showers and then seen Jimin leave a short minute later looking sex dazed. He knows the meeting had left his scent all smelling like honey arousal. They must have put two and two together.

- Damn those bunny hybrids with their sensitive noses. Now that Jimin thinks about it- Taeyong is a friend of one of them- a small little rabbit called Jihan.

- Jimin shrugs it off because fuck them- he is protective of Yoongi and this conversation only shows the reason for that. But they don’t leave it at that- not at all. Taeyong taps his foot against the floor, grinning and showing the edge of a sharp incisor “Being with him will only end you in an early grave you know, but you might as well keep your head down and enjoy your one-way ticket to living up at the big house.” 

- “That’s not why I’m- we’re not-“ he doesn’t know what to say, he can’t say that he’s with Yoongi- not officially, not yet. And though there is something with them. Jimin doesn’t know how to put a name to it. let alone how to put a name to what he has with all of you. 

- There must be something written on his face, because the hybrid sits back, satisfied that he’s hit Jimin with something that can stick. The other hybrids snicker. A fair few turn away- sensing the fight that’s about to develop, content to stay out of it.

- “You know he doesn’t deserve to be up at the big house right,” Jimin can’t stop himself from getting angry at the calloused way they talk about Yoongi. His temper rising with the heat, Jimin has never been good at holding his tongue, and maybe it’s his fault that things happen the way they do. Jimin rises, and so does Taeyong, Suddenly chest to chest, “well if he doesn’t deserve it- you certainly don’t, maybe if you guys were just kind for once in your life you’d be staying up there too.” Jimin barks.

- A few other hybrids blanch, and more turn away, Jimin’s misspoke- can judge by the silence that he’s the one being judged. “And I actually happen to enjoy their company- I’m not-”

- Jimin knows what he’s just insinuated, that being loved is just a correlation of being kind and pleasant to be around. (You’ve been talking through that particular thing with him. The fawn response to abuse. And Jimin knows he should unpack that later, but like many other things- it just slips out. His post-traumatic stress disorder makes him think things he knows are wrong. He doesn’t believe the words he says, not really.)

- Taeyong steps forwards, and Jimin shrinks back sudden bravery forgotten. “You’re not what? Being a manipulative little puppy? Batting your eyes at them so that you could get a spot? Go tell that lie to someone who believes you. You might be a puppy, but you’re a snake to your core.” 

- Jimin has never wanted Taehyung to be there more than now. Where is he when he needs him? Jimin looks back through the open window, but Taehyung isn’t below them on the patio. Their fight seems to have gotten more than a little attention. Wide eyes upturned, startled by the sound of raised voices. It's the wrong moment to look away because suddenly Jimin’s reeling from a shove, two hands on either shoulder. 

- Jimin catches himself on the window frame. The open space taunting and frightening. All at once, the image hits him; another well-placed shove- Jimin falling- cracking against the slate patio outside where you usually set up dinner, the ground hard and unforgiving. Bones breaking. 

- Jimin isn’t sure why he says it; “No wonder why you haven’t got adopted if this is how you act when someone disagrees with you.”

- Jimin’s never fallen from any height before. But he’s been tossed and pushed and shoved, and never learned how to fight back. He freezes now at the memory of it. He’s been shoved into concrete before, and he bets slate hurts just as much.

- “Don’t pretend like you haven’t had your eyes set on the big house since you first got here puppy, little thing like you probably just wants to be owned- how do you even have an ounce of self-“ 

- Jimin gets shoved again, and he barely manages to hold his ground. Taeyong grips his shirt in both his fists, lifting Jimin up so that he struggles to keep his feet on the ground. 

- From below, he hears a shriek, His name shouted from your mouth. You run as fast as you can, Yoongi stayed behind to help you. His face turned up imploring at Jimin. Jimin hears the thud of Namjoon’s feet on the wooden floor below. He and Taehyung, as they take the stairs two at a time. Jimin doesn’t know how they knew to come, or how suddenly everything’s escalated.

- The other hybrid steps forward, and there is nowhere left for him to go, Jimin grips the window frame, and tries not to let go.

- Namjoon’s words can barely be made out around the growl, suddenly in the doorway. Jimin keeps his eyes on the hybrid in front of him. Not at Namjoon’s face, screwed tight with anger. “Enough, step away from him.”

- Namjoon looks more threatening than Jimin’s ever seen him, teeth bared, ready to attack. His curved ears quivering as Namjoon seems to swell in the doorway, his eyes shiny and reflective in the half-light. An alpha ready to protect his own. The scars that crisscross his face a reminder of the lengths he’s willing to go to protect his family.

- A sheepish looking Taehyung toes the line behind him, “I’m sorry- I heard the beginning outside the door and went to get them” Jimin is at once thankful for Taehyung and a little angry- because really? He couldn’t be bothered to just intervene then? Taeyong seems to think for a moment before he lets Jimin go. Jimin sees Namjoon’s hands tighten into fists by his side. The threat of what he might have tried to do dissipating. You rush forward with Yoongi, pulling Jimin out of the doorway.

- More than one hybrid in the room jerks when you get too close to the window. They can’t help it- for many of them, you’re the only human they’ve had a positive relationship with. And the dog hybrids are nothing if not a loyal bunch. Which is probably why Taeyong shrinks back, nostrils flared- still angry and feeling threatened. like a cornered animal. 

- Jimin tries not to run back to Namjoon’s side- but it's hard, especially when he makes eye contact with Yoongi. Your chest heaving blinking away tears as You pull Jimin to you easily, a hand on his cheek. Eyes so worried, searching his face and his frame for even a hint of damage. The words are out of his mouth before he even has a chance “I’m okay- it’s okay- I’m fine.”

- “It wasn’t my fault, Jimin started it” you look up, and Jimin can tell from the tilt of your eyes that you don’t believe them for a second, your voice is shaky when you speak, so quiet. and jimin wonders- how many other times you’d spoken up like this in your past against your ex-husband and gotten hurt for it. It takes no small amount of bravery for you to speak now and Jimin’s arms tighten protectively around you. 

- “This isn’t- this isn’t how you treat another person Taeyong even if he did start it- you don’t react with violence.” one of the other hybrids shakes his head at Taeyong- but he doesn't react well to your words. Bearing his teeth at you and it takes every ounce of self-control for your three hybrids not to jump in front of you at such an obvious display of aggression. 

- “He shoved me first” Taeyong lies, and Namjoon answers it with a growl. stepping up to go chest to chest with him in much the same way that Jimin had just minutes before. The other dog hybrid crumbles against the alphas stare. “Would you like to repeat that? or do you maybe want to tell the truth this time?”

- You pull Jimin behind you and Namjoon steps between you and the other hybrids, looming and large in the small space. “If I hear that you're causing any more trouble you’ll be out on your ass faster than you can say “it wasn’t my fault” Namjoon barks, turns, both you and he have a hand on Jimin’s trembling shoulders. When did they start shaking?

- A sudden hush has settled over the hybrids, everyone is here to witness it. And it doesn’t make sense until they hear a set of quiet footsteps at the door. “Is everything alright miss?” the police officer says in the doorway, suspiciously eyeing the hybrids. His hand hovering dangerously close to the gun in his holster. The fucking police- Jimin had almost forgotten they were here.

- You don’t look shaken, stepping back to be between him and your hybrids, and the police officers' shoulders relax. You’re so disarming- Jimin barely sees you shake even though he can smell the distress rolling off of you in waves. Turning your usual scent all muddy. Your smile is strained, “No officer- everyone’s just a little bit high strung right now I think. We’re fine.” 

- “Sorry for that distraction, we can continue up to the main house if you’d like. After you.” You set back off down the steps and Jimin knows what you’re doing- keeping the police officer away from them because you know how twitchy the cops make most of the hybrids. “No thank you- I dont think that will be necessary. As your k-9 unit specified earlier in his interview the crime scene is mostly contained in the driveway. I think we’ve seen enough.”

- Jimin can’t help but stumble to Namjoon’s side, pressed tight under the arm of his alpha. Namjoon’s disarmed by Jimin's sudden need for affection; for his alpha all around him. “We’ll talk about this later” Taehyung glowers at the other hybrids and they all fall silent. Namjoon’s ire- they might be a little more used to but Taehyung’s anger is used a little more sparingly. The four of them, Yoongi, Namjoon, Jimin, and Taehyung the unlikely fourth turn to leave.

- You’re already in the lower level of the barn when Taeyong speaks, his voice low to keep it out of earshot from you. “Sure thing pet,” Taeyong says under his breath- though really what was he trying to do? Everyone here had above average hearing- so really, his whispered insults whereas good as speaking at normal volume.

- And to a hybrid- being called a pet is the ultimate insult.

- Namjoon freezes in the doorway, no matter that Jimin’s hand pulls at the arm of his long-sleeved shirt. A whine building for him to just leave it alone. Namjoon turns, jabbing his finger at Taeyong. “I want you gone before sundown tomorrow.” 

- The four of them head down the stairs, leaving the silent room. The ground floor of the largest barn the area is flush with activity. With hybrids going every which way you must have decided that it was okay for everyone to return to their days as normal. Someone calls Taehyung’s name, asking for his help with something before he’s even fully down the narrow steps, Taehyung sends Jimin a single discerning look before he leaves. Namjoon utters a soft thank you to him as he slips away.

- In the grass- you share one final word with the police officer, shaking his hand with one hand resting on your baby bump. Though Jimin can tell from the way you hold yourself it's the last thing you want to do. He nods at Namjoon once as they approach and heads off down the hill. You’re quiet for a moment, going to hold jimin’s hand while Namjoon and Yoongi mill. None of you are sure what to do next.

- “I’m assuming Taeyong won’t be a problem anymore?” Namjoon has the good sense to look a little abashed at that. “He said- there was- he’ll be gone by tomorrow afternoon.” Is all he says, and you nod, giving a sad look back to the barns. But you don’t counter what Namjoon’s said.

- And while Jimin knows there needs to be some sort of order here- it still seems a little extreme. Even if the threat of bodily harm was there- he didn’t actually do anything. It seems a little severe to throw them out for just a couple of words, and a shove. He tells Namjoon this much as they walk up the footpath to the main house.

- You whip your head around, looking stricken, and Jimin have to struggle not to flinch back, you look almost angry with yourself for the sudden movement. all of you are a little on edge. “He almost hurt you Jimin! he was about to-“ Yoongi fists a hand in the back of Jimin’s shirt, “if he’d hurt you I don’t know what I’d-“ you break off, and Jimin sees you sigh and the breath sounds all rickety like there's something else rattling around in your lungs. You shake your head and hold onto his hand tighter.

- Jimin sucks on his lower lip and keeps walking towards the main house after a moment. And he can’t help feeling like he was the one who kind of did start it. A hand on your arm to help you up the steps. You’re getting more and more pregnant every day, and your baby bump has become more of a mound than the small bulge you had when Jimin first came.

- Jimin just wants to make sure you don’t wobble or trip. Unable to shake the feeling that the reason why Namjoon had punished the others was because of how they’d treated Jimin- and not because of any rules.

- Jimin’s gotten to know you and Namjoon pretty well over the last few months, but the way Namjoon keeps his head down, playing with his hands, makes him look younger and more open than he’s ever been around Jimin. Namjoon and Jimin linger just inside your house. standing quietly- letting their tempers fade.  

- The cat hybrids have already started dinner, the clamor familiar and comforting. One of them hears you come in and calls your name; Yoongi is close behind, he doesn’t look at Jimin. And Jimin smells his scent- his fluffy marshmallow goodness twined with a hint of something burn and feels the guilt clinging to him like bad perfume. He’s about to head after him when Namjoon grabs his shoulder. “Should I- you’re going to stay up here right?”

- Jimin sucks on his lower lip. and even he has to admit that staying up here tonight is a more attractive offer than returning to the barns anytime soon. “Yes- if you want me too” Namjoon nods, looks shy, but Jimin can tell what he’s feeling through his scent. The worry makes the pine strong and musky and tempts Jimin to curl up in it. Namjoon couldn’t tolerate being separated from any of his pack right now; not with the danger of a killer on the loose. Namjoon tugs him in the direction of the stairs. “There’s something I want to show you then.”

- The last time he’d been up on the more private floor of your house he hadn’t really had any time to explore. Namjoon leads him to one of the unknown and previously unopened doors that line the long hallway between your master suite and the stairs, pointing out Yoongi’s room as they go. The room is small and more than a little dusty. But it’s the closest unoccupied room to the master suite and across the hall from Yoongi’s. “Oh” Jimin realizes as it clicks, “you meant stay- as in move in stay.”

- Namjoon has to kick away boxes of Christmas decorations to get to the queen covered with a white sheet that fluffs with dust when he pulls away. Jimin touches the edge softly. He’s never had a bed so big all to himself before- he doesn’t know how he’s going to handle so much vacant space next to him.

- There will be no soft sounds of sleep and rising chests when Jimin wakes in the middle of the night. Only the sounds of the house, and even though this means he’ll get to spend more time with you, Namjoon, and Yoongi, the room can’t help but feel lonely. Something in his chest reminds him that he’s not really that far, Yoongi’s room is across the hall, and yours just a few steps after that.

- Maybe he won’t feel so lonely after all.

- The windows are covered with thick drapes, kind of small in themselves. And it makes the room feel darker and cold. “We’ll move out the decorations to the attic tomorrow, are you gonna be okay with this for tonight? We can get you some fresh sheets and blankets.”

-  Jimin nods hands tugging back the curtains to let more light in. Namjoon reaches around him to crack it open when the window sticks. Even though this room doesn’t feel like his yet. Namjoon almost drops a box of decorations “you could also sleep in our room if you want?”

- Jimin can’t do much more than just blush and nod, stuttering out that he’ll decide later. And it’s not that he doesn’t want to be all snuggled close between you and Namjoon it’s just that- things are happening a little too fast. Jimin feels like he might need a night to just decompress.

- The body, the police, the fight, and Jimin almost falling through the window. For some reason, Jimin feels paralyzed in that doorway. On one hand, he’s happy that he has a room here now that he doesn’t have to go back to the bunk room for more than his clothes, and on the other hand he’s sure he doesn’t deserve it.

- Like Namjoon can sense he’s overwhelmed and doesn’t know how to feel, he pulls Jimin to follow him. Gentle orders that tell Jimin what to do with his body and give his mind a second to catch up. Namjoon retrieves fresh linens and a big fluffy blanket from the closet while Jimin hovers hugging a pillow to his chest. 

- The elder prattles along to Jimin about getting him some more things to fill the room like a dresser when Jimin notices it. A small narrow door that’s mostly glass down the hall from your master bedroom and the bathroom that Jimin assumes he’ll share with Yoongi.

- Unless Yoongi has a bathroom in his room. Jimin asks Namjoon- who tells Jimin that he does and Jimin pouts. He has to admit he wouldn’t mind Sharing a bathroom with Yoongi. Flashbacks of that night, of Yoongi’s skin, pressed close to his underneath the deluge of water- consume him for a moment at the thought of that. 

- Before he pads over to see the other room at the end of the hallway. It’s narrow, only the with of the couch at the end and twice as long, Jimin could probably touch both walls if he lied down on the floor Waist height windows ring the outside of the room and a few skylights cast square shadows on the floor, The roof slanted down at one edge.

- A single potted plant sits on the waist-high shelf- crusty and brown from no one watering it. He orients himself in the house to figure out what room is below him but the smells and sounds drifting up from the floor tells him he’s somewhere above the kitchens.

- He stands in the doorway. A thick layer of dust sits on everything. But the light is amazing. All golden in the afternoon haze though that might just be the walls. The light yellow paint is faded, cracked a bit by the doorway but it's nothing a fresh coat couldn’t fix.

- Jimin knows the second he sees it that he wants it.

- Namjoon finds him standing in the doorway. Already looking out the windows- he can see the gardens from here and the woods that stretch beyond. And the edge of a falling-down barn yet to be restored by you and Namjoon- and a tiny sliver of the river. “What- what is this?” Jimin’s voice is so hushed. So quiet, like he’s worried about disturbing the dust.

- Namjoon comes up close behind him, putting his arm around Jimin’s shoulders. “It’s a sunroom.” Namjoon clarifies. In the afternoon light, Namjoon’s skin looks honeyed and golden, horizontal shafts of light stretching across his face. Namjoon pulls Jimin close, nose running along his hairline and near his ears, nuzzling into them. His back the perfect place for Jimin to rest his heavy shoulders. 

- “Is it okay if I- can I stay here and not the other room?” Namjoon’s smile is reassuring and gentle, “probably, but let's ask.” Of course, Namjoon would know Jimin needed explicit permission right now- needs the sureness of a yes or no from you.

- The sight that awaits Namjoon and Jimin in the living room is one that warms both of their hearts. You and Yoongi sitting side by side in front of the television. you’re listing into Yoongi sleepily head on his shoulder. Your eyes fluttering against your cheek adorably. Yoongi sends Namjoon a panicked look which means “please save me from her she’s being needy” but at least Yoongi isn’t shaking and going all panicky.

- With a word from Namjoon you wake, sitting up straight and yawning, taking in Jimin hovering on the steps, your smile sleepy and a little dopy. Your eyes still half-closed still looking soft and an inch from resting as you need.

- Namjoon’s hand rubs up and down your swollen exposed ankle. His voice honeyed like he doesn’t really want to wake you up. Hell Jimin would carry you up the stairs to let you rest in your own bed and not the couch even though it's barely 5 pm. It's been a long day for all of you. 

- “Hey, can Jimin take the sunroom instead of the other room?” Yoongi gives a little surprised noise, eyebrows lifting in question, you seem to share his confusion. Jimin realizes that you must have already talked about which room would be his, and whole new warmth floods him. “Are you sure? That room’s a little small.”

- “I’d like to stay in there if you’ll let me- I mean- I can go back to the barns too” maybe he’d go to the girl side this time- he’s sure they wouldn’t be nearly as bad as the male hybrids. Namjoon and Yoongi look upset that he’d even try to suggest that. “Take the sunroom Jiminie,” you say, Namjoon and Jimin watch as Yoongi’s hands shake when he reaches forward before he slowly draws his hands through your hair, and you arch into he touch. If you were a hybrid Jimin thinks you’d be purring.

- Namjoon does actually end up carrying you upstairs, despite your protests that you could do it yourself. Yoongi makes a noise in the back of his throat, and Jimin finishes it for him saying, “we’ll make dinner, you should rest.” Namjoon pauses on the lower step with you in his arms, and Jimin feels something in him settle. There isn’t a little bit of you that doesn’t want him to stay here, the way you so easily give up space for Jimin to be accepted into your routine- your home.

- It’s good; it feels good to knock shoulders with Yoongi in the kitchen, the craziness of the day calmed as the cat hybrids bring the food down to the barns for everyone. 

- Taehyung stops by briefly to have a word with Namjoon- telling the elder that they have a rotating watch figured out for tonight to make sure nothing else happens. Taehyung empties out with the other cats, leaving just Jimin and Yoongi. It’s harder than it should be, but Yoongi instructs Jimin on how to do the chopping with a careful and slow demonstration while he starts on the stew.

- When Namjoon reappears a few minutes later he puts on the radio- switching it to something a little bit more his style, not kitschy pop or idealistic  questionable country music, though Jimin doesn’t like it at first listen, he hears Yoongi humming along and figures- it’s enough to have them enjoy it. Especially to see Namjoon try and fail to shake his ass. 

- The night gets even better when Jimin goes to get you from your bed, calling your name so you wake up with barely a huff as you blink at him. You look so soft Jimin can’t resist it, leaning forward to peck a kiss on your forehead. 

- You eat dinner on the porch, and the night gets better with every moment. every second Jimin realizes that he always should have been here. The love filling Jimin up just like the fresh bread and Yoongi’s stew, Namjoon and Jimin go inside halfway through the dinner to get blankets for you and Yoongi.

- Dinner reinvigorates you four, and though Jimin protests “I can just sleep in the other room tonight it’s really not a big deal” Namjoon and Yoongi shake their heads at him, though you're left out since you really can’t lift anything. 

- After dinner Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin pull down the attic stairs from the hallway, and go up to the third floor to find a bed that will fit in the sunroom. You shout and pull yoongi out of the way when Namjoon and Jimin lose their grip and the soft mattress clangs down the stairs, sliding with a soft thump. They’re more careful with the box spring.

- They shout and huff with joyful frustration when the couch gets stuck in the doorway of the sunroom. The kind of happiness that comes with a problem that you can fix- and like who you fix it with. And finally, when you fit the double bed into the space it just barely fits. You set the bed up with pillows and sheets asking Jimin again and again if he really doesn’t mind just the single bed while Namjoon and Yoongi put the green velvet couch outside in the hallway nook, just across from the bathroom.

- The first morning Jimin wakes in the sunroom is the most peaceful morning he’s ever gotten. The light comes in so early that it’s hard for him to sleep past sunrise. From all the way up here, he can see the way that the dew on the grass makes the whole field sway and sparkle like the ocean. He taps his toes against the wall as he sits up and looks out, and hears a knock at his door. A soft rap on the glass. 

- The sounds he hears below say he’s not the only one awake in the house. And still, the sight of you in your extra-large sleeping clothes and your robe makes him surprised. Though the tangled mess of your hair says you’re barely awake. Jimin slept so well that his ears hang nearly in front of his eyes, soft little floppy things that you push out of the way, Pushing back his wild hair as you do it. You have two cups of hot coffee in your hands. One, which you sit on the shelf that rings the room, and the other that you press into his hands, the warm ceramic a welcomed weight.

- Jimin helps you sit, a hand on your lower back to ease the ache. Without really thinking he guides you to sit back against his chest. It’s quiet and it’s lovely. And Jimin trails his nose down your shoulder and holds you loosely around your waist. “I forgot how nice this room is.” You say after your cup is halfway gone, Jimin’s cheek rested against your shoulder.

- “It’s so bright- I love it.” when Jimin closes his eyes he can still see the dark garage where he used to sleep- was it barely 4 months ago? Is he okay now? Is it okay to hope? Can he really count on things to be okay? To count that they won’t get bad again?

- With you in his arms, Jimin feels like it’s okay to hope for more good things.

- It feels like the right time to say it, the light spilling into the little yellow room, his tail thumping against the bed. The soft comforter that you picked out for him last night encircling you both like a halo. 

- The words are gentle, and they’re the truest Jimin’s ever said, “I love you” you smile over the edge of your coffee cup, lips soft and pink like two bright petals, happy little flowers like happy moments blooming with frequency. Every soft thing that Jimin’s ever wanted or dreamed of. Every way you could love a person- that's the way that Jimin loves you. And it feels like an unbreakable promise when you smile up at him. “I love you too Minnie.”

- And that’s how it happens. He says it again over breakfast and Namjoon barely lifts his eyebrows in wonder. But his tail betrays his attention, His tail kicking up a happy rhythm. Now that he’s said it- he feels like he doesn’t want to stop. 

- Yoongi pays the revelation a little more attention, making prolonged eye contact with jimin and stumbling around the kitchen half asleep like usual. But isn’t Yoongi the one who had taught Jimin how to love like this? That love is not really about saying it- but showing it. Yoongi- who he’s still never heard speak. and Somehow it doesn’t bother Jimin as much anymore.

- The next morning goes much like that- as does the next and the next. You spend the late nights all cuddled up together on the couches watching movies or sometimes you’ll retire to your small study room on the first floor to do some work- typing away on your computer. Calculating monthly costs, balancing your budget, submitting your paperwork on time to get funding from the state- the endless budgeting.

- Sometimes Yoongi helps, and you dictate numbers while he adds them up. Namjoon and Jimin sit on opposite ends of the couch, Jimin’s feet in Namjoon’s lap. And Jimin gets to watch the way Namjoon looks at you and Yoongi. “You really love them don’t you?” Jimin asks, worried about sounding jealous, but how could he really be jealous of that? Namjoon’s dimples are the most beautiful thing- Namjoon is the most beautiful thing when he’s happy. He nods shyly on the other edge of the couch. “Yes, so come here.”

- The aborted whine that tones out is enough to grab Yoongi’s attention when Namjoon clutches Jimin to his chest. The snake hybrid’s head appearing over the edge of the couch. The huffing sound that all of you associate with Yoongi’s laugh makes Jimin blush as Namjoon curls a strong arm around his waist. A deep rumbling in his chest similar to a purr as Jimin settles there. He can hear Namjoon’s heartbeat and ends up falling asleep to it.  

- Other evenings you’ll make smoothies with them or root beer floats, teasing Yoongi for the foam on his upper lip. Jimin finds himself sinking into this easy happiness. Now when he wakes up in the morning. He doesn’t have the ire of the others to contend with. Though he makes sure to keep up his friendships. 

- he follows Taehyung around more often now that he sees the four of you every waking moment. Taehyung and Jimin spend a few days together helping Seokjin and Hoseok clean out one of the unused barns together.

- He comes upon the two of them; that is Hoseok and Seokjin, sitting in the grass one day. The older hybrids hand laced in Hoseok’s curly hair. Taehyung murmurs to Jimin that they should just make it official already.

- He’d caught Hoseok sneaking out of the barns to head to Seokjin’s room more than once when he still lived in with the others. Since Seokjin is the only hybrid besides your little group that doesn’t stay in one of the main barns. And there were only so many places that Hoseok could be trying to go at that hour.

- They do make it official - though it takes a few days.

- It was early morning- just after breakfast and the three of you’d been buzzing with happy energy, Namjoon already half of the way out the door. Almost crashing into them where they’d waited unsure on your porch. “oh! Jin hyung! Hobi hyung!”

- Your morning plans for the usual gardening had been put on pause, Seokjin and Hoseok sitting hand in hand at the prep table while your hybrids try not to listen in. Namjoon doesn’t even bother - just stands behind you and rubs your shoulders while you listen. Their hands bound over the top of the table.

- “We’d do all of the work ourselves, and you know I wouldn’t ask you for any money for it- we want to do it on our own” Jin smiles, and you’ve never seen such a gently happy expression on his face. Next to him- the otter sits closer. Looking up at Jin like there isn’t anything more precious than he could hold in his hands. And while their love hadn’t completely escaped your notice- this is still a surprise.

- Seokjin makes a fair amount of money selling his yarns and other knitted goods from the alpacas and the sheep. You’d always been firm that he should keep the money he makes from it for himself and not give it to you to put into the farm. The same way you let the bear hybrids keep the money they make from harvesting the honey. You don’t own them- they’re their own people.

- One of the first things that Seokjin had bought with his money was a cellphone, and he and Hoseok excitedly show you ideas for tiny homes on Pinterest, boards of colorful little new England style cabins, loft beds, and micro-fridges. “We already have one in mind- you know the little cabin by the river?”

- Namjoon pipes up “you mean the old chicken coop? We can build you something nicer- the roof of that one is shot though- you’ll need an extra hand,” you look at their plans, careful doodles, and color swatches, nodding. “we’ll help you, of course, we’ll help you both.”

- And that’s how Seokjin and Hoseok had started work on their home. A separate place away from the rest of the farm for just the two of them to get some privacy. Though it's still on your property; neither of them has any sort of desire to ever leave the farm or each other now that they’ve found their mate.

- The house isn’t more than 200 square feet. And the roof does need a fair bit of work. But it’s not just a chicken coop like Namjoon had said, it’s got nice bones and a good foundation. It’s close enough to the animal barns where Seokjin will still be able to check on the animals every morning, but closer to the river.

- You don’t realize the significance of this until you’re helping them one day, Namjoon, Yoongi making quick work of some loose floorboards and the one wall that needs to be replaced. While Jimin and hoseok watch on- deemed a little too clumsy to help with some of the work. They look for wood-burning stoves on craigslist and other things that they’ll need to make the house complete. 

- Seokjin takes a moment, coming to your side to get some of your offered lemonade, his hair tied back with a bandana. Sipping at it as he looks at Hoseok and Jimin. their feet dangling over the edge of the streambed. “He finds it calming- he can’t sleep without the ocean. That’s how I first noticed him- I caught him sneaking out one night just to listen to the running water.” Seokjin had confessed to you, watching Jimin and hoseok giggle at paint names as they flip through a color swatch book. A far cry away from how they’d once been. 

- This little cabin is certainly close enough, a mere ten feet from the shore of the stream. And with all the windows open you can hear the babbling brook and the sound of the birds in the forest. Before they retire to Seokjin’s room above the stables. Both Hoseok and Seokjin stand in the cabin, taking their shoes off to feel the floor below them and think- this is it- this is our home. Holding each other close while they listen. Even if it will take another few months to get it truly in livable condition- to set the walls with insulation and electricity. This will be their home.

- But first, they cleaned it out. The whole bottom floor filled with dusty jam jars and weird bottles that Seokjin thinks must have been for moonshine. The next day- Jimin finds a few of the glass bottles have made the way into his new room. As Namjoon struggles to put together his new dresser, and Yoongi takes It over after Namjoon lets out his 5th frustrated sigh. They’re cleaned and polished, a small little rainbow of glass, filled with water and flowers that you pick with Jimin. 

- Every morning you bring him coffee in his room. And it slowly progresses from there, sometimes you just leave it and let him sleep. Other mornings. Jimin gets to wake up with you in his arms. Watching him or cuddling him close. He Wakes to a press of lips against his forehead and your hands in his hair. 

- His body always knows before he wakes. He’ll wake to find himself nuzzled close, or pulling you closer with greedy hands. He feels greedy with you now that he can have you every morning, though Namjoon gets the evenings. 

- And when he falls asleep at night his sheets smell like you, like peaches and cream. And then one morning he wakes pressed chest to chest with you. Your baby bump taking up significant space on Jimin’s tiny bed. And without thinking, He tilts his face forward. Kissing you softly and simply. Pulling away, whispering good morning. The pink in your cheeks says you’re shocked, but you pick up like it’s nothing The same way you took his confession.

- Kissing you is nothing like kissing Yoongi- at least not at first. It starts slow- just the simple press of softness against softness, lip to lip, and breath to breath. Until Jimin gets the hot feeling in his mouth and both of you open your lips and start to get a little lost in each other.

- The kind of kiss that makes Jimin want to reach out and hold onto you and never ever let you leave this bed. The kind of kiss that takes both of you apart gently and slowly and so carefully. Has him growing hard in his pants more than once. But you’re both shy- both so scared of pushing this any farther before the timing is right.

- Sometimes, Jimin will wake to you in his bed and Namjoon smiling softly at both of you from the door. “You know- you could always just sleep in our bed.” and Jimin knows that Namjoon might be just the tiniest bit jealous. Jimin has been stealing you away in the mornings after all- and it must be hard for him not to snuggle his mate every goddamn day especially with how soft and needy you smell. It’s so hard to leave the bed some days.

- There are more kisses after that before you go up to bed at night. Yoongi and Namjoon stretched out on the couch, Namjoon prattling on about how inaccurate a movie is while Yoongi indulges him and nods along. You kiss Jimin on the steps, winding your arms around his neck so sweetly, Yoongi wolf whistles and Namjoon chortles, “get a room!”

- But when Jimin looks over Namjoon just winks at him, and keeps talking. Like it’s nothing to kiss you so sweetly and normal to do it in front of them. There are no secrets between the four of you. Maybe there are things that are left unsaid and uncommunicated- but there are no secrets. 

- And that’s how Jimin first starts to fall into you. Easy and simple, like kisses and coffee in the morning. And Jimin loves everyone. Loves you so much sometimes it feels like his heart is going to break with it all.

- Jimin wishes his wanting stopped with the kisses, but it doesn’t, if anything it only grows. An ache in his jaw that wants to bite and consume like that moment with the kisses and Yoongi- he wants to kiss you deeper and deeper but it never ends up going that way. Not even when your bare thighs brush him in the morning and Jimin can tell you’re only wearing underwear underneath the shirt that smells so much like Namjoon.

- Jimin smells you on Namjoon, smells Namjoon on you, and wants and wants and wants. It’s worse on the mornings that you’re a little late coming to Jimin’s bed, and on the ones where you come in smelling undeniably like Yoongi too. And Jimin can’t fathom what it means and isn’t brave enough to ask.

- He asks Taehyung what it could mean- confessing it all in a rush one afternoon while they process some of the honey. Heating up the wax in the kitchen. Tae just laughs at him. “Are you sure they’re not all together? I mean- they are your pack Jiminie and he’s lived there longer than you have.” Yoongi has lived in your home longer. And it stands to reason if you and Namjoon have invited Jimin to your bed, that you might have invited Yoongi too.

- But Jimin doesn’t know for sure until one morning he wakes restless, his bed vacant. He can hear soft steps in your room. But when he peers down the hall, he’s shocked to find Yoongi softly closing the door behind him. His hair looks a little ruffled, his pajama pants hanging low on his hips as he slinks off to his own bedroom.

- You’re not the only one bed-hopping. And Jimin thinks about what it might mean. Yoongi hasn’t come to Jimin’s room. And he thinks back to the way Yoongi kissed him like it was the best and the worst, the sweetest but most forbidden thing. Maybe he’s just too nervous.

- Yoongi stays up late with Jimin, and they can both hear and smell the arousal that shoots down the stairs from both of you. Jimin has smelt it more than once by now, on you or on the air that bacons them- as members of the same pack to the same place. Jimin wonders how Yoongi handles it. Because it has Jimin growing half hard in his pajama pants, shifting on the couch needy. Yoongi’s too from the looks of it- but the snake never makes a move. Your moans echo from upstairs, their sensitive hybrid ears can hear every word that you share. And Jimin can almost taste you on the air.

- Namjoon’s gentle teasing growl is faint as is his words, “do you want them to hear you, my love? is that why you’re being so loud?- or is this” Namjoon pauses, and a wet sound fills the silence, “just too much for you?” 

- At night, when you’re not there, Jimin bites the pillow and lets his own hands wander. Feels guilty and not guilty at all when you end up in bed with him the next morning, and he licks at the hickeys on your neck left there by Namjoon’s mouth, tasting his alpha on your skin and on your lips. 

- Jimin goes to bed one evening alone, and lies listless for a moment before he realizes how much he wants to fall asleep next to you too- Namjoon too. How many times had Namjoon invited Jimin to stay in your room? How many times had he woken up to you by now? He knows the other room isn’t off limits and right now. His body shivers with need, for touches and touches, any that you’d give him. He tells himself he’s just looking for a goodnight kiss as he gets up and walks to your door, the house quiet so late in the evening.

- It shouldn’t feel so tremulous when Jimin walks to your room, to see the warm yellow light leaking through the door. Already cracked and open a few inches letting the noise of you and Namjoon spill out. The giggles he can hear, your voice, sounding the way you do when you smile. And then, a bitten-off moan.

- Jimin can’t stop himself from looking through the crack in the door- even though he knows it’s a private moment, that he really shouldn’t. You’re sitting in-between Namjoon’s legs on the edge of the bed. Jimin’s alphas mouth is firmly attached to your neck, licking and biting and sucking in a way that has Jimin riveted.

- But what really grabs his better judgment by the balls is the way that he can see the silhouette of your body through the large white shirt of Namjoon’s. The shirt so thin and well worn that jimin can see the shadow of your nipples and the hard outline that Namjoon’s hands smooth over, teasing them to a stiff peak. it has Jimin’s mouth-watering. Namjoon’s deep voice crooning as his hands pull at the hem over your baby bump, “let me see you, darling.”

- You’d complained to Jimin the other day that this far into your pregnancy none of your clothes were fitting comfortably anymore, and he can see the supple swell of your stomach and the generous curves of your body. Jimin can’t help but drink in, and stare at hungrily, swallowing thickly. A low whine of want building in his throat.

- He knows it’s wrong to be jealous, but he can’t help it. The feeling growing in his gut as he watches Namjoon pull you back to bed despite your protests. Namjoon looks deliciously good too; miles of his golden skin on display, his rippling thigh muscles exposed. Hair sleep or sex ruffled (Jimin can’t tell the difference)

- “Love I have to pee” you whine, Namjoon’s arms still ensnare your waist and he answers only with a playful growl as he hides his head in your shoulder. His hands roaming those curves like Jimin dreams of doing, Namjoon’s tail thudding against the plush comforter.

- You sigh, your head tilted up, one of your arms back behind you to tug at Namjoon’s hair, swollen pink lips parting in a sigh. He shouldn’t be watching this- this isn’t meant for him to see, this is intimate. He backs up and immediately hits a warm wide chest. “Yoongi!” Jimin squeaks, conscious enough to be quiet, his cheeks flaming as he’s caught.

- The snake hybrid raises an eyebrow in question. Yoongi looks ruffled, his hair messy from sleep. And it seems Jimin isn’t the only one who had plans on sneaking into your room so late at night. Yoongi’s cheeks are pink in the half-light.

- Yoongi leans in, nose so close to Jimin’s throat- where his scent is the strongest and Jimin almost flinches when he realizes how strung out and aroused he smells. Yoongi’s rippling growl makes Jimin’s legs week. 

- You’ve suddenly fallen silent in the other room; exchanging soft words that Jimin can’t hear. “I was just going to…” Jimin searches for a reason, to remember why he was here in the first place. His cheeks absolutely flaming, but before he can find a good reason to why he’s listening in and being quite the voyeur Namjoon speaks up from inside your bedroom. 

- “Jimin, Yoongi” not a question, but a command. Yoongi reaches around Jimin to push the door fully open so that both of you can see the two of them. “You can come in,” you say.

- Jimin has never been redder than he has been right now. Seeing you and Namjoon in your bed, obviously, about to- Jimin gulps audibly. “You don’t have to watch from the hallway” Namjoon teases. “You can watch from in here” Jimin is actually going to pass out, and you sense this, smacking Namjoon lightly on the arm. “Don’t tease him Joonie.”

- “Is it really okay if I-“ Jimin feels tongue-tied, his mind hazy with the smell of both of you, the pheromones that his sensitive nose can pick up on the smell of your slick, and Jimin’s mouth is suddenly so so wet. “I don’t want-“ Jimin breaks off; trying to keep his gaze averted, but can’t resist peeking. “I don’t want to make either of you uncomfortable.”

- Jimin sees out of the corner of his eye, Namjoon’s hands rubbing up and down your waist, and he wants to look, wants to see- but can’t. Keeps his eyes averted. “You don’t Jiminie- I” you break off when Namjoon’s hand travels further south. Your other puppy has absolutely no problem trying to distract you. Jimin can’t see exactly what Namjoon’s hands are doing but your chest jumps. And he realizes he’s staring again. 

-“If you’re going to look- you might as well help me take care of her too” Jimin has never heard Namjoon’s voice sound so guttural, and a look at Yoongi reveals his pink cheeks too. “unless you just want to watch like Yoongi does, that's fine too” 

- Jimin sends yoongi an accusatory glance, and the snake hybrid just shrugs at him. leveling him with a dedicatory look. well, Minnie- which are you going to choose?

- “I want- I want” jimin cant get the words out. He knows he doesn't want to leave. but is it really okay if he- is he really allowed to touch you? to make you smell like him the way that Namjoon does? Claiming you in that way. “jiminie- you can- I want you too-” your words are so quiet, face so warm. And it makes Jimin whine- looking to Namjoon for guidance. Imploring him to make the choice- to take the hint because Jimin just needs a little push. And from the looks of it so do you. 

- “You’re both obviously too shy to get it done- so let me take the reigns okay?” Namjoon counters to the silence. Yoongi is still standing behind Jimin, a step closer than should be necessary, and you give them both a shy, wide-eyed look. Like you’re checking to see that this wants it too. Jimin nods, short, jerky, unable to tear his eyes away from your face to see Namjoon’s expression until the elder shifts.

- Yoongi crosses to the other side of the room where a green velvet chair sits, stretching out and making himself comfortable. Whereas Jimin and Namjoon are always a little too soft looking to be threatening. Yoongi eyes the three of you like he’s some sort of predator. Tongue flicking out to lick at his lip. Like he can taste what Jimin can smell- the four of you- the smells of your arousals mixing together. Something satisfying and musky and undeniably pack that makes Yoongi's every instinct sing.

- Jimin has always appreciated Namjoon’s body, the strength there. In many ways he’s the stereotypical alpha; the strength in his arms and in his chest, his collarbones strong and chiseled, but he’s anything but cocky. There is someone so genuine about how unconcerned Namjoon is with his own body, and jimin can’t help but find his confidence attractive. 

- Namjoon lounges back against his hands, And the way he watches Jimin watch both of you lets Jimin know that it’s okay to look his fill. Yoongi too, the low rippling growl he lets out fills the room, makes you feel hot all over as his eyes roam you, Namjoon, and Jimin- the pretty picture you both paint.

- You sit between Namjoon’s legs, his hands on either side of your inner thigh parting your legs gently to show your wetness to Jimin. You make an aborted noise as you realize what he’s doing. All of you swollen and bear for him and nothing to cover you but Namjoon’s shirt and that just barely hiding the tone of your skin behind the creamy white fabric. You’re not wearing any underwear.

- Your pink core trembles a little, your hand gripping Namjoon’s forearm as he grins, drunk on the feel of you in his hands as he squeezed your thighs. Namjoon goes a step further Reaching down to glide a thumb across your wetness. Making you jerk in his hold as he hits the little sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your cunt, glistening wet and ready. 

- “Can you believe it?” he says, his voice a blown-out growl. “So full and still ready for us?” beside Jimin, Yoongi’s pupils are blown, his body jerking as he shifts in his chair, hips on the edge.

- You’re wet and dripping. Your face is hot as you look at him, standing there in the middle of the room, fully clothed while you and Namjoon are intimately bare. Jimin can’t tear his eyes away from you. You smell so ripe and for the taking.

- “You can come closer- you can touch Minnie, it’s okay,” Namjoon says it that way, but his eyes are on Yoongi, gliding down his hips to the bulge in his pants. Namjoon knows he won’t come closer- even if he really wants yoongi too. And Jimin sees that pain him- just for a moment before he puts his chin out in his direction. It’s okay- anything that Yoongi wants, whatever level he feels he can partake in this- it’s okay. Jimin wonders how Yoongi can handle it and hold himself back; how he can handle the dizzying rush of pheromones and not come closer.

- Yoongi settles, his eyes hazy and his legs spread to make room for his hands that touch with purpose. Jimin doesn’t know where to look- at him, his hands slowly smoothing up and over the bulge in his pants or at you. The way you drink in every line of Yoongi, stretched out in his tight pants. A simple hand at your throat, Namjoon rolling his fingers down from your chin to your collarbones. “Let's put on a show for him yeah? Is that what you want Yoongi?”

- Yoongi’s tongue is pink as it swipes across his lips, he nods. In a moment, Jimin feels a little unsure, but that instantly dissipates as Namjoon gestures for him to come forward.

- He’s never been touched or touched another in this way- not with love anyway. All of the small touches you’ve given him, hands on your shoulders the small of your back, felt nothing like this. His fingers reaching out, rounding on the edge of your knee experimentally. Waiting to see your reaction to make sure what he’s doing is okay. Namjoon’s tail starts up it’s wagging behind you. his hands shake with too warm palm smoothing over skin he’s never seen let alone been allowed to touch. He looks at you and feels positively ravenous, licking his lips.

- Namjoon trails a kiss down your neck and Jimin can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to sink into the skin there too. In a moment- he’s not sure if he’d rather be you being bitten or be Namjoon biting you on the neck. You probably don’t get the significance of it quite yet but Jimin- Jimin wants to be on the receiving end of that mark. To bear the mark of an alpha means to be under their protection.

- He wants all of it- all of your sweet looking soft and supple swells. Your body that’s accommodated the life within you so well and deserves a little appreciation. Anything, everything, Jimin and Namjoon will gladly provide. And Yoongi will be content to look. Not ready quite yet to be apart of this the way Jimin is. But it makes you feel hot all over, his piercing eyes on every movement. Barely even blinking.

- Jimin doesn’t know how to be the same sultry tempter that Namjoon is- but at the very least he can follow his lead. Jimin hasn’t had many sultry kisses- the ones you’d shared in your bedroom done with less intent, but he hopes that these can be just as satisfying. He leans in close to you, a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder to steady himself as he leans down. 

- The kiss is a gentle thing that Jimin knows won’t hurt. You’d never hurt him- because you’re like him. His softness and sweetness is just like yours. Both shy and honest- the genuine passion that overflows too easy. Like a hurricane filling a teacup.

- You know to go slow, and Jimin lets Namjoon- his alpha, (a whole rush goes down his spine at the idea of it) take the reigns. Feeling a comforting protective feeling wash over him as your lips play together. You suck on one of his lower lips, plush and soft between yours, and hasten a soft bite that has Jimin gasping, jerking forward to rest both hands of his on your upper thighs. Namjoon lets them go- lets you settle in between both of them.

 - He pulls away with a start. “I want both of you- please just- please- let me” you’re already pulling at the edge of his shirt. You’d seen his softness here and there too, but now, having him underneath the palm of your hands feels even better. Jimin has gained weight since he got to the farm yes- but he’s also put on more muscle than anything else, enough protein and hard work has left him soft but with clean edges, lines on his hips that point invitingly south. Dimples that you sink your fingers into.

- You hover there, skimming your hands along them, Namjoon reaching out from behind you to press a flat hand to Jimin’s pelvis, his flannel pajama pants still on, but still, even you can feel the way his abdominal muscles clench at the slightest touch. Even as you tug, give a pleading little whine, Jimin is so so weak to all of you. Jimin takes off his pants so quickly that he almost trips and falls into you, and a quiet chuckles and quick look says that Namjoon is equally as endeared by Jimin’s eagerness as you are. Even Yoongi is grinning.

- Yoongi makes a noise too and all of you look over, he’s got his pants pulled down his hips too, hands slowly teasing at the head of his cock hidden by his boxers. A wet spot there that makes jimin lick his lips. One-day Jimin will earn Yoongi’s trust enough to get his mouth on that length. Yoongi juts his chin out- an invitation to continue.

- Jimin wonders how often you’ve done this before with Yoongi- if this is only the second or third time. The question hovers on the tip of his tongue, struck out of his mind when you put your hands on him and touch him properly. Behind you Namjoon shifts, finally showing that he’s bare too- not even wearing underwear.

- A first look says yes, Namjoon is a little longer than Jimin is. But he’s far thicker than Namjoon and that small blessing in itself has a whole new kind of heat thinning in his gut. Especially when Namjoon stands and measures, going hip to hip with Jimin so that the head of his cock touches Jimin’s stomach. The older hybrid reaching out to skim his large hand over his head. Jimin’s already wet and sensitive gasping at how Namjoon’s hands- so big, fail to cover all of him.

- “I really shouldn’t call you puppy” he hastens with a chuckle, tugging at jimin’s erection, and Jimin can’t help but whine and pant. Namjoon’s mouth skims down and over Jimin’s shoulder, the contact lighting sparks under his skin with how sensitive he feels, and yet- it's still not where he wants it, Jimin feels vacant his mouth unclaimed until you stand too.

- This time you tug Jimin down with a hand in his hair, running your fingers over his ears the same moment that Namjoon bites down on his neck and pulls, teasing over the head of his cock. and it’s too much- too much so soon- making Jimin go soft and pliant as Namjoon sucks jimin’s skin between his teeth. Jimin doesn't know why the edge of a high rises so quickly only that it does and leaves his knees weak- almost giving out at the weight of all the pleasure. 

- To Jimin’s credit- he only cums a little- maybe not a full orgasm from just that. The shame and humiliation of Cumming so early makes him want to hide his face in you and hide he does. Especially when Namjoon lifts his hand up to look at Jimin’s release, chuckles, and licks it.

- He collapses into your front, breathing heavily already. The waves of your sweet arousal washing over him, his nose feels so sensitive he wants to bury it in your heat and breathe in deep, his whole body feels sensitive as Namjoon- now behind Jimin, smoothed his hands up and down his sides, somehow knowing he was a little too overwhelmed by so much so quick.

- He hopes that’s not weird- he has a feeling he’s just a little too touch starved not to get wound up. He doesn’t want this to be over that fast, wants to savor every moment. “I’m sorry,” he squeaks out, but you and Namjoon are quick to soothe him.

- “It’s nothing to be ashamed about Minnie baby, you’re just a little sensitive” Jimin loves that- that nickname falling from your mouth as your touches get slower. more sensual and loving so they don’t overwhelm him so fast. He can tell you and Namjoon and maybe Yoongi are sharing a glance, communicating silently about Jimin- but it doesn’t make him feel annoyed. It just makes him feel cared for. 

- Jimin knows he could go again, isn’t finished, he’s still rock hard, cock bobbing and twitching against his stomach. He just needs a moment to calm down. 

- You guide him to sit back up against the bed and he lies, half in your lap and half to the side. Shifting closer to you with his nose pressed to your neck, licking and sucking to his heart's content. Leaving his bruises right next to Namjoon’s. 

- You’re used to the way that Namjoon gets after an orgasm, his more animal instincts closer to the surface. Sometimes he even fails to speak with words, instead favoring whines and growls. It doesn't surprise you at all that Jimin would fall into a similar headspace the second he got overwhelmed. He laps at your skin, tail thumping as his ears twitch. His nose drawing small circles. The instincts in him pulling him lower as Namjoon rubs up and down his back soothingly.

- Jimin doesn’t realize where he’s ended up until your soft laugh and Namjoon’s chuckle join in tandem. “I take it back- you’re a puppy.” Jimin goes absolutely bright red as he opens his eyes and realizes that he’s been nosing at your breasts, the origin for your milky sweet scent.

- “Can I- have a taste?” he asks. And you turn hot for a whole different reason. you push him off a little, and Jimin wants to whine before he realizes that you’re finally taking off your shirt. and /oh/ you’re so soft looking. Your chest ample and swollen- you look absolutely perfect.

- “Sure but- uhm- I’m- just don’t be surprised if I-” you’re stuttering and shy and Namjoon just leans over, pulling lightly at your sensitive nipples so that Jimin can see for himself. He really is good at making sure you guys don’t get too shy to continue, he’s a good alpha.

- At the sight of a small bead of milk tugged forward by Namjoon’s hand Jimin growls, He tugs a little more and a single droplet travels down your sternum. You exhale as you feel the full heavy feeling that your breasts have taken on these past few weeks starts to ease a little.

- Jimin notices your discomfort the way you shift and doesn’t think- his instincts taking over before he leans forward and hastens a lick. taking the droplet from your skin into his mouth and licking up- so that he doesn't waste a drop. his plush lips melt around your nipple and he closes his eyes- savoring it. It only takes a small suck for your milk to really come in, and you shift instantly under Jimin's hands, throwing your head back with a sigh as the ache eases. Jimin growls and pulls you forward by a hand underneath your back, jostling you in his eagerness.

- You taste so sweet, the fatty liquid sliding down his throat as he suckles eagerly. Namjoon buries his fingers into your hair, pulling you up to kiss him but Jimin isn’t paying attention- can’t concentrate on anything other than the smooth taste of you sliding over his tongue as he sucks and sucks and sucks. the taste of you- the cream to your peaches and cream scent sliding like ambrosia over his tongue. 

- Jimin may not be talkative- brought down to his lower basic instincts- but he does make noise. His tail wagging behind him Hitting Namjoon’s, a whine mixing with a growl. Eyes rolling back into his head- he can’t help it you just taste so fucking good. 

- You can’t concentrate on Namjoon’s kiss either; your mouth open and a little sloppy, Namjoon levels you with a hot look. “What do you say lovely? Does she taste as good as she smells?” Jimin is so drunk on you that he barely even hears Namjoon. His teeth nip a little, you hissing a little.

- Namjoon tugs on Jimin’s hair and the other hybrid growls. It’s a Feral and angry sound- anything that would take him away from your sweet taste would have jimin angry. It’s so unexpected- that he would be so possessive- that Namjoon actually laughs. 

- You do too, though it’s quickly interrupted by a moan when Jimin pauses his sucking to lave a lick against your nipple. Namjoon holds him too far away for him to properly suck. “Gentle puppy” Jimin’s hands grip underneath your breasts, possessively clinging to you. whining at Namjoon. begging his alpha to let him go back. Namjoon lets Jimin tug his own hair before he guides his head back to you. 

- Namjoon keeps your eye contact until the second he lowers to suck too. Having both of them at the same time overwhelms you. Especially when you look past their heads and see Yoongi licking his lips too. Stroking his red cock slowly and carefully. The head is already red, and you can tell from the way he pulls off that he’d edging himself. Hips shaking every time he senses his touches. And you wonder if he wants to cum with you. His throat bobbing every time his tongue darts out.

- Having both their mouths on you makes you keen. And when Namjoon guides Jimin’s hand to your cunt you lose it- moaning, panting their names and gripping at their heads, pulling their hair. Jimin’s hands are sloppy as they grip and touch. Hungrily exploring your thighs. Namjoon’s a little more guided, paying special attention to your entrance. When he realizes Jimin’s gotten distracted feeling up your thighs and ass he guides Jimin so finger you, smooth fingertips rubbing at your walls in time with his sucks, while Namjoon rubs smooth circles against your clit.

 - You time the rolls of your hips with Yoongi’s as he shallowly fucks his hand.

- You cum like that, both their hands on you, and Yoongi’s growl, Namjoon’s head snap up. “You can cum Yoongi” Namjoon commands, with a fucked out chuckle. Your milk caught in one of his dimples. Yoongi’s hands are tight around the knot at the base of his cock, cum dripping down around his wrist, his head thrown back. Lazily spread out, his limbs turned to jelly.

- To Yoongi- it doesn't feel awkward to have cum so soon. If anything the sheer intimacy of it all- knowing that he can be vulnerable and fucked out in front of both of you- makes him feel even hazier. And just because he’s cum- doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy the sight of you three all tangled together.

- Jimin’s hardness pokes at your thigh as he straddles it. Rocking against you in time with his sucks. hands returning to their appreciation of your thighs once you’ve cum, head a little clearer. Namjoon is equally as hard and waiting. Namjoon groans as one of your hands finds his cock. 

- You’re used to the way he likes it by now, concentrating your attention on his head. Your other less dominant hand still makes Jimin jerk. Fucking into the tight circle of your hand that can’t fit around the entirety of his cock but is more than enough to tease his head until he’s throbbing.

- Jimin gives one last bite as your milk peters off; no more left and your other breast rightfully as drained, pulling away and licking at his lips. He’s so high on the taste of you, the smell of you, all of you that he barely realizes he’s grinding against your thigh or into your hand. Namjoon stills your hand against him when he gets close. Your thighs shake as Namjoon guides both of you to sit back; pressing a kiss to your forehead, Jimin’s, and then your tummy.

- “Why don’t you watch and see how it’s done puppy” Jimin gets off, sitting on his knees to the side and resists the urge to touch. Namjoon gives him a look and you look up from where you lie against the bed, grinning at him. but he’s obedient, doesn't touch, and just watches to learn. 

- “Would you cum again if I called you good b-” Jimin flushes, scrambling to get a hand over your mouth and stop you from finishing that sentence as his cock twitches and dribbles pre-cum onto the blanket. Face flaming as you laugh against his palm. “Yes- so please don’t I just want to-” Jimin whines. the humiliation making him hornier somehow. Yoongi’s rueful grin and Namjoon's expectant expression that says Jimin is just the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

- It’s somewhat of an honesty thing too- because you know Jimin- you know him so well enough to tease him and have it not be awkward but arousing- knowing just the right words to say to get him riled up. To prove to you that he can be good- can learn how to fuck you well without cumming (again) “why don’t you help me hold her Minnie.”  

- Namjoon’s smirk is happy and a little fucked out as he pulls your hips to the edge of the bed by your ankles, your laughter turning into a giggle. Knowing how Namjoon loves to man handle you. And you’d be lying if his strength- the fact that he can still lift you without issue even this far into your pregnancy wasn’t a little bit of a turn on. 

- Namjoon gently manhandles you into the position he wants, you stretched out against the sheets, your nipples all puffy and pink from the way Namjoon and jimin mercilessly handled you earlier. A bruise forming where Jimin was a little rough, half-circles from his mouth. 

- Namjoon guides you to hold your hands above your head, guiding your wrists into Jimin’s to hold you there, his hands lacing with yours, bending down to kiss you. You gasp into Jimin’s mouth at the first push of Namjoon into your dripping cunt. The push and pull of his hips. It’s as erotic as it is sweet, Jimin presses his hips to the bed to relieve some of the aches but does not rut forward. And a look from Namjoon tells him to be careful- he’ll allow that- but the next time Jimin cums Namjoon wants it to be by his command.

- “You see Minnie- she’s not the biggest fan of a rough fuck- we’ve got to be gentle with her see, but as long as you make them deep and long she likes it” Namjoon shows Jimin and below Them, you moan. Lacing your fingers with Jimin's. 

- There is a certain unspoken dominance between Namjoon and the other hybrids. You too- though that has less to do with scent and the instinctual pull that you feel to be good for him. Jimin can’t get a good handle on why exactly he wants to do everything the elder says only that the idea of Namjoon being upset with him right now sends a jolt of fear all the way to the end of his tail.

- When Namjoon cums it’s with a low groan, and you squirting weakly around his cock. Your thighs are shaking and Namjoon leans close to kiss you through you high, then leans up to kiss Jimin too in reward for being patient. 

- You’re panting, body humming with pleasure as you feel namjoon’s knot press just outside your entrance, bulging so much that his rocking rubs against your clit. Namjoon is careful to fist his knot in his hand, meant to lock him and his partner in place to ensure a pregnancy would take place. If you were a hybrid you would be keening for his knot, probably crying for it. But as it is you’re a little glad he didn’t decide to stretch you out on it today. 

- You’re sure that the next time you cum your eyes are going to roll back. And you might pass out. It’s happened before. The first night you and Namjoon ever let Yoongi watch you. Namjoon had so thoroughly put you through your paces that you’d collapsed, and come to with two very panicked hybrids standing over you.

- Especially because it would have taken several long minutes to go down and Jimin is hard and aching for you. Namjoon is a good and patient alpha; he’ll let Jimin knot you tonight. Namjoon gives his knot one final squeeze before he gestures for Jimin. He lets go of your hands unwillingly, joining Namjoon at the edge of the bed.

- Namjoon pulls you by your legs to the edge of the bed, the movement so sudden that it makes you giggle. You’re a little fucked out, but it only makes your hybrids endeared. You close your eyes as Namjoon manhandles you into place, sighing out a “fuck” as he sees you below him. god- Namjoon loves you so much and you can feel it in every touch. 

- He hitches your legs up and asks you to hold them, hands gripping underneath your knees. Keeping you bare for all of them. Jimin’s mouth waters when he sees your wet and messy cunt, a little bit of Namjoon’s cum dripping out of your entrance.

- Fuck just getting his mouth on Yoongi; Jimin wants to get his mouth on all of you. Huh- maybe he has some sort of oral fixation. Jimin is so caught up in imagining it he barely processes Namjoon stepping away, tugging jimin in close and positioning himself behind the other dog hybrid, Namjoon’s knot and wet cock presses up against Jimin’s ass as Namjoon uses his hands to guide jimin into your heat. 

- Jimin is so thick. So big compared to your entrance, the stretch doesn't burn after Namjoon but you do feel full- so deliciously full that it makes you gasp and grip jimin's shoulder, letting your leg fall against his hip. 

-  You're so wet and warm; Jimin has to slow down immediately. whining loud in the quiet room. “Alpha- I can’t-” namjoon's hand forms a vice around the base of his cock, keeping him from cumming. “You can- and you will Jimin” Weather it’s your wetness or Namjoon’s cum that makes the slide inside of you so slick. He can only thrust forward so far before his stomach makes contact with your baby bump, and the slide, the simple push of your hips against his makes him feel tingly all over.

- “Fuck you feel so good,” Jimin pants out, and you smile, reaching forward to brush his hair out of his face and over his ears, sending a shock of pleasure all the way down to his tail. Maybe it’s because he’s been wound up so much, or because you’re still tightening with the last thrum of your orgasm that makes Jimin come so easily. 

- He’s only been trusting inside of you for a few minutes before he feels his knot start to swell, pulsating against namjoons fingers and ready to spill inside. namjoon lets him go and Jimin can barely keep himself from getting rough with you. though he won’t- would never dream of hurting you. It feels nice to be filled by him, and you feel yourself brought to the edge again by his gentleness- he doesn’t have to thrust quickly for it to feel good- just being this close- as close as you two can get to each other is enough.  

- It’s not Jimin’s first time having sex. But for all intents and purposes. You’re the only ones it matters for. He sends a panicked look in Namjoon’s direction, unsure if he’ll be able to hold off. His hands shaking where they sit, entwined with yours. Body crouched as close as he can to you. Through the entirety of it- Namjoon has been stroking up and down his back, and he grips his hips now- guiding him through each thrust to make them less sloppy.  “Alpha- alpha please-“  

- “You can cum Jimin, make sure you knot her.” At his alphas command Jimin cums with a shout. Namjoon pressed to his back and Yoongi hissing over his shoulder. Watching every thrust with baited breath. namjoon pushes jimin’s hips inside at just the right moment and you twitch as he knots you. feeling him swell inside you more than should be possible entrance pulsating in time with his twitches. jimin cumming into you with squirts and squirts of warmth as you milk his knot.

- You squirt weakly- and it drips down around his cock and makes it even wetter if that’s even possible, no doubt leaving a puddle against your bed. you hold jimin close and he wants to collapse against you but doesn't because of namjoon holding him around the middle, guiding you to safely sit to the side, giving your little baby bump a little loving rub. “Gotta keep the bun safe minnie” namjoon chides. “Sorry hyung just- so good” Jimin slurs. eyes still rolling back in his head as he just keeps Cumming. 

- “Can I call you good boy now?” you tease, and jimin whines again predictably as both namjoon and yoongi nodd. Jimin’s knot does not stay inflated as long as namjoon’s does. starting to shrink after a few minutes once he stops cumming really. though the occasional spasm of your walls around him has him tensing again. 

- When its gone down fully he makes to pull out but namjoon catches his hips again, and tells him to wait. A shiver goes down his spine as yoongi walks over to watch. your leg flopping to the side, open so that he can see, though you grumble and cover your flaming face. it might be a little embarrassing- but it’s also really fucking hot- the way they like to see how much they’ve wrecked you- claimed you in a way they only could.  

- jimin doesn't understand until he sees namjoon and yoongi’s ravenous expressions, the way they lick their lips. it’s only then that namjoon carefully guides jimin to pull out. 

- the rush of cum is immediate, forced out of your entrance by your lingering orgasam makeing you clench and force their cum out of you. there's so much of it, dripping down your thigh thick and viscous and so so messy. 

- jimin is so overwhelmed, as his cock keeps dripping. he flops back onto the bed after a second, close enough to you to be wrapped in your arms, both of you huffing with labored breathes, Namjoon gripping hard around his waist and guiding him into the comfort of the bed and your arms. Hands splayed wide on Jimin’s trembling stomach. Pinching at Jimin’s knot for a moment. And the whole room spins.  

- Jimin is so pretty when he arches his back to try and get away from the over stimulation, especially when your hand joints namjoons and you both squeeze- head thrown back in ecstasy, his plush lips parted with his pants. “Stop fuck- too much” your hands are off of him the second he says it. Jimin’s eyes are closed, as you lean in and kiss at his neck. “Sorry puppy” he hears the older alpha chime- Jimin whines, his whole body turned to jelly.

- You’re barely sighing and settling back into the sheets, head tilted to get a sloppy fucked out kiss from Namjoon. Yoongi lingers. And you look up at him expectantly. His cock is still hard and curving against his stomach.Somewhere between jimin and Namjoon in thickness and length but ribbed with veins that stick out like the ones on the back of his hands.

- You think he’s going to mount you too (your deepest darkest fantasy’s hope that he might. You have to admit that you like the idea of one of them going one after another, Cumming in you, making you feel full and well fucked. You’re certain that one day- if they still want this- if they want to keep doing this with you. You’ll have that, each of them knotting you and filling you up- breeding you and making sure they knock you up again. human hybrid pregnancies are so rare they’re practically non-existent, but you know if there where any that would manage it it would be these three.)

- jimin’s eyes nearly roll into the back of his skull when he smells yoongi closer, nostrils flaring, “gotta help us breed our omega yoongi” he slurs. clutching posessively at you. The words so unexpected but so right. Namjoon can’t take his eyes off Yoongi. While in his arms. jimin tries not to dose- thoroughly spent. 

- It’s the kind of language that Namjoon’s used with you before- calling you their omega- though you’re human you know what it means. To be theirs, taken care of and knocked up and fucked out. You and Namjoon- for the amount you bicker like an old married couple. Also communicate a lot,

- Though talk of your fantasies has mostly been pillow talk. Both of you spoke of wanting this before it happened and of your feelings for the others too. Namjoon had squealed almost as much as you had when you’d told him of jimin’s confession.

- You’d done your best to learn all you could about hybrids. So it never struck you as strange when Namjoon had come to you and confessed that Yoongi would one day be apart of his pack. Namjoon’s alpha instincts choosing Yoongi- spreading protectively over the snake hybrid. Namjoon hadn’t had much control over who was accepted into his pack- much in the same way that you have never have control over who you fall in love with.

- And maybe it was through you- that Namjoon and Yoongi eventually found a way to connect beyond the touches. Because Yoongi looks at the utter mess of your entrance, splattered with jimin and Namjoon cum and growls. His hands barely brushing your skin as he guides you to spread your legs and bare yourself to him. You dont understand what obsession they have with looking at your cunt- but there has to be something. 

- Namjoon ever insatiable even snakes his hand around to spread you out for Yoongi. Teasing at your outer lips before his thumb presses against your clit- making your legs tremble. His touches so slow and firm, enough to make you absolutely desperate for another orgasm.

- Yoongi won’t touch you, he won’t make you cum- you know that enough by now because as much as Yoongi loves the intimacy you have it’s still too much for him. But one of his fangs hangs out over his lip when Namjoon starts to finger you. Rubbing their cum into your clit. And like you could read his mind, Yoongi starts up his stroking above you. 

- He never breaks eye contact with you. Beside you, Jimin shifts to watch. His sweat making his hair stick to his forehead. “I’m not going to stop until you’re squirting,” 

- “Why do you always want to- ah- make me messy?” you tease Namjoon- bickering with him even now. “Who knows maybe dirt is just my kink.” 

- Jimin snorts, “You hate gardening Namjoon-“ you laugh, but you’re also squirming in overstimulation, as Namjoon’s thumb teases and teases until you’re trembling, and you want to gasp say that you can’t possibly cum again- but a look over your shoulder tells you that Namjoon knows you can. Yoongi’s eyes lock with yours when you look back, and you see the sweat on his temple, Namjoon’s hand speeding up when his does.

- Cumming after a few minutes with a gush that makes your cheeks flame. Hips jerking up and off the bed as you squirt- pussy clenching so hard that it forces their cum out to drip. Timed with you again- the intimacy of it all- of Cumming together, Yoongi’s cum spurting all over your stomach before he directs it to your clit. Mixing with the other hybrids cum. 

- You’re thoroughly spent, legs falling open with no shame to hide you from the painful friction that would surely arise if anything touched your clit right now. Reaching out for arms that gladly take you. Ready to have them close.

- Jimin sits up, brain finally a little clearer as the pheromones in the room start to dissipate, leaning forward to hasten a lick Over your entrance tasting all of you intermingled makes his tail wag. But you’re a little too sensitive even for that- and you pull Jimin away before he can give a second lick, and he curls up close to you in the next second, face buried in your shoulder. 

- He’s just as fucked out at you are, wrung out and hung to dry by all of this intimacy and pleasure making his body feel satisfied and settled. Unwilling to move from this bed. speaking only through whines and grumbles. Practically non verbal- and brought low into his hybrid headspace. Jimin and Namjoon don’t mind the mess on you. To them- it just smells like pack and home.

- He’s dimly aware of Yoongi going to the bathroom to get a rag for you- because as much as you love the feeling of all of their cum filling you up you really don’t want to have to change your sheets and luckily for you- most of the mess of your lovemaking has been well contained On you skin and your well placed blanket that can easily be exchanged for a fresh one.

- Namjoon softly turns jimin over onto his stomach, Jimin’s red cock pressed uncomfortably to the bed as they wipe down the release on Jimin’s back too. (Had Namjoon cum there? rutting in-between Jimin’s ass cheeks as he’d been inside you? and had Jimin been too lost in the throws of his passion to realize?)

- “I love you Yoongi, thank you for letting us do this, thank you for being apart of this.” he hears you say, and it makes Jimin’s tail wag.

- He stays awake long enough to hear Namjoon switch the fan on and to feel Namjoon swallow both you and Jimin in his arms. He hears them quietly conversing. “Are you sure you don’t want to come closer?” Yoongi must indicate one way or another. Because Namjoon quietly settles. 

- The bed shifts, and he gathers Yoongi must have curled up several inches to the left of him. jimin squirms- wishing he’d come closer. but then he feels the slow trail of Yoongi’s fingers just along his spine and smiles into your hair.

- He wants to reach out, to pull him closer- but Jimin won’t know that touch is so tenuous for him. He knows him not partaking tonight isn’t anything to do with not loving you three. Jimin will respect Yoongi’s boundaries for as long as it takes for Yoongi to not feel a bit of the aching hesitation he suffers through when it comes to loving his pack. His eyes closed, he feels fingers trail along the edge of his hairline, ears flicking and nose twitching, Jimin lets out a happy little puppy grumble.

- “Love you” he finds himself whispering against your hair, “love you all so much” his words are slurry and not all there. And he’s rewarded with Namjoon muttering it back, reaching out to run a hand gently along his cheeks. A large hand knots in his hair, not rubbing through and just gripping, and jimin knows its Yoongi hand.

- Yoongi stays awake that night until all of you are asleep, wishing that for once- he felt the pull of Namjoon’s alphaness the same way Jimin did. The younger certainly seemed hazy; all of the tension in his body giving way with Namjoon’s will exert itself over him. But he’s content to see them the way they are now, all soft and vulnerable. Namjoon and Yoongi bookending the both of you curled together in the middle. So peaceful. Yoongi hopes he can make the two of you feel as safe as Namjoon makes you feel.

- Yoongi reaches out to touch your face, thumb drifting a hair's breadth from your lips, he knows he could never hurt you- never even dream of it. His mistress- owner- this mission was doomed from the start. He was yours- for all intents and purposes of the words. Yoongi didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. Other than your bed at that moment. 

- And when he closes his eyes He imagines all the ways that he would touch you if he could. How he would have touched you tonight if he’d just allowed himself too. Maybe in the future- maybe in a few days when he gets used to this togetherness he’ll get to be close to you in the way he so desperately wants. Tonight was so nice, and with you smelling like all three of them. Yoongi feels like he’s apart of this- in a way that he hasn’t felt before. 

- it’s not only touches he wants- it’s the love you share too. All of the words he would whisper low in your ears where he able. He’d find out your favorite foods and cook them every day, find out everything you like- badger you even. So that he could learn your favorite things and hopefully earn the right of being one of your favorite things too. 

- He imagines the three of you holding him close in the winter and giving him space in the spring when his skin gets all sheady and itchy. Maybe you’d even make him one of those oatmeal baths that you’d started to favor towards the end of your pregnancy to help ease the shedding process. he imagines Jimin prodding at his scales and counting them. Namjoon kissing the ones behind his ear. 

- Yoongi thinks of the future you have with namjoon and jimin and thinks about you and your child. Yoongi imagines for a second even though the image hurts; what it would be like to see them. He feels his heart ache so viscerally it’s too much- he can’t think about that. 

- He can't think about what he can’t have. In the next few days he’s going to do his best to love you three and protect you and then that will be that. that's all yoongi gets. Not a life with you or a family with you. And then he opens his eyes, swallowing. And thinks that even if he doesn’t get to see all of that- at least- at the very least, he can savor every moment like it might be the last.

- And it is the last moment, Five. 

-  Four. He leaves the room to get a glass of water. If he’d known, maybe he would have looked back when he crossed over the threshold of your bedroom door. The clock ticking down to zero in an instant like a timer left unwatched. 

- Three. If he’d known, maybe he would have leaned over Jimin’s body to kiss your lips- just to kiss you once. Given Namjoon a kiss too. Touched Jimin's face to say ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the love you want, but they’ll give it to you in my absence,”

- Two. On his ways down the stairs, the house is quiet and so familiar. The only home he’s ever had, the only place he’s ever wanted to stay forever.

- One. He’s just on the landing, when he sees the car out-front, black with its lights off, but if he listens he can still hear it running, as quiet as a mountain lions purr. Then He hears a quiet knock at the door. And Yoongi pauses on the steps.

- The clock stops at zero.

- The cherry of her lit cigarette is the only thing that glimmers in the moonlight with any color. That and the red tip of her tongue as she rolls it over her teeth. Yoongi freezes in fear the second he sees his owner, standing with her arm against the doorframe. 

- A wash of cigarette smoke tainting the scents of all of you on him. He sees her farce, her thinly veiled superiority, and the tenseness in her body. Three men behind her. it’s all a lie, she’s angry and she’s afraid and she’s a devil in human skin. 

- “Times up Yoongi.” One moment- he just needs one more moment. Holds up her finger and for once, she listens. Taps her foot impatiently. 

- The house is quiet, upstairs you sleep on, unaware of what happens below. 

- The next morning you wake up to Jimin and Namjoon curled up close. Their soft breathes intermingling in the golden light of morning. Jimin nosing underneath your chin. You cuddle close for a moment letting the safety of sleep melt away, before you sigh and get up to get dressed. The heats broken over the night, and you wrap your fluffy robe around your shoulders just to feel a little cozy. You don’t know why you feel so restless, but it’s like your bones are cold.

- Things are too quiet, the hum of Yoongi’s air conditioners aren’t running, aren’t filling the top floor of your house with their white noise hum. And you realize something’s wrong the second you pause by his door. Usually, his air conditioners run through the night, and leave the space under his door and immediately outside in the hall cooler to the touch, but a look inside after a nock reveals his room is empty, his straw hat is missing from its hook too. You’d assumed he’d left after last night to sleep in his own room because yours was too warm.

- You spill out onto the first floor of your house looking for him, searching for him by the coffee maker or on the couch watching the morning news, but a small commotion, terse hush words interrupt your train of thought.

- The cat hybrids are crowded around something on the table. Breakfast barely even started. One of them turns when they see you in the doorway and if any of them notice something different about your scent- probably drenched with both all of your hybrids. None of them say anything. If you had to guess- you’d say that whatevers wrong is much more pressing than any hybrid faux pas.

- “We were going to wake you” one of them says, biting her lower lip, her torn ear twitching. “We didn’t think you’d want us to move it until you saw.”

- The crowd parts, and you pull up to the side of the prep table. a blanket is folded on the table- it’s Yoongi’s- the heated one. The one that he needs to sleep if he’s going to not wake up shaky and too cold in the middle of the night. His sun hat- the one he always wears sitting on top of it, a little note sitting there too tucked into the leather band.

- The simple note- two words that aren’t enough to soothe the sudden panic in your veins. “I’m sorry” written in his neat scrawl. The words he wants to say but can’t- had to erase and then scribble over so you can’t read them. “I’m sorry I can’t stay, I would if I could, and I want too so bad. it’s not your fault that i had to go.” 

- But there are just those two. I’m sorry. Not enough and almost visceral in the way that they shock the air out of your lungs. You gasp- almost falling with the way it hits you. You wish it wasn’t true, but deep down you know what it means.

- Yoongi is gone. 

Please Reblog and Comment! Likes are nice but they do little to support content creators! 

Kofi

[study-coffee-chicago]

Seasons of PD: Season 2: Will’s Back...and There’s a Bomb (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister! Imagine)

Your age: 14

Jay's age: 28

Will's age: 30

"Spoke to Dad," Will said to Jay as the two brothers were sat in Jay's apartment sipping their respective beers. "Said you two barely talk. Said if it wasn't for Y/N, you probably wouldn't see him at all."

"I mean, he's not wrong." Jay shrugged.

"Care to elaborate on that?"

"Not really, but you should've been here. You should've been home. Mom was dyin'. You were off partyin'."

"You left," Will said as he set his beer down and leaned forward on the couch.

"I left to fight a war. I came home. And you know why that was?" he asked rhetorically. "It was because my humvee hit an IED and me and Mouse were the only two who survived! And because Mom was sick! I came back for Mom and I came back traumatized! Nothing bad even happened to you in New York and you left two fucking days after her funeral, man!"

Luckily Will hadn't been holding his beer or he would've dropped it right then and there. "Jay, I- I never knew it was so hard for you to come Stateside again."

"Forget it. You weren't there then, what makes me think you're gonna be here now? You're probably taking off in another few days anyway, am I right? Not even gonna go see Y/N? Even though she always wants help on her math homework from you and you don't even have the decency to answer her phone calls!"

"I'm sorry that I don't have my phone on me when I'm performing surgeries, Jay!"

Jay's phone rang, stopping the argument in its tracks. "Speak of the devil," Jay mumbled and then answered the call. "Hey, Y/N, what's up?"

"I don't understand this stupid homework," you groaned from your desk in your bedroom at home. "Why do I even need to know the equation of a line, anyway? It's not like I'm even gonna use it in life anyway."

"Y/N, like I've told you numerous times, I can help you if it's a single variable problem, but anything more than that, I forgot how to do it. Not really helping your teacher's case for actually using this in life, am I?"

"Yeah, not at all. I guess I'll just try and call Will...he's not gonna answer anyway, but I guess it's worth a shot."

"Wait, how about you FaceTime me?" Jay suggested.

"Why? You already admitted that you can't help me."

"Just do it."

"Okay, gimme a few minutes. I gotta switch devices."

"Oh yeah. You don't have an iPhone yet, only an iPod and a slide phone. Sucks to be you."

"Well, I'm sorry that I don't have a grown-up job and can buy my own stuff, Jay."

"And with buying your own stuff and having a grown-up job comes bills. So, be glad you can't legally work yet."

You rolled your eyes. "I'll call you back in a few minutes. And, whatever this is, better be able to help me with this homework since math is my first class tomorrow."

"It'll help. I promise."

"Hmmm, sure." Then, you hung up and switched to your iPod, and hit the FaceTime icon.

"You look like- you look tired," Jay said when he accepted the FaceTime call. He almost said that you looked like hell, but he figured he shouldn't say that.

"Thanks," you replied sarcastically. "You would be, too, if you've been staring at the same problem on your homework for the past hour."

"What's the equation you have to work with?" Jay asked.

"Y=mx+b," you answered.

"Yeah, vaguely remember that. Don't know what it means, just remember hearing it a bunch. Will, you know what that equation is and how to do it?"

"Will's at your house? I thought he wasn't getting back for another week."

"I thought so, too. And then I got called to a bar today because he was being stupid--"

"Hey, I was not stupid!" Will protested.

"Fine. He was being dumb and tried to break up a fight. And, now I think he's got a job at Chicago Med because he got fired in New York--"

"Y/N," Will butted in, "you said you needed help with your homework?"

"Yeah."

"Jay, can you please give me the phone so I can help our little sister with her homework please?"

"Uh, fine. She'll know why you left New York eventually," Jay said as he passed his phone to his older brother.

"Eventually. But not tonight." He turned to Jay. "Can you get me a piece of paper? I'd grab it but I have no idea where you keep stuff in this little bachelor pad of yours."

"Like you didn't snoop through my stuff when I was at work," Jay joked and stood up to get Will a piece of paper.

"Y/N, for Christmas I'm getting you a subscription to Chegg so you don't need to call me for this."

"I'm holding you to that one."

***

God, I hate running on the track. It's literally just running in circles and seeing the same things over and over, no variety in the scenery whatsoever. I wish I could run with Emma, but she's way faster than me, so she's ahead of me by like one or two laps. Uh, this song sucks! I gotta skip--

"Run lockdown! Run lockdown!"

What? Run lockdown? What is the high school cross country coach talking about? Maybe it's just something that the high schoolers have to do for their drills because I sure have never heard of that one.

But then, you saw Emma jogging toward the bathrooms a few yards away from the track.

What the hell?

You ran towards the bathrooms a few yards away from the track and didn't stop until you'd caught up with Emma. "What's going on?"

"No idea. Something about a lockdown."

Once all of you and your coach, Mrs. Rivers, were safely in the bathroom with the door locked, did you get any closure about what was going on.

"There's been a bomb threat."

"What? A bomb threat?"

"What?!"

"So we can't leave?"

"Girls, I need you to be quiet, okay? The police are looking into it, but for now, the campus is on lockdown and we can't leave here until I get the all-clear. The school's already notified parents, so if someone else is picking you up today other than your parents, you need to call them. Just ask and you can use my phone. Everything's going to be okay, though. We have nothing to worry about. We just need to sit tight until I'm told we can leave." Her phone buzzed and you all held your breath. "Looks like Miss G got stuck in the boys' bathroom with all the stinky football boys."

"What if we walk home?" you asked quietly.

"If you walk home, a parent or someone else will have to pick you up since they don't want anybody walking home because, as of right now, they have no idea who did this."

***

"How's your brother doing?" Erin asked as she and Jay were standing around the coffee pot in the break room.

"Pretty sure he's going to quit the new job he just got at Med even though it's his first day," Jay answered.

"What? He got a job at Med?"

"Yeah. Apparently, they were looking for ER docs and he got the job. But, for some reason, now he wants to quit. And, he was late today. Decided to bitch to me about only having almond milk and not having any regular milk in my fridge. Like, dude, you're staying with me. You can deal with a bit of almond milk."

"I don't blame him," Erin laughed. "Almond milk is disgusting."

"But it's better for you...and cheaper."

"Of course that's your reason for getting it."

"Halstead!" Antonio yelled. "Your phone's been ringing off the hook for the last minute. I think it's important."

"Be right there!" Jay quickly poured himself a cup of coffee and then rushed over to his desk.

"Shit," he muttered.

"Who was it?" Erin asked as she emerged from the breakroom, holding her own cup of coffee.

"Y/N," he answered as he fiddled with his phone. "Called me three times in the past minute."

"Any idea what it's about?"

"No, but I'm about to find out."

"Jay!" you whisper-yelled from the other end of the line.

"Y/N, what's wrong? Why are you calling me so much? Are you sick? Do you need me to--"

"There's a bomb."

Jay almost dropped his phone. "A bomb? Are you sure?"

At the mention of a bomb, everyone's heads snapped towards him.

"Yeah, we're hiding out in the bathrooms near the football field right now until they get the all-clear," you told him. "But, they can't let people walk home from school today and Dad's not answering and it's Will's first day, so I was wondering if you could pick me up?"

"Yeah, yeah, I can do that. Do you mind if I put you on speaker for a quick second?"

"Why? I'm fine Jay, really. Just needed to know if you can pick me up."

Innocent fourteen-year-olds, Jay thought to himself. Of course, she just called to pick to see if you'd pick her up. She hasn't grasped the gravity of the situation, and she's probably thinking that this is just another story to tell. Not that if there's actually a bomb at her school that she could be dead any second if it goes off.

"You're sure you don't want me to stay on the phone with you?"

"You can go."

"Okay. Just, listen to the adult that's in there with you, okay?"

"Okay, okay. Bye."

"Bye I love--" He was cut off by the beep which signaled that you had hung up. "--you."

"What's going on? A bomb?" Erin asked, but Jay was already making his way down the stairs.

"Sarge!" Jay yelled as he made his way to the front desk.

"Well, hello to you too, Chuckles. If you're looking for Voight, he's just meeting with a CI and should back soon," Platt told him.

"Sargeant, all due respect, I don't give a damn about Voight right now. I just need to know if you have any idea about the bomb threat at Central Chicago's high school and middle school campuses?"

"I know that they sent someone from bomb squad and some patrolmen over there to see if there's anyone who seems suspicious--"

"Why wasn't Intelligence notified?"

Platt's jaw dropped and she stared at Jay for a second before speaking. "Because last I checked, detective, those schools weren't in our district--"

Jay slammed his hand down on the desk. "Jay," Erin said and grabbed her partner's arm. "I need you to calm down for a second, okay?"

"I don't need to calm down, Erin," Jay spat. "I have every reason--"

"I understand, but being pissed at Platt here isn't going to fix anything. Go back upstairs and I'll be there in a second."

Jay ripped his arm from Erin's grip and stalked upstairs, not without slamming the gate when he was safely inside the Intelligence Unit's area of the 21st District.

"What's his deal?" Platt asked. "I have half a mind to write him up for insubordination for that little scene he just caused."

"Sarge," Erin started, "the school that called in the bomb threat, that's the school Y/N goes to, Jay's little sister."

"What? I thought that only elementary school kids were at school right now?"

"That's true unless there are sports practices."

"And Y/N's in a sport, so she's at school right now." Platt put the pieces together.

"Yeah. And, I know that family isn't supposed to work cases, but could you maybe make an--"

"Erin, go grab Halstead and Dawson, get down to the school. I'll send the information upstairs to Atwater and Ruzek and they can see what they can get. I'll also call Voight and tell him to meet you there."

"Thank you, Sargeant!"

Erin jogged upstairs and into the bullpen. "Jay, Antonio, we're heading to the school! Kev and Adam, Platt said that you're working the case from up here. Voight will meet us there."

"Copy that," Kevin answered.

Jay holstered his gun and was halfway down the stairs before Kevin even finished his sentence.

***

"Kev, what do we know?" Jay asked as they were driving over to your school.

"Uh, I pulled footage from the high school's office and apparently an unknown dude walked in, asked a question, and then walked out all in the span of less than a minute," he answered.

"Can you run facial rec?"

"Nah, not a good enough angle."

"Description?"

"Dude looks Indian or Middle-Eastern to me. He's got short, black hair. Some stubble, not a ton, but it's enough that you can see it even with the bad angle I got. He's kinda chubby, too. Wearing a tan jacket. That's all I got."

"Thanks, man. That helps. Anything from bomb squad?"

"They haven't located a bomb yet, so I guess that's a good sign, right?"

"It is if there's no bomb," Jay replied. "But, just because they haven't found it, doesn't mean there's not a bomb. Whoever the hell did this could've just hid it really well or do whatever a psycho does when they want to blow up a school full of kids."

Jay relayed the information to Erin and Antonio who were also in the car and then hung up his phone. "Any word from Voight or anyone else when I was on the phone?"

"No, you want me to go to the middle school or the high school?" Erin asked.

"Wherever you can get in."

"Jay, we have badges, we can get in anywhere."

"Middle school then. I'm assuming that's where Y/N is."

"Okay."

"Wait!" Jay exclaimed, almost causing Erin to slam on the brakes. "When I was talking to Y/N earlier, she said that she was in the bathrooms near the football field so we need to go to the high school."

"You're sure it's that field? Isn't there a football field at the middle school, too?"

"That's just a shitty practice field," he answered. "Anyway, the high school football field is the only one that has bathrooms near it so that spectators can go to the bathroom when they go to the football games."

"I shouldn't have to tell you this, Jay," Antonio started, "But you can't just burst into the locker rooms and try to get Y/N out of there. No parents are allowed in or out to pick up their kids. And, you're no different. You have to wait for the all-clear to get her out of there."

Jay hated it, but Antonio was right. No matter how much he wanted to get you as far away from this campus as possible, he couldn't until the bomb squad made sure that there wasn't a bomb anywhere near here. If his time in the Rangers had taught him anything, it was that one misstep, and the whole place could get blown up in a nanosecond.

Erin started to pull into the parking lot of the high school near all the cop cars, when one turned on their sirens and pulled in front of them, effectively stopping them from getting any further.

"I know you're worried about your kids," the patrolman said once Erin rolled down her window, "But we can't let anyone in or out until this is all sorted."

"We're not parents." Erin pulled out her badge. "Detectives Lindsay, Dawson, and Halstead from the 21st District's Intelligence Unit."

He looked at the officer next to him. "Desk Sergeant from the 21st said that there'd be some detectives coming." He pushed the button on his radio before anybody could tell him otherwise. "I got the detectives from the 21st here right now."

"Copy," the person on the other end said.

Jay wanted to jump out of the vehicle and strangle that patrolman with his bare hands. "Are you fucking insane?" he yelled.

The one who keyed his radio stepped out of the patrol car, and Jay did the same. "Are you Dawson or Halstead?"

"Halstead. But you, you must be new here because if there is one thing you absolutely do not do when there's even the mention of a bomb is key your radios."

"No offense, detective," the patrolman in the driver's seat started, "but everyone here has been using their radios since we stepped onto this campus."

"There's no bomb," Erin muttered.

They all knew what the patrolman's statement meant: if they had been using their radios the entire time they were here and a bomb hadn't gone off, then there was no bomb to begin with.

Antonio and Erin both stepped out of the car now.

"Who's your sergeant?" Antonio yelled.

"Why? Why do you care?"

"Because of what he just said! You can't key your radios when there might be a bomb, so I think your whole district might need to go back in for a mandatory re-training!"

"I'll call Voight," Erin said.

"Fucking idiots," Jay muttered as he pulled out his phone.

As soon as he was about to dial your number, a call came in from Kevin. "There's no bomb," Jay said as soon as he answered, not even giving Kevin time to tell him anything.

"I mean, yeah, I was callin' to tell you that the bomb squad just declared an all-clear."

"Thanks."

"How'd you know before we even got the call here at the district?"

"They were keying their radios the entire time and nothing happened."

"Yeah, that'll do it."

"We should be back at the district soon."

Jay hung up and made his way to the bathrooms.

You were sitting in silence with Emma next to you when a banging was heard coming from outside causing you to jump.

What if that's the bomber and he's got a gun and wants to kill us before the bomb can get to us? It was irrational, yes, but it was still possible.

"Chicago PD! This is the all-clear."

It was as if everyone in the bathroom let out a collective breath at hearing that there was no bomb or that the bomb had been dismantled.

"Alright girls, you heard the man, we are good to go," Mrs. Rivers said. "Let's head back to the middle school so you can grab your stuff and start getting back to your parents. Was everyone able to get ahold of someone to pick them up? Because I can bring people home if necessary."

All of you filed out of the bathrooms and into the crisp fall air. You were barely onto the sidewalk when you got pulled into a bone-crushing hug.

"Who the--" You looked up. "Hi, Jay."

"Oh my God, you're okay. You don't know how worried I was--"

"Jay, I'm fine," you squeaked out. "But please let go. You're crushing me."

"Sorry, sorry," he apologized and then let go, not without looking you over for injuries even though you promised him that you were in fact fine.

"50-21 George, 50-21 Lincoln, 50-21 Frank, and 50-21 Squad, assistance is requested at Chicago Med for a 10-34. Are you able to assist?"

Jay's eyes went wide and his breath caught in his throat.

"Jay? Jay?" you asked. "You gonna answer that?"

"This is 50-21 Lincoln, hold us down on that 10-34 at Chicago Med," Erin's voice said through the radio.

"Halstead! We gotta go now!" Antonio yelled.

"Jay, what's going on? Will's at Med. What's happening?"

"Come with me," Jay said and then started ushering you towards the car.

"Shit," Erin said when she saw you. "Antonio, you wanna go with Voight, and then me and Jay will drop her off at home? We can't exactly bring her with us."

"Yeah, good idea." Antonio turned to you. "Glad you're safe, kid."

You nodded as he jogged off to find Voight. Then, you turned back to Jay. "Why are you going to Med? Whatever it is, I wanna go with you because what if Will's hurt? I wanna go!"

Jay got in the passenger seat without answering you and you got in the backseat. Erin started driving to the middle school so that you could go get your backpack from your locker.

Once inside school and connected to the wifi, you took out your iPod and pulled up google.

What does 10-34 mean?

The answer almost caused you to drop your iPod on the tiled floor.

10-34 is a police radio signal that means that a bomb threat has been called in.

You ran to your locker and with shaking hands, put in the combination. How was Jay so calm? How was he so calm when you were silently freaking out? And, to make matters worse, he got to work the case while you were going to be stuck going home and just waiting to see if Will (and Jay for the matter since he would no doubt be in the vicinity of the blast zone) was safe, just waiting to see if your oldest brother, who you just got back, would make it out of his new workplace alive.

You hustled out of school and then got into the backseat of Erin and Jay's car. "There's a bomb threat at Med?"

"Who told you that?" Erin asked, turning around in her seat.

"I googled what 10-34 meant. Jay, please, I wanna go with you. I don't wanna go home!"

"No! I know you wanna make sure that Will's safe, and I do too, but you gotta understand that it's not safe for you there, Y/N," he pleaded.

"It's not safe for you to be there, either!" you argued.

"Y/N, I know you're scared, but I'm trained for this kind of stuff. You are not."

"Please," you begged as your lip began to tremble. "I-It'd be faster for you to just go to Med from-from here instead of dropping me off at home."

"She's got a point, Jay," Erin said.

"What? No way, Er! There is no way in hell she is going in there with us!"

"She doesn't have to go past the tape with us. Just somewhere close by." Erin turned back to you. "Would that make you feel better, Y/N? Being somewhere close by?"

You nodded as you wiped away a tear.

Jay sighed. "Fine," he relented. "We'll drop you off at Mama Garcia's to get your homework done since it's a half-block away from the hospital."

"Will's okay, right? You checked in with him?" you asked.

"I haven't yet, but I promise you when I do, I will text you. I just need you to stay calm and focus on yourself right now. It's no use worrying about Will when you can't do anything about it."

"That's what Mom used to tell me when I was worried about you when you were in Afghanistan. She always told me that it's no use worrying about it since none of us were there with you."

"See, you gotta trust what Mom always told you, kiddo. She was a smart lady after all."

***

"Tell me you're not in there," Jay spoke into his phone as he and Erin walked into the police tent-like structure equipped with fancy tech gear outside of Chicago Med's emergency department.

"I am," Will answered, causing Jay's stomach to drop. "Listen, the guy who blew himself up in here, said he had something worse than Ebola."

"What, like he's spreading it since he blew himself up?"

"Yeah, so essentially, every single one of us in here has been in contact with him."

"Who was he?"

"No idea. But do us all a favor and find out."

"Son of a bitch," Jay muttered as he pocketed his phone and entered the tent-like structure where a bunch of people, including the FBI, were sitting at computers.

"Talk to Will?" Erin asked.

"Uh, yeah," Jay answered, "he says he's in there. Apparently whoever the hell blew himself up in there was infected with something that he said was worse than Ebola."

"So if these people get out before we figure out what it is and if it's treatable, we could have an epidemic on our hands?"

"Exactly. Damn, Er. With that mind of yours, you should've gone to med school."

"Very funny, Halstead. You're looking at someone who barely graduated high school and didn't even go to the academy because being in the back of cop cars on the eastside for half my childhood was more than enough experience to qualify me for this job right here."

"I'm gonna start making some calls." Jay turned his attention back to the situation at hand. "Apparently traffic was a mess earlier and Voight and Antonio got called to headquarters to brief some higher-ups about this."

"Fat chance of them knowing anything right now. They've gotta just be trying to keep all the info away from the press." Erin's phone rang. "Speak of the devil."

"I'll call HQ and try to get some more back up to control the situation," Jay said to no one in particular.

***

You kept fiddling with your slide phone, just opening and closing it as you tried--and failed--to focus on your homework as you sat in one of the far back booths at Mama Gracia's. The news was of course playing on the tv in front of you and all the headlines were about what was happening at Med.

"Again we have word of an event at Chicago Med," the news anchor read from her script. "The CFD was able to contain the victims to the ER, but Ebola was mentioned."

Ebola? That was the disease that wreaked havoc on Africa last year.

You knew Will was a doctor and that he was smart, but if he became infected and it was in fact Ebola, what if he died? What if, since Jay was close to Med that he somehow became infected and he died, too? What if you lost both your big brothers in the same amount of time because of some psychopath who decided it was a good idea to blow himself up and put innocent people--innocent first responders--in danger.

"Ay, cariña. ¿A dónde vayas?" Mama Garcia asked as you stood up and made your way to the door, intent on exiting the small restaurant.

"¿Qúe? No entiendo," you answered. You had started taking Spanish this year, so you only understood one word of what she had said to you.

"Sorry, honey. Where are you going? Your brother said to make sure you stayed here."

You and Jay were both pretty close with Mama Garcia. Seeing as it was very close to Med, when your mom had been hospitalized for cancer years ago, you'd always come in here to get dinner. It was here that Mama Garcia had taught you all the words of the toppings that one could put on their tamales, tacos, or burritos, shocking your Spanish teacher when you told her you could tell her in Spanish exactly what you would put on your tamale when you learned about food in class.

"I'm just going for a walk," you answered. "I need some fresh air."

"Okay, don't go far," she warned.

Once out the door, you breathed a sigh of relief and started to walk towards Chicago Med.

When you got close enough, you saw a big white tent and a bunch of fire trucks. You crept to the side and started walking around the side of the building, where there were barely any people and only one cop to keep people at bay. You smiled at him and watched the scene in front of you.

You had seen of those firefighters before on a rare day that you were at the district waiting for Jay and one of them had to walk the firehouse dog, Pouch. He was super cute and all the firefighters were really nice and let you pet him!

"What is it Casey?" a deep voice bellowed.

You knew Casey! Well, you knew of him at least. He was the one that Hermann always said would write him up if he was gone too long with Pouch, so that was always the excuse he gave you when he had to leave the district to go back to the firehouse.

You couldn't hear what Casey said on the other end, but you could hear whoever this guy was talking to Casey. "Okay, we're gonna need to get some CO2 extinguishers inside."

"You mean you're out of fire extinguishers?" a woman next to the firefighters asked.

"Afraid so."

You turned on your heels and sprinted back towards Mama Garcia's. You were a girl on a mission.

"Mama Garcia! Mama Garcia!" you shouted as soon as you were inside.

"Y/N, ¿Qúe pasa?" she asked as she stuck her head out of the kitchen where she was preparing a bunch of batches of tamales.

"They're out of fire extinguishers at the hospital, do you have any that I can bring over there?"

"You are just like your brother," she said, "super sneaky."

"When you live with older brothers and have to steal their Halloween candy, you learn how to be sneaky, Mama Garcia," you joked.

"I'm not even gonna ask how you know this. There's one fire extinguisher back by the bathrooms and I've got two back here I can give you. Esperes un minuto."

You went and grabbed the fire extinguisher from the spot where it was stored in the back by the bathrooms and waited for Mama Garcia to come out with the other two.

"Thank you!" you exclaimed as you took the big bag from her which contained the two other ones. She had put them in a bag for you since they were super heavy.

You slung the bag over your shoulder and carried the other one in your hand. You knew you couldn't run because these were really heavy, but you knew you had to get to Med to help them. Both your brothers were there! And you'd get there, even if it was a lot slower than you had originally planned when you formulated this plan when you were sprinting back to the restaurant five minutes ago.

***

"Is there a detective Halstead here?" a patrolman walked into the tent-like structure and asked.

"That'd be me," Jay answered as he raised his hand and turned away from the computer screen he had been looking at.

"There's a girl outside, Y/N I think she said her name was. Said you're her brother and that she's looking for you. Said she might be able to help."

Jay turned to Erin. "Go," she urged him.

Jay followed the patrol officer to where you were standing and to say he didn't look happy would be an understatement.

"I thought I told you to stay at Mama Garcia's!" he yelled over the crowd of people and the firefighters shouting out orders to each other. "It's dangerous for you here!"

"I know and I'm sorry! But, I came here to see if Will was outside, and I heard that one firefighter talking into his radio thingy, and then the lady next to him said that they were out of fire extinguishers."

Jay crossed his arms in front of his chest. He was not impressed.

"So I ran back to Mama Garcia's and I grabbed these." You held up the fire extinguisher that you had set on the ground next to you because you had been carrying it for a while now and you thought it was going to rip your arm off because of how heavy it was.

"Let her in," Jay declared.

He grabbed the extinguisher from you and then made his way over to the firefighters.

"Chief!" he yelled. "I've got some fire extinguishers here!"

Chief Boden cocked his head to the side. "How?"

"Apparently my little sister was here and she heard Ms. Goodwin say that you were out of extinguishers. So, she ran to Mama Garcia's and these are from her restaurant."

You set down the bag that contained the two fire extinguishers. "Geez, those things are heavy!"

"That they are. Thank you for these..." Chief Boden trailed off, not knowing your name.

"Y/N," you answered.

"Well, thank you Y/N."

"You're welcome, Chief. Please get my brother out of there safely."

"We're doing our best. And, call me Wallace."

He nodded at Jay and Jay placed a hand on your shoulder to lead you back to where he had been working alongside everyone else who wanted to figure out what the hell had gone on in there. Behind you, you heard the other firefighters volunteering to go inside the hospital.

"You're not making me go back to Mama Garcia's?" you asked Jay as you walked.

"No," he answered. "It's gonna get dark soon and I don't need you sneaking off from there again."

"So, I'm staying here so you can keep an eye on me?"

"Precisely."

***

You were sitting in a metal folding chair, scrolling through your iPod--wifi courtesy of Jay's hotspot--when three people entered the tent-like structure.

"Detective," Sharon Goodwin said as she entered the area where everyone was working. Jay looked up from the computer he was working at. "The parents of..." she trailed off, allowing you to assume that these were the parents of the man who had blown himself up.

"Alright," Jay said as he walked over to them. "Please, have a seat."

His voice was monotonous, not soft like when he was talking to child victims and not angry like when he was trying to get a hardened criminal to break. His voice, it was just...there.

"Is there anything you can tell us?" he asked once the parents had sat down.

"He was a smart boy," the man started, "always nice...and helpful. This country has given us so much. How could this have happened?"

"He claimed to be infected with something similar to Ebola."

You felt like you couldn't breathe. So, what the woman on the news had said was true. Your brother--and everyone else in the hospital for that matter--could be infected with something similar--or god forbid, worse--than Ebola.

You couldn't take another funeral. You couldn't take losing another family member before you even learned how to drive, hell before you even got to high school.

Your mind flashed back to when you were four years old. Will was in college and Jay was in his senior year of high school. It was springtime and the weather was just starting to get nice out.

You woke up from sleeping and realized you were thirsty. Seeing as you didn't think it was super late yet, you hoped that maybe Jay or Will would still be up and they'd give you a cup of juice. They were on babysitting duty tonight because your parents had gone out for a date night and knew they wouldn't be back until the early hours of the morning.

With Beary gripped tightly in your hand, you walked down the hallway and towards the kitchen. You saw the living room light on, and then it was quickly turned off.

"Mommy? Daddy?" you asked.

The only light now was from the hallway and you were starting to get scared. Monsters would come out if it was too dark!

Suddenly, the light was flicked back on.

"Y/N, what are you doing up?" Jay asked as he walked towards you.

"I want juice," you told him. But, then you looked at what he was wearing. He was wearing one of those shirts that he had to wear when you and your mom went to his soccer games at other schools. Jay always said that if he didn't wear this type of nice shirt, that he and his team would have to run suicides. You didn't know what those were, but they didn't sound nice. "Why you not in your 'jamas?" you asked. "You have a game? In the dark?"

"Uh," Jay blanched. He couldn't exactly tell his little, very talkative sister, that he was sneaking out to go to a party. "Let's get you some juice."

"Okay!"

Jay got you some juice and started to take your hand to walk you back to your room and tuck you back in when you turned to look at him. "So you going to play soccer? Or you going to see Allie?" He always wore those kinds of shirts when she came over in one of her really fancy dresses. And, Jay would give Allie a flower bracelet, too!

Jay crouched down so he was eye-level with you. "Y/N, you know what a secret is?"

"Yeah! It's when you can't tell somethin' to somebody. Mommy said secrets are bad," you told him, while you swung Beary back and forth in your little hand.

"Well, they're not all bad," he told you. "So, if I told you a secret, you'd be able to keep it?"

"And not tell Mommy or Daddy?" He nodded. "I dunno. I don't wanna get in trouble and have to go in time-out, Jay Jay."

"You won't get in trouble, I promise. And, if you promise not to tell Mommy and Daddy and Will, I'll get you a big pack of Oreos."

"I get Oreos for not telling Mommy and Daddy and Will?"

"Yes, you get Oreos if you don't tell them."

You'd do just about anything for Oreos!

"Okay, I keep it a secret. Where you going?"

"I am going to a friend's house to hang out."

"Okay." You didn't know what was so bad about that, but you wanted to get your Oreos, so you'd keep your mouth shut.

"Alrighty then, let's get you back to bed. Because, if I'm not mistaken, princesses need their beauty sleep."

He tucked you back into bed and got out of the house safely. Now all Jay had to do was to entrust you with the secret that he had snuck and went to a "friend's house", which was code for going to a party.

You had almost fallen back asleep when your door creaked open.

"Y/N," Will whispered.

"Will?"

"Yeah, it's Will," he answered and flicked on your bedside lamp.

"Were you talking to Jay a few minutes ago?"

"No," you lied. You wanted your Oreos!

"Are you sure about that? Because I could've sworn I heard you say Jay Jay."

"You wrong," you told him defiantly.

"Oh yeah? Because I heard him mention Oreos."

"No, no Oreos. He only got me juice."

"So you did talk to him."

"No, I didn't."

"Then who got you the juice?" Will knew you couldn't pour yourself a glass of juice without spilling it everywhere. He also knew that the glasses were up high enough in the cupboard that you needed someone else to reach them for you.

"Uh, uh, the-the juice fairy!"

"The juice fairy, huh? I've never heard of her. Because I could've sworn I heard you ask him if he was going to play soccer and he told you that he was going to a friend's house."

"No, he didn't!" you protested.

"Tell you what, kiddo, if you tell me where Jay went, I will give you Oreos, too."

You furrowed your eyebrows. Will was gonna give you the same thing and Jay might be mad at you. You needed something more. "Oreos and Sour Patch."

"Deal. Sour Patch Kids or watermelons?"

"Kids," you answered.

"Okay, it's a deal. Now, where is Jay going?"

"He went to a friend's house. But he was wearing one of those shirts he wears when he has to go to other schools for soccer," you answered.

"He's going to a party," Will muttered.

"A party? Like my tea parties?"

"Something like that." Where the tea is beer, Will thought to himself. "But, now you have to wait for Jay to give you your Oreos, and then I'll give you your Sour Patch Kids and Oreos."

"Then I have two Oreos?"

"Exactly. Now, time to go back to sleep."

The next day, Jay gave you a family sized-pack of Oreos that you hid in your room. The day after that, Will came home from studying at the library with a family-sized pack of Oreos and a big bag of Sour Patch Kids for you that you also ended up hiding in your room. And, that night at dinner, Will told your parents that Jay had gone to a party. He was grounded until the end of soccer season. But, Will had successfully taught you how to blackmail someone.

"Y/N." Erin's voice broke through your memories of being a little kid and being taught blackmail by your oldest brother. "I need you to breathe for me. Can you do that?"

"W-What if Will-- What if he gets the--"

"Y/N, match my breathing."

She took a deep breath in and you tried to follow. It took a few tries, but your breathing eventually evened out and returned to normal.

"Will," you heard Jay say.

Before you could even think, you had jumped off your chair and were barrelling towards Jay. "Will? You're talking to Will? Is he okay? Is he gonna come out soon?"

"Y/N," Jay spoke calmly, "we just need to ask him some medical questions. Go back to where you were."

"Is he okay?"

"Y/N's here?" Will asked from his spot in the ED. "Why? How?"

"It's a long story. But, I'm gonna put you on speaker so that you can tell her that you're okay and then I need you to answer some questions."

Jay put the phone on speaker.

"I'm fine, kiddo. Really. You wouldn't want to see me right now anyway. You wouldn't want to come in here either because it smells really bad."

"You promise you're fine?"

"I promise. Now, I think I need to answer some questions?"

"Yeah, yeah," you heard Jay say as you walked back towards Erin. It was quiet in there now, as everyone was listening intently to what Will was saying.

Apparently, Antonio and Voight had looked up where this psycho worked and had figured out that he was the same guy who had walked into the high school's office earlier that day, which he probably did for a distraction. Now, they just had Will on the other end telling the infectious disease specialist in the ED all the chemicals that he had been working with so that she could test for them.

***

"Jay! Why'd you turn off your hotspot?" you whined as you pulled up google.

"Because you heard the bacteria and the strain and I know you. I am not letting you go down a google rabbit hole to look this up and try and figure out if Will's gonna die."

You sighed and put your head in your hands. Jay was right, of course, he was right, he's a detective for crying out loud!

"But what if Will's gonna die?"

"Y/N." Jay walked up to you. "He's not gonna die. He's gonna be just fine."

"But you don't know that!"

Jay's phone rang. "It's Will."

"Put it on speaker."

"It's not contagious," Will said.

If you weren't sitting down, you would've fallen to the ground in pure relief.

"So, you're good?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Everyone's good. Whatever he had, it died with him. I've got some patients that need work, but I'll be out soon."

***

Everyone from the hospital, the police, and the firefighters were all currently packed into Mama Garcia's. You, Will, and Jay had snagged a booth because your backpack and homework were still there from earlier.

"That's one good thing about being the middle child I guess," Jay stated after he had taken a bite of a tamale. "Not having to be the victim in one of these bomb situations."

You knew he meant, here, today, in Chicago and not overseas. And, you weren't about to wreck his joke by mentioning that.

"Yeah, but you had to work it," Will pointed out.

"Technically, you did, too, man. I think Y/N was the only one who got out of this without a payday."

Jay's phone rang. "Why's Dad calling me?" His eyes went wide. "Oh shit! I didn't tell him that I picked you up from practice." He threw his phone to Will, who narrowly caught it. "You talk to him!"

"Me? Why me?"

"Because he likes you better!"

"But he's calling you!"

You swiped the phone from Will's hand and answered it. "Jay? Do you know where Y/N is? I came home from work and--"

"Dad, it's Y/N. I'm fine. Jay picked me up from practice and I'm assuming you got a phone call about what happened at school and then he had to go to Med to work that case."

"Med? As in Chicago Med? Where Will just started working?"

"Yes, Dad, Chicago Med. And, we're fine. We're just a Mama Garcia's getting dinner."

"It's ten o'clock at night!"

"I know, and we should be home soon. I promise I won't complain about getting up in the morning."

"Okay, well, I'm glad you three are safe. Just next time, tell Jay to call me."

"Okay, Dad. Bye, love you."

"Love you, too."

You hung up the phone and passed it back to Jay. "He didn't disown me, did he?"

You laughed. "No, no he did not."

"Y/N, right?"

You looked up at the sound of your name to be met with a firefighter.

"Yes, and you are...?"

"Matt Casey." He stuck out his hand for you to shake and you did so. Despite hearing about him, you'd never actually met the lieutenant. "Chief Boden mentioned that you were the one who ran down to Med with all those extinguishers."

"Oh, it was no big deal," you told him shyly. "They're actually Mama Garcia's. I just heard you needed them, so I asked if I could run them over to you guys. It's her you should be thanking."

"Well, you played a big part in that. So, if you want a dessert, on behalf of me and all the guys at 51, it's on me tonight."

He handed you a ten-dollar bill. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. You made up for your brother almost black-tagging Severide."

"You did what?" Jay practically yelled.

As for you, you had no idea what they were talking about. "What? What's black-tagging?"

"You know what? Never mind," Casey said. "Thanks for all your help today, you guys."

"You were the ones who got them extra fire extinguishers?" Will asked, flabbergasted after Casey walked away.

"Yeah. Jay here wasn't too happy about seeing me over there, but when I told him why he calmed down a bit."

Erin slid into the booth next to Jay and he gave her a kiss.

"Ew, guys! Child in the room!"

Jay stuck his tongue out at you.

"I think he's the child in the room, Y/N," Erin said as she thumbed at Jay.

"So, Y/N, anything else interesting happen today? How'd you do on that math homework I helped you with last night?" Will asked.

"I did really well on it, but that's not even the craziest thing that happened at school today."

"Oh, yeah? Then what was?"

Oh man," you sighed. "Where do I begin? I think to tell you that story I'm gonna need to go get me some Flan."

You picked up the ten-dollar bill Casey had given you and slid out of the booth. If someone would've told you that you'd be buying Flan at Mama Garcia's at ten o'clock at night on a school night, you wouldn't believe them, but it would be plausible at least. The rest of the day? Well, you weren't sure that anyone would believe that you and Jay had been at the location of not one, but two bomb threats in the span of a few hours.

Once you got your Flan, you settled back into the booth. "So, it started out like any normal practice except we had to go to the high school to use the track..."

A/N: Guess who cranked out more than 5k words to get this finished today? That's right, me! Anyway, thank you for almost 8k reads! I know this technically wasn't a PD episode (It was Chicago Fire Season 3 Ep 19), but it had both Will and Jay, and the timeline made it so that it was season 2 of PD, so I thought it was fitting. Finally, please reblog/like and comment and tell me what you think about this one!

If you’re in the taglist, please tell me if it worked, I’m new at this!

taglist:  @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox

[bubblyhoney]

soundtrack

warnings: sailor language, suggestive themes/mentions of sex, drinking, nicotine use, being tipsy/intoxicated. no graphic or explicit nsfw content besides basically tonguing and giving hickeys and an ass grab.

tags: karl jacobs x fem!reader

words: 1898

A/N: i wrote this thinking that both people in this fic are of drinking age; i’m not, but i thought it would be a cool idea. i can assume many adult gatherings feature alcohol, so yeah. drinking isn’t integral to the plot of this fic. also it is pre-(or post)pandemic bc it’s just a general rule of thumb to not have parties right now.

-

“Don’t, kill, me,” Karl warbles, setting down his bottle with a sigh. Freaks plays loud and tinny on the TV, album cover bathing those occupying the couch in a grayish light. Those occupants being just you and Karl. The room is lit with purple string lights and that one thrifted lamp with frogs on the shade he’d sworn was the best purchase he’s ever made. You’re sprawled out on the other half of the sofa, ankles crossed and a can of vodka seltzer swaying in your hand. The song changes to 20 Min by Lil Uzi and your foot bounces to the beat.

“What time is it?” You sigh, placing the nearly-empty can onto the coffee table next to your apple berry-flavored pen. He flicks his wrist towards his face.

“2:46,” he delivers, and takes a swig of the Angry Orchard in his hand. His sixth, specifically. The rest of the group had left roughly ten minutes ago, leaving the two loneliest people to drink alone. You, thoroughly tipsy, decided it was better to spend the night on his spare than pay $50 for an Uber. He agreed, of course. Why wouldn’t he?

Lifting onto your elbows, you just stare at him. He lifts an ankle to cross over the other and your eyes drop. What is his fascination with Spongebob socks?

“We should play 20 questions.”

“What?” His head swivels like a bobblehead and a giggle barely escapes your lips.

“20 questions!” You say excitedly, heaving onto your knees to look at him earnestly. “You go first.”

“Um, okay.” The song fades into Paper Planes and he bobs his head to the beat. “What’s your favorite breed of dog?”

“Shiba inu. Are you a virgin?”

The fucking tone of your voice makes him dissolve into giggles, hand pressed to his chest. You just shrug, reaching for the pen in the table. “Fair question, I think,” you say defensively. His chest heaves, but he sits up.

“No—no, I’m not a virgin.” His cheeks are red, but he’s smiling like it was an easy answer. Your mind floods with images of his long hair in your face, long fingers—a sweaty chest. You shake your head. “Okay, my turn,” he continues, giving you a weird look. “would you rather kiss Chucky Cheese or Ronald McDonald?”

“Karl!” You whine. “That is not how 20 Questions works!” You grumpily pull from your pen, blowing the smoke out of the side of your mouth. Eughk. Apple berry sucks.

“Fine, fine,” he sighs, rolling his eyes. The tell-tale guitar chords of The Adults Are Talking floods the room and his face brightens with a new question. “Have you ever been to a concert?”

“Yes, actually. The Jonas Brothers in 2009.” He wrinkles his nose, finishing his cider and dropping it onto the coffee table with a sharp noise. Your eyebrows furrow. “Don’t you dare badmouth my boys.”

“Wasn’t gonna!” He reaches for your pen and you give it to him with a slight pout on your lips that he glances at.

“Good. Where is the weirdest place you’ve had sex?” A grin climbs your lips.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.” His eyes widen and smoke curls out of his nostrils as he hands your pen back. You just shrug and pick up your discarded seltzer. “Gimme a sec to think.”

“So many places?” You tease, finishing the last drop of your drink and crushing it beneath your palm. He shrugs, mirroring you, and cracks open another cider. He seems to think, brows furrowing, as he pulls a swig from the dark bottle.

“Boat.”

“Boat,” you repeat.

“Yup.” He looks at you, gaze flickering to your lips imperceptibly fast. If you were sober you’d probably notice, but you’re not and you don’t.

“You’ve fucked on a boat?” No way. Karl Jacobs. On a boat. Having sex. What an image—

“Yeah, senior year was great for me.” More Than A Woman fills the space of the silence as you consider this. You blink, processing.

“Whose boat?” You're genuinely curious. Was it a yacht, pontoon, fishing boat? Row boat? The sudden scene of him getting his foot stuck in a fishing net while pantless clouds your vision.

“My girlfriend’s.” And that’s that on that because he’s moving on before you can open your mouth and continue the discussion of the logistics of this. “Stop investigating, perv. Now it’s my turn. Hmm— wait! Where is the weirdest place you have had sex?” A sneaky grin is on his lips and now you just want to kiss him, damn it.

“I-Uh. I think it was under the bleachers. I also had a great senior year,” you offer, scooting forward on your knees so that you’re only a foot from Karl. He looks impressed, actually.

“Who was it?”

Your eyebrow raises in question.

“Personal question or one of the 16 left, Karl?”

His cheeks heat and he looks once to the TV.

“Personal,” he mutters into the mouth of his bottle.

“It was Brian Hernandez,” you sigh, gazing off into the distance with a fond look in your eyes. You feel the end of the game of 20 questions as you see him chew on his bottom lip from your peripheral. “Dude was insatiable. Managed girls’ basketball and looked damn good doing it.”

“I managed girls’ soccer,” he says simply, uncrossing his legs. “My girlfriend was goalie.”

“How long did you guys date?” You fold your legs up underneath you, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. You feel the most sober now out of all tonight.

“Dunno.” He sips at his cider. “Couple weeks maybe?”

You smirk. “Karl Jacobs puts out in the first couple weeks?” That’s hot, you don’t say. He gives you a look. “18 year old Karl was a player,” you tease, leaning forward to poke at his chest.

Smacking your hand away, he sighs and lifts a hand to tousle his hair.

“Guess he was.” Clear eyes meet yours and you take a hit from the pen that lays discarded in your palm. He watches the smoke float from your mouth. The TV screen swipes to Deceptacon and the mood quickly shifts. “So.” He turns toward you with lifted eyebrows. “You were a total nerd in highschool, huh.”

Your jaw drops. “I was not!”

“Come on; yes, you were.” He makes a face and drains half the bottle of cider. “You probably were in SpellBowl and every teacher’s pet.”

“Nice try, bitch. You were a dumb jock. I’ve seen the pictures. The yearbook pictures.” You look pointedly at his hair.

“My hair was not that bad.”

“Yes it was.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he grumbles and pushes his hand through his long curls. “Just a little… short.” It’s your turn to make a face.

“A buzz cut nearly to your scalp is more than short.” He huffs at you and finishes the cider just as the song switches. “Anyways.” You don’t really have anything to say, actually. Too busy thinking about teenage Karl smacking tennis rackets around and fielding lost soccer balls for his girlfriend. She’s long gone, right?

“Are you wearing lingerie?” Karl asks suddenly and you look up. He stares pointedly at your chest and you move a hand to pat at your stomach.

“Oh,” you start, and flick the last three buttons open, fabric falling to reveal a baby blue lace corset. “Yeah.” He can’t seem to stop imagining what’s underneath it. Fuck. “Do you like it?” The tone in your voice is taunting and he has to look away.

He clears his throat and places the second glass bottle onto the coffee table.

“Yes.”

You rise onto your knees and pull your arms out of the button-up, letting it fall back on the couch.

“Do you want to touch it?” You're looking up at him from underneath your eyelashes, he realizes, and you know exactly what you’re doing. You’re not asking if he wants to touch the corset; you’re asking if he wants to touch you.

“Can I?” He glances at you warily. You just nod, and it’s then that you’re shuffling forward. The material is soft on his fingertips when he brushes a hand across your torso. “Silk,” he mumbles, and stares, transfixed, at the loopy flower pattern crawling across your waist in shades of milky blue. You just hum and watch. He realizes suddenly when he traces a finger up on the ridge of the neckline that you’re not wearing anything underneath it. It makes him stop in his tracks, neck flushing. “Are-are you—,”

“Wearing a bra? No, I’m not.” You lay a hand on his shoulder, hoisting one leg over his thighs and settling down comfortable on his lap. He bristles then relaxes as you slide a hand up into his scalp. “Do you want me to show you?”

He glares at you, barely annoyed, and shifts so that his large hands rest in the curve of your waist. Poison starts in the speakers as his eyebrow raises.

“Do you normally wear corsets when we all hang out?” A lock of your hair moves past your cheek as he brushes it out of the way. His mouth tilts into a smirk. You seem to think about it, lips pursed, and grip both his shoulders in your hands.

“Only when I’ve got someone to impress.” A hand on your lower back presses insistently and you fall further into his lap.

“Who are you here to impress, Y/N?” He’s barely an inch from your mouth now, and can’t seem to keep his eyes on one part of your face. Cool breath fans onto your cheeks and they warm. God, he’s even cuter up close.

“You,” barely passes your lips before he’s taking the side of your neck into his hand and stretching to connect your lips with his own.

Cherry, you think. Cherry chapstick, that cheeky bastard. Taking your wrist in his hand, he loops it up and around his neck. You’re making a noise into his mouth, you realize, right as he’s sliding a hand down to the side of your thigh and gripping it between his long fingers. You shiver as he pulls away too soon, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth before sinking his teeth into your neck. The gasp that leaves your mouth is surprisingly loud and your cheeks flush further. He just hums, pleased, and stretches an arm to the opposite side of your waist to hug you closer. Warm lips move on the skin of your neck and his tongue darts out few and far between the kisses.

“Fuck,” he breathes when your hips jerk forward once.

“Sorry,” you whisper up at the ceiling, eyes falling shut. “reflex.”

He grins against your neck and moves to grip an ass cheek in his palm.

“Your reflex to me licking a hickey is to grind into my crotch?” he teases. You just have to nod, lips parted, as he soothes another bruise with his tongue.

“Karl.” He seems to either not hear you or ignore you for he’s removing himself from your neck and connecting your mouths once more. “Karl,” you stutter between kisses, and he squeezes at your ass.

“Yes?” His lips are bitten and puffy when he pulls away, a smug look on his beautiful face.

“Take off my corset.”

He looks between your face and the lingerie, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D comment what you think !

[backtothefanfiction]

WHAT BENNY DOESN’T KNOW | Chapter 3

A TRIPLE FRONTIER STORY

Summary: When you find yourself stranded at a bar, Will is luckily on hand to take you home.

Warnings: Mature 18+ ONLY!!! The smut train is back kids, you have been warned. This chapter features strong language and scenes of a sexual nature. (oral male receiving, unprotected sex {you know the old saying kids, don’t be silly})

Word Count: 4815

A/N- This ones for the Will Miller fans. I’ve just come from a very chaotic work shift so I cannot wait to get all your wonderful feedback as always to make me feel better. I also want to take a moment to give some unspoken subtext for clarity due to some of the aspects of this chapter. Reader is very open about their body and so all TF gents are aware of birth control situation and that reader is protected in that way. Also I have never been on a motorbike so take this chapter as creative license and forgive me. I also just want to say I have written the Italy chapter which will be coming to you Monday. It is a fucking monster (pardon my language) and I can’t wait for you all to read it, but for now enjoy chapter three.

PART THREE | 6 MONTHS LATER

You and Santiago's had both gone on missions mere days later which saw you away from home for a good six months. When you got back you found that Santi had come back for a few weeks about a month ago but had had to take off again before you'd had a chance to see him.

You had been back for a couple of days and decided to organise an evening at your favourite local bar with your sister for a catch up. You sat on the bar stool waiting anxiously, the bar tender giving you looks of pity ever couple of minutes. You're phone, which you had placed on the bar top pinged and you eagerly checked the text on the screen. 'Sorry, something came up with Jared and I'm not gonna make it. Can we take a rain check?' you slammed your phone back onto the bar top as you let out a small animalistic grunt of frustration.

“Well you look like you're nights going just as well as mine is.” came a familiar voice from beside you. You looked up to find Will taking the seat beside you. “When did you get back?” he asked an arm coming out to wrap around you, pulling you into him.

“Two days ago.” you said into his ear, your head resting comfortably against the top of his shoulder as you hugged him. “What are you doing here?” you asked him as you pulled your arms back, shifting yourself on your bar stool to get a better look at him.

“Shitty date.” he said.

“I didn't realise you were putting yourself back out there.” you said, your fingers reaching to fiddle with your glass in front of you.

“Yeah, well I can't mope around forever.” he sighed deeply. “You want another one?” he questioned, pointing to the now empty glass in your hand.

“Uh, I was supposed to be meeting my sister but she bailed on me.” you began to explain.

“Shitty husband?”

“Shitty husband.” you confirmed. Will was well versed in your family drama. He'd once had to break up a fight between your sister's husband and Benny at a BBQ when Jared had gotten drunk and decided to challenge Benny. It had not been pretty.

“Still you want to stick around for another drink with me or...?” He let the question hang openly in the air between you.

“Sure.” you said. “I mean it'll probably take a while before I can get a taxi home anyway.”

“I've got my bike outside if you want me to give you a lift back, save you spending money on cab. I mean if you don't mind the bike that is?”

You thought about it a moment looking back down at your glass before looking back up to meet his eyes again. “Uh yeah, okay. That'll be great. Thanks.” you said. He turned and gave the bar tender a nod, grabbing you two more drinks.

“So what have I missed?” you asked.

“Well, Pope came back last month. I hadn't seen him since we all went out for Benny's birthday.” you raised your eyebrows in disbelief. “Yeah. We hung out with him a bit while he was back. Kept going on about some girl he'd slept with that night, saying it was the best sex he'd ever had. Brought it up any chance he could get.” you snorted and choked slightly as your drink went down the wrong hole, the statement leaving you shocked. “Hey, you okay?” Will said, a hand gently patting your back.

“Uh yeah. I'm fine, just went down the wrong hole.” you coughed, wiping at your face with your sleeve. “Um did he say when he was coming back next.”

“No. I think he said maybe four months but he said it could be longer depending. What about you? How long you back for?” he questioned.

“Not sure yet.” you replied. “Until the next assignment comes in I guess.”

You carried on talking like that for another 40 minutes, the conversation flowing easily. “Hey you ready to go?” he asked when he noticed you'd finished your drink.

“Uh yeah, of course.”

You followed Will out the front to where his bike was sat waiting. He handed you his spare helmet. “You bring this just in case your date went well?” you teased him, poking him with the helmet before you began placing it on your head.

“Yeah, something like that.” he said, giving you a sheepish grin. He hooked his leg over the bike and you climbed on behind him, your arms wrapping tightly around his torso. “When's the last time you were on a bike?” he asked you as the bike roared to life beneath you.

“Probably Columbia, two years ago.” you shouted over the noise. You felt his body shake as he let out a laugh. He was about to enjoy this.

He took off quickly, speeding out of the parking lot, catching you off guard making you let out a squeal as you took a moment to find your balance. You felt his stomach move beneath your fingers as he let out another chuckle at your expense. You gave him a playful slap before resting your head against his back, easing into the feeling of the air around you and the hum of the engine between your legs. You wrapped your arms tighter around him and buried your nose into him, breathing in his smell. Will always smelt good. He took a hand off one of the handle bars, brushing the back of your hand gently, reassuringly, before securing it back to the bike. The feeling had sent a buzz through your skin and you couldn't help but be aware of the way it passed through your body. You felt a fluttering feeling between your legs and you bit your lip. Uh Oh. No, no this was not happening, this couldn't be happening. You were getting turned on by this.

You quickly adjusted your hold around him, trying to focus and ground yourself but your hand ended up brushing against his crotch. It had only been a brief second but it had made you flinch in embarrassment and you wrapped your arms around him even tighter, pulling yourself forward on the bike, grinding into his butt between your legs. Shit! If he hadn't felt your hand brush against his cock he had definitely felt that. You braced yourself as he stopped at a red light, your breath held tightly in your chest. You nibbled your lip anxiously, your eye's squeezing shut waiting for him to do something, mock you or chastise you. What he did do next surprised you.

He took his hand off the handle bar again, his fingers searching for yours across his abs. He wrapped his hand around them, lifting it gently away from where you had been holding him and intentionally moving your hand down, placing it over the growing bulge in his jeans. You lifted your head up to look at him, but he kept his eyes forward. He let go of your hand, reaching to run his fingers along your thigh, resting against the side of the bike. You licked your lips nervously. What was happening right now?

The traffic light before you turned amber and Will placed his hand back on the handle bars, revving the engine of the bike in preparation but also sending a flood of extra vibrations through the bike that buzzed against your core. You couldn't fault the Captain, he knew exactly what he was doing.

You still had one hand around his waist and one hand over his cock, when he pulled up outside your place. There was a sudden silence as the engine cut out and he climbed off the bike. You couldn't help but watch him intently. Will was more of a man of action than a man of words. He took off his helmet, threading it onto the handle bars, before turning towards you and leaning against the bike. His arms folded before you as he waited for you to gingerly take your own helmet off, not once breaking eye contact with him.

“So what do you wanna do?” he finally asked when you had decided to remain silent. You licked your lips as you thought over the best way to respond.

“Do you want to come in?” was the line you finally decided on, but your voice was timid, it lacked conviction. You wanted him to take control. He nodded slightly before taking a step back, allowing you some room to attempt to get off the bike as gracefully as you could. You placed the helmet on the seat, while Will put his hands in his pockets. He fiddled with his keys as he attempted to hide his nervousness.

He'd be lying to himself if he had said he'd never thought about you in that way before. Seeing you in a bikini when you had all taken a trip to the beach. When you had gone out dancing for his birthday and chosen the skimpiest dress in your closet to wear. On lazy Sundays when you had stayed over at his and Benny's place, your tiny pyjama shorts riding up as you reached for things off the top shelves of their kitchen cabinets. That's exactly where his eyes fell now as he followed you up to your apartment. Your jeans hugging your ass just right as you walked up the stairs ahead of him.

You gave him a sheepish smile as you unlocked the door, ushering him inside. The silence was filled with the clicking of light switches as you began to switch on lamps, creating a cosy atmosphere. He was so stealthy you hadn't notice him come up behind you until you turn and was faced with his chest. You slowly lifted your eyes up, your head tilting to allow you to look at his lips, then up further to his eyes. “Just tell me if you want to stop.” he said before placing his finger under your chin, guiding your face closer to his.

You couldn't even call it a kiss the way his lips barely grazed yours but it was electric, sending shivers throughout your whole body making you want to throw yourself at him. He whispered your name against your lips, a question, he wanted you to answer the previous statement.

You gave your head a slight shake. “No.” your voice was quiet. “No, I don't want to stop.” you closed the gap between his lips and your own, your hands snaking up to wrap around his neck. He wrapped his arms around your lower back, pulling you closer to him, deepening the kiss. You exhaled deeply through your nose as you let out a breath you hadn't realised you'd been holding.

Will brought one of his hands up, to brush away the hair that was falling over the side of your face, getting in the way. He tucked it behind your ear, before letting his fingers rest around the base of your head, his thumb grazing your jaw. You found yourself moaning hungrily into the kiss, but then a thought crossed your mind that made your rapidly break away. “Wait, wait.” you said breathlessly. He dropped his hold around the back of your head and leaned back to get a better look at you. He waited silently for you to continue as you caught your breath. “There's something I have to tell you.” you said licking your lips, already missing the feeling of his against them. You relaxed your hands from around his neck, allowing them to rest on his shoulders and you were glad when he didn't try and pull away. “I was the girl Santiago slept with after Benny's birthday.” you said trying to make your words as calm as possible.

Of all the things Will was expecting you to say, it was not that. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he lowered his head slightly shaking it. You weren't sure if it was a grin on his face or a grimace. “I just thought I should say. I don't want to make things complicated between you guys.”

He took a step back from you, a small huffed chuckle escaping his lips as he ran a hand up through his hair. Your face fell to the floor. Shit you'd fucked this up. You shouldn't have said anything. “Does this change everything?” you asked timidly to the floor.

Will chuffed in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?” he asked stepping forward to you, making you look up at him. “If you heard the way he talks about that night. You think I'd give up the chance to experience that?” Your eyes looked at him hopefully. He closed the space between you, smashing his lips into yours, his hands planted firmly either side of your face, not allowing you to get away from him. You flung your arms around his neck and he dropped his own hands down to cup underneath your ass. He lifted you up into his arms seamlessly and began carrying you towards your bedroom.

He took a seat on the edge of your bed so you were straddling his lap. You broke off the kiss, reaching down to lift your shirt up over your head, throwing it across the room, Will following your actions quickly took off his own. He took a moment to take in your boobs, his hands reaching up to grab them, leading your body back closer to his so he could attach his lips to yours again. You fixed your hands around his shoulders, pushing them backwards towards the bed. Your lips followed his the whole way down, your hair falling around both your faces.

You reluctantly broke your lips away, leaning back to flick your hair out of the way, but also to give your hands the space to move between your two bodies as you began to unbutton his jeans. You slid yourself backwards off of Will and the bed, your knees hitting the carpet as you pulled both his jeans and pants down at the same time, his hips lifting slightly allowing you to get them off easier.

You pulled the items of clothing off of his ankles throwing them behind you. You were aware of him shifting slightly on the bed and looked up to find he'd propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look at you on the floor before him. His gaze made you pause a moment, fully taking him in. All of you had been out of active service for years but Will looked exactly the same as he had at the height of his career. You knew his younger brother took good care of his body, what with him now having a ‘somewhat’ career as a prize fighter, but you hadn't realised just how well Will had maintained his muscular physique.

You let your eyes drop from his piercing eyes, letting them trail down the defined lines of his chest then abs, until finally they landed on his half ready member. You looked back up to his eyes, keeping eye contact with him as you sat yourself up properly again, his legs adjusting slightly to allow you a better position between them as your hand slowly raked up the muscles of his thighs until they reached the prize that lay patiently waiting for you at the top of them.

You watched intently as Will's head dropped backwards, his eyes closing in bliss at the feeling of your hands wrapping around his cock, your gentle grasp slowly working him up.  A small grin began to take over your face in reaction to the feeling of his member growing and getting ever harder under your controlled touch, a sensation of power taking over you.

Will let out a breathy groan of satisfaction as he suddenly felt your tongue, swipe up his entire length. “Fuck.” he exclaimed as he pulled his head back up to look at you, one of his arms reaching out to place a caring hand around the side of your head, guiding you as you began to take his length into your mouth. You both made an effort to keep eye contact as you bobbed up and down on his dick but Will lost it when you took him to the point he hit the back of your throat and you gagged slightly. His eyes closed as his head hung back in bliss again. For a moment it felt like he'd died and gone to heaven and it took him a second to put himself back into the room. He couldn't believe this was happening.

You pulled back, allowing yourself a moment to breath, as you used your hand to continue working at his saliva covered cock. Will looked down at you once more and before you had a chance to take his length into your mouth again, he was sitting himself up, reaching his hands out for your face, pulling you into a deep kiss instead. He made you stand up straight and you had to let go of his cock as his fingers brushed down your body until he reached the waistband of your pants. You stared down at him in silence as his fingers began undoing the buttons of your jeans. He leant forward to leave kisses across your stomach as he gently pulled down your jeans and underwear at the same time, just like you had for him. His lips tickled against your skin and you found your hands reaching out to steady yourself against his shoulders as your eyes closed, head relaxing due to the sensation passing from his touch that sent a fuzzy feeling all the way up to the very tip top of your skull.

You felt the fabric pool thickly at your ankles and you maintained your hold on his shoulders as you pulled your feet free from the tangle of denim that engulfed them. He tossed the jeans out of the way with one hand, the other taking a firm hold of your hip, his thumb circling across the bare skin. “Will.” his name fell breathily from your lips and he looked up to take you in, his other hand coming to rest on your other hip, his hold becoming firmer.

“Come here.” his voice came back, gentle yet commanding as he pulled you back onto the bed on top of him as he lay back against the mattress. His hands came up to grasp either side of your head, his fingers tangling into your hair as he pulled your lips down against his own. You felt his tongue brush against your lower lip and you happily relaxed further into his mouth, your tongue coming out to gently melt against his.

You felt his hips grind up into you, his erection rubbing against your clit sending a sensation through your core and you sighed into him. He used the opportunity to suck your lower lip in between his lips, pulling at it slightly, only intensifying the feeling growing between your legs. You felt one of his arms reach around your lower back and before you could even acknowledge the feeling of his other hand becoming firmer on the back of your head, you found your whole body being flipped round, Will settling himself on top of you between your thighs.

He manoeuvred his arm out from under your back so he could run his hand up the length of your leg, encouraging it to wrap around his side. You broke away from his lips to look intensely into his eyes in anticipation. He brushed his thumb across your cheek with the hand that still cradles your head while his other hand lines himself up with your entrance. You exhale sharply when you feel him drag his cock through your slick folds, the tip nudging your sensitive clit. You feel the hand against your cheek grow firmer as he forces you to keep eye contact with him as he gently eases himself into you, your mouth hanging open in a silent gasp as you adjust to his size. You pursed your lips together and you watched as Will's eyes followed the movement before he smashed his lips back against them, his hips rolling himself deeper inside you. You let out another gasp against his lips at the sensation. “Ah fuck.” you breathed the words against his mouth as he gave you a moment to adjust, the hand against your face smoothing your hair back.

You began moulding your lips to him once more and he took that as his sign to begin slowly thrusting his cock in and out of you. He was in the perfect position without even trying, his cock dragging against your gspot with every agonisingly slow thrust. You brought your hands up either side of his face and pushed his forehead into your own as your mouth hung open, breathing becoming laboured. His pace was torturous, controlled, making you feel every motion his cock made inside you. He forced you to continue looking at him, his eyes watching your every facial expression carefully, forcing you to stay in this moment with him, to be aware of every sensation and remember who it was who was making you feel that way.

This wasn't just some quick shag or one night stand, this was a friend making love to another friend. Just like Santiago before him, Will didn't know if this would ever happen again between you and he wanted to make sure he savoured every second. Wanted you to know the love he had for you. He wanted to make you feel good. He wanted you to remember this moment and how he made you feel in it.

Your hips began to squirm as your orgasm steadily built in your core, desperate for something more, desperate for that release. “Will please?” you breathlessly begged against his lips. Will grunted at hearing you begging for him to make you cum, but he didn't want to rush this. He felt your back arch as you tried to change the angle slightly, drive him deeper, reach that release. He snaked his arm around your back, pulling you tighter to his body, lifting you from the bed. Your hold around his neck became tighter and you buried your head into his shoulder as he lifted you up, his cock still deeply inside you.

He turned you both around and he sat on the bed, pulling you down even further onto his cock. The new position really allowed you to grind down into him but forced you to maintain the slower pace Will wanted to keep. “Oh my god.” you groaned into his neck, your head still firmly buried into the crook of his neck. He kept both his arms firmly around your back, forcing your body to remain tightly to him, guiding you as you moved up and down on his cock. The feeling that had built inside you was fit to burst and when he lifted his hips and thrust up into you, you lost out. Your orgasm was shattering and you buried your head even deeper into his neck, your eyes firmly screwed up, tears threatening to spill out of the corner creases from how sensitive you felt.

Will continued to slowly thrust up into you, his arm wrapped around you tightly making you maintain the slow steady rhythm you had created together. Your clit dragged across his skin from how close your bodies were and it did nothing but increase the orgasm taking over you. You're moans of pleasure came out stuttering between breaths as you felt yourself clamped tightly around his cock. You were so earth shatteringly aware of everything.

You forced yourself up straight, wanting to look directly into Will's eyes, allowing him to see the devastation and bliss he was causing you. His lips attached hungrily to yours at the sight. He felt your overstimulated body stutter and freeze, desperate for a break but he wasn't done with you yet. As you tried to take a moment to let your orgasm pass and compose yourself once more ready to do it again, Will lay himself back down upon the bed. With you're arms still wrapped tightly around his neck you happily let your body relax with him, resting against him, your head finding a home in the crook of his neck once more, taking in deep breaths.

He had allowed you maybe two seconds to appreciate and acknowledge your come down before his arms tightened around you, holding you in place against his chest as he brought his legs up onto the bed. He dug his heels into the mattress and began thrusting up into you at a rapid speed. Your fingers clawed at his skin as you felt another orgasm rapidly building inside you once more. You cried out as the sensation took over you once more, your body practically going limp. You attempted to use his shoulders as leverage to prop yourself up, hoping a change in angle would lessen the sensitivity in your fluttering cunt. Will reached up to take your face in his hands. You're arms went weak and gave out slightly and you were grateful that Will did have a hold of your head, to keep it up right.

He maintained each devastating thrust and watching as your eyes became unfocussed, completely cock dumb for him. It was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. “Ah fuck.” he grunted as his thrust became sloppy, his own release so fucking close with how you were looking at him like that. You whispered his name and he lost it completely, his thrusts stuttering as he quickly pulled out, his own release over taking him as he closed his eyes, pushing his head back into the mattress.

He gently released your head from his hold and you relaxed it against his shoulder, your back arched inward, your breathes heavy and laboured as you worked through your come down. Will let out a deep breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding and turned his head to try and get a better look at you. Almost like you sensed what he was trying to do, you lifted your head to meet his eyes. A goofy grin broke out across his face.

You attempted to climb off his lap but your legs were spent and wobbled like a new born deer. He laughed at you as you collapsed onto the bed beside him. “That was,” your voice said heavily beside him, you laughed a giddy feeling from your orgasm washing over you. He propped himself up to look at your face but you just turned it away from him, burying it into the bed, bashful. He laughed at you again before mustering as much energy as he could to stand and go find something to clean you both up with.

When he came back into the room, damp cloth in hand, he watched you intensely, a smile plastered across your face, as you still struggled to make eye contact with him. Your still overstimulated core was making you rub your legs together in an attempt to channel the energy there. He let out a chuckle, he had never had this reaction from being with a girl before and the fact it was you made him feel even more special.

You finally met his eyes and smiled back at him. He felt like you were reading his mind and he too now felt bashful. He tossed the cloth he'd been fiddling with between his fingers at you in an attempt to stop the silent conversation that was going on between you. You caught the rag between your fingers, your body rolling slightly and relaxing as you took him in, your gaze softening.

Neither of you needed to say anything. You both knew what this was. It was a comfortable curiosity. You were his best friend and he was yours. There was no doubt of the platonic love you had for one another and now you just had a greater appreciation for each other.

You cleaned yourself up as Will pulled his boxers back on, before climbing back onto the bed with you. You tossed the cloth across the room, aiming for your hamper but it missed landing on the floor as Will wrapped an arm around you. You cuddled into him, your head resting against his shoulder, his fingers drawing lazy circles across your skin. “I love you.” you said softly but confidently.

“I know.” he said back, leaning down to place a kiss on the top of your head, a content smile fixed permanently to his face.

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

Hope I didn’t forget to tag anyone and as always if you want to be added to the tag list just pop it in writing and I’ll add you for next time. As always if your tag doesn’t work properly I’m sorry.

@icanbeyourjedi @theshiningharmony @darnitdraco @kesskirata @wyn-dixie @rosiefridayrogersunday @actual-spawn-of-satan @clydesducktape @asta-lily @honey-hi @heythere-mel @heidi-toevs @wigofokoye @choricenter @goodgriefitsawildworld @lostgirlheather @d0uwannkn0w @justdrawings101 @nicotinebirds @bisexualolympus @babyratt19 @cookiecat22 @peterhollandkait @a-bang-for-your-bucky @asta-lily @codenamewife @lazyunknownwerewolf @emmy626 @natura1phenomenon @fanfics-that-hit-my-feels @fangirl-316 @thisisthewaytofiction @rosiefridayrogersunday-reads @aficwhore @slayerx147 @alberta-sunrise​ @itspdameronthings @nano-pax​

[ramp-it-up]

Fine

Pairing: Rafel Casal x Reader

Word count: 2Kish.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, MINORS DNI, CURATE YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE! Dark Dom!Rafa, Daveed dancing, drinking, cursing, angst, possessiveness, ex sex, face slapping, bathroom sex, fingering, oral (f receiving) clit slapping, orgasm denial, bdsm, binding, lashing, gagging oral (m receiving).

Summary: You didn’t need Rafa anymore. You were just fine without him.

A/N: This is a little dark. I think I’ve used this pic of Rafa before, but it’s perfect for this fic. And btw, I’m on my Rafael Santiago Casal Bullshit. Watch out.

-----------

It had been 84 days and you were perfectly fine.

Out with your girls, you were wearing your freakum dress, getting plenty of attention and drinks.

You were fine.

So fine, that you were debating on which fine man to go home with. You surveyed the room for your pick. They’d all bought you a drink. You were polite, drank with them and told them you’d get back with them. You were trying to decide.

The chocolate one with the light eyes and the razor sharp fade?

The light skin with the gap teeth and hella swag?

The beefy blonde with the buzz cut?

You downed your fifth drink and moved towards those pretty gap teeth and swag.

Someone tall stepped in front of your 5” 6” frame in heels. You zigged and they zagged, blocking you from your goal.

You sighed and looked up at them, ready to politely ask that they move or cuss them out. It just depended on how their face made you feel.

You looked up to see Daveed and you squealed.

“DIGGS! HOLY FUCK IS THAT YOUUUU????”

He smiled and laughed at you.

“The one and only. What’s crackin’ girl?” He leaned back and surveyed your form in the dress.

“Damn! You’re still fine as hell!” He was shaking his head.

You threw yourself at him, your short body almost knocking his big lanky ass over with your over zealous buzzness. He laughed and hugged you more, leading you away from the bar.

“Where’s my girl?” You looked around for Daveed’s other half.

“She’s across country at a gig. I miss my Lady.” Daveed’s pout was adorable.

“Awwww, po baby. I’m gonna have to tell her to give you some electronic lovin.’” You started to pull out your phone.

“Oh, don’t bother. She already knows what’s up. Come dance with me.”

Daveed had turned into Mr. Smiley, and as usual, you couldn’t resist him. But you loved to tease.

“Boy, you know you can’t dance.”

“Fuck you mean????” Daveed started doing a very ugly robot.

“Fine! Let’s dance, ugh!”

You groaned and grabbed his hand to pull him out on the floor before he could embarrass himself, and you, any further.

Y’all had a ball, laughing and trying to talk to each other over the loud music, Daveed white girl dancing and you trying to teach him some moves.

After about four songs, the music turned slow and you two stood there awkwardly.

“Well, I guess I’ll go….”

You looked around to see if High Yella was still around.

Daveed’s eyes were above your head and the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

“May I have this dance?”

FUCK fuck fuck fuck fuck.

You turned around, and came face to face with Rafael Casal. Damn he was so fine.

You cocked your hip and crossed your arms, and glared up at him, mad because you felt like this was a trap.

Rafa stared at your pushed up breasts in the dress and your nipples pebbled as he licked his lips wolfishly.

You avoided the memories of Rafael’s excellent nipple play looked back at Daveed for rescue to see that Rafa’s wingman had suddenly disappeared.

You turned your head back to Rafa, the swivel in your neck obvious.

“I should have known that you would be lurking around here somewhere.”

You rolled your eyes, super annoyed and full of attitude.

And that’s why Rafa’s dick was on hard. He needed to give you some act right.

He’d watched you promise your body to every dude in the place with that fucking dress and lead them on. He needed to remind you whose it was.

Fuck that he’d given you the ‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ months ago.

You belonged to him.

“I don’t lurk, Sweet Pea, I flow. And yeah, you know Diggs is the Yin to my Yang, and vice versa.”

Rafa was speaking low enough that you had to lean in, and you caught his scent. Fuck if you weren’t thrown back 83 days to the last time you’d let him take you apart and literally screw you back together.

That dick was an artistic masterpiece, just like everything about Rafael Casal.

But you were fine.

“You have some nerve, calling me Sweet Pea. Fuck you, Santiago.”

You were heated, and maybe it’s because you wanted some act right. You cursed your pussy’s muscle memory and the five drinks you had that were making you weak for him. Because other than that, you’d be fine.

“Maybe later.” He smirked at you, so damn cocky.

“So, are you gonna stand in the middle of the dance floor and cuss me out, or are you gonna move to the music with me?”

Rafa held out his arms and you looked around, pretending that you didn’t want to be encircled by them again. But you couldn’t be rude, right?

You stepped to him and he put his hands around your waist and crossed them behind you, pulling you flush to him. You stared at his lips as you felt him look down at you.

You didn’t dare look into his eyes, but this view was making you remember what that mouth do.

Shit.

Rafa cleared his throat.

“So, how have you been?”

You looked over his shoulder to the speakers on the stage.

“These past three months have been fine, just fine, Rafael. My life is so zen now. I’m happy.”

“Not quite three months, Sweet Pea. 83 days and 14 hours. And I’ve missed you like crazy.”

You looked up into his eyes when he said that. Oh, hell.

“Oh. Did you now?” You were hot.

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you broke up with me the morning after you fucked me goodbye, you self centered narcissist asshole.”

You tried to leave his embrace, but Rafa slid his hands around to hold you fast, thumbs digging into your hip bones, hurting you. At the same time, his grip caused you to feel his desire pressed against your stomach.

You gasped and slapped his face. Hard.

You two stared at each other on the dance floor for a full ten seconds which seemed like forever.

The next thing you knew, you were being pushed up against the stall in the bathroom, the act of Rafa pulling you in there a total blur.

It always started like this, rough, fast, and hot.

Rafa’s hands were under the hem of your dress, dragging it up so that he could grab your panties and pull them down.

“You seem to have forgotten lesson number one. Whose pussy is this, Sweet Pea?”

You refused to answer and closed your eyes, memories of him seducing you just by teaching your fucking Poetry 201 course years ago flooding your brain.

He shook his head and knelt on the filthy floor as he removed and pocketed your thong.

“You prolonging your submission just prolongs the punishment, Sweet Pea. Is that what you need tonight?”

He licked a stripe up your leg and slung it on his shoulder, rutting into your pussy with his mouth.

Your protest at him stealing your clothing died on your lips and was replaced by a moan as Rafael’s skillful tongue started to swirl around your clit, while his fingers came up to roughly finger fuck your cunt.

“Damn, Rafa.”

You moaned and pulled his hair as his other hand came up to try and still your squirming on his face.

“Shut up and stay still, damnit.”

He spoke to you through your pussy, and your eyes rolled back in your head as the vibrations drove you crazy.

You tugged harder on his hair, which made him graze your clit with his teeth. Then, he laved it with his tongue and leaned back to look at it adoringly and then up at you.

You stared down at him, and watched his face glisten with your arousal. Then you caught his look. He sighed at your insolence.

“Fine. You know the drill. This is going to be payback.”

Before you could move, Rafa reached up and lovingly swirled three fingers around and around your clit, then slapped it three times.

You screamed, thankful that the club music was back to a loud cacophony.

He looked at you again, smiling that fucking smile.

“You wanna cum all over my face, Sweet Pea? Want me to make you unravel right here?”

You refused to answer him, but you both knew what was up. Rafa just chuckled at you, and leaned back in to devastate you with his mouth.

He flattened his tongue and took wide, languid strokes against your clitoris, keeping eye contact with you.

You were on fire, all nerves alive and reacting to what he was doing. He inserted two fingers inside you and curled them so precisely to that spot that always made you wonder if he was present at the engineering of your pussy.

You quivered, eyes squeezed shut and tears eaking out, so close to doing what he’d asked you about and bracing for it. Your muscles were taught, your feet were on tiptoe, even further than your 5 inch heels required, and you were holding your breath.

As soon as you felt you were about to gush into his mouth, suddenly, his warm tongue was replaced with cool air, and his fingers withdrew from your cunt.

“Arrghhhh! Cash! Fucking hell????”

He stood up, licking his fingers as he turned away from you, washed his hands and face, and used the water on them for his hair.

You were quivering with rage and desire. As you fixed your mouth to cuss him out, he spoke, calmly.

“You better not fucking move until I’m done.”

Rafa’s ice blue/green eyes in the mirror, and the tone, made you stand stock still, your dress still around your waist. Your pussy throbbed with excitement.

He finished the swoop, then turned back around to you, straightened your panties and pulled your dress down.

Then, he grabbed your face, pushing you against the stall again. His voice was menacing and cold.

“That’s just the beginning of your punishment for slapping me out there.”

You were dripping on the floor now. You wanted to hear what was next, despite yourself. No one could destroy and put you back together as eloquently as Rafael could.

Fuck, how you’d missed it. You were so wound up.

“If you want me to finish it, you know what to do. If you’re done…”

His eyes took in your face. So fucking beautiful.

“Well, goodbye Sweet Pea.”

He leaned in, and gave you a kiss, releasing your face and his hold on you. You moaned a little and put your arms around his neck, reveling in the tenderness while wanting the pain.

You whimpered as he pulled away, backed toward the door and walked out.

You went to the sink and put a cold paper towel on your neck, fixing your makeup and hair and getting your mind right.

You looked in the mirror. You were fine. You didn’t need what Rafael Casal had to offer.

You made a decision, straightened up and walked out of the bathroom.

----

An hour and a half later, you were in Rafael’s bedroom, naked on your knees, hands tied around your back, the lashes on your ass throbbing, gagging around his cock and praying that he’d let you breathe before you passed out.

You didn’t need Rafa.

But you wanted him.

And that was more than fine.

———

I hope it was fine for you! 😜

Tagging:

@sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri  @theselilwonders @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @ivycomet @lonelydance @jbrizzywrites @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes @anh1020 @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @delaber @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @janthonybitch @einfachniemand @elocinnicole @mysearchforgratification

[teenwolffan-with-nolife]

Mistakes Pt.2

Word Count: 1,457

Characters: Derek Hale, Scott McCall (brief), Lydia Martin (brief), Stiles Stilinski (brief), Isaac Lahey (brief), OC Characters (brief)

Pairings: Eventual Derek Hale x Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff if you squint, getting drunk TW: near-suicide, vomitting  

A/N: oof part one was way better

Masterlist

“You can’t do this. Please, I’m begging you,” you tried to hold back your cries, your brother nervously sitting in front of you.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), we don’t have any other choice,” the deputy shook his head.

It’s been a month since your mom passed, you had still yet to speak to the pack. But now, your younger brother was going to be put into foster care. You were only a few months shy of your 18th birthday, but that didn't matter to them. You still had no stable job or income, you could barely take care of yourself, and now your brother was suffering the consequences.

“I’ll leave you two to say your goodbyes,” the deputy walked out of the door, while your brother collapsed into your arms.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he sniffled.

“I don’t want you to leave either, kiddo,” you replied softly.

“Can’t y-you call Dad? Won’t he be able to do something?” Sam asked.

“He won’t pick up,” you shook your head.

“I don't wanna go to foster care, I wanna stay with you,” he cried softly.

You shut your eyes tightly, trying to control your sobs.

“I promise you, I will try to do everything I can to get you out. W-We’ll be okay,” you said, trying to convince yourself more. This could be one of the last times you were going to see him.

“You keep saying that but things keep getting worse and worse,” he argued.

“I-I know, but you have to have hope,” you heard a knock on the door, the deputy entering once again.

“We’ll be back to see how you’re doing in a month,” you could hear Sam crying as you nodded your head.

“I love you kiddo, don’t forget it,” you kissed his forehead, before watching him being taken away from you.

“(Y/N),” you heard Lydia’s voice as your head shot up.

“They took Sammy away,” you bit your lip.

“Why didn't you tell us what happened? Come here,” she wrapped her arms around your shaking figure, while you cried in her arms.

---

“Oh, look who finally decided to show up,” you heard Stiles say sarcastically as you entered Scott’s house, Lydia behind you.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said softly.

You could feel Derek and Lydia both staring at you, the only ones who knew what really happened.

“Where have you been?” Scott asked.

“I’ve just been busy,” you shrugged.

“She forgot about us,” Isaac said.

“Okay, let’s just… what are we hunting?” you asked.

After the meeting, which seemed like it went on for hours, you were pulled aside by Derek as you were walking out.

“What do you want?!” you clenched your jaw tightly, looking up at him.

“I wanted to say sorry,” he started.

“I really don't need your pity, Derek,” you scoffed.

“I’m sorry I was a dick to you before. I’m sorry that I never got the chance to know you, I’m sorry-” you cut him off once more.

“The only reason you’re saying all of this is because my mother died. You don’t care about me, you just want to pity me and clear your conscience. Leave me alone,” you stuffed your hands in your pocket, before storming off.

---

“No, I understand, Sheriff,” you bit your lip, before hanging up the call from Sheriff Stilinski.

His hands were tied to get your brother back to you. You could hear your ears buzzing as you continued to make your way home before Derek stopped you once again.

“(Y/N),” he started.

“You again? Derek, I don't want your pity,” you sighed.

“This isn't pity. You have to know that I'm sorry. I judged you before I even got to know you o-or understand anything in your life and that’s all my fault-”

“Derek, please stop. Just leave me alone,” more and more tears welled up in your eyes before walking away from him once more.

---

You put your head in your hands, sitting on your kitchen table as you let out a soft cry, going through the papers around you. You just needed a stable job, something you could hang on to. All to get Sam back. But it was nearly impossible.

There seemed to be nowhere in California that hired 17-year-old college dropouts. Out of desperation, you even called your father a few times, going straight to voicemail.

You felt more alone than ever, and you only had yourself to blame. You were too harsh on your mother, you never talked to her and asked her how she was doing, you never tried to help her or be there for her, all you seemed to do was to yell at her. And look where that got you.

Chills went down your spine as you curled yourself into a small ball, rocking slightly as you let out your soft cries, trying to control your breathing. Your hands were shaking, you hadn't slept in what felt like months. It’s only been three months since your mom died, and two months since you lost Sam. You were making no progress to get him back. You were gonna fail your promise to him.

Just another stupid mistake from yours truly 

Your mind thought back to all the times Derek yelled at you or said hurtful things to you. He was right all along. You were unimportant, you were too dumb, you were a mistake. You were a failure. You couldn't even take care of your younger brother.

Your phone was ringing, getting a call from Scott before you turned off your phone all the way, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from beside you.

This night may be your last.

---

Your sobs were louder, your vision and hearing were distorted, you could barely keep your balance. Your eyes were flooded with tears, while you reached for your gun.

You gasped for air, while you rubbed the back of your neck. Tears overfilled your eyes while your sobs died down. You held the gun shakily, putting it below your head.

Just do it, (Y/N)

Sam will have a better life without you

You could feel the cool metal pressing against your chin as you took deep breaths. You cocked the gun, shutting your eyes tightly.

“(Y/N)!” Derek pulled the gun out of your hands, pushing you aside.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” you yelled at him.

“You were about to kill yourself!” he yelled back.

“So?! Let me die in peace, Derek! All your fucking problems would be solved!” you cried out.

“No, this isn't the way to do anything, (Y/N),” he shook his head.

“You don't understand,” you cried.

“Maybe I don’t. But nothing is worth taking your life over,” you collapsed into his arms, sobbing quietly while he caressed your back, trying to calm you.

“I-It hurts… I just want my family back,” you buried your face into his neck while he sat you down on your couch, stroking your back.

“You can get your brother back, (Y/N). If anyone can get through this, it's you,” he said.

He continued to sit with you before you drifted off to sleep.

“(Y/N)?” he said softly.

After realizing you were asleep, he carefully laid you down on your couch, putting a blanket over you before walking to your table, looking at all the paperwork.

---

You shot up, wrapping your arms around your stomach as you groaned loudly. Something didn't feel right. You found yourself running to your bathroom, emptying out the contents of your stomach as Derek held your hair back.

You groaned softly, continuing to hold your stomach as you felt a dull pain.

“Wait… what are you doing here?” you leaned against the wall, while Derek took a seat in front of you.

“How much of last night do you remember?” he asked.

You frowned softly before realization hit you as you sighed, rubbing your forehead.

“I wasn't gonna leave you after that,” he replied softly.

“I’m really sorry,” your voice was low as you spoke.

“You have nothing to apologize for, I’m the one who should be sorry, I treated you terribly,” he shook his head.

“But you saved me last night,” you shrugged softly. You could feel tears welling in your eyes, remembering the events of the previous night, and what would have happened if he wasn't there.

“Thank you,” you said.

He gave you a soft smile, while you felt warmth in your chest.

“I don't think I’ve ever seen you smile before,” you shook your head as he scoffed.

“Don’t get used to it. Water?” he stood up as you nodded your head, watching him walk out of your bathroom, before leaning your head over the toilet once again.

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part VII (x OC)

Summary: Maggie tries to make things right, with a little push from her mama.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC

Category: hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: none

Word count: 5.8k

a/n: I know, I know— please just let our babies be happy ♥️ and so it was. Also, big ups to my tumblr gf @idmakeitbehave​ for being my beta the last two chapters.

Series Masterlist

———

One week. 

That’s how long it had been since their argument. Spencer had driven back to his apartment in silence, absolutely stunned by the way things had blown up. 

They’d gotten back from the case in Utah on the fifth of January, and he’d driven straight to Maggie’s, ready to give her a belated New Year’s kiss. Immediately upon entering her apartment, he knew something was wrong. Her hug was stiff, her kiss brief, her eye contact minimal. He’d spent the night, but they barely touched, and she left early for work without waking him. He’d let himself out and texted her later in the day to invite her over for dinner. 

Dinner hadn’t been any less awkward, and when he felt awkward, he knew it was bad. He finally couldn’t ignore it any longer, and he’d called it out. He had expected some resistance, but he hadn’t expected that. Maggie never spoke to him with any malice at all, even when he was actually doing something that irritated her. She was the queen of healthy communication. So for her to speak to him like that meant that the underlying issue was much, much worse than he’d originally thought.

He’d gone over their conversations a thousand times, looking desperately for the moment that it went wrong. After some deep consideration, he was certain that something had happened on New Year’s Eve. He just wasn’t sure what. Maggie was insistent that she wasn’t bothered by the declined call, but he still wished he could go back in time and answer it. He was pretty sure the seeds of their argument had sprouted in that moment, regardless of what she said.  

Spencer knew she was a creature of habit, and that sometimes she needed space to process and experience her emotions. And if he was being honest, he needed some space after the argument, too. But usually she would have at least texted him by now. 

He sighed and set down his newspaper, realizing he’d read the same page four times and hadn’t retained any of it. It was Friday, and he knew she was working. But still his fingers itched to dial her number. He picked up the phone, pressing a key to light up the screen yet again. 

No new messages. 

He dropped the phone back to the table with a little more force than was necessary. He decided he’d give her the rest of the weekend. If he didn’t hear from her by Sunday, he’d have to do something. 

…

Maggie dropped her bag on the floor inside the door and turned to lock the deadbolt. She had managed to sneak out of the building without being stopped by Anita, and she thanked the universe for small miracles. 

She didn’t want to have to explain herself. She didn’t want anyone to know what an absolute troll she’d been. Considering that Sam and Spencer had practically become attached at the hip since they’d started hanging out more, Anita was bound to ask about him. 

She showered and ordered Thai food, snuggling down on the couch to watch a movie with Roald. She settled on Dumplin’— a favorite for the body positivity, the southern drawls, and the Dolly Parton drag. 

And then she came to the argument outside of Harpy’s and lost what little emotional stability she had left. 

“Never took you for the type that cares much what people think.”

“I can’t, Bo. And that might make me a coward, but—”

“It does. Willowdean Dixon, I think you’re beautiful. To hell with anyone who’s ever made you feel less than that.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until Roald meowed in distress. She choked out a sob and stroked over his ears, closing her eyes in defeat. “I really fucked this up, huh?”

It had only been one week, but it felt like years since Spencer walked out of her apartment. She’d stayed in bed for the entire weekend, crying on and off. She knew she had no one to blame but herself. Owen had knocked over the first domino, but she’d done nothing to stop the rest from falling. 

Spencer had done everything right. He’d done everything she asked, and she’d thrown it all back in his face. He had made the comparison to Mitchell Park, and he was absolutely right. She’d done the exact same thing, only she had almost a year’s worth of ammunition, and she cut a hell of a lot deeper. 

Roald nuzzled against her, but she nudged him away— she didn’t even deserve the comfort. Instead, she fumbled in the couch cushions for her phone, swiping open the screen and tapping her favorites list, thumb hovering over Spencer’s name. Then she tapped on the name right above it and blew out a breath. 

The line connected and rang three times before she picked up. “Hey, sugar! Your ears must be ringin’, ‘cause I was just thinkin’ about callin’ you.”

“Hey, mama,” Maggie breathed. 

Her mother’s tone changed from chipper to concerned in an instant. “What’s wrong, baby?” 

She leaned forward to the coffee table to grab Spencer’s scarf— somehow left behind in her apartment— rubbing it between her fingers. “I— I really messed up.” 

“Oh, Lord. You need bail money?”

Despite herself, Maggie laughed wetly. “Oh my god, mama. No, I don’t need bail money.”

“Well, if you made bail it can’t be that bad,” Rose insisted. 

“I didn’t— I’m not in jail, for Christ’s sake.” Maggie ran a hand over her face. “I messed things up with Spencer.”

“Well, we can fix that,” Rose responded matter of factly. “What happened?”

“We were fighting, and I said some really, really awful things,” Maggie admitted, tears spilling over her lash line. 

Rose scoffed. “Honey, I say awful things to your father all the time, and we’ve been married almost forty years.”

Maggie heaved a long sigh. “Not like this, mama.” 

Her mother hummed in consideration. “Well, what were y’all fightin’ about?”

“It’s complicated,” Maggie hedged, toying with the fringe of the scarf. 

Rose clicked her tongue. “Do ya want my help or not?” 

Maggie dropped her head back against the couch. “I ran into Owen on New Year’s Eve—”

“Well, I hope you told him to stick it where the sun don’t shine,” Rose practically growled. 

Maggie closed her eyes as the tears tracked hot down her cheeks. “I didn’t. I— I let him get under my skin, and then I didn’t want to tell Spencer about it because it’s embarrassing, but he knew something was wrong, and he wouldn’t stop asking about it.” She had to pause and suck in a hiccuping breath, releasing it on a sob. “So I yelled at him and said all kinds of terrible things, and then he left, and now I think maybe we broke up, and I’ve literally never been so sad in my whole life.” 

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and then she heard Rose sniffling. “Really shoulda had your brothers knock the mess out of that son of bitch when we had the chance. He's been gone five years, and he’s still hurtin’ you every chance he gets.”

Maggie swiped uselessly at the tear tracks on her cheeks, sniffling pathetically. “And now I hurt the person who’s spent the last year singlehandedly undoing all of his awful handiwork.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Rose cooed. Maggie could hear the creak of the floorboards as her mother walked through her childhood home. “You said he knew somethin’ was wrong, right? I can almost guarantee that he’s still just wonderin’ what’s goin’ on. I know he’s supposed to be a genius, but he’s still a man. And men are dumb, sugar. You gotta spell it out for ‘em. Have you talked to him since?”

“No.” Fresh tears spilled over Maggie’s lashes as the thoughts that had kept her from calling him spilled out of her mouth. “What if it was too far? What if I ruined everything? What if he never wants to speak to me again?”

Ross heaved out a long breath. “That’s a lot of what ifs, Maggie Mae.”

“What if I’m right?” she whispered. 

“And what if you’re not?” Rose countered. “That boy loves you. Anyone could see that, clear as day. He’d do just about anything for you.” Rose paused, and Maggie heard the springs of the bed squeak as she sat. “But you gotta let him, sweetheart. Right now you’re takin’ away his chance to do that. You’re makin’ the decision for him.” 

Maggie listened as her mother’s advice crackled over the line, and for the first time in a week, she felt a tiny sliver of hope. 

“If he doesn’t want to be with you anymore, you need to let him tell you that. Don’t settle for a what if. Find out for sure, or you're gonna spend the rest of your life worryin’ and wonderin’, sugar.” 

…

That evening found Spencer in his usual spot on the couch, reclined against the arm with a book in hand. He’d promised himself he’d give Maggie the weekend to herself— that he’d let her come to him. That didn’t stop him from checking his phone obsessively; it never buzzed with any new calls or messages, but he still looked every seven minutes. 

The sound of the buzzer jolted his body to attention. He checked his watch and drew his brows together before closing his book and scrambling to cross to the intercom, a tiny seed of hope beginning to germinate. He pressed the button to talk, calling, “Yes?” into the speaker box and then listening for the response. 

“Hi.”

Her voice was so quiet that he could barely hear it over the crackle of the speaker. He buzzed her in without hesitation, crossing to the door and opening it immediately. She made her way slowly up the stairs, turning at the top of the landing and pausing.

His heart broke at the sight of her. She looked utterly exhausted, dressed in black sweatpants and a soft purple sweater, a black puffer jacket over top. She was holding his scarf, wringing it in between her hands. Her eyes were ringed red, and the bags under them were worse than his. 

He watched as she crossed the landing, coming to stand quietly in front of him. He’d known something was wrong, but the way she looked now made him wonder just how long she’d been battling whatever private demons she wouldn’t let him in on. 

“I, um.” She cleared her throat, and it was clear she’d been crying from the thickness of her voice. “I have a lot to say— again. But since I was such an asshole, I wanted to give you the opportunity to say anything you need to say first.” 

He’d imagined this conversation countless times over the last week, and never once had he thought it would start like this. “Um. Well. You— you really hurt me.”

She could barely look at him. “I know.”

He swallowed. “Please don’t do that again.” 

She shook her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I won’t. I won’t ever again.”

Spencer tucked his hands into the pockets of his lounge pants. “I know I may not be the best at social cues, but I’m a pretty good profiler. And I can tell when something’s wrong.” He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t have to tell me everything. I’m just asking you to tell me when I do something that makes you upset.”

“You— you didn’t do anything wrong. I—” He watched her squeeze her eyes shut. “God, I’m so sorry, Spencer. I’m just— I’m sorry for so many things. For lying about being fine, for being up on my high horse about communicating and then not actually doing it, for being an absolute bitch.”

He wanted to argue— she wasn’t a bitch— but he could tell she was far from done. 

“I— I thought therapy was supposed to teach me how to talk about things, but this still feels… impossible to say out loud,” she admitted, fingers fumbling with the fabric of the scarf. “It’s embarrassing and ridiculous. But I— I have deep-seated insecurities. That I’m not really that smart or interesting or particularly special.” 

He thought back to that night in Mitchell Park and felt the guilt all over again. He’d practically said those exact words to her— it was no wonder she was feeling this way. 

“And every person that I’ve ever been with has— really reinforced those ideas, so for a long time they were just… a set part of my self-image,” she explained, dragging a hand over her messy hair. “I thought— I thought that I was over it, but I— I don’t know. Maybe you never really are.”

His brain sorted through every moment of their year together, pinging off the countless examples of her self-doubt and insecurity. She was easily the most wonderful person he knew, but he could clearly see the cracks in the facade if he looked close enough. How had he missed it for so long? 

“And then I met you, and you…” Maggie let out a wry laugh. “You’re easily the most interesting person I’ve ever met, but you made me feel like… I don’t know, like I’m interesting, too. Like I’m worthy of being with you, like I’m— like I’m good enough.”

He felt his heart splintering into a thousand tiny shards— good enough? 

“But I can’t— I still have a hard time believing it sometimes. And I— I’ve been letting myself keep you at arms length. Letting you see parts of me, but… never giving you everything,” she admitted. 

He watched her struggle to get the words out, her voice thick with the act of holding back sobs. He hadn’t realized she was carrying all of this. She was so good at supporting him and loving him through all of his trauma and issues, he hadn’t stopped to consider just how much she needed him, too. 

She continued, “It’s why I took so long to say I love you… why I couldn’t talk to you last week. Because I just—” She shrugged as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to realize that I’m really nothing special. That you’re getting bored, or there’s someone who’s a better fit for you, or one million other things. That I’m needy, and annoying, and too much work.”

A fresh tear tracked down her cheek, and he felt his own eyes filling. She never failed to put a stop to his own insecurities— reminding him that she liked his rambling, that he wasn’t irritating, that he was just the right amount. In his eyes, she was perfect. He would have never guessed she felt this way about herself. 

She continued, “That’s what happened before, and none of those guys were even half as wonderful as you are.” She swiped a hand haphazardly over her cheeks, looking at him sheepishly. “And then I was hurtful and awful, and I realized that I was just creating a self-fulfilling prophecy and I don’t— I don’t want to do that.” 

Her hand shook a little as she brought it back down to twist in his scarf. “Because it’s never— I’ve never felt like this. I've never been this happy with anyone else, and I don’t want to give that up. I don’t want to give you up. Even if sometimes I feel like I’ll never be enough.”

Her voice cracked on a stifled cry, and his chest physically ached. “And if you never want to see me again, I completely understand, and I’ll leave you alone, but I— I’m just so sorry. And I love you so much, and I’m trying so hard to be better.” She sucked in a ragged breath and let it out on an exhausted sigh. “And that’s, um— that’s it. If you want me to go, I—”

“I don’t want you to go,” he interrupted.

Her eyes went wide. “You don’t?”

“Of course not.” Spencer stepped forward and reached for her. “Of course not. C’mere.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, she was tumbling into his arms with a choked off sob. He pulled her inside and closed the door behind them, walking her to the couch and sitting them both down. She clung to him like she was afraid he’d disappear into thin air. 

“Maggie, I’m right here,” he assured her. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But if you n-need space, I understand,” she sobbed. 

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need space. I think a week was long enough, don’t you?” he asked, pressing a kiss into her hair. 

She pulled back out of the hug, head down. “But I really hurt you.” 

He held her hand. “Yeah. And I really hurt you, too.”

She huffed out a breath. “That’s not how this works. I don’t get to hurt you just because you hurt me.”

“I know that.” He almost laughed at how indignant she sounded. “I’m not saying that we should hurt each other. I’m saying that sometimes it happens. And when it does, we apologize, and we forgive, and we move forward. And it’s okay if you need space. But I don’t.”

“What if you change your mind?” she whispered. 

“Then I promise I’ll tell you.” Spencer tilted her chin up so he could meet her eyes. “I promise I’ll tell you what I need, as long as you tell me, too. We’ve gotta use all those communication skills we learn in therapy.”

Maggie nodded, and he pulled her into another hug. He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. “If I hadn’t heard from you by Sunday, I was planning to bother you until you talked to me.”

He could feel the beginning of a smile turning up the corner of her mouth where it was pressed to his shoulder. “You never bother me,” she mumbled. She held him for a moment longer and then released him from the hug and sat back, fidgeting with her hands and letting out a breath. 

“Sometimes I need to be told that my worst fears about myself aren’t true,” she admitted. “I know that’s so annoying, but—”

“It’s not annoying,” he interrupted, putting an immediate stop to that line of thought. “Telling you how amazing you are isn’t the chore that you think it is. I’m sorry that anyone ever convinced you that it was.” 

He covered her hands with his own, rubbing his thumbs softly along her skin. He couldn’t stop thinking about her dealing with all of this by herself. He hated that she’d ever felt anything less than adored. More than anything, he hated that he hadn’t been able to help her through it. And he wanted to make sure that he never made that mistake again. 

“A wise man told me once... that love is helping someone navigate their storms,” he murmured, squeezing her hand. She looked at him then, and he continued, “You’ve been my lighthouse for a long time, Maggie. And I— I’m trying desperately to be yours… But you have to let me.”

Her eyes filled with fresh tears, but she nodded. He let out a long breath and pulled her hands into his lap. “I understand that sometimes you need space, and that’s fine. I’m happy to give you whatever you need.” 

He shook his head. “Just— please don’t try to weather the storm by yourself. You can’t do it all alone; no one can.” He smiled ruefully. “I can tell you from experience that’s pretty much a guaranteed way to capsize your boat.”

His voice cracked a little at the end, and he felt a tear slip over his lash line. “I’ll help you repair your boat, or build a new one, or you can just float on mine for a while. It’s not perfect but it’s pretty sturdy, I think.”

She brought her fingers up to brush at his damp cheeks, and he met her eyes.  “What I’m not going to do is let you float out on the ocean by yourself. I love you too much.” 

She was quiet for a long moment, sniffling a little and just watching him— almost like she couldn’t believe he was there. She brought her hand back to his and laced their fingers together, rubbing her thumb along his. “I love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree.” He gave her a small smile and leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead. “Want some tea?”

She was frowning when he pulled back, her brows drawn together. “I need to tell you about Owen.”

The conversation he’d had with Anita was suddenly on replay in Spencer’s head. 

… a real piece of shit… telling her lies about herself… isolating her… destroying her from the inside out...

He squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. You don’t have to tell me at all if you don’t want to.” 

She shook her head. “Talking about him takes away his power. I have to stop letting him have so much sway over my emotions.” She looked at him then. “I do things I regret and hurt people I love.” 

He brought their joined hands up his lips. “Well, I’m here either way. And I’m still going to make you some tea.” 

He stood and pulled her up with him, bringing her into the kitchen and refusing to let go of her hand. He filled the kettle and turned it on, found a bag of her favorite tea and ripped it open with his teeth. He dropped the bag into her favorite mug, and then made a mug up for himself. 

“You know, it’d be a lot easier if you’d let go,” she said, the hint of a smile in her voice. 

“Mhm,” he agreed, but he made no move to release her hand. In fact, once he’d fumbled a spoonful of honey into each of the cups, he dropped the spoon into her mug and turned to pull her into another hug. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and closed his eyes as she brought her arms around his waist. “I missed you,” he whispered. 

She squeezed him tight. “I missed you, too. I’m so sorry.”

She buried her face in his neck, and he felt her breathe him in. He pressed a kiss into her shoulder and then settled his chin again. “Apology accepted, in case it wasn’t clear.”

They stood like that until the kettle began to whistle, and then Spencer kept her tucked underneath his arm as he turned to shut it off and pour the water into the mugs. They each grabbed a mug, making their way back to the couch and setting them on the coffee table to steep. Spencer kept their fingers intertwined and stayed quiet, letting her set the pace of the conversation. 

Maggie took a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. “I guess I should start at the beginning. I, um— I had my first boyfriend in high-school: Cal Cunningham. He was older and cooler, and so I felt— I don’t know… special when he picked me.” She rolled her eyes. “In reality, he was rude, and arrogant, and kind of a misogynist. We didn’t date for very long, but it kind of… set me up on this path of dating guys who weren’t very nice.”

Spencer ran his thumb soothingly along hers, waiting for her to continue. “When I started college, I dated this guy Adam for a few months. He was nice enough but really self-centered and a little immature. When we broke up I just wanted to be on my own for a while.”

“I was single for two years after that, just kind of… finding myself and whatever.” Her eyes watched the path his thumb traced along her skin. “So when I started dating Owen at the end of junior year, it felt like my first real relationship. Like— we were both adults, and he dressed up for our dates, and he paid for things and bought me flowers and fit all the cliches.”

“And it was great at first,” she admitted. “We had a lot of the same friends, so we’d been hanging out for a while before we got together. He was a perfect gentleman, and he was smart, accomplished, and ambitious. I fell fast and I fell hard, and we were sort of— it feels so stupid to say this, but it felt like we were an it couple. 

“A few of us made plans to move to DC after graduation— my friend Jess and her boyfriend Chris, Sam and Anita,” she explained. “And Owen and I, obviously. We moved in together in an apartment downtown. And that’s when everything changed.”

She drew her brows together. “It was little things at first. Like he’d jokingly call me stupid for forgetting something, or he’d complain about one of my friends being annoying. But it snowballed pretty quickly. He’d tell me I was stupid, and he wasn’t joking. All of my friends irritated him to the point where we couldn’t hang out anymore— even our former mutual friends. He thought that teaching kindergarten was a mindless, pointless job.”

Spencer tried to keep his heart rate steady, his facial expressions neutral, but his blood pressure was on the rise. No one deserved to be spoken to like that, least of all Maggie. 

She continued, “We spent the holidays at my parents’ the second year we were dating, and he spent the entire car ride home explaining, in detail, how ridiculous and low-class he thought everything was.” 

She shook her head and rubbed her free hand over her face. “I know it’s insane to think that I stayed with him for so long, but I— he did a really good job of convincing me that I was— that I was nothing. That he was doing me a favor by loving me. That he could have anyone, but he chose me. No one else was going to, so I should be grateful.”

He balled his free hand into a fist to avoid squeezing her to death. When Anita had said Owen was a piece of shit… he hadn’t realized just how deeply she meant it.

She picked at the fabric of her sweatpants, staring intently at the tiny pills. “When someone says all of that to you on a daily basis, and you’re not hearing otherwise from anyone else— because no one knew what was going on… you start to believe it.”

Spencer relaxed his fist to bring his fingers up to her face, gently cupping her cheek. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes for a long moment. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he pressed his lips to her forehead in a voiceless assurance that she was, in fact, everything. He felt her relax under the warm pressure of his lips, and he hoped that was enough for now. 

He sat back to let her continue. “We were together for five years, and we only broke up because he cheated on me. It was a long term affair; they were sleeping together for almost a year before I found out. And… a lot of people knew. Almost all of his friends knew. But I didn’t. I was still being this ridiculous, desperate little Suzy Homemaker trying to make him happy, even though he was still treating me like shit.”

She laughed, but there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it. “When I found out, I wasn’t even hurt. I was… embarrassed, I guess. But I was so relieved. I was so fucking relieved that I had a way out.”

He watched as her shoulders settled, almost like an actual weight had been lifted off of them. “I got a therapist and dropped all of the friends that were still hanging around with him. I moved to a new neighborhood, started hanging out with Anita and Sam, and just— started fresh. And I was doing really well. I had my moments of insecurity here and there, but for the most part, I was been able to recognize the moments when I was falling back into old thought patterns.”

She looked at him then, and her eyes were so soft and lovely that his heart ached. “You’re a big reason for that. You’re so open with how you feel about me, and… it makes things a lot easier.” She dropped her gaze with a sigh. “But I— he was at the party on New Year's. And I didn’t know he was going to be there until I was already there, and then it felt stupid to leave. I thought I could handle it—”

“And then I didn’t answer your call.”

“No, no.” She shook her head and reached her free hand out to grasp his arm. “That’s— Spencer, none of this is your fault.” She furrowed her brow, and the crease between them was practically an abyss. “He sort of— cornered me on the patio. I hadn’t seen him in like, four years? And he was complimenting me, and asking about you, and then he tried to— well, he did kiss me actually. I shoved him off, and he didn’t like that, and he did his whole Owen thing. Told me that he’d cheated because I was uninteresting and worthless. That eventually you’d get bored of me, too. Just, um— generally awful shit.”

She took a deep breath, and the rest steamrolled off her tongue and crushed his heart. “And then he just— left. And he’d absolutely demolished my self-image in less than ten minutes, and I was embarrassed and angry at myself, and then you didn’t answer, but I was kind of glad you didn’t because I didn’t actually want to talk about it. And I thought I could just move on, but then I was being weird, and you knew something was wrong. And I just wanted to pretend like it never happened, but you kept pressing me on it, and I just— I didn’t want to have to explain it all to you because I was afraid that— that maybe he was right.”

Maggie dissolved back into the couch, an indication of the emotional exhaustion that came with reliving personal trauma. Spencer moved closer and mirrored the position of her body against the cushions, bringing his face close enough to bump their noses together. They breathed the same air for one noiseless minute before she finally met his eyes.

“I need you to understand that not one single thing he said to you— on New Year’s or ever— was right, in either sense of the word. None of it was factual, and none of it was acceptable.” 

She nodded, and he continued, “You are the single best person that I know. You’re kind, brilliant, talented, and driven. You’re interesting, and wonderful, and lovely. You’re my absolute favorite person on the planet, and I will never get bored of you.” 

He let his eyes trace over all the angles and curves of her face, and then raised his eyebrows. “He’s lucky that I respect you enough not to go over your head, because what I’d like to do is run a full background check, find any and every possible transgression that could be legally investigated, and then use that information to ruin his life.” He tilted his head in thought. “That or— get really jacked and then beat the shit out of him.” 

“God, please don’t. As much as I’d love to watch that unfold,” she cupped his face in her hand, “you’re better than that. And he’s not worth either of our energies… I already wasted enough time dwelling on it and hurt you in the process.” She dropped her hand back to her lap with a sigh. “I spent so much time in that relationship that my brain didn’t know what to do with this good, healthy one.”

He took both of her hands in his, squeezing them tight and then pressing a kiss to the back of each. He wouldn’t commit assault, since she’d asked him not to. But he wasn’t going to let Owen taint any part of his life with Maggie. 

“I’m so sorry that someone you loved made you think it was hard to love you. Because loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” He pressed his lips together and mused, “But I think maybe love has a learning curve. Especially when you’re used to being hurt. You have to unlearn all the bullshit. People will have you thinking that you have to water yourself down, or change who you are, or make yourself more palatable. I thought that, too.” 

He brushed her hair back away from her face and waited for her to meet his eyes. “And then I met you. And you love all of it— all of me. All the rambling, all the quirks, and— even the dark parts, too.” 

She sniffled a little, but really smiled for the first time that night. “What’s not to love about you?”

He smiled back. “I’m not sure if you realize that I fully reciprocate that feeling. What’s not to love about you? I have a hard time thinking of even one thing about you that I don’t absolutely adore.”

“Even when I act like a horrid bitch?” she mumbled, only half joking.

He leaned his head against the couch cushion. “A year ago, you stood on my doorstep and gave me forgiveness— after I’d been a complete asshole to you…  I told you then that I wanted to learn how to love with you. I still do. In all the wonderful, and the weird, and the terrible. Even when we get it wrong.”

He shrugged, and then ran a soft fingertip down the bridge of her nose. “There is no one else I’d rather get it wrong with. Because when we get it right… it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to magic.”

Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and she brought both hands up to his face, holding him with an adoration that made his own eyes burn. “You can believe that you love me the most,” she whispered, “but just know that you’re wrong.” 

He leaned forward to close the distance between them, pressing a kiss to her lips with a reverence that felt technicolor and devout and more magical than any trick he’d ever mastered. 

“Agree to disagree.”

———

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[btsqualityy]

Assuage: Chapter 3

Yoongi x Reader

Genre: ABO (Alpha/Beta/Omega) dynamics, angst, fluff, smut, enemies to lovers

Warnings: Hunting (nothing descriptive and they’re not just hunting for the fun of it, it’s for survival)

“You know, it’s about damn time that these dumb asses gave me some help around here!” Kibum exclaimed happily as Yoongi stood awkwardly in front of him. “Well, don’t just stand there boy! Grab that maple wood there!” Yoongi moved quickly, grabbing the long plank of wood before moving back over to Kibum, setting it down in front of him. 

Yoongi had only been working with Kim Kibum for a few days now, but he had quickly learned just how...out there the man was. 

“You know, I’m one of the oldest elders in this damn pack and because of that, you would think that our amazing Pack Alpha would’ve given me some help before now but no!” Kibum ranted loudly as he grabbed a buzz saw, cutting into the maple wood. 

“Uh, how old are you exactly?” Yoongi wondered, looking at the full head of grey hair that the Alpha man sported. Yoongi figured that he had to be over 60, because he didn’t have a distinct scent anymore. 

“Don’t you worry about that,” Kibum smirked. “You just hope that you’ll be lucky enough to make it to be my age someday. Now, come here so I can show you how to cut out this shape for a bed that someone ordered!” 

Even though it had only been a few days since he started working with Kibum, he found himself enjoying both the work he was doing and the man’s eccentricities. Actually, Yoongi found himself settling into the pack so easily that it almost scared him half to death. With everything that he had just been through with his previous pack, he didn’t want to risk that happening again but he also couldn’t deny how nice everyone had been to him since he had arrived onto their territory. 

After spending two hours helping Kibum and learning some different techniques for woodworking, Yoongi walked to the front of the hardware store and sat at the front counter, manning the register while Kibum took his lunch break. Just as he found himself becoming bored, the small bell above the door jingled as it opened, Taehyung walking inside.

“Hi Hyung!” He greeted Yoongi cheerfully, making Yoongi glare at the Beta as he made his way to stand in front of him.

“Are you never not happy?” Yoongi wondered.

“Rarely, except for when Jungkook tries to pull that ‘baby Alpha’ bullshit on me,” Taehyung shrugged.

“Speaking of that, are you and Jungkook like...a thing?” Yoongi questioned.

“You mean are we mated?” Taehyung chuckled and Yoongi hummed while nodding. “Not yet, but hopefully we will be by this time next year.”

“What’s the wait? You’re both presented.”

“Yeah, but he’s still kind of young for mating even by pack standards, with him only being 20,” Taehyung explained. “Plus, Kook was a late bloomer so he’s only been presented for about a year now and he’s still settling into his Alpha hormones.”

“Ahh,” Yoongi nodded in understanding. “And you’re willing to wait?”

“Hyung, I’ve been in love with Kook since I was 17 and he was 15, so over five years now,” Taehyung smiled. “I’m more than willing to wait if it means I’ll be able to spend the rest of my life with him.”

“Must be nice,” Yoongi muttered.

“What about you hyung?” Taehyung wondered. “You ever think about mating and settling down?”

“Not really,” Yoongi shook his head. “Never really appealed to me.”

“Well, that’s fair,” Taehyung shrugged. 

“Can I ask you something else?” Yoongi asked and Taehyung shrugged before nodding. “When I first woke up here, at the medical cabin, I heard you and Y/N talking and you said “what if our parents had left me?”. You said it to Namjoon too. What was that about?”

“Ah, that,” Taehyung laughed. “So, as you know, I’m a Beta and I was actually born in a different pack.”

“Really?” Yoongi gaped.

“Yeah. I’m still not too sure of what exactly happened because I was only 3 at the time but my birth parents and most of my old pack were killed,” Taehyung began. “We were a small pack so our territory got taken over and it just wasn’t pretty. I ended up wondering through the woods alone and that’s when Joon hyung and Y/N-ah’s parents found me and took me in. It was actually kind of controversial, especially since their parents were Pack Omega and Pack Alpha at the time and the only kids that they were allowed to have were their own.”

“Because of the bloodline,” Yoongi finished, knowing very well how pack hierarchy worked. When a Pack Alpha and Pack Omega had children, it was expected that one of those children would be the one to take over the pack whenever their parents decided to retire or passed away. Competition for the title was often fierce, depending on the number of children in a family and their subgender, and adding to that adopted children who had no real linkage to the bloodline only served to further complicate matters.

“Exactly, and it didn’t help matters that when I presented, I turned out to be a Beta. The only fucking Beta in the pack at that,” Taehyung chuckled. “It was just another thing that made the adopted kid stand out, you know?”

“I get it,” Yoongi muttered. “Well, where are your parents now? I haven’t met them yet, or at least I don’t think I have.”

“They were both killed in the Great Pack War seven years ago,” Taehyung told him and Yoongi’s breath caught in his throat. Yoongi was more than familiar with the Great Pack War that had taken out massive numbers in almost every pack in South Korea, which included his own parents. 

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispered.

“It’s ok. They were protecting the pack at the time, which was always their main goal, so that makes me feel a little bit better,” Taehyung shrugged. “Now doesn’t it make sense why Joon hyung was so uptight about me brining you onto pack territory?”

“Yeah, it does,” Yoongi huffed. “Especially since his mate is pregnant.”

“Yep. Enough about that though,” Taehyung said abruptly, changing the subject. “I came here to ask if you wanted to come hunting with us.”

“Who’s “us”?” 

“Me, Joon hyung, Hobi hyung, Jungkookie, some others,” Taehyung listed off. “Since we’re entering fall, Joon hyung wants us to try to get extra meat to put into storage. Just in case snowfall comes early this year.”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi replied slowly. “I mean, my wrist still isn’t 100%. I don’t think I’d be able to take down anything.”

“Well, we always take extra tools like spears and stuff with us so you can use of one those.”

“Taehyung, I’m Prime,” Yoongi deadpanned. “I’m literally made to hunt animals with my bare hands.”

“You presented a problem, I offered a solution,” Taehyung laughed. “It’s up to you to take it or not.”

“I’m working though,” Yoongi tried to excuse himself.

“Not anymore,” Kibum interjected as he stepped out of his small office that was just to the left of the front counter. “I’m giving you the rest of the day off.”

“Really?” Yoongi asked.

“Yeah, it’ll be a good way for you to show that you’re contributing to the pack,” Kibum said. “And make some friends because Lord knows you need some.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Taehyung laughed. “So, what do you say hyung?” As much as Yoongi wanted to say no and keep up the façade of him not wanting to get too used to the pack, he also couldn’t deny how antsy he was to hunt again and satisfy that part of his biology.

“Fine,” he relented, cringing immediately afterwards when Taehyung let out a loud cheer. 

.............................

Following Taehyung out to the edges of the pack’s territory, Yoongi was surprised to see so many people preparing themselves to hunt. Most of all, he was surprised to see you standing there as well, talking to Namjoon. 

“Hey, nice to see that you’re joining us Yoongi!” Hobi greeted him cheerfully and Yoongi just nodded towards him. 

“I have to say, I told Taehyung that he wouldn’t be able to con you into coming,” Namjoon chuckled as he pulled off his t-shirt, and Yoongi noticed that he had the same tattoo that you had on your right should smack dab in the middle of his chest. 

“Him and Kibum double teamed me,” Yoongi shrugged. “I had no choice.”

“Figures,” Namjoon chuckled. 

“What are you doing here Y/N?” Yoongi found himself asking. “You seem a little too high maintenance for hunting.”

“High maintenance my ass,” you scoffed. “You sure your ‘Prime’ senses will be working well enough for you to even hunt?”

“Don’t worry about it. Speaking of senses though, wouldn’t it be too much for you to be hunting Omega?” Yoongi questioned, taking a little pleasure in the way that your scent soured a little.  

“You wanna see how dangerous it can get, you keep talking, dumb ass Alpha,” you spat back.

“Oh my god, enough,” Jungkook chuckled. “Are you two gonna do this shit every single time you see each other?”

“If he wants to keep going, then I can too,” you smirked, making Yoongi roll his eyes.

“Never thought you would’ve been the petty type Y/N-ah,” Taehyung laughed as he took his own shirt off, and Yoongi noticed that he had the same tattoo that you and Namjoon had on his left shoulder. 

“Alright guys, you all know the rules but I’m gonna reiterate since Yoongi’s new here,” Namjoon began, silence falling over the small crowd. “Stay within pack territory, you’ll be able to smell the scent markers. Please don’t try to take down anything big if you don’t think you’ll be able to handle it.”

“I don’t want to have to patch any of you guys up,” you added with a smile.

“And lastly, if you run into anyone else on our territory and if you smell anyone else that’s not a part of the pack, no fighting,” Namjoon finished. “You come get me and I’ll handle it. Understood?” A murmur of confirmations flowed through the air, making Namjoon nod in satisfaction. “Well, let’s go.”

Everyone darted off then and Yoongi did the same, following behind Taehyung as they ran deeper into the forest. Since Yoongi hadn’t been hunting in almost three weeks, feeling the wind whipping against his face and scalp seemed to make him almost come alive again. Yoongi loved to hunt, especially since he was exceptionally good at it (even for a Prime Alpha) and it was one of the few things that he was praised for in his former pack so being able to finally do it again was a literal breath of fresh air.

Deciding to be smart, Yoongi had mostly let Taehyung and Jungkook lead him through the forest, since they both knew their territory better than he did. He helped them take down some rabbits and squirrels, and even some groundhogs and woodchucks. 

“Wow Yoongi hyung, your nose is amazing,” Jungkook smiled as he strung the rabbits up together, making them easier to take back to the dining hall for preservation. “Oh, is it ok if I call you hyung?”

“Sure,” Yoongi shrugged, figuring that if Taehyung was already doing it, then there was no harm in Jungkook saying it. 

“God, I’m definitely going hunting with you all the time now,” Taehyung announced giddily. “I’ve never caught this much, this fast, and this easily.”

“I’m looking forward to that,” Yoongi muttered sarcastically, freezing immediately afterwards when he caught a whiff of the air.

“What is it?” Jungkook wondered, noticing how he froze.

“It’s musk deer,” Yoongi whispered, turning around quickly as he tried to get a better idea of where exactly the deer was. “Stay here.”

“Hyung, you can’t take down a deer by yourself,” Taehyung murmured. “Your wrist.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi stated simply, stalking away from them and moving quickly to his left, the scent of the deer becoming stronger and stronger. He stopped behind a tree, smiling to himself when he saw the deer grazing on some grass in the small clearing between the tree he was hiding behind and another. The deer was totally unaware of it’s surroundings, and Yoongi just knew that it would be an easy takedown.

Just as he moved from behind the tree to pounce at the deer, he was blindsided as he felt a blow connect to his knee and knock him down onto the ground hard.

“What the fuck?!” He sneered, shaking his head as he tried to regain his composure. When he looked up, he saw you there, standing in front of the now dead deer.

“Hi,” you smiled, waving your hand at him lightly. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He questioned as he stood up, dusting his clothes off.

“Oh, was this your deer?” You asked innocently. “Don’t worry. It’s probably better that I took him off your hands for you.”

“You smelled me here,” he accused you and you shrugged your shoulders while smirking.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t,” you vacillated. “Maybe I just wanted to show you what dangerous really looks like.” Feeling himself seething with anger, he just spun around on his heel and began to walk away, stomping back towards Jungkook and Taehyung. As he did so though, he couldn’t help but to wonder who the fuck you were and how the fuck you had learned to be such a damned good hunter as an Omega; almost even better than him.