#actually. i have. only a 5 hour shift tomorrow. and then sunday off. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

specialagentsergio · 4 years ago

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baby kiss it better

summary: When D.C. implements a lockdown order, you and Spencer decide to quarantine together. There’s just one problem—he’s working from home, and his coworkers don’t know about you.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: a few swear words, but otherwise it’s just fluff

a/n: ahh, the secret partner trope. how i love it. this is set in 2020, but with the season 5 cast! i was feeling particularly self-indulgent, so i made reader a night shift worker. this is for you, fellow night owls. stay safe out there everyone, and wear a mask!

a/n 2: i don’t actually know what a doctor or physical therapist would recommend for spencer’s knee injury. this is just going on my basic understanding of anatomy (i took a class in it this fall!) and what i've seen on grey’s anatomy lol.

word count: 2.2k

masterlist

Spencer tries not to grimace as he shifts in his chair. Working from home during the lockdown had initially seemed like it came at a great time, starting just a month after his knee injury. Sure, he wasn’t thrilled about having to do almost everything digitally, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about being mobile.

Unfortunately, that had turned out to be a downside. Tethered to his seat by headphones, he hasn’t been able to get up and stretch his leg properly, and as a result, is experiencing more pain.

It’s only 8:30, but he can already feel it flaring up. It’s been happening earlier every day, likely due to the existing irritation from the day before. Today is Thursday, and he’s miserable—he dreads to think of what tomorrow will be like.

He’s wondering if there’s some way he could get out of work tomorrow when he hears the sound of the front door being unlocked. He looks up to see you pushing the door open with your shoulder, carrying far too many grocery bags than is reasonable.

“Be careful!” he exclaims, watching as you teeter to the side a little. You just wave him off and close the door with your heel.

Working from home may not have been the positive he was expecting it to be, but you’ve more than made up for it. The two of you had decided to quarantine together, and he’s really loved having you around. Granted, you’ve only been here since Sunday, but he’s starting to think that this is going to end with him asking you to move in with him for good.

He hears a thunk as you dump all the groceries on the kitchen table. Then you’re back in the living room, taking off your mask as you walk by so you can blow him a kiss. He presses his knuckles to his mouth to hide his smile.

Usually you give him a proper cheek or forehead kiss when you get home, but the team doesn’t know about you yet. It’s not that he’s necessarily keeping you a secret, he just... likes having you to himself, and he doesn’t really want it to change just yet.

He’s also not looking forward to the pitch Garcia’s voice is going to hit when she finds out he’s been dating someone for over a year without telling her.

“Are you listening, Reid?” Hotch’s voice makes Spencer focus back in on the screen.

“Oh, y-yeah. Yeah, of course. Um, I was just thinking that this choice of rope to bind the victims is interesting.” He doles out a few facts about it, which seems to do an adequate job of convincing everyone that he’s paying attention.

They take a break when the main briefing is over—Jack needs something from Hotch and Sergio has apparently knocked something breakable off of Emily’s kitchen counter. He slides his headphones off and mutes his mic. Apparently that’s a cue you’ve been waiting for, because only a few moments later you’re placing a mug of tea on his desk.

“Green tea,” you say. “Might help reduce the inflammation in your knee.” Then you’re lifting his foot off the small stool it’s resting on and sliding another pillow under it so his leg is more elevated.

“Wh—“ he starts, but you’re already hurrying back into the kitchen. You come back with a baggie of ice wrapped in a dishtowel in your hands, which you place it gently on top of his knee.

“Twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off,” you say. “Then repeat with heat instead, like your physical therapist said. I’ll get the heating pad from the bedroom.”

“Hey, wait.” Spencer snags your wrists before you can walk away again. “How’d you know it was hurting?”

“Oh, I always know,” you reply. “You should have realized that by now.”

He thinks on that as you leave to get the heating pad, sipping his tea. You do always seem to just know, whether he’s in physical pain, a bad case is bothering him, or even if he’s just in a bad mood and doesn’t know why himself.

Not a day goes by where he doesn’t feel incredibly lucky to have you in his life.

“I’m leaving it by this outlet behind you. Have you been doing your stretches?”

He bites his lip, hesitating because he knows you won’t like the answer. But he doesn’t have to say it; you can tell from his expression.

“Spencer. You know you need to be doing them.”

“I know, I do,” he insists. “I just... can’t really get up and do them with these headphones.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Okay, so take them off. Your laptop has speakers.”

“But I don’t want to disturb you,” he protests. Since you work the night shift, you sleep during the day, usually heading to bed around 11 AM. He doesn’t want the noise from the Zoom calls to keep you up. Much like the bullpen in the FBI building, the calls can get rowdy.

“You won’t,” you assure. “I’ll just shut the bedroom door.”

“I guess that works,” he relents. “But I feel weird getting up and stretching in front of everyone. Like, wouldn’t that be disruptive?”

You sigh. “Spencer, I understand it’ll make you self-conscious, but you want full mobility in your knee again, right?”

“Yeah, I do, I get it,” he says sullenly, looking down into his mug. “I need to do the stretches if I want it to heal well.”

“Hey.” You take one of his hands and squeeze it. “I’m not trying to annoy you. I just want you to get better and be in less pain. I don’t like to see you hurting.”

“You’re not annoying me. I guess I’m just... not really used to being taken care of,” he admits quietly.

“Well, I’m gonna fix that.”

The confidence in your voice makes him unable to hold back a smile. “Alright.”

You smile back. “Is there anything else I can do?”

Spencer’s about to tell you that you’ve done plenty when an idea strikes him. He tilts his head to the side. “Well, there is something.”

“Yes?”

“There’s some research—nothing too substantial, but still some—that says kisses can help relieve pain,” he says.

You laugh, but it’s not unkind. “Oh, so you want me to kiss it better?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, glancing away shyly.

“Okay, then.” You tuck his hair behind his ear and press a kiss to his forehead. “Better?” you ask softly.

He hums. “Better.”

“Good.” You stand back up and stretch. “Well, I’ll be awake for a few more hours, so let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Spencer puts his headphones back on—he wants to wait to unplug them until you go to bed to spare you from hearing anything gruesome—and looks back at the screen to find Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Garcia staring him down. Rather hesitantly, he unmutes his mic and asks, “What?”

Emily is grinning—she looks the more awake than she has all morning. “Is there anything you wanna tell us?” she asks.

“Yeah, Spence,” JJ chimes in, “any new developments in your life?”

“I don’t—” he starts, then it hits him like a truck. He remembered to mute his mic, but the camera was still on. Clearly, they all saw you kiss his forehead. He barely stops himself from hitting his head against the table; he covers his face with his hands instead and groans.

“Isn’t the whole point of all this that we stay away from other people?” Morgan asks, and Spencer doesn’t have to look up to know that Derek has a shit-eating grin on his face.

“People outside of your household,” he corrects without thinking.

“Oh my god!” Garcia shrieks and he winces, pulling the headphones off out of instinct. He’s not the only one—JJ jumps and yanks her earbuds out, and Derek lifts one side of his headphones away from his ear. Spencer hesitantly copies him, putting one half of his headphones back on.

“Jesus, Pen, you scared the shit out of Sergio,” Emily’s saying.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” she says, then turns her attention completely to Spencer. “Boy wonder. You’re living with someone and I’m just now hearing about it?”

“I mean, you never asked,” he points out.

“Well, I didn’t think I’d have to!” she huffs. “You usually tell your friends if you’re seeing someone new, let alone living with them!”

“You do, maybe. Emily and I don’t,” he says.

Emily herself shrugs. “Good point. Fair enough, Reid.”

“Besides, we’re not living together,” he continues, “We’re quarantining together.”

“Right, because that’s such a big difference,” JJ teases. He glares at her in return.

Rossi returns to his desk before Penelope can start bombarding Spencer with questions. But there’s no reprieve for him—the man takes one look around and knows something’s up. “Okay, what’s going on?” he asks.

“We just found out pretty boy has a partner,” Morgan sing-songs before Spencer can say anything.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

“And he didn’t tell any of us!” Garcia adds.

Spencer groans again and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “This is exactly why I didn’t say anything,” he mutters.

A knocking sound draws his attention away from the call. You’re standing in the bedroom doorway, your hand resting on the doorframe. “You okay?” you ask. “I just heard you groan.”

Spencer mutes his mic again and then leans over so he’s out of the camera’s frame. “They found out,” he sighs.

“Found out what?”

“Found out about... you.”

Realization crosses your face. “They saw me kissing you better?”

“Yeah. I forgot the camera was still on,” he says sheepishly.

“Well, it was bound to happen eventually.” You make your way over to him and take the ice off his knee. “It’s been twenty minutes, by the way.”

“Thanks. So, um...” He picks up the fidget toy you bought him when he was going stir-crazy in the hospital and starts messing with it. “What do you wanna do about this?”

“Whatever you’re most comfortable with,” you reply immediately.

“Okay, good answer,” he says. “But I actually want to know how you feel about this.”

“Well, I’m fine with meeting them, even if it’s just over Zoom. But if you’d rather wait, I’m fine with that, too. Really,” you add when he raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, well.” Spencer looks back at the screen. Hotch has returned now, and even though he can’t hear anything, it’s clear they’re all waiting on him. Best to just do this now, he thinks, otherwise I’ll be hearing about it all day. “How would you feel about meeting them right now?”

You blink. “Um, okay. So long as you don’t mind me looking like I was up all night, because, you know... I was.”

“You look fine,” he reassures. “Uh, just stay put for a second. Let me ask if this is okay.”

He readjusts to sit in his chair properly. He starts to put his headphones back on, but you unplug them so you can hear what’s happening.

“You ready to continue, Reid?” Hotch asks. It’s business as usual with him—if he was told what happened earlier, Spencer can’t tell.

“Well, actually,” he starts, and nervousness bubbles up in his chest. He glances up and you give him a reassuring smile. “Actually, I was wondering if I could introduce you guys to someone first?”

Garcia squeals. “Ooh, sir, please say yes!”

“Just keep it quick,” Hotch says. He didn’t even hesitate—they totally told him.

Spencer takes a deep breath, then gestures for you to come over. You seem a little nervous as well, but you handle it well, walking around the desk and into the frame. “Oh, we should have gotten you something to sit on,” he laments when you lean over the back of his chair.

“It’s fine.” You drape your arms around his shoulders and adjust so your head is on the same level as his. It’s silent for a moment, then you say, “Well, introduce me, silly.”

“Oh!” He clears his throat, trying to ignore the heat he feels in his cheeks. “Um, this is (Y/N). My... my partner.”

The call explodes with greetings, everyone talking over each other. “Slow down, slow down,” Spencer pleads. This is all overwhelming enough—he doesn’t need any excess stimuli.

Once it settles, everyone takes their turn introducing themselves (you already know who they all are, though, as he’s told you so much about them). Then you field a few questions—what you do for work, how you met, what your favorite food is (that was Rossi—Spencer suspects that he wants to know for the first dinner party he can hold after quarantine is over).

It’s going well. Everyone seems to like you, and you’re getting by just fine. Until Garcia asks her question, that is.

“So, (Y/N), how long has boy wonder been keeping you a secret from us?”

Both of you tense. “Uh, you know what, I’ll let him answer that,” you say quickly. “It’s just about time for me to go to bed.”

“Wha—no. No, it’s not. It’s just barley past nine,” Spencer protests.

“Yeah, I’m really tired. I’m gonna try and get some extra sleep today.” You give a little wave. “It was nice meeting you all.”

“Don’t leave me,” he whispers desperately. “Not with that question.”

You feign a yawn. “Sorry, I’m just too tired.”

He watches you go back to the bedroom with a pout.

“Well?” Garcia insists when he looks back at her.

Spencer cringes and preemptively lowers his computer volume.

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tell me what you thought here!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid #fluff #my fic #yes i watch grey's what about it

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displacedentities · 4 years ago

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Night Out

My quickfic for @doodledrawsthings Coffee Shop AU! In truth I had this in the books for months and just never got around to finish it ;u; Unfortunately only the muse can decide when it’s time to slap me with enough serotonin to work on this, so I rode the high from recent art and wrapped it up! It’s not as clean as I wanted, but you know what, have it anyway.

-Myst -----

Finally. Another shift in the books.

With a heavy sigh, Luka stretches his back as the clock chimes up on the wall over the glass doors. Deft fingers untie the back before he slips the fabric apron over his head. A light snap of magnets punctuates the white noise of steaming coffee machines, and Luka stuffs his nametag into his pants pocket.

Luka was embarrassed to think about how much of a struggle it was to steady on for the entirety of the workday. Stress ate at him all the time, over so many things. Harriet was priority number one - did he remember to prep her meals for the day? Was she still ok, back in the apartment? Was Professor Popcorn in need of more repairs? Luka would happily handle such a task, of course, but...

He wasn't guaranteed to have thumbs when the evening finally came. There was his time limit to think about.

"Hey Luka?"

Damn, but being cursed was such a pain. Chopping vegetables was a particular bane of his existence. How could he trust himself with a knife like that? Ugh. He hated to make Harriet do it - no child should be wielding a knife before the age of 13, for any reason. He'd just have to MacGyver a solution or something.

"Luka..."

And on top of that, he had the upcoming bills to fret over. Rent was due in a few days, and he'd made a decent amount in tips, but they could not afford to have their upstairs neighbor burst a pipe again. He and Harriet had spent the entire afternoon toweling up their poor carpets to avoid getting mildew. Or worse, bugs. Luka was a fan of bugs, but not in his carpets, or sneaking into the mattress where they could bite his daughter.

"HEY!"

This time, the voice manages to pierce the haze of worry writhing in Luka's brain. Jolting to attention, the auburn-haired adult turns around, blinking owlishly at his colleague, Clover.

The braided redhead is giving him a wan smile, her brows furrowed in worry as she sets down a large bag of coffee beans under the counter.

"You spaced out again, buddy. Did you hear a word I said?" the barista asks, folding her arms over her stained apron.

"Uhh... you said my name," Luka replied, feeling a bit awkward as he chuckles once. "Sorry, I probably missed anything you might have asked me."

"I was asking if you ever go out."

"Ah- what?"

That was unexpected. Go out?

"You know-" Clover holds up her hands to gesture to the world in general, and beyond the coffee shop doors "-out! Like, with friends or anybody?"

Ah.

Luka laughs once, rubbing a hand on one side of his face.

"You mean since I moved into town? Nah, not really. Me and my daughter have only been here a few months - can't say we made many friends just yet."

Nor was that a risk they could take. Who knows how long they could stay here, before he was inevitably found out? One could argue it was a risk just- doing what he was doing now. Trying to hold a job, staying in an apartment; a semi-permanent living situation. They'd been on the road so long, old habits were quite hard to break. And if he was entirely honest with himself, Luka didn't know yet if he felt safe, even six months past the first day he arrived in the rural town of Subcon.

Clover's frown deepens, her arms dropping back to her sides. Her dropped guard betrays her worry, before she tries to play it off with another lighthearted smile and upbeat words.

"Oh come on, it can't have been that long since you've just done something fun for the sake of it. When was the last time you went out with friends and enjoyed yourself?" she asks.

"Why is this important?" Luka asks, his own guard slowly rising. He didn't quite see where she was going with this, but he wasn't sure he'd like it.

Oops- maybe not the most polite way to phrase that, as he sees an awkward flinch on Clover's face. Quick, recover! Luka chuckles once, also trying to lighten the mood.

"You and MJ never really asked me that kind of stuff before. I thought I was hired to serve coffee, not tea."

"We serve both, ya doofus," Clover smirks, rubbing one of her well-muscled arms with the other in a self-conscious gesture. "You should know that, since you've been working here almost four months now. And uh- well, MJ just kind of noticed you always seem very tired whenever you leave work."

Luka smiles back, but it's forced. Careful. Don't give any hints that it's anything serious. Don't be suspicious.

"Oh, that? I uh- I'm not used to the retail scene. I'll probably adapt to it soon."

Clover doesn't seem convinced. Still, her expression is sympathetic, rather than judgmental or suspicious. She leans her back on the counter, looking over Luka's exhausted demeanor and baggy eyes with a skeptical smile.

"I'm sure you will." She rests her hands on the counter. "In the meantime, you should go out for bowling with me and MJ! We were planning this outing for about a week, and maybe you'd wanna come with?"

Luka stops mid-folding of his apron. He turns toward Clover with surprise.

"Bowling? As in- knocking over pins in an alley, bowling?"

Clover rolls her eyes, amused. "No, as in rolling cereal bowls. Yes, that kind of bowling, Luka. It'll be fun! Eat some cheap pizza, knock over pins, watch the uncanny valley animations on the TV screen, the whole shebang. You up for joining us?"

"I uh- I didn't know there was a bowling alley here?" Luka says, his voice pitching up as he gives a sheepish laugh. "I- I don't know..."

Shit.

He could already feel the first touches of his curse starting to well up. A quick glance to his hands- okay, no purple yet. But it was coming.

Luka tucks his hands behind his back just in case.

"I'm not sure, I have Harriet to worry about..." he fumbles, rushing to think of excuses. It hurts his heart a little when he sees the disappointed expression Clover wears.

"Are you sure?" she asks, her tone gentle. "It'll only be a for a couple of hours - I could ask Cookie next door if she'd be willing to handle your daughter for the night. She's a fantastic sitter, and your daughter would have Mu to play with."

Luka opened his mouth, preparing to turn it down- then closed it again, brows furrowed as he chews over the thought.

Only a few hours... hm. His curse's current time limit was somewhere a little short of eight hours, he was sure. As long as he didn't have to pick up a shift at work, he would have most of his day free to spend out of the motel. An outing to a bowling alley couldn't possibly last eight hours, though he'd... never actually gone bowling before.

"I.... don't know... I've never been bowling, I'll just hold you back-"

"Nonsense," Clover says, waving off his excuse immediately. "MJ and I aren't professionals or anything, Luka - it's just for fun! You've never been?? That means you've gotta try it, at least once. Please?"

...mmh. Luka would be lying if he said he wasn't very tempted. But he had so much to worry about! His daughter, his curse... keeping his job, being able to support the two of them. Not to mention, getting used to his slow camaraderie with Clover and MJ. That sort of outing would throw their friendship into first gear.

"It's ok," Clover interrupts his thoughts, standing back up straight as she grabs a rag and finishes wiping down the counter. "You don't have to come, we just thought... you know, it might be fun. You look like you need some serious time to unwind, dude. All we ever see of you is showing up to work, dealing with customers, then you leave. And hey, if you change your mind, the offer's still open."

Luka curls his fingers, foot tapping the floor in small fidget.

"Well, I'm gonna start closing up the back," Clover says, tossing the rag into a laundry bin next to the employee break room. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Wait!"

Clover stops, turning around with the laundry basket.

"What day were you planning to do it?"

What am I thinking?? I can't go on an outing with them!

Unaware of Luka's silent stresses, Clover beams, her smile lighting up once again.

"Saturday! Would that work for you?"

"Mnhg- maybe?" Luka concedes, forcing his own sheepish smile despite his brain screaming No nO this is a bad idea! His mouth continues to run away from him. "Saturday is my errand day - me and Harriet go out for groceries in the morning, and eat out at whatever lunch restaurant she picks. I wouldn't be open until the evening, and Sunday's game day for me and my daughter."

Bad idea, what are you doing?!

"That's perfect!" Clover says, delighted and still not privy to Luka's inner struggle. "If we close the shop at five, we can drive to the bowling alley around 5:30, play a game or two and eat. Should go until about... eight-ish? How's that sound?"

Say no, say NO!

"Sure, sounds fun."

AGH!

"Great!" Clover says, a skip in her step as she lopes off to the back room with the laundry basket. "I'll text MJ to let him know - he's already gone back to his apartment."

"Yeah, I'll uh- I'll text him too," Luka chuckles, scratching behind his head with one hand- and immediately putting a stop to that action, as he feels the points of sharp claws dig at his scalp. Both arms are dropped and tucked behind his back, a big smile on his face. "Gotta give him the full details and everything, haha..."

"No problem- see you!" Clover bids Luka goodbye, waving one hand as she cheerily hauls the laundry bin off into the back.

"Bye!" Luka says, his voice cracking from nerves.

Oh thank god she's gone.

Luka pulls his hands back out into view, and sees the telltale purple staining begin to creep up his flesh. Peck. It was already starting- Clover left just in time. He could already feel the sharp ends of his canines starting to poke into his bottom lip. He didn't have much left of the day in human form- he had to get home right now.

Snatching up his belongings from his locker, stuffing his work apron inside, Luka loops his bag over his shoulder and leaps over the service counter. He missed the rack of sugar packets this time, thankfully, his sneakers squeaking on the tile floor as he bolts out the door. The bell rings as the glass entryway opens and shuts, signaling his departure. Car keys are whipped out of his bag, a slowly deforming finger just managing to push the button to unlock the vehicle as he clambers inside. Just five minutes- he could make five minutes.

The engine of the car roars to life, and Luka zips off out of the employee parking space, trying his best to ignore it as his fingers swell and fuse together, and his eyes reflect golden light in the rear view mirror.

------

MJ's car putters up to outside the bowling alley, fixing his blue-dyed hair with a sigh. Clover, in the passenger seat, drums her hand on the door handle with excitement.

"This is gonna be so much fun," she says, turning to look over her shoulder at the stiff and uncomfortable Luka in the backseat. "I'm so glad you decided to come, Luka- we'll show you the ropes of bowling!"

"Great," the young man says, putting up another shaky smile as his fingers tense around his kneecaps. "Can't wait!"

"That's the spirit," MJ speaks up, giving Luka a quick smile of his own before twisting the key in the ignition. The car's engine dies down, the doors unlocking as MJ shifts the gear into park. "Clover told me you were nervous about hanging out, and that's completely fine by me - if you feel uncomfortable and don't want to stay, just let us know, ok? We'll drive you back to the apartment building, no hesitation."

Luka inhaled deeply, letting out a heavy sigh from the back seat of the car. It felt like his nerves were trying to shake him apart. A glance at his watch-

Was he really going forward with this?

...Yes. He was. As much as Luka worried, Clover had been right. It'd been far too long since he'd taken 'me' time.

Luka puts a hand on the door and pulls the handle, stepping out of the car before he has a chance to psyche himself out.

It's just a couple hours. He still had plenty of time, after his midday outings with Harriet.

Stay calm. You can do this.

The sign above the brick building shines with neon lights, saying 'Pins & Cushions' in bright blue and red. The backdrop is a painting that Luka can swear was painted in the 80s, displaying a bowling ball as it barrels into pins and knocking them askew with a cartoony impact mark.

"Pins & Cushions?" he says aloud, smirking a little bit.

"Kind of silly, right?" MJ speaks up, locking the car behind him with a click. "Sounds more like a sewing parlor than a bowling alley."

"It's because they boasted having cushioned chairs," Clover says, snickering. "You've never been, but most bowling alleys have these awful plastic chairs that hurt to sit on for too long."

"You mean like the chairs in high school?"

Luka's joke earns a quick bark of a laugh from Clover.

"Couched seating areas in a bowling alley was, sadly, a craze that never caught on," MJ says, ascending the concrete steps up to the building. "But this one did, and the place is like forty years old and too stubborn to change, so your butt will thank you later."

When the doors open, Luka is immediately washed with a cocktail of smells he didn't think could- nor should- ever go together. First and foremost is the thick smell of plastic and rubber, followed by the chemical odor of cleaning sprays, and the sizzling smell of burning cheese. Air conditioning blasts them from above as the three young adults enter the bowling alley, the doors sliding shut behind their backs. The sounds hit next - a cacophonous mix of rubber soles squeaking on polished floors, heavy objects falling and rolling, and the clatter of pins falling into the trap at the far end of the establishment.

It was loud, smelled strange, and the carpet looked lifted straight out of an arcade.

Luka was torn between anxiety, and a strange sort of excitement he hadn't felt in a long, long time. This was something new, something unfamiliar- he had hours to enjoy himself, and spend time not worrying about stresses of life. Harriet had a sitter, paid in advance with an alarm for when he would return, and he was out with- friends? Had him accepting this invitation solidified their friendship at this point? ...the thought made a happy butterfly flutter in his stomach.

This would be a great evening, he could feel it.

"Earth to Luka." MJ's amused tone causes Luka to jump. "Something on your mind? You're smiling."

"Oh- uh- nothing," Luka says, scratching behind his head sheepishly. "Just- thanks. For inviting me. I think I really did need this a lot."

"YEAH you do!" Clover thumps him on the back with one hand. "Come on! You have to give your shoes to the clerk so they can give you your bowling shoes."

"Ah, what? I have to take off my shoes on this carpet?" Luka complains, lifting a foot with distaste. "I feel like I'm stepping on twenty-year-old candy."

"It's part of the charm!" Clover sings, already removing one of her sneakers. "It's either this, or slip all over the place on the actual alley floor. You're getting the full bowling experience whether you like it or not, coffee boy."

"Ex-CUSE me!" Luka says with a dramatic gasp, hopping on one foot as he works to remove his own shoes. "I think you will find I'm a coffee man, thank you."

"Coffee twink," Clover counters.

"No, that's MJ."

"HEY! I will call lion's share of the tips for that one," MJ shakes a sneaker at them both in a mock scolding gesture.

"YOU'RE BOTH COFFEE TWINKS," Clover declares to the entire establishment as she fights off her last sneaker, racing for the counter before the others can catch up. "HURRY UP, COFFEE TWINKS, WE NEED TO PICK OUT BOWLING BALLS."

"I have dibs on the galaxy patterned one!" MJ yells after Clover.

Clover gives MJ an evil grin as she takes her bowling shoes and pays the rental fee, tying them before sauntering over to the racks of bowling balls. Her hand hovers over the selection, giving a teasing pause over the bowling ball made with swirled star plastic.

"Don't you dare," MJ hisses from the counter, pointing an accusing finger at Clover as he hands over the money for both his and Luka's rental shoes.

"It's either the tips share, or the bowling ball! You decide!" Clover yells back, drumming her fingers on the coveted starry bowling ball.

"Fiiiiine," MJ says with a dramatic tone, though his smile gives away his mirth. "You know I wasn't going to take the tips anyway, Clo."

"I know~" she says, giggling while she moves on to a different rack of bowling balls. "And you know I wouldn't do that to your poor weak arms, either, Moonie."

Luka finishes tying his rental shoes, thanking MJ before he makes his way down the small stairway to the alleys. It's very bright in this section of the building, with cushioned couches surrounding tables and standing consoles. Metal railings and a chute of some kind were positioned at each alleyway, some with bowling balls sitting idle atop the metal racks.

"So, what now?" Luka asks, the excitement of wading into unknown waters welling in his chest again.

"Pick a bowling ball!" Clover says, gesturing to the racks of heavy plastic spheres. "You'll want a heavy one, but not too heavy for you to lift and throw."

"Go easy on us, Clover." MJ shakes his head as he picks up his favorite starry ball. "Ms. Gun Show and her fourteen-pound bowling ball."

The redhead leans over and scoops up a swirled green bowling ball, hefting it on one arm and pumping it like a weight.

"You might get some guns yourself if you helped me landscape and move sod around my garden, Coffee Twink #1," she says, flexing a bicep.

"I refuse to acknowledge that nickname."

"Sorry, it's our team name now," Clover laughs, "the Coffee Twinks!"

"Hey, I thought our team name was the Comets?!"

"That was before Luka joined the team - now it's a 2-to-1 twink majority, I don't make the rules."

Luka just has his face in his hands, laughing through the whole exchange as he leans on the metal racks.

"You're just as bad as Harriet!" Luka laughs, pushing his hair back out of his eyes with one hand. "I don't even know where she learned that word - Cookie's daughter, probably?"

"Definitely," MJ says with a thousand yard stare, earning more laughter from Luka. "Go pick a bowling ball, I'll get the console up and running for our game."

Wiping tears from his eyes, chuckling under his breath, Luka turns to the racks and peruses the selection. The bowling balls come in all colors - most are black or dark brown, but there's a rather delightful mix of brighter hues like pink, blue and yellow. Some are marbled, some have glitter in the plastic, and a few very beat-up bowling balls have graphics of cartoon characters that were popular in the 90s. Well-loved by the children who patronize this establishment, he was sure. Harriet would love the Scooby-Doo ball - oh no wait. The one themed after a Pokeball, for sure was her poison of choice. And clearly the pick of the litter for many other children, as it was covered in scratches and dents from decades of use.

Ah- there was one themed after a jack-o-lantern! How fitting. He loops his fingers into the grip holes of the bowling ball, and heaves it off of the rack- only to almost crush his toes as the weight yanks his arms to the floor.

That was- heavier than expected!

"Oooooh, nice pick," Clover says, spinning her own bowling ball in her hands. "You sure you can carry it, though? That's a 10-pounder."

"I'll be fine-" Luka says, grunting as he lifts it back up with both hands this time. "Just- caught me off guard, is all."

"Alright, game's all set," MJ announces from the console.

Above their heads, a large tube television flashes blue before displaying a score board.

A loud k-chunk k-chunk k-chunk of machinery draws Luka's eye toward the other end of the alley. Metal rigging and machinery descend from the covered roof of the pin trap. Resembling a large soda crate, the rig drops an array of ten white bowling pins, before unclamping and ascending back into the darkness of whatever creation of god resided in that ceiling.

"You're up first, Clo," MJ says, waving a hand to indicate she should move forward.

"Watch and learn," Clover throws Luka a smile, the competitive taunt dampened by her genuinely helpful tone. "You want to throw the ball so it rolls like this-"

Stepping forward onto the squeaky, smooth polished wooden platform, Clover lifts her bowling ball to her chest. With a quick inhale, she lopes forward two steps, swinging her arm back with the bowling ball, before reeling it forward on the last stride and underhand throwing it into the aisle. The heavy green bowling ball lands with a tHDD before skidding its way down the oiled track, rolling in a long, smooth line. The swirled green sphere smacks into the bowling pins with a loud tHWAKK!!, sending all but one of the pins flying into the darkness beyond. The ball disappears into the hole, and Clover puts her hands on her hips with a huff.

"Damn, almost got a strike." Clover snaps her fingers, shrugging. The green bowling ball clatters back up the chute. She grips her fingers into the trio of holes again, and goes for another throw.

The bowling ball rolls down the course, straight as an arrow for the last pin. The pin spins off the wooden platform into the darkness, earning a whoop from Clover.

"Nice, got a spare!" Clover declares, throwing her arms up in triumph. She sashays her way back to the couches. "Who's up next?"

"I'm up," MJ says, standing from the console. Looping his fingers into his own starry bowling ball, MJ rolls his shoulders and steps up onto the oiled wooden planks. "I'm going to get the first strike of the day, just wait."

"Sure you will," Clover snickers as MJ winds up.

When he releases the ball, it rolls at very high speed- before curving halfway down the track, the topspin he put on the ball causing it veer off course and land in the gutter.

Face flushed, MJ coughs into his hand, suddenly very invested in fixing his shirt as Clover grins. The galaxy ball returns to the trough, and MJ pointedly picks it up again, winding up for his second throw. The bowling ball rocks down the course, and knocks over about six pins, leaving a corner of the triangle still standing.

"Woo!" Clover cheers, clapping as MJ returns to the seating. She reaches over and nudges Luka on the shoulder. "You're up, Luke! Show us whatchu got!"

Heart in his throat, Luka stands from his seat and steps up.

The bowling ball grins up at him, daring him to chicken out. It was heavy in his hand. Still, he walked up onto the polished floor, feeling the rubber on the bottom of his shoes as it grips the oiled surface.

Fighting the weight of the heavy bowling ball, Luka takes a step forward, swinging his arm back before bringing it back around like a pendulum. The ball hits the track with a heavy thDD as it’s released, sent rolling off down the track. Around the halfway point, it spins off course and lands in the gutter with a clunk.

“Aww,” Clover says, leaning over the chair cushion. “And you had such good posture, too.”

“It’s ok,” MJ speaks up, seeing Luka’s visible embarrassment. “It’s your first time bowling! Nothing to be ashamed of. You have another shot before we rotate players.”

Disappointed, Luka rubs at his arm. Well, that was a less than encouraging performance. But he noticed the angle of the spin on the ball. Maybe he could fix that.

The ball clatters up the chute back into the return trough. Luka picks it up with a huff of breath, holding it to his chest as he does mental calculations. If he turned his wrist at just the right point...

Stepping forward, Luka swings back and releases the ball, putting a top spin on the ball at the last possible moment-

The jack-o-lantern face rockets down the alley, the path straight until the very last second. It curves to hit the front pin from the side, knocking every single pin into the abyss beyond.

"OHHHHH!" Clover and MJ exclaim, clapping with enthusiasm as Luka looks stunned.

"You got a strike!" Clover says, applauding with a big grin. "You were totally pulling our legs about being a newbie to this, huh??"

"I think I just got lucky," Luka tries to play it off, feeling an uncommon shyness as he smiles.

Clover shakes her head, not having it.

"Luck nothing! That was pure talent, and you got a strike, dude!"

"Technically that was a spare, but still a strike in my book," MJ says as he rotates the turn order on the console, giving Luka a smile and a thumbs up.

"Oh let him have it, Moon Moon," Clover laughs as MJ throws her a pout. "Our new boy's got game!"

Luka hunches his shoulders, an awkward smile curling across his cheeks as he walks back over to the couches. Clover jumps to attention and makes her way to the track, picking up her green bowling ball for another round as he sits down.

This was... much more fun than he had expected it to be. The background noise of the bowling alley was surprisingly pleasant. He found he could get used to the dull odor of plastic and cleaner- and honestly, that hot cheese smell from what must be the pizzeria was tempting his stomach. But best of all was the camaraderie he could feel sparking between him, Clover, and MJ. Were they officially friends now? Or had they been already, and he was just- in denial? If Luka was entirely honest with himself, probably the latter. MJ and Clover had been nothing but kind and understanding, to him. His sporadic hours and excuses had done nothing to faze them with regards to their treatment of him at work. They still offered him drinks and invited him on this outing, offering even to pay for his expenses, didn't they?

"Hey Luka!" A call from MJ breaks him out of the small reverie. "You're up, again."

"And after this round, we can hit the arcade! I bet I can out-dance you on DDR, Coffee Twinks," Clover smirks.

"No betting. I know you can."

Maybe- maybe he had nothing to worry about.

---

The evening is going fantastic.

The first bowling game had been a pretty close match between Luka and Clover. Clover had the arm strength to pull off some mean and fast throws, but Luka had developed a system. Figuring out how to spin the bowling ball just the right amount had made up for his noodle arms and less weighty bowling ball. It wasn't long before he figured out how to roll a pretty straight record of spares and strikes, with the occasional 7-10 split. After bowling around, they went into the arcade section, with an entire paper roll of quarters to blow on games. A vicious Ms. Pacman multiplayer match had led to MJ smoking all three of them, and as predicted, Clover out-danced both of the boys on the DDR and Stepmania machines. Luka had to collapse over a nearby chair with exhaustion after his matches. He'd finished off the arcade run with a very lucky pull from a claw machine, winning a black cat plush with big yellow eyes that he was definitely going to enjoy giving to Harriet.

The three of them sat around their table at the bowling console again, laughing over a hot cheese and pepperoni pizza.

"No way, you didn't!" Luka gasps, wheezing for air.

"I did! I punched his goddamn lights out!" Clover laughs, slapping one knee. "The guy was being a huge creep, so I introduced him to my fist."

"I hope you didn't get in trouble with the cops or something for that." Luka tilts his head, giving her an impressed and worried look.

"Can't get in trouble if nobody reports it," MJ chimes in, smirking past his soda cup. "He complained to me, but I had the security tapes AND plausible deniability because I wasn't on the floor. Corporate took our side on this."

"Nobody from the city wants to drive all the way out to podunk Subcon for a random dudebro's complaint." Clover sits back on her cushioned seat, chomping into her pizza happily. "Mmmmm- delicious melty cheese."

Luka chomps into his own pizza, exhaling and blowing on it as it nearly burns his mouth.

"Easy, tiger!" MJ smirks around his own mouthful of pizza.

"I know, it's just so good," Luka says, laughing into his hand as he sips some of his cola. "But in like- the way you know it's not that great? Does that make sense?"

"Night in the Woods taught me the Pizza Scale, and I stick by that," Clover says, crunching through her crust to grab up another slice, washing down the bread with some soda. When she reaches for another piece of the pie, she pauses, and lets out a huff. "Oh, that sucks. I guess they didn't clean the bowling balls that well this time. Gross."

"Hm?" Luka says through a mouthful of pizza.

"Your fingers are all oil-stained from the finger holes on the bowling ball, Luka. Big Al needs to wash the bowling balls properly."

Confused, the law student shifts his attention down.

The ends of his fingertips are discolored with ebony purple.

Luka can feel as his brain zeroes in on the first sign of his impending transformation, and begins to shift into emergency mode as it relays the steps he must take in order to avoid further exposure. He'd gone over this information with himself many times over the past five years. It was ingrained in his mind, what he had to do, the information practically screaming at him. But he can't hear it. His ears are filled with buzzing as reality breaks into the facade he'd slowly built up over the course of hours.

No-

No no no-

His pizza slice drops to the paper plate as he fumbles with his bag, pulling out the cell phone from the liner pocket. Shaking fingers tap the screen with frantic speed, trying to turn the damn thing on-

9:17?

They'd been here nearly four hours?!

He'd spent the morning out with Harriet, doing their grocery shopping and walking around the town's outdoor mall as much needed father-daughter time. Eight hours of being in disguise had long since passed.

His time limit was up.

This couldn't be happening. Yet the numbers stare back at him from the glare of his cell phone screen. They even have the nerve to tick over to 9:18 right before his eyes.

This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening! It wasn't fair!

"Luka, you ok? You're turning pale..."

Clover's question just barely manages to pierce the haze, causing Luka to jolt in his seat. Posture stiff and breath shallow, he lifts his head to meet Clover's questioning eyes. She's staring at him with building concern, her smile becoming a frown of worry.

The tension is palpable in the air as Luka struggles to find words. Finally, he manages to say something.

"It's- it's a quarter past nine-"

"Oh shoot-" Clover says, sitting up abruptly as she grabs her own phone.

MJ checks his watch, wincing. "Oof. Sorry, Luka. I guess we lost track of time passing. I'll apologize to Cookie for the overtime, we can finish this round and go-"

"Don't feel good- going to the bathroom-" Luka wheezes, scrambling to his feet as he scoops all of his belongings into his bag and races past MJ's seat.

"Luka!" Clover yells after him, her heightened concern audible in her voice. "Ok, we'll- we'll start cleaning up! Let us know if you need-!"

Her words are cut off by the slam of the bathroom door. Luka's bowling shoes slip over the slick tile floor, his hands gripping onto the cold porcelain of the bathroom sink to steady himself. He brings his shaking hands up to view in the mirror. The blackening purple skin was spreading up his finger joints, reaching his palms.

No- not now! Why now?

Luka clenches his fists and his jaw, focusing every ounce of his will on making the purple go away. He can almost feel a vein pop on his forehead- if he still had veins, anymore- as he strains to make his unwilling body follow his desires. The purple starts to recede at a caterpillar crawl... but it slows. And the harder he tries, the more he can feel his arms struggle to hold their shape - becoming less solid.

"No- no!" he whimpers, clenching his hands into the sink again. The action splatters small droplets of purple sludge against the porcelain, which vanish moments later as the purple staining once more consumes his fingers - and now his palms. "Stop it! Just- let me be human! Please!"

He lifts his head to the mirror. Despair fills his gut as he sees amber eyes staring back at him in the reflection, and the beginnings of an inner glow fighting to come out from the back of his throat.

Luka lets out a wordless sound of sorrow, lifting an arm to pound one fist against the mirror in vain. The reflection is unfazed in its destitution, tears beginning to gather at the edges of its eyes and mouth set into a sob of clenched teeth. The reflection's canine's lengthen several inches as the eyes stare back, accusingly. The purple was starting to spread up its neck, just poking out the collar of the shirt.

"No..."

This wasn't him. But it had been, years ago. This was SUPPOSED to be him.

He curls his fist, watching as the fingers start losing their shape. Fusing together, becoming single digits and his thumbs vanish back into the purple sludge of the limb.

"I was finally-..." Luka whimpers, "...I finally felt human again."

-bang bang bang-

The sound of a fist knocking on the bathroom door causes Luka to yelp and jump back from the mirror.

"Luka? You ok in there?"

It was MJ.

Peck!

Grabbing his bag, Luka books it into the furthest stall of the bathroom. He slams the metal door behind him, fumbling to lock it with his swelling mitten fingers. Alarm shot through his gut as his shirt felt tight around his torso. Already?? This was faster than usual! Had he really pushed it that much?

"Hey man, are you sick? Clover and I are really concerned. Do you need any help in there?"

"NO! NO I'M GOOD!" Luka yells from the bathroom stall, clapping a two-fingered hand over his mouth as he hears the slight reverb echo to his own voice. Dammit! "I'M JUST- I'LL BE FINE!"

He was not fine, he would most certainly not be fine!

"Luka, you sound croaky." It was Clover this time, probably a short distance behind MJ. "Dude, are you sure? MJ, maybe you should go in and check on him-"

"NO!"

No, the reverb was stronger!

"Luka, I'm coming in."

"MJ it's fine!"

Luka could hear the seams of his shirt starting to stretch and strain. The seconds were ticking by as strings started to pop at the neck.

Shit, shit!

Luka turned left and right, the stall cramped and uncomfortable as the ruff of fur around his neck thickens and threatens to burst his shirt open. He needed a way out!

Aha! A small window, to the outside! Wow, that was probably the worst location for a window. And it was so small-

The door creaked as MJ started to turn the handle.

NO TIME!

Luka makes a dive for the window. His fingers catch on the sill, and he hauls his body up onto the tiny ledge, his head pushing up the glass and emerging out into the open air. Squeezing through the narrow space, he struggles to pull his feet through, kicking off the bowling shoes and hearing them clatter to the tiles below.

The door comes unlatched, and MJ enters the bathroom, looking around with a frown.

Luka was gone. And for some reason, his bowling shoes were abandoned on the questionably cleaned bathroom floor.

Just outside the window, tucked next to the wall of the alleyway outside the bowling alley, Luka is panting with adrenaline. He can feel his chest expand further with each breath, the fur mane around his neck already splitting apart his shirt. His fingers had fully lost their human shape by now, coalescing back into the familiar mitts he hated so much. A reminder that, no, he wasn't human. No matter what those people in the bowling alley thought of him, and what he thought of them in return... no matter how much he wanted to be human, again.

"Luka?"

His entire torso now fully drenched in purple, Luka hangs his head, listening as he fights to strip off the shirt suffocating him.

Footsteps, in the bathroom.

"...Luka? What the-... Clover, he's not here?"

"What?? But he- went into the bathroom! He was just-!"

"His shoes are here..."

"His shoes??"

Luka forces himself to stand, wobbling a bit further away from the window as he focuses all of his efforts on keeping his legs. He can't lose his ability to walk, not in the middle of town!

God dammit... god dammit! Why couldn't he just enjoy his night? Now he was wandering alleyways, half transformed, and MJ and Clover were no doubt worried to hell and back. What could he even say? 'Sorry, had to take a break to wolf out in the bathroom'?

-brrring brrring-

The buzz of the phone in his pants pocket- which was getting tight against his waist, he noticed. Luka quickly extracts the phone before it can be damaged by the fabric.

MJ's caller ID stares back at him from the screen.

The decision to trust these two with his information was biting him in his rapidly purpling behind. He'd been so careful not to slip up, and the ONE TIME he makes a mistake... He had another decision to make. He could not respond, and just be a complete asshole, but he could protect his secret a little safer, for just a little bit longer. Or he could pick up, and... he didn't know. Bullshit something? Would they even believe whatever malarkey he could cook up in seven seconds for bailing out of a bowling alley restroom? God, he was terrible at improvised excuses! He was a lawyer, not an actor! But if he answered the phone call, maybe- maybe he could hold on to that feeling again. The warmth of companionship of peers his age, that he hadn't felt since law school. Since... Vanessa. But he couldn't think about her right now. What mattered was his safety- his daughter's safety.

Peck. He didn't even think about that part. Could he really rip Harriet out of a somewhat stable home life, again? She was just starting to get along with Cookie's daughter, and he didn't want to take that precious first friendship from her.

Luka was only pulled out of the downward spiral by the vibration of the phone, which he only now realized had registered a missed call, and was now on the second call. It was still MJ, the picture of him in his Horizon employee cap still smiling from the bright phone screen.

He had to do something. He could feel his legs protest the form they was struggling to hold.

Survival instinct set in. First, he had to get away from the scene.

Stumbling to his malforming feet, Luka jogs away from the alley, ducking away from the Pins & Cushions and avoiding the bright neon sign on the side of the building.

As he walks, a headache hits, and Luka just knows his face was losing more of his familiar features. Didn't need a mirror to know that he was definitely the shade of a bruised plum, and that his eyes were glowing like gold beacons. The sharp teeth at the edges of his mouth were digging into his bottom lip as he dodges and weaves to avoid line of sight from storefront apartment windows.

The woods were so close by, just a few more blocks.

Faster. He had to run faster. But his legs- were fighting him! Already he could feel his steps become lighter, movement more fluid. It was a struggle to keep a walking stride, rather than just- leap into the air. No way was he going to fly a block from pecking main street.

His phone continues to vibrate, threatening the call to drop.

Right when he reaches the sidewalk, Luka pants for breath, collapsing beside the pole for a street lamp while avoiding the amber spotlight. Taking one last rueful look at his phone, he sighs, and presses the answer button with a doughy purple finger.

"Luka?" MJ's voice patches through. The reception isn't great, but it's sufficient. Maybe that was a lucky break, considering what his voice was going to sound like in a second.

"Hey," Luka answers. Yep. He sounded like a toad that swallowed a brass tube. "Sorry- about that."

"Dude, are you ok?? Where did you go?" MJ spoke so quickly it almost interrupted Luka, concern clear and evident in his voice. "You ran or something and- you left your shoes at the counter, and the cat plush for your daughter. Clover got them for you-"

"It's ok," Luka says, wincing. "I can pick them up tomorrow. I- don't feel well, and I have to go get Harriet."

"Luka, we could have driven you home for that," MJ responds, a hint of hurt and confusion. "You know you can tell us if you're uncomfortable, and want to leave, right?"

"No- this- I was having fun," Luka responds, cupping a hand over his mouth to try to muffle the echo. He had to wrap this up. His voice was getting less natural by the second. He really hoped the poor reception would mask it. "Look- I'm sorry MJ. But I really had to go."

"You're not getting kidnapped or something are you?" Clover's distant voice suddenly patches through in the phone. MJ must have his phone on speaker. "Because if you are, I'll hunt them down! Just yell where the car is taking you!"

"I'm not- look, I'm sorry, but I just had to go, ok?" Luka says. "Harriet needs me."

"I thought you were feeling sick?" Clover says, her worried tone now tinted with... suspicion. "You ran to the bathroom, and we were all worried about you, dude." Her voice becomes just a bit distant, as she turns to speak to MJ, but the phone picks it up. “Actually, did we ever hear anything from Cookie...?”

"No- I am-" Luka can feel his lies crumbling, nearly becoming true as he experiences a sensation similar to his stomach heaving from the anxiety. "Thanks for the wonderful evening, I'll pick up my stuff later- bye!"

"Wait-!!"

-click-

MJ's protest is cut off, and Luka set the phone down on the grass, putting his head in the other hand. That was terrible. But he couldn't back out on it now. He would just have to deal with the consequences of that phone call tomorrow.

Not like having shoes or not bothered him, anyway.

Exhausted and resigned, Luka slides away from the lamp post into the chaparral, and begins rapidly pulling his shirt over his head. No way was he going to lose another shirt, not after the last one. This was his last nice shirt, and he intended to keep it as long as possible!

A quiet gasp jolts him out of his frantic folding.

Luka whips around, shirtless, half de-pantsed, and his body a full shade of deep shadow purple. His golden eyes glow in the reflected street light as he freezes on the spot, making eye contact with another human being across the road. It was the stocky mustachioed man from the coffee shop- the regular who came by and sketched quietly in a corner. Pinstriped suit- which seemed to be the only outfit anyone ever saw him wore- an apron, and grey khaki pants. The thick glasses would make it difficult to tell where he was looking, if the man wasn't standing with his square jaw hanging down at his chest, head angled directly toward Luka. Everyone dismissed him as a paranoiac, a hermit who stopped by for his morning caffeine fix and quiet atmosphere to indulge in his imagination. Rumors flew that he used to work for some sort of tabloid magazine, and was fired- or promoted?- for how crazy his stories were.

Whatever the reason, this man was now standing, groceries dropped to the pavement, and staring at Luka. A very half-naked, absolutely not human-looking Luka.

Face suddenly burning hot with embarrassment and fear, Luka grabs his belt loops and bolts into the trees.

The movement causes the man to only gape more, making a wordless noise of astonishment before the forest breaks their line of sight and Luka retreats into the safety of the woods. Luka just barely remembers to grab his shirt and belt from the bushes. Vanishing entirely from sight, stumbling over debris as his transformation takes full hold of his body, Luka wheezes as his heart beats in his chest. After all that, he was seen! Peck! Did he just ruin everything because he wasn’t paying attention? But- but it was just the local hermit, the resident conspiracy nut. That wouldn’t be so bad, right? This wasn’t as catastrophic as being spotted by a teen with a cell phone open. Surely, this was the safest possible person in town to accidentally spot him mid-transformation. Repercussions would be minimal.

Thank god the man didn't have a camera.

#Coffee Shop Au #AHIT #A Hat In Time #doodledrawsthings #Snatcher #Hat Kid #Moonjumper #Clover #noticed a couple mistakes and it's too late to fix em wHOOPS #OH WELL

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safety-net-did · 2 years ago

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Tomorrow will be the second week of my stimulant trial, Sunday will be the change to the the stabilization dose. Also two weeks of being back on testosterone.

So far I've noticed these relatively dramatic changes:

My sleep cycle has been shifted and made much more discrete. Before I was waking up feeling groggy and like shit, somewhere between 1200-1400, then being awake until 0100 or later because my brain wouldn't settle.

Now I'm waking up and getting active between 0900-1100, and getting tired around 2100-2300.

I'm waking up either naturally or with little issue to my 0800 alarm so I can take my simulant.I then let myself go back to sleep or rest again until my 0900 alarm. I used to do a similar thing with caffiene back in college and working times, having an alarm to take it set before I had to actually be awake, so the routine was already something my brain knows. It's just interesting that it spontaneously reasserted itself.

Previously I would then drag myself through 4-6 hours of painfully fatigued life, feeling like I may as well still be in bed, forcing myself to do every single thing through sheer willpower(and overly applied guilt and shame, that I'm still working on).

Now, I'm actually awake. I feel like doing things. I still have depression, still have DID, still have anxiety, still have PTSD, still have all the other symptoms. But by feeling awake and capable (that is, treating the fatigue and parts of the executive dysfunction) I'm finding myself actually able to use the skills I've learned in the last 15 years to manage my symptoms.

I start feeling overwhelmed by something? The anhedonia kicks in? I'm scared to assert a boundary? I remember my coping skills, I feel capable of changing my situation, and have the energy to act on that feeling. Not 100% of the time of course. But so, so much more than before, where I would often be left feeling "I know I know how to deal with this. But I have no idea how and it's too hard anyway".

Previously I was working on a push-crash cycle that went something like this:

Day one: I push. I do an extra chore, or I leave the house instead of staying in, or I communicate a difficult emotion, or I socialise.

Day two: I crash. HARD. I can't do my regular stuff, I can barely get out of bed. I'm so worn out I can't even enjoy the resting period, I'm just confined to it.

Day three: I feel a little better, so I try to do my minimum activities. This wears me out because I'm not actually rested yet.

Day four: I finally actually rest "properly". I do very little, but I'm able to enjoy it.

Day five: I'm okay again. With luck I'll only do my bare minimum stuff until something comes up and I need to push again, starting it all over.

But now, my push-crash cycle is more like this:

Day one: I push. I do 4-5 hours of mental or physical work. I go out, AND do an extra chore. I socialise ON TOP of doing another thing. I get through basically a week's worth of what I was doing before, in one day.

Day two: I'm tired. So I rest. I don't feel confined to resting, I just accept I need to. I let myself enjoy that. I still get my minimum activities done, mostly. I might leave off a task if I'm really worn down.

Day three: I feel mostly fine! I can again Do Things.

That's SO different, and doesn't even account for days where I havn't pushed, but still crash.

I think with some learning and adjusting I could probably get out of this cycle, in a way I couldn't get out of the other one.

Because my "push" before was a necessary part of living an unpredictable life. If I wanted to do anything more than the very bare minimum, I was pushing, and I would crash.

Now my crash days are at the bare minimum I can emotionally accept. That means a normal day lets me do a little more. That means I don't have to push as often, as much.

I know it's still early. Two weeks isn't that long.

But even if it evens out a bit, I'm really happy with it.

#long post #diary; self #medication

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doriansbutt · 2 years ago

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A couple months ago, beginning of July, I had to work 8-9 days in a row to cover my coworker’s covid leave. I am someone who can barely handle working 5 days a week let alone in a row. So I went to our calendar and asked for just a simple 3 day weekend the next chance that was available. That’s today, tomorrow, and Tuesday. Mon-tues are my usual days off so I literally just asked for one Sunday off.

Cue this morning. I’m awake early bc I forgot to turn my alarm off. I get a message in my group chat. The baker had a family emergency and couldn’t come in. And no one could contact our manager. The only other person in the store waited until fifteen minutes before the next person would come in (four hours after baker starts) to call her up and explain the situation.

The next person in is the cake decorator. She is 8+ months pregnant atm. So she goes in and nothing has been done since the closer left last night. There’s nothing for the opener to do since no product was baked. Decorator hasn’t baked in 3+ years but she starts trying to get some stuff out while also trying numerous times to reach manager. And messaging in the group chat.

It’s my goddamned day off and every time I ask for time off it’s either denied or something else happens and ruins it. I was NOT about to volunteer to go in for that shit. But she won’t stop saying how fucking angry and pissed and “livid” the manager is about all this and he had to go in on his one day off a week to cover this. Would he still be this angry if I hadn’t seen those messages this morning? It is not my responsibility to cover someone else’s shift for a position that’s not even mine. The STORE needs to do better. Am I sorry for leaving a very pregnant woman in a lurch? Yes, of course. Am I sorry for actually getting to spend some alone time with my goddamn fiancée because I always work weekends and they don’t? Hell no! I rarely ever get to have this kinda quality time with them and I am NOT sacrificing my happiness for some shitty retail position I don’t even want and am actively looking to leave.

But yay. Guilt-ridden time off. Love it.

#i hate my dept I hate my dept I hate my dept #everyone is so ‘job first family second’ LIKE WHY #many of them have worked there their whole lives #like 3 of them have been there since their teens and they’re 50+ now #ones been there for 45 years #i cannot imagine caring more about work than my own family #yes my coworkers are my friends and I care about their well-being #but also i gotta care about me too #if smth happens and she goes into labor on the clock that ain’t my fault aight #sorry just rly had to vent about this #the messages keep coming #i muted insta lmao

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laurenwritesfics · 3 years ago

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Here it is folks, chapter 5! Again, sorry for the wait but I hope it will have been worth it!

Read the previous chapter HERE / read the full series on AO3

Warning(s): Angst (sorry...again)

CHAPTER FIVE: ADJUSTMENTS

Things had started to feel calmer now. Time had begun to slow down, and Frank was grateful for the chance to breathe again. One Saturday, he returned from the boat yard to change his oil-stained shirt and caught sight of Mary’s journal on the kitchen table – Evelyn had forced her into therapy back in Boston, and though she had hated it, journaling was the one thing she kept on doing – it had been left open on a page filled with tally marks. At the top of the page, she had written ‘number of days without Fred’. Frank pressed his palms against the table and dipped his head. Perhaps Mary would always struggle emotionally in one way or another. He was beginning to feel like a failure. Was his best really good enough? It was impossible to tell.

Sunday was just as quiet. They ate together in silence. Roberta didn’t visit. Their new normal was frustratingly abnormal.

“School tomorrow.” Frank cast a glance at Mary. “Homework done? Books ready?” He knew he didn’t need to ask, but he couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

Mary’s fork danced around her plate. “Obviously.” She huffed.

“Sorry, I was just asking.”

No reply.

Mary scrunched her nose and continued to pick at her plate, retreating back into her bubble.

“Listen,” Frank reached over and put a hand on her cold arm “I know things are hard right now. But if you talk about it, sometimes it makes things easier.”

“You sound like Evelyn.”

Frank’s shoulders dropped. “You don’t have to finish dinner, okay? You’re cold. I’m gonna go get you a sweater or something.”

“I’m fine.”

He ignored her and left the table. Mary pushed him away every time he tried to slip her arms into one of her hoodies. He fought back, not realizing how roughly he was holding her until she winced and slipped off the chair. He immediately swept her into his arms.

“I’m sorry.” He rocked her slightly. “You need to stop being so fucking stubborn, Mary.” His voice cracked a little. Her tiny hands squeezed him as hard as they could and she rested her head on his shoulder. When Mary started to cry, so did Frank. He pulled back, brushed a strand of hair from her face and laid his hands on her shoulders. “I’m trying my best here. You’ve gotta give me something, kiddo.”

Mary nodded, paused and then ruffled Frank’s hair. He returned the gesture and tucked her under his arm, carrying her across the kitchen and into the living room. She was laughing now. They both were. Mary dangled in his grip, arms limp, then tumbled down, grabbing his hands and stepping on his feet.

“Can we watch TV?” She looked up at him, the dewy sheen of tears beginning to fade from her eyes.

“Sure. But only for a little while. You’ve gotta get up early for school.”

Mary threw her head back and groaned. “Why can’t I just skip class tomorrow? Everybody hates me anyway.”

Frank tugged on her wrists. “Hey, nobody hates you, okay? They’re just jealous of how smart and awesome you are.”

“You have to say that, you’re my Uncle.”

“I’m also an adult, which believe it or not, means I actually know more than you do. About people, at least.”

“Yeah, you are kinda dumb…” She nodded.

“That’s it,” Frank picked her up “you just lost your extra hour of TV.”

In spite of his attempt at sternness, he let her fall asleep on the couch.

Monday came, and Frank finally finished his work on the Celestia. One brief phone call later, he had been invited to join the owner for a trip out on the lake. Frank would usually have been cautious about this – especially with wealthy customers - but he accepted the offer simply because it would give him a chance to clear his head. It was better than sneaking onto someone else’s boat with a six-pack of Heineken at two in the morning, at least. As he wiped his hands on a worn rag, he reclined against the workbench in the corner of the garage. A soft ache spread through his chest. Deep into his biceps. Exhaustion snuck up on him without warning. The chaos of the past few months was finally catching up with him.

He waited so long for Mary to come home from school that he started to think maybe she’d gone on another adventure. His worries subsided when she arrived, shoulders pushed forward under the weight of her satchel. As she threw it down and began to unpack a stack of books, Frank realized exactly what had happened.

“Did you walk all the way from Jackson?”

“Yeah.” Mary squinted as she fumbled around for another book. “Lucy’s really nice. She let me take out a bunch of stuff.”

“She did, huh? Am I gonna be serving you dinner in your room tonight?” He half-joked.

Mary had already stopped listening. Frank shook his head and turned back to the stove to finish cooking. This time, eating in silence didn’t feel awkward – Mary brought a book to the table, fork occasionally missing her mouth as she sat absorbed in whatever it was she was reading. Frank pictured her walking down Jackson with her nose in another book and couldn’t help letting out a soft huff of amusement. She was almost happy. And at least for now, almost was enough.

When he checked on Mary, he peered into a room lit only by a small torch light. She was back in her reading tent. Even though the door squeaked slightly, she didn’t stir. Back in his own bedroom, Frank reached into his nightstand for his phone. Lucy would wake the next morning to a short, thankful text message.

Frank and Mary, however, woke to a prolonged, impatient buzzing. The doorbell.

He was tempted to rub his eyes again when he saw the woman standing on the porch.

Evelyn.

Frank was immediately skeptical, but he opened the door to her anyway.

“Well,” she popped a hip and adjusted her sunglasses “are you going to ask me to come in or shall I just stand here on the porch?”

“Mary’s heading to school in a couple minutes.” His jaw tightened a little as he watched her fingers flex against the handle of her travel case. This wasn’t an impromptu visit.

“I’ll say hello quickly, then.” She barged past him, the wheels of her case narrowly missing his toes.

Mary had a piece of toast hanging out of her mouth and a book clutched to her chest. She covered her mouth as she hurriedly chewed and then walked around the kitchen island to meet Evelyn.

“Hello, darling.” Evelyn planted a kiss on the crown of Mary’s head, leaving a glossy pink mark in her hair. “Off to school?”

“Yep.” Mary replied, popping the ‘p’ curtly. “Are you staying with us?”

“Maybe. That depends on your uncle.” She inclined her head towards Frank in a way that she thought was comical, but it just made Mary cringe.

“Why?” She knelt down to shove the book she was holding into her satchel.

“That’s enough, short-stuff.” Frank intervened, steering her away from Evelyn. “Let’s go.”

“Have a good day, darling!” Evelyn called out, pivoting her suitcase so that it would fit flush against the wall.

When Frank returned, he slammed the front door and crossed his arms as he glared down at Evelyn.

“Alright, what’s this about? What little scheme have you come up with now?”

Evelyn smoothed her sundress and shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “You’re so hostile.” She tutted.

“Can you blame me?” He strode over to her and perched on the arm of the couch.

“Not at all.” She clasped her hands in her lap and twisted herself to face him. “I wanted –“she stuttered, blinking “-needed to see my son and granddaughter.”

In that moment, Frank saw himself. The same sunken hopelessness. He noticed raw pink lines beneath her eyes. For the first time in a long time, Evelyn seemed human.

“This is about Diane isn’t it.”

“Yes. I couldn’t face another anniversary alone, Frank.”

“You called me Frank.” He mused. “Where’s the real Evelyn?”

She managed the smallest of smiles and reached out rub his arm. “I lost her a long time ago.” She was holding his hand now, squeezing lightly. “I won’t stay too long. I’m sure you must be busy.”

Frank placed his other hand over hers. “Stay as long as you want.”

“You don’t really mean that.” Her icy tone returned.

“I mean it.” He insisted. “It’ll be good for Mary.”

“How is she?”

“Honestly? She’s struggling. She’s stubborn about it, though.”

“I wonder where she gets that from…” Evelyn chuckled.

“She’s dealing with more than a kid should have to deal with right now. Losing Fred, the car accident…”

Evelyn’s head jerked to the side. “Car accident?”

“Don’t worry, Mary wasn’t in the car. It was just me. I was a little drunk, it was stupid.”

“For God’s sake, Francis!” Evelyn yelled. “You stupid boy!”

Francis. Boy. She was his mother again. Instead of fighting back, the ache he had felt earlier returned and he slumped against the cushions.

“After it happened,” his breaths were shallow, a lump forming in his throat “I just sat there thinking about what would’ve happened if...” both his hands and his voice had begun to shake “I can’t take care of her. Not in the way she needs to be. Diane would be so fucking disappointed.”

Evelyn took Frank’s face in her hands and kissed his forehead. He buried his face in her shoulder and allowed her to be the mother she suddenly wanted to be.

“Diane would be very proud of you.” She glanced up at the ceiling, fighting back tears. “I’m proud of you, darling.” She whispered, brushing her fingers through his hair. “So proud of you.”

“I just want her to be okay.” He sniffled.

“She will be.” Evelyn turned to kiss Frank’s hair and then stood up, brushing a crease from the skirt of her dress. “Why don’t I cook dinner for us tonight? It’ll give you a chance to rest.”

Frank’s defenses were down, so he agreed.

That night, Evelyn made a shepherd’s pie and sat with Mary as she completed her homework. She piled chocolate ice cream into a bowl and made herself a martini. His mother was back, but she was still putting on the airs and graces of the woman she once was. He knew that if she didn’t, she would be more broken than she had been when she arrived. So he played pretend too.

Almost happy. Almost a family. And that would be just fine for now.

Permanent taglist: @hiddelstannerbarnes @redlipstickandblacktea @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @djeniiscorner @its-tortle @k347 @ixalit @iguessweallcrazyithinktho @cevansfics @capchrisevaans @thedamageofherdays @musette22 @mcubabydotcom @worksby-d @chuckbass-love @bluemusickid @fallinforevans @hellobeautworld @katiew1973 @just-dreaming-marvel @disaster-dean @rebthom89 @navybrat817 @just-dreaming-marvel-2 @sirisshamelesshoelibrary @denisemarieangelina @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @deanscherry @celestialbarnes @the-iceni-bitch @caplanbuckybarnes @caplanreads @autumnrose40 @patzammit @mxsamwilson @hevans-angel @elvenfforestydd @harrysthiccthighss @cherry-gemz @brattycherub @brattycherubwrites @angrybirdcr @blossomslibrary @uncensored-steve-the-platypus @honeyloverogers @cloudystevie @steebsbabygirl

#laurenwritesfics #chris evans fanfiction #The Pieces We Leave Behind #Gifted #Frank Adler #Mary Adler #Frank Adler fanfiction #Chris Evans fluff #Chris Evans x reader #angst #Chris Evans x female reader #Frank Adler x Lucy Montgomery

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teamhappyme · 4 years ago

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a series of promising events (2/5)

aaron hotchner x female!reader

word count: 10.6k (yeah i have a spacing problem)

a/n: part 2 of this series is here! some dialogue, cases, and themes taken directly from criminal minds (S03 EP20, S04 EP01, & S05 EP08). originally, i had it planned to be 3 parts, but after editing, and looking at the word count, it makes more sense to be 5 parts. i don’t want to inundate you lovely people with massive word counts (even though 10k is massive) so this is the finalized count. because i finally got my shit together and finished this out, part 3 will be up wednesday morning, part 4 will be up friday morning, and the final part 5 will be up sunday morning. thank you to everyone who showed some love for part one, and thank you to anyone else who stumbled across my crazy writing and read along!

at the end, I’ve tagged the peeps that interacted with part 1. if you don’t want to be tagged for the other parts, just let me know :)

ok enough of my rambling inner monologue, here we go friends!

link to part 1: here

****

May 2008

We were in New York, investigating what started out as five connected shootings in the city. After twelve hours, we were up to nine fatalities.

We delivered the profile at nine thirty, finally satisfied with the outcome after a day's worth of combing over crime scene photos and witness statements. Hotch didn’t want to waste another second, making sure the profile went out before the night shift went out to patrol.

“Now, our first theory is that we’re dealing with a team.” Derek started. “In the case of the D.C. snipers, there was actually one intended victim.”

“John Muhammad wanted to kill his ex wife, but he knew if he did, he’d be the prime suspect, so he created a spree in order to mask his primary motivation.”

Spencer added before turning to SSA Joyner. “Muhammad and Malvo also left a death card at one of their scenes, just like this unsub.”

“We believe our unsubs have studied that case. They’re opening a line of communication.”

There was an outpouring of judgement focused on us, since we were in charge of the D.C. snipers case as well. These unsubs know we’re here, and they’re trying to show they can outthink us.

“Yes, they are playing games. But what that tells us is at least one of them has some intelligence.” You tried to hold your ground, and not let their opinions get to you.

“And like I said,” Prentiss interrupted, ready to put these cops in their place. “They know these cases. He’s also studied the placement of the surveillance systems well enough to avoid detection.”

“We’ve asked officers to canvass their precincts, and look out for a father-son type of duo that fit the dominant-submissive profile.” Rossi had Reid hand out some gang related profiles, just in case the profile shifted. But we were pretty confident in our first go.

“Talk to the people on your beats, look out for anything suspicious. And let's pray that this isn’t random.” The detective in charge finished and let his precinct disperse.

“Hey y/n/n, we’re gonna head back in five if you want a spot in the fun suburban.” JJ teased and lightly shoved Spencer’s shoulder.

You smiled and started packing up your backpack. “Okay. Just, leave the fragile doctor alone.”

After packing up any files you wanted to review when you got back to the hotel room, you let Morgan and Rossi know the four of you were headed out. They weren’t much further behind with Prentiss and Garcia.

You met Reid and JJ in the lobby, droopy eyes and mouths full of yawns adorning the three of you. It was a long day, and it was only going to be worse tomorrow.

“Where’s Hotch?” You asked, ready to get your feet out of these narrow leather dress shoes. You were wearing your combat boots tomorrow.

“He’s checking in with the lady friend.” JJ nodded her head toward Hotch, who was conversing with Joyner in her office. They were standing close, and you thought you caught a smile on his face. “Do you think they’re into each other?”

“She looks like she could be Haley’s twin,” Spencer added and you sighed.

The moment the team arrived at HQ this morning, everybody noticed the resemblance to Hotch’s ex-wife. SSA Kate Joyner went pretty far back with our unit chief. They went through the academy together and had some assignments overlap over the years. If it were up to Morgan and Garcia, the two of them would be out on a date right now. But you and Rossi quickly quieted the rumors, not wanting to deal with the rage that was Aaron Hotchner if he knew we were discussing his love life.

It had barely been six months since Haley left with Jack, and Hotch had just taken off his wedding band a few weeks ago. He didn’t tell any of you until you all witnessed him getting served in the office. It slapped you across the face, especially since you’d just met Haley and Jack for a quick lunch a month and a half before. I guess she wanted Hotch to tell you when he was ready.

As much as you valued your three year friendship with Aaron Hotchner, you knew Haley deserved better. Hotch adored his wife and son, and would fight heaven and earth to keep them safe. Unfortunately, he was too busy fighting the demons from hell to be a present father and husband. Everyone had their breaking point, and Haley had hit hers. From what Hotch has told you, they’re still amicable, and are trying to be friends again. After all, it wasn’t a lack of love that ended their marriage. It was a lack of prioritizing his family.

“Knock it off. He’s on his way over.” The three of you turned to one another, pretending to hold an intriguing conversation about one of Spencer’s magic tricks. Truthfully, you were always intrigued in his magic tricks; you never understood how he could pull endless quarters out of your ear. But that conversation would have to wait for another day.

“Ready to go?” Hotch pulled the keys out of his pant pocket, and the three of you nodded as Spencer called shotgun. A smile crossed your lips, never getting over the jovial things Spencer loved to claim when his intellect wasn’t needed to solve a case.

The fifteen minute ride to the hotel downtown was silent. You were all exhausted, emotionally and physically, sick of having to watch people die over and over again.

The four of you made it into the lobby, tomorrow morning’s papers already spread across the table. “The late edition didn’t miss a beat.” You said and picked up one of the papers, the headline reading ‘Execution Style’ with a still from one of the murders. You showed it to Hotch and he shook his head.

“I’m glad I never stooped to this level when I was publishing.” You murmured, reading the first paragraph of the article.

“JJ,” Spencer started and pointed across the lobby, causing all of us to turn. It was Detective Will LaMontagne Jr., JJ’s adorably chivalrous Louisiana boyfriend.

“Will.” You could practically hear the smile on her face as she led the walk over to him.

He was supposed to fly into D.C. to visit JJ for the weekend, but came to surprise her in New York when he heard the news. Spencer and I shared a look as Hotch extended a hand to him.

“Detective.”

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, I know you’re working. But, um. I can’t stand you being on this case. And me not being here, not with what’s going on.”

JJ shook her head in the slightest, and you started to get nervous.

“Is there a problem?” Hotch asked, concern completely taking over his voice at the thought of any harm happening to his team. The couple shared a knowing look, and your patience was starting to run thin with the information being withheld. JJ meant the world to you, and you wanted to make sure she was okay.

Reluctantly, she turned to face you all, a shy smile covering her face. “I’m pregnant.”

Spencer looked over at you, not knowing how to react to the news. But you couldn’t help the smile widening on your face.

“Oh my god, JJ! Congratulations!” You wrapped your arms around her and she laughed, most likely out of relief. This was a secret she kept for a long time.

“I’ve asked JJ to marry me,”

“Will.” She cut him off as Hotch gave him a congratulatory handshake.

“We’re working out some kinks.” He added as Spencer was next to hug your blonde friend. A baby, in the BAU. You might have been more excited than JJ.

“We’ll, uh, give you both some privacy.” Hotch started towards the elevator, and JJ was quick to follow.

“Hotch,” She didn’t continue, you knew this wasn’t the exact situation she wanted to tell everyone she was having a baby.

“JJ, you could have told me.”

The tenderness in his voice could have broken your heart in two right then and there, but add on the fact that you swore you could see Hotch’s eyes tear in the slightest, you were done. You didn’t want to mention it in front of Reid, but you knew this had to do with Haley. You’d be an idiot not to notice.

The three of you filed into the elevator, leaving JJ and Will to talk in private. You all got off on the fourth floor, Reid’s room the first to come up in the hallway.

“Night Spencer.”

“Goodnight. Seven a.m.,” He reminded you as he opened the door with his keycard.

You and Hotch walked down another ten feet before he found his room.

“Goodnight,” He mumbled out and reached for his key.

“Hotch,” He closed his eyes, nodding his head in the slightest.

“I’m tired, y/n.” You could’ve pushed harder. You could have gotten him to crack if you started nagging enough. You’d earned the title as baby sister from the team since you could whine and nag them into doing anything. But tonight didn’t seem like a good time for your skills.

You nodded, understanding this conversation wasn’t going to happen.

“Goodnight. Get some sleep.”

Despite your best efforts, you didn’t sleep a wink. Hotch had gone over his files and called for Kate to meet him in the lobby. But then there was an explosion, and you had to watch from your window as Hotch sat by Joyner, waiting for her to die.

Once the team had caught the second unsub and wrapped everything up at the precinct, you headed to the hospital to check on Hotch. And unsurprisingly, he was refusing any further treatment for the ringing in his ears he tried to deny. You saw him kick Rossi out of the room, the third member that couldn’t get through to him.

“Bobo, why don’t you give it a try. Can’t yell at the baby with a broken arm.” You were the one to tackle the unsub, and landed pretty hard on the pavement downtown. Nothing a black cast covered in smiley faces from Spencer and Garcia couldn’t fix.

“I know you can’t tell, but I’m flipping you off right now.” You responded to Morgan as you raised your casted hand toward him.

You headed to Hotch’s room, knocking on the window before you walked in.

“I swear to god if you try to put me in another MRI,” He started to raise his voice when you interrupted him.

“Shit, I should go tell Morgan he was wrong. Boss is willing to yell at the baby with a broken arm.”

He turned around to face you, the lines on his forehead disappearing once he saw it was you and not Rossi.

“What happened to your arm?” You smiled and glanced down at the cast. “Just another day on the job. Tackled the unsub, the pavement was not very kind to me.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to put his tie back around his neck. You scoffed, stepping over to him.

“Why the hell would you want to put that back on?”

“Because it’s part of my suit.”

You knew better than to pull it out of his hands. He was holding on to any semblance of control, and his outfit was all that he had left. Instead you took a seat in the stiff chair across from him, watching as he grimaced every time he lifted his arms too high.

“If your goal is to get me to stay another minute here under observation, you’re not gonna win.”

You shook your head. “That’s not my goal.”

He sighed, giving up on putting his tie on. He moved to finish his top button, he was at least going to be covered.

“You should be excited for JJ.” You started, testing the water on this subject.

“Did I suggest otherwise?” He asked and you shook your head.

“When was the last time you saw Jack?” His eyes widened the slightest, and you regretted asking the question. You gripped the arms of the chair, ready to be ripped a new one.

Instead, Hotch let out a sigh, and you snapped your head up. “Two weeks. Haley went to visit her mother for a week, and then we went from Florida to New York in three days.”

He was already away from Jack half the week when they were still living under the same roof. Now he was lucky if he got to say goodnight on a weekend.

“Why don’t you take some time off? I’m sure you have weeks saved up. I’ve been here three years and have never seen a tan on you.”

He shook his head. “Strauss would never approve of it.”

“Hotch,”

“Y/n, I really want to get out of this hospital room and call my son.” You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Fine. But you’re not flying home. You have a choice between Morgan and Rossi to drive you home. My recommendation would be Morgan, you don’t want to sit through four hours of Opera music.”

You stood up, refusing to meet his eye. You were sick of dealing with stubborn men.

“I’ll see if they can fax your records to D.C. before we leave.”

He muttered out a thank you as you left the room, shaking your head at the rest of the team.

“Nothing?” Morgan asked as you returned to them.

“Nothing. Even the baby gets yelled at.” Spencer spared you a glance and you gave him a small smile. You would be fine. “And Derek, you’re driving him back.”

***

January 2010

You didn’t think it could get worse than seeing Hotch with nine stab wounds at the hands of Foyet. You desperately wanted to believe that it couldn’t be worse than that. But you were naive to think that he would let Aaron survive and not make him suffer.

None of you would be able to erase the image of Haley’s bloody body lying in the home where she and Aaron created their family. You wouldn’t forget the sight of Hotch beating into Foyet’s face, or the sobs that raked through his body once Derek had shaken him off. This was a tragedy that shaped the entire team.

After Haley’s death, the seven of you took turns checking in on Hotch, Jack, and Haley’s sister Jessica. She stayed close by when Hotch was on leave, helping him with Jack’s routine, and how to explain to the four year old where his mommy went. She moved back into her apartment a few blocks away before Aaron returned to work. He wanted to prove to her that he could do this on his own, that he could be the strong father that Jack deserved, and that Haley would be proud of.

While the three of them were together, the team would try and make it over every Saturday for dinner. Hotch needed to be around friends, and Jessica needed a guilt free night to spend with the people that made her feel good. He was reluctant at first, not wanting us over the apartment, complaining that it was a mess, and it was too small to fit everyone. But it was impeccably neat, the result of a widow not being able to sleep. Once he became comfortable with us coming around on Saturday’s, we’d pick two weeknights to stop by with a dinner, movie, or game to help take their minds off of the pain. Although you and JJ stopped by every friday regardless of whose week it was, Hotch really appreciated the extra company, and so did Jack.

Despite his attempts at being independent, there were one too many distressed calls being made to you or JJ if he couldn’t get a hold of Jess, or if he didn’t want to burden her with the responsibility.

Your feelings about Jack Hotchner hadn’t changed in the four years since you met him. You would still do anything to see the adorable little boy smile. So, it was easy to say that you didn’t mind the late night phone calls worrying about Jack’s stuffy nose or when he should take the chicken out of the freezer without it going bad. Because the more he reached out to any one of you, the closer he was to finding a new normal.

However, all of you were surprised to see SSA Aaron Hotchner in his office only a month and a half after the event. Sure, he made remarkable progress, but you all assumed he would take a little more time, maybe take Jack on a well deserved vacation. Instead, you walked into the office on a monday morning, Hotch the first one in attendance.

That was two weeks ago.

The readjustment period had worn off, and Hotch was back to being a drill sergeant. Even more aggressive than he was before.

The case we were working was local, saving us the discomfort of sleeping in a hotel bed. We were in Virginia, investigating two murdered families, similar to ‘The Fox’.

“Who?” You asked, not familiar with the creepy nickname.

“Four years ago Karl Arnold, aka the fox, killed eight families.” Derek informed you. It must have been just before you started at the BAU.

“Similar to this case he took the father’s wedding rings, except in his case he took them as trophies.” Spencer finished.

“Hotch, you gave evidence at Arnold’s trial. I think you should go see him.” Derek was acting unit chief since before Haley’s death, and continued his position even with Hotch’s return. Strauss was weary now more than ever to give Aaron the title back so quick.

“I’d like to take l/n with me.” You looked over to Hotch, his eyes resting on yours, waiting for your approval.

You gave a small nod, placing your sunglasses over your eyes. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Hotch got the keys to a suburban and before you could meet him at the car, Prentiss pulled you back.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay with this?” She was always looking out for you, heck she was the one that made you pack extra barf bags for crime scenes. She knew meeting face to face with a family killer would do a number on you. But Hotch can’t face this guy on his own. Not after what happened.

“I’m good. Not the first time I've interrogated a psychopath.” She reluctantly nodded.

“Okay. Just, let Hotch take the lead.”

You gave her arm a squeeze. “I will. Let’s find this guy.”

The ride to Red Onion Supermax was a short and quiet one. Hotch filled you in on the particulars of Arnold’s case, making sure you knew it inside and out. This was a team effort after all.

You couldn’t get a clean read on Hotch, however, on the ride over. He’d yet to crack a true smile or laugh in the weeks he’d been back, which normally wouldn’t be so out of character for him. But Reid had been trying to get him to crack with every magic trick he knew, even agreeing to let Derek joke about his lack of childhood and understanding of pop culture. But nothing worked.

It worried you to see the regression he’s made since coming back. You knew how happy he was at home with Jack, that a smile crossed his face most of the day when he was playing legos with his son. You hoped he was here because he wanted to be, not because he felt like he had an obligation to the team or the Bureau.

“Karl has a big ego. He’s going to answer every question with a question. He’ll try to gain the advantage with me by asking why I’m not wearing my wedding ring.” You looked down at his left hand, the gold band that you noticed on your first day, now gone, along with the woman he loved. “And then he will turn his attention to you.”

“So that’s why you brought me along.”

“Your presence will throw him off guard. And he’s going to want to describe to you in graphic detail every sexual act he committed with the families.”

“To freak me out?” Because you haven’t even met this sick bastard and you were certainly already freaked out.

Hotch met your eye, and you knew this was only going to get worse. “To pull you into his fantasy.”

The guard radioed for the gate to open, and you tried to contain the tremors in your hands. This was a wing of psychotic sexual sadists, they would pick up on your nervous ticks.

You looked to Hotch once the gate opened, and he nodded for you to go in.

“Go ahead.” You followed the guard in, surprised at the lack of noise you were welcomed with. “Keep your eyes forward. More than anything he’s going to want to see images of the children.”

“We can’t give him that.” You argued, as you started to hear the men from their cells.

“We have to give him something or we’ll get nothing from him.”

You’d kept your breathing under control the entire walk down the hallway, until a man crashed against the glass, causing you to flinch and spare a glance.

“Isn’t that, uh,-”

“Derek Payne.” He finished for you, his eyes still straight ahead.

“It’s reinforced glass.” You scoffed. Of course he wasn’t worried about another man ripping him apart.

“Easy for you to say, he tore apart fourteen women.”

The door opened to the interrogation room, and this time Hotch entered first. You were met with Karl Arnold, red bushy hair and a beard to match. He was average height, and a little stocky, not what you pictured him to look like.

“Hello Karl,” Hotch greeted him as we settled in on the other side of the table.

“Agent Hotchner,” He stood. “I wasn’t informed you were bringing a, uh,” He glanced at you, looking you up and down before turning back to Hotch. You really regretted wearing a white silk top with your dress pants today. “They just said two agents.”

“This is Agent-”

“Y/n, l/n.” You tried to control the dilation of your eyes as he looked right through you. “I know all about you.”

Now you understood why Emily asked you if you were sure about this. He kept his eyes on Hotch as he started the interrogation, never looking you in the eyes longer than a second. Even if you directed a question toward him, he would only answer to Hotch. He was a misogynist. You don’t know why you’re so surprised at this discovery, he tortured wives and families.

When he offered up his book of dialogue between him and his fans, he smelled your perfume as you reached across the table to grab it. Hotch quickly took it for you, letting you sit back down in your seat. Your gut was no longer in your stomach, it was lodged in your throat.

“How’d you lose your ring, Agent Hotchner?” It was beyond your level of profiling to understand how Hotch could just sit there and take the assault on his personal life from a man who ruined families, especially with what he’d just been through. You’d never mastered the art of compartmentalization quite like Hotch. But right now, you were thankful for your uncontrollable emotions.

“I can look past your refusal to answer my question, if you let me see the children. It’s the only way I can truly help you.” You gripped the files harder at the mention of the victims and looked at Hotch.

“Can I speak with you for a second?” He nodded and the two of you stood.

“Is there something wrong, y/n?” You bit back the sarcasm that was threatening to fall from your mouth.

“Nothing’s wrong, Karl.”

You exited the interrogation room, still clutching the files close to your chest.

“We cannot show him these.”

He looked at Arnold, who seemed to find your eyes, even through the reflective mirror. “These images will be his undoing and will lead us to the killer.”

“These are not just images.”

“That’s exactly what they are.”

“Hotch, I am not about to parade a dead twelve year old girl in a bathing suit in front of a serial killer who gets off on it.” You raised your voice, not willing to compromise any respect you had left for these victims.

“Then show him the others. It’ll gain his trust and get him talking. He won’t talk to me, he knows I know everything that gets him off. But he’ll want to tell you just what he would do to them. I told you, he wants to pull you in.”

You shook your head. “These are children! Helpless children whose fathers have to live with what this animal did to their families! These strangers do not get to see the torture and humiliation that they went through.”

“If you can’t stomach showing him what he desires, then I’ll do it. Because we’re not leaving until we get a name out of him. You’re either with the team or you’re not.”

You scoffed. “You’re not the unit chief anymore. I do what Morgan says if we can’t come to an agreement.”

It was bold of you to remind him of his subordinate place. But you were equals now, despite the decade between you two. You didn’t have to listen to his orders if you felt they were wrong.

He reached for the files, but you turned away from him. “I’m going in there. Not you. But I’m going to run the interrogation my way, not exposing these children. If you have a problem with that, you can call Morgan.”

You motioned for the guard to let you back in. You took your seat across from Karl, a smirk still evident on his face.

“What, no Agent Hotchner?”

“You know, yours was one of the first cases I studied,” You started, trying to loosen up the muscles in your face. Going against every natural instinct in your body was making it hard to relax. “I’ve been fascinated ever since. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was embarrassed with him in the room.”

“You’re embarrassed because you want to know what I did, don’t you.” You pushed out a smile, a little giggle behind it to entice him.

And of course it did. “Yes.”

“I can show you exactly what I did to them.”

“Tell me.” You tilted your head to the side, pushing some hair behind your ear. You were fighting the bile rising in your throat with every word you exchanged with him.

“Children are so precious, so clean. But they need guidance, especially the girls.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

“Girls have much more to lose than boys. It’s a fact, the female body can handle pain much better.” If this wasn’t a serial killer across from you, you’d agree with him and make some jokes about the female anatomy. But he was enjoying this, just like Hotch said. He was pulling you in.

“What did you do to them?”

He smiled. “I showed them, what men, their fathers, and brothers, are capable of.”

“And what is that?”

“Once I killed the children, It always amazed me how little the father fought the inevitable, the dying.”

“I never thought I would get these answers, let alone from the man himself.” You pushed out another smile, because you knew he was holding back. He was almost willing to trust you, he just needed to be groomed a little more.

“It takes a good woman, to make an honest man. And you’re prettier than Agent Hotchner.”

He was dancing around the information now, knowing that he had your time and attention. “Karl, do you know why you killed all those families?”

“I already told you why.”

You dropped the sweet tone, and pushed up on your elbows. “No, you told me how. And your motivations were all driven by sex, motivations you learned from your father.”

You saw him flinch, and you knew you were getting somewhere.

“You assert your dominance by making the father, the head of the household, watch you torture, assault, and take anything you wanted from the people he’s supposed to protect. Now your admirer, they don’t have the same ambitions as you do. And normally, that would bother a man like you. You want to be adored for every single part of your mess. But like you said, they’re an admirer, not a fan. So I’m guessing it’s a woman, who you’ve really come to care for.”

He tugged on his shackled wrists, you clearly got what you were looking for.

“Those women, those girls, they needed to be taught a lesson. How to obey who’s in charge. And you,” he laughed as he inched as far across the table as he could. “The things I would do to you if I weren’t nailed to this table. You’d be done before I could call your name.”

Before you could respond, Hotch came into the room, demanding a name. You stood up, no longer needing to play a role.

“It must be distracting, working with such a beautiful woman everyday.” You didn’t spare him another glance as you heard him mumble out a name to Hotch, finally getting what he wanted: power over you.

“Morgan, we’ve got a name. It’s a female guard in intake. Get everybody here ASAP.” The guard led you and Hotch back down the hallway, through the lion's den, and back to the elevator. Once inside, you let out a breath. Hotch turned to look at you, but you spoke up before he had the chance.

“Don’t ask me to do that ever again.”

You would’ve yelled at him, tore him to pieces in the elevator ride from the fourth floor to the exit, but there was a guard escorting you out. You didn’t want him to have the privilege of watching two FBI agents battle it out. And honestly, you weren’t sure if you had the heart to yell at him after all he’d been through.

But once you were escorted through the exterior gates, your team in sight, you regained the nerve to give Hotch a piece of your mind.

Not before he spoke first though.

“You did exactly what needed to be done. I didn’t ask you to act that way toward him, and I’m sorry you feel that that was your only way in. But I’m not going to apologize for getting the name of the killer.”

“So you would have acted in the same degrading way if the roles were reversed?”

He scoffed. “Yes, I would have. Because unlike you, my feelings don’t impair my judgement or ability to do this job. You’re an asset to this team, you need to find a way to get your emotions in check.”

You stopped walking, turning around to face him. You were in the middle of the driveway now, SWAT and BAU canvassing the scene. But you were going to do this here and now.

“The only reason you brought me here was to appeal to that sick son of a bitch. The only thing that makes me an asset to you is the fact that I have a vagina and you don’t. You turned me from a Supervisory Special Agent into a fighting fuck toy! You watched as I drained every ounce of respect I had for myself to turn into what that psychopath desired, all because I wouldn’t show him pictures of innocent children.” He looked over your shoulder to the team, embarrassed that they were hearing this. “At least have the respect to look at me while I’m talking to you!”

Hotch had never heard you yell like this. You were the calm one, the baby, as Derek called you. No one ever pushed you so far over the edge to get a reaction out of you. At least, not until he did.

“The next time you ask me, JJ, Prentiss, or Garcia to flirt our way into a serial killer's mind, to expect us to degrade ourselves in order to save another woman, I will not hesitate to report you to Strauss.” You could hear footsteps behind you, but you continued on as tears started to form in your eyes. “You used to say that my empathy was what made me an amazing agent. That my ability to connect with victims and families was the reason I’m here. So do not try and make me feel worthless for possessing something that you wish you could have. Because the way you act, with no capability for empathy, is a depressing way to live.”

“Y/n,” Spencer rested a hand on your shoulder, but you shook it off.

“Figure out the man you want to be.”

Before you could say anything else, Spencer dragged you away from Hotch and towards the cars. You could feel the tears freely falling down your cheeks, but you made no effort to remove them. You ignored the stares from the rest of your team, not giving them the satisfaction of knowing what went down in that interrogation room. Instead, you got into the passenger seat of the suburban, and Spencer started the drive back to the office.

Rationally, you knew you went off too hard at him. He never deliberately asked you to flirt with Arnold. He asked you to show him the pictures of Lucy, to get him to crack under the fantasy. But you refused. You would rather make yourself go through that pain than any young child. It’s what you’d always done.

Spencer tried to convince you they hadn’t heard the conversation. That they were all too focused on SWAT’s apprehending of the guard to pay attention.

“Spence,” You started and looked over at him. “We all had our earpieces in. You heard every word.”

And he was silent the rest of the ride back. You were exhausted, and you wanted nothing more than to go home and fall asleep on your couch with reruns playing in the background. But you had a mountain of paperwork to finish, and still needed to debrief when the team got back.

Halfway through your stack, the team came back to the bullpen. Prentiss gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze as she passed by, heading for her desk. Derek had agreed to let everyone go home without debriefing. This was the earliest we’d been done with a case so close to home. We needed to capitalize on our rest.

JJ was the first to go home, excited to be home in time for dinner with Will and Henry. Prentiss and Rossi followed shortly after, going to celebrate the win of this case at an expensive restaurant, at Dave’s expense.

“Come on you two, don’t make me drag you out of here kicking and screaming.” Derek addressed you and Reid as he pulled his coat on.

“We’re right behind you boss man.” Spencer said and turned his desk light off, grabbing his cane. He should be able to ditch all mobility aids soon.

You swung your backpack over a shoulder and turned off your own light. You didn’t even make it out of your four foot space before Hotch called out to you.

“Y/n, could I see you before you leave?” He was standing in front of his office, on higher ground than the rest of us. Power move, you thought to yourself. But he wouldn’t be that petty.

You looked back to Reid and Moran, the former nodding to you before seeing himself to the elevator. Now it was just Spencer, his eyes begging for you to leave.

“I don’t need to remind you how deeply you care for all of us. But if you keep putting yourself out there to comfort him, you’re going to get destroyed.” This was the first time Spencer had mentioned this to you. Sure, you’d been helping Hotch out at home, a little more than normal, but everybody was pitching in. His wife died for god's sake.

“Spence, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He let out a sigh and fidgeted with his cane. You found it at a consignment shop on one of your weekends off, and bought it for him without hesitation. It had an eagle engraved in it’s clutch, something regal, medieval, and screamed Spencer Reid. You ignored the price, a forty dollars more than you would’ve liked to spend on a walking stick, but the look on his face when you gave it to him was priceless.

“You need to stand up for yourself. Nothing excuses the way he treated you today. Regardless of your decision to play a character.”

God, could he read you.

“No pair of rose colored glasses could cloud that. Not even yours.” He gave you one last shadow of a smile before limping his way to the elevator.

Once you regained your composure, you turned to make your way up to Hotch’s office. He was sitting in his chair, staring at the paperwork waiting to be filled out before him. You knocked on the open door, and he stood up without even looking at you. You were going to take Spencer’s advice and stick up for yourself, so you had to set the pace.

“Can this be quick? I wanted to get home before traffic started up.” He rounded the front of his desk, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he leaned against it.

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you back at the prison.” You nodded, not wanting to verbally accept the apology that was due to you hours ago. “I was out of line and completely blinded by the case. I should’ve listened to you and taken your reservations into consideration. It was narcissistic of me to think I was the only one capable of making the right decision.”

“Thank you.” You stuttered out, still absorbing the tone of his voice. His word choice was self deprecating, a cry for help if you didn’t know any better.

“Y/n,” He started but was interrupted by a shaky breath. “I hate that I made you feel like all you’re good for is to romance your way into their heads. You deserve to be treated with respect, to be valued because of your empathy and your psychological understanding of victims and their families. If I’ve ever made you feel like you were worthless before this afternoon, please tell me.”

“No, you’ve never made me feel that way.”

He nodded before turning to grab a piece of paper from his desk.

“Good. Because I’ve written up a complaint for Strauss, describing my behavior and language directed toward you today. You shouldn’t have to wait for a next time to file it.”

He extended the paper to you, and you walked until you were standing in front of him, accepting the complaint into your hands. But you didn’t even read it before tearing it in two.

“What are you doing?”

“Hotch, I’m not filing a complaint against you. Everything that I did today was my choice. You didn’t force me into anything.”

He ran a hand through his hair, the first time you’ve seen it tousled in the office.

“I was uncomfortable showing Arnold those pictures. So I made the choice to play a character, to appeal to his fantasy. You weren’t in the room, and you didn’t suggest that. If anything, you tried more than anything to get me to stick to the script. Did you have some choice words for me that weren’t necessarily appropriate? Yes. But we all have our moments. After we got out of there, I felt sick that I had to do that to get a name out of him. It wasn’t the first time I’ve camouflaged myself for the greater good, and it won’t be the last. I took out the self hatred I had on you, because you were there. Because if I did it your way, I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror again without feeling ashamed. But you didn’t deserve it.”

“Yes, I do. I deserve to be ridiculed for telling you that your empathy is a weakness. I deserve to be ridiculed for yelling at Garcia for missing something on a search. I deserve,”

His voice broke, and you froze in place. You were about to see Aaron Hotchner cry for the first time in four years. “I deserve to be punished for Haley’s death.”

Your own eyes started to water as you saw a single tear roll down his cheek. Without thinking, you reached forward and held his hands in your own. They were shaking, and he tried to pull them away from you. But you held on tight, you weren’t going anywhere.

“Hotch, look at me.” He kept his gaze on the windows, looking out onto the concrete roof.

“Hotch, please.” You were quieter the second time, and that’s what got him to meet your eyes.

“I’m not going to sit here and tell you that you could’ve prevented Haley’s death if you did one thing instead of the other. Because no matter what you did, Foyet would’ve found her, and done this all over again.” He tried to look away from you, but you tugged on his hands, begging him to stay. “But what you did prevent, was Foyet taking away the greatest thing you and Haley ever made. You saved your son, Hotch. And you ended Foyet’s reign of terror. You get to spend every day reminding Jack how amazing his mother was. How strong, resilient, and fierce she was. How she looked death in the eye and didn’t even flinch. You get to live the rest of your life for your son.”

He nodded and closed his eyes, letting the few remaining tears fall down his face. You let your own fall with the reprieve of no longer being under his stare, not wanting to fall apart when he needed you.

“I love her. I never stopped loving her. The divorce, it wasn’t because of that. It was because of this job.”

You squeezed his hands before letting them go, letting him wipe off his face.

“I know. And I know she never stopped loving you.”

You never thought you would get to this moment when you first met Haley. You let out a small laugh while remembering your first encounter, how pregnant and angry she was at Hotch.

“What?” You smiled and shook your head.

“I’m just remembering the first time I met her. She was pregnant, she called you a robot, and was cracking jokes left and right to try and get you to crack.”

That got him to smile. “I could always make her laugh when we were younger. She had the funniest, most embarrassing laugh. But it was Haley. And it was addicting.”

You wanted him to remember her like this, with a smile on her face and the loving soul she was.

“I truly am sorry for what I said to you, but you have to know I didn’t mean it.”

You nodded. “I know you didn’t. Just apologize to Garcia in the morning, and get home to Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gave you a small smile as you picked up your backpack.

Spencer’s words stung in your ears while you were holding Hotch’s hands. You loved everyone on this team as your family. And Hotch needed you to be there for him a lot more over the last two months. Sure, you’d brushed off some harsh conversations with him considering the circumstances, but you knew when it went too far, like today.

“Y/n,” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, stopping you at the door. “Thank you.”

You nodded. “Of course.”

Maybe you did care too much for people. But if it helped them get back to normal, you’ll continue wearing those rose colored glasses a little while longer.

***

March 2010

“I’m grocery shopping. Because I have no food in my apartment and I never thought I’d say this, but I’m sick of eating pizza.” You threw a box of cheerios in your cart, careful not to hit the eggs on their way in.

“That’s how you’re spending your saturday? Our first saturday off in a month?”

“Well, unless I want to spend another twenty bucks on one meal, I’ve gotta do my grown up chores.” “You need to get your butt back home so we can go out and drink.”

Emily was relentless, to say the least. Every single weekend you had off, her number popped up on your phone the minute you got home. She hated resting in her own solitude, and tried to drag you along for any activity she could think of. Shopping, drinking, walking around the national mall, and, in desperate cases, running. But her record wasn’t stellar in getting you to attend.

“I’m spending the afternoon with my couch, a book that has taken me too long to read, and probably eat an entire bag of smartfood.” You chucked a box of granola bars in your cart too when you heard a kid cry. You turned to the end of the aisle, but the parent was blocking the child. “Besides, it’s dinner tonight at Hotch’s.”

“He canceled this morning. Rossi was supposed to call and let you know.” You rolled your eyes. Of course Dave forgot.

“Daddy! I want the poptarts!” You heard the kid yell out again. But you knew that voice, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“Em, I’ll see you on Monday. Have a shot for me.”

“I’ll have two.”

You laughed as you hung up the phone, pushing the cart over to your favorite little boy on the planet. You didn’t think to give the father another glance when you didn’t recognize him, but that’s because Aaron Hotchner is never without a suit at the office. He was dressed in jeans now and a quarter zip, looking like a normal dad.

When you approached the two boys, Jack was leaning against the shelf, tears streaming down his cheeks as he kicked his feet against the ground.

“It looks like SSA Hotchner could use some help profiling his son.”

Hotch was quick to stand up, meeting your eye. You only smiled while crouching down to Jack’s level.

“Hey little man, what’s the problem here?” He wiped the tears from his cheeks, and your heart broke at the redness in his eyes.

“Daddy won’t let me get any pop tarts.”

“That’s because you ate the whole box in one day without my permission.” Aaron argued back.

You hid your laugh in your shoulder, not wanting to upset Jack any more. But Hotch had already caused him to spiral into a meltdown again.

“Jack, have you ever had ants on a log?” He shook his head, tears continuing down his chubby cheeks. “Well, they were my favorite snack when I was little. It’s celery, peanut butter, and raisins all set up on a plate. And the best part is, you get to make it yourself! Now, I know how much you love peanut butter, and I bet if you ate this snack, Daddy will let you get poptarts the next time you go grocery shopping.”

“Okay.” He said and nodded his little head. “But I’m sick of grocery shopping.”

“Me too buddy.” I sat down next to him. “I do not like having to walk up and down these aisles searching for food. So, why don’t we sit here while daddy finishes his list?”

You spared a glance at Hotch and his practically full basket. You knew he would be done in ten minutes if you stayed here with Jack.

“Are you sure?” Aaron asked and you nodded.

“‘Course. I don’t need food that bad anyway.” He sighed and made his way back to his carriage.

You pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of your purse and handed it to Jack.

“Aunt Jessica told me that you know how to write your name now. Can you show me?”

He sat up straight, laying the paper down on the floor. You watched as he made a loopy uppercase J, followed with big and small letters to spell out the rest of his name.

“That’s awesome buddy. What about your last name?”

“Hotchner!” He yelled out and you laughed.

“Yeah, let me spell it out for you.” You wrote it out on the paper and it took him a few minutes to copy down.

“You’re turn now, y/n.” He handed you the pen and you wrote your name down, saying the letters as you wrote them. Jack repeated you, and it made you laugh. You forgot that kids were such sponges.

By the time you finished writing Aaron and Haley’s names for Jack, Hotch was back with his cart. “Alright buddy, it’s time for us to go. We gotta let y/n finish her grocery shopping.”

“No! I want y/n to come home with us for dinner. She was helping me spell everyone's names!”

You smiled as you stood up, giving Jack a hand. “Maybe next time buddy. But you gotta get home to try those ants on a log.”

“Actually, we’re making pizzas for dinner, Jack’s saturday choice. You can come over, if you don’t have any plans already.” You’d never heard Hotch this nervous before. It made you laugh a little.

“I’d love to. Only if I get to put extra cheese on my pizza though.”

“Of course!” Jack exclaimed and you matched his smile.

“Awesome! I’ll let you two pay for all this food and I’ll meet you at your house okay?” Jack nodded before running to the front of the cart.

“You sure you don’t have any plans? I don’t want you to give up another saturday night at my expense,”

“Hotch there is nothing more exciting than spending my weekends with the cutest four year old on the planet.” He smiled, but you knew he still wasn’t convinced. “Besides, every other twenty-nine year old I know is in a stuffy club in uncomfortable clothes. This is much more my pace.”

He nodded, a small smile on his face. “Okay. We’ll meet you at the apartment in a half an hour.”

“Sounds good. See you soon Jack!” You waved to the little boy and quickly tried to finish buying the staples that could get you through a few days at home.

You got home and quickly put your food away, making sure everything that needed to be refrigerated was chilled. You switched your t-shirt for a long sleeve tee, opting for sneakers instead of boots. Comfort was the utmost importance on days off.

It took you twenty minutes to get to Hotch’s apartment from yours, arriving at five on the dot. You were known for, and proud of your punctuality. Hotch answered the door after two knocks, and you couldn’t help but focus on the noise of three different locks unlocking.

He greeted you with a slight nod of the head, button down replacing his quarter zip.

“Do you even own comfortable clothes?” “This is comfortable.” You rolled your eyes, as he took the poptarts from your hands, raising his eyebrow at you.

“Didn’t I just have this fight with my four year old son about not buying these?” He asked as he let you in the house.

“Yes, but I’m the fun dinner guest. I bring the treats for the children.”

He tried to hide the small huff of a laugh that escaped his lips, but you still caught it. “You will be the death of me.”

You let out a laugh as he led you into the kitchen, putting them away on the top cabinet. I reached for my hip and pulled my holster off, putting it on the counter.

“Do you have somewhere I can put this? Last thing I need is to drop it while I throw up my pizza dough.” He unlocked the drawer in his desk, placing it in there before locking it back up.

You heard tiny footsteps running down the hall. “Y/n! It’s pizza time!”

You smiled as he tugged at your legs. “I know! I’m so excited!”

“Alright buddy, you’re up first. Show y/n how we properly throw our pizza dough in the air.” Hotch pushed a step stool over to the counter, waiting for Jack to step up. The grin on the little boy's face was ginormous as he powdered his hands with flour, taking the small ball of dough Hotch separated for him.

The two of you were on either side of Jack, each ready to follow his lead in the process. “Ok, on the count of three. One, two, three!”

You spun the dough in your hands before throwing it in the air, watching it separate the slightest bit. Jack’s giggles filled the apartment as he let his dough fall onto the counter. Aaron shook his head, you could tell this part of the meal was always a struggle for the little boy.

You watched as Jack spread out the miniscule amount of sauce he wanted along his crust, topping it off with a mountain of cheese. You taught him the more cheese, the better, and he clearly still believed you. You added some pepperoni to your own oval shaped pie, unsuccessful in making a perfect circle crust. But, not everyone could be the perfect Italian chef like David Rossi.

While the pizza’s were in the oven, the three of you sat down to play a few rounds of Candyland. You hadn’t played since your time at DCFS, and you forgot how there was no real objective to the game. It certainly wasn’t your game of choice, but Jack was still a little young to be able to contend with you in a game of monopoly. A few more years, you thought.

Once the pizza’s were done, Jack helped you set the table as Hotch cut the pies. You felt a little out of place, crossing some very important boundaries by having dinner with just the two Hotchner boys. This saturday was much different than the ones you spent when the whole team was over, Henry and Jack putting on dance parties for the guests.

You started to become more aware of your actions around the apartment; how you knew where the placemats were kept, that Jack used his purple cup for milk at dinner, and the strict no electronics rule at the table. However, that had been established by Haley years ago. The thought of her had a shot of guilt running through your stomach, sitting down with her family for dinner, just three and a half months after she’d passed.

You’d been thinking a lot about what Spencer had said that night at the BAU. He was vague, too vague for the doctor that could tell you how long he’d been alive down to the second. After a few sleepless nights, you called the doctor in question and demanded he explain himself. But after his admission, you quickly regretted having all the information.

Spencer Reid has known you for almost five years now, and has seen you through the moments that have shaped your adult life. Killing Stephanie Moore, testifying in the fisher king case, being your excusing phone call from multiple dates, and holding your hand as you took in one of your former foster siblings from a bad relationship. There was absolutely nothing in your life that could be hidden from him.

So when he told you he noticed your feelings for Hotch ‘about two years ago’, you nearly stopped dead in your pacing tracks. Not because you didn’t know your own feelings for the man, but because you didn’t realize it had been that long. That he had been married to Haley, albeit only for a month longer, that you started to notice how handsome your boss was. Upon hearing the truth out loud, and from another person, you ran to the bathroom and threw up a few times.

You were so embarrassed, so ashamed of caring for someone that couldn’t be yours. For caring for someone who’s wife you truly adored. After the third round of puking, Spencer reassured you through the phone that it wasn’t your fault. We can’t control who we love. And yes, he said love.

“Are you okay y/n?” Jack’s little voice pulled you from your thoughts. You smiled at his sauce covered face and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m fine. How’s your pizza, Jack?”

“Awesome! Daddy is the best pizza cooker ever!”

“You sure you’re okay? You look a little pale,” Aaron commented and referenced your plate. You hadn’t taken a bite.

“I’m good, really. Just thinking about how I’m going to make a bigger lego tower than Jack after dinner.”

That got the little boy to laugh, successfully switching the conversation to Jack’s favorite toys. But you noticed the glaces Hotch snuck your way, not believing you for a second. You were an awful liar.

The longer the three of you sat at the table, the larger your smile grew around these boys. Seeing Hotch being able to relax and really enjoy his time with Jack always brought a smile to your face. He was a natural father, sliding into the role of playmate and swaddler, cuddler and soother. You even remember him helping JJ out with Henry’s swaddle at work one day.

But you knew he felt guilty, not being able to be present in his son’s life everyday. You saw it in the hundred’s of views of the video of Jack’s first steps, the late night phone calls while away on a case just to say goodnight to his little boy. He missed out on a lot of the baby years, and he would be making it up to Jack for the rest of his life, with nights like these. With the whole weekend devoted to Jack Hotchner’s favorite things, minus the sugary pop tarts. Hotch had mastered the duality of being a Supervisory Special Agent for the FBI, and the loving father to Jack Hotchner. It was one of the reasons why you started caring so much for him.

“Alright Jack, you can build one tower with y/n, then it’s bath time and off to bed.” You saw the pout on Jack’s face as Hotch cleared our plates, and you helped him off the chair.

“Come on, maybe if we’re quick enough we can make two.”

He giggled as he led you to his room, stuffed animals and toys galore. This boy won’t want for a thing.

“Okay, you make a big blue one, I’ll do purple.”

You finished much quicker than the four year old, but under no circumstances would he let you sit and watch him make his masterpiece. Instead, since you had nearly two and a half feet on him, you stacked your tower on top of his and continued adding pieces to make it bigger. He cheered you on as it started to reach your head, and you were getting excited yourself. Until, it came to a crashing fall with the last green piece on top.

“Noo!” Jack yelled out, trying to catch the falling pieces.

“It’s okay Buddy, you can always make another one.” Aaron’s voice trying to soothe his son caught both you and the little guy’s attention.

The two of you turned to see Hotch leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. You wondered how long he’d been standing there.

“And maybe next time, we can make one as big as daddy.”

Hotch let out a laugh as Jack smiled at you in amazement. He liked how your brain worked.

“Bath time, bud. We gotta get your face cleaned up from all that pizza sauce, and ship you off to bed.”

“But y/n’s here,” He whined, not wanting the lego fun to end.

“Well I have to get home and take a shower too, bud. Don’t worry, there’s plenty more playdates in your future.” You said and stood up, giving the little boy a high five.

“Go wait for me in the bathroom okay, I’m gonna walk y/n out.”

“Okay. Bye bobo.” He said and ran off to the bathroom, leaving you speechless in his bedroom.

“You let him be around Derek Morgan way too much.”

“Probably. But you can’t compete with the guy who brings over a new lego set every weekend.” Hotch got your gun for you, walking you back to the front door.

“Are you kidding? You’re his hero, Hotch. He asked me last week if I was a superhero like daddy.” He cracked a smile, but his eyes were glued to the floor, unable to meet your own.

“Why did you cancel dinner tonight?” He sighed and lifted his head. You’d been wanting to ask him since you were at the grocery store. The team had been coming over for three months now, and it was something we all started to look forward to.

“I was sick of feeling like a burden to you all. I mean, asking you all to give up your Saturday nights, sometimes our only free night of the week to spend in my depressing apartment, it had been enough.” If only you could show this man how much the team cared for him through your eyes, he would never doubt his worth another day in his life.

“Hotch, the highlight of my week is coming here to be with you all. My family. Watching Henry and Jack play with each other, listening to Spencer and Penelope fight over who the true godparent is, and getting to be on the receiving end of Rossi’s awesome cooking?”

He nodded, mumbling an ‘I know’ a few times under his breath. But he needed to know that as much as you all come here for Jack, you guys care for Aaron and his well being just as much.

“I come here every saturday to make sure that Aaron Hotchner has not dressed in a suit for the sixth day in a row, and to make sure he knows that he’s doing such an amazing job with Jack. That he is being the best father, friend, and boss, that he can be.”

This time, his eyes were locked on yours as you got a real Aaron Hotchner smile out of him, dimples and all. You couldn’t help but make a check mark in the air, the team tally still going strong. He playfully rolled his eyes as you swung your bag across your shoulder.

“So who’s in the lead now?”

“Me, for the last six months. I can’t be dethroned.” You felt your cheeks grow warm, hoping he wouldn’t think too much into your stat keeping.

“Well, that seems like a pretty accurate tally.”

You made sure it was. And selfishly, you hoped no one else could get that beautiful smile to cross his face like you could.

“Thank you for coming over. We both had a lot of fun.”

“I did too. I’m around anytime, my tower building skills are not occupied for many other people.” He let out a laugh as he opened the door for you.

“Goodnight y/n. Let me know when you get home.”

“I will. Night, Hotch.”

You got home in twenty minutes, texting Aaron as you walked through your door. Quickly changing into pajamas and throwing Legally Blonde into the DVD player, your phone dinged at a new message.

It was from Hotch, a picture attached to the message. It was of Jack, towel wrapped around his head, eyes shut from grinning so wide. ‘He wanted me to send this to you. He said, ‘this is how happy I am that y/n was here tonight.’ Thanks again for everything. Goodnight.”

You couldn’t help the tears that pooled in your eyes at the sweet little boy in the picture, and his amazing dad behind the camera.

****

tags: @simplyprentiss @michaelahah @ssahotchner99 @svrgicalhands @hotchtopic @unionjackpillow @philcoolson @tommhollandzxhaz @kathleenjasmine @canimarrypizzaornah @reaperwalking @inlovewithaaronhotchner @shelbymm11 @mrshotchner23 @tropicalwrites

#aaron hotchner x female! reader #aaron hotchner x female!reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner

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sweetchup · 4 years ago

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A Helping Hand 4: Ghosts of Past // Day 2

Type: Shalnark x reader

Au?: Savior Au

Word Count: 1,700+

Warnings: Trauma, Airplanes

Author Note: I hope people enjoy!! I planning on Part 3 coming out tomorrow but I’m struggling a little on the chapter and I have some Headcanons to get through so it might come out Sunday instead.

<—(Pt.4.1) / (Pt.4.3☀️)—>

A Helping Hand Masterlist

Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?

In the lane, snow is glistening

A beautiful sight

We're happy tonight

Walking in a winter wonderland…

“Ladies and Gentlemen. Thank you for flying with Amazon Aircrafts this afternoon. We will be landing in York New in about 5 minutes. If you would please, buckle up your—“

Suddenly as the Flight Attendant was announcing your descent, you feel your shoulder being tapped at.

“In a second…” You murmur out, too absorbed in the book you were reading. You were hoping to finish this last chapter before you got off the plane but as you feel another nudge at your shoulder, it is now highly unlikely you will.

“What do you— Shal!” You gasped out, quickly shutting your book with a thud once you saw what he was doing. “You can’t take Chloe out of her crate on the aircraft!”

“But (Y/nnnnn),” Shalnark whines out, cradling Chloe closer to him so you couldn’t take her away, “I just want her to watch the aircraft landing with me.”

“Shal. You can’t be serious.” You deadpanned at him. You can’t believe Shalnark has only known this cat for less than a day and he is already so attached to her. Hell, he even whined for a whole hour when you thought about allowing a friend to babysit Chloe instead of bringing her on the trip.

“Fine. Fine. Just don’t get us caught please?” You sighed out, giving up on convincing the childish man next to you.

“Thank you (y/n)!” Shalnark shouts out gleefully, “By the way, you should watch the landing with us. York New City is amazing at sunrise.”

“Uh…” You look down awkwardly at the middle seat—currently holding Chloe’s crate—in between you two. “There’s not much room— oof!”

Suddenly, before you can even finish your sentence, Shalnark grabs your arm and pulls you towards him. For a man that is injured, he sure had amazing strength. Then again, he was able to break your hand the first time you two met when he was in a way worse condition.

“(Y/n) Are you listening?” Shalnark calls out to you, his voice right next to your ear surprising you.

“Uh. N-no sorry,” You choked out. Your head feeling like it was spinning once you noticed that you were basically being cradled to his side; With one hand pressed against the small of your back to keep you still.

“I was saying look at the clouds. They are so pink, they almost look like cotton candy.” Shalnark murmurs out, his minty breath fanning at your face. However, even though you should probably look at the clouds like Shalnark said, you can’t bring yourself to look. Your attention was trapped on Shalnark’s piercing aquamarine blue eyes that were staring down at you. Honestly, in your opinion, getting to see his eyes up so close was much better than any natural view that he could show you. “(Y/n)...?”

Startled by his sudden call, you feel yourself snap out of the trance you were in.

“O-oh yeah they are.” You stutter out turning your attention away from Shalnark. Also missing how he was leaning in towards you as you pull away.

That would prove to be the longest aircraft descendent of both of yours entire life.

—.—.—.—.—.—

“Ah finally here!” You yell out, dropping your bags down on the hotel room floor and flopping onto the bed. You hear Shalnark chuckle at your silliness before dropping his bags as well.

At the sound of his racing feet, you let out a yelp in surprise as you see him jump at you. His arms and legs bent so he doesn’t land on top of you and crush you as he falls.

“Shal!” You yell out, slapping his chest playfully. “You shouldn’t do that sort of thing. Especially with those injuries.”

“Sorry Doc.” Shalnark teases out before flopping over next to you, causing you to giggle as the bed springs up and down. As you stare up at the ceiling, you think how you were just glad Shalnark was getting back to his old self again. Getting out of that stuffy hospital definitely helped him. Though…

You turn your head to look at Shalnark. A question still on your mind ever since late last night when he spontaneously suggested this trip.

“Hey Shal.”

“Yeah?”

The bed squeaks underneath you as you shift your body, now laying on your side to look at him. “Why did you want to go to York New of all places?”

There is a silent pause that drifts through the air. You watch as Shalnark lifts himself up from the bed to lean back on his elbows, seeming to think about what to answer.

“I…” Shalnark’s words seem to die in his throat. It takes him a couple of seconds before he can start again, “It just felt right coming here… It was the final place the troupe went before everything went to shit.”

As you look up at Shalnark, his face has turned away from your gaze, making you unable to read his expression. Carefully, you shift closer to him; offering him some comfort as you wrap a single arm over his elevated waist.

As you feel his larger hand come over to cover your own, his thumb caressing at your knuckles in a silent reassurance that he was okay, you couldn’t help but wonder what you would uncover about Shalnark on this trip. Likely a side you’ve never seen before.

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

“Are you sure Chloe is going to be okay being left alone in the hotel room?” You ask Shalnark for the fifteenth time since you've left the hotel. Your eyes looking around at the many neon signs that lit up the night sky as you two walked through the bustling streets of York New.

“Positive. … Ah! Here it is,” Shalnark calls out, causing you to turn to look at the place he had taken you.

“The York New Auction Hall?” You mutter out confused,

looking at the elegant building in front of you. Why had Shalnark taken you here of all places? You understood he was a thief and all but…

“Shal.” You whispered to the male next to you as he was typing something into his phone. “You do realize I’m not going to steal anything on this trip, right?”

Shalnark looks up from his phone to give you an amused look; slightly chuckling to himself before grabbing your hand and dragging you into the building with him. All the while getting confused looks by the guest inside as you enter; all of whom wore formal outfits that looked like they cost more than your entire fortune.

“Shal—“ You are stopped short of completing what you are saying as, all of a sudden, two ladys hook their arms around yours and drag you off somewhere. “Woah! Hey!”

You look at Shalnark for help but he only gives you a grin before following two other gentlemen nearby.

After a couple of minutes of being dragged, you are finally placed into a room, stumbling slightly over your feet as you enter. As you look around the room, you find it very hard to see from how dark it is. However, before you can even straighten yourself out and take a closer look, you feel a pair of hands grab at your shirt and yank it over your head.

“H-hey I—“ You are cut off yet again as you feel another pair of hands unzip your pants. After a lot more yelps of surprise from your end and touching from the strangers, you are suddenly let go and pushed out of the room. “H-hey wait I don’t have any clothes… on…”

You don’t finish your sentence as you look agape at the reflection in front of you. Hesitantly, you turn yourself around and do a twirl, slowly taking in yourself. Dressed in a sparkling velvet dress with your makeup lightly done; You could hardly recognize yourself.

“Oh wow.”

And, it seemed as though you weren’t the only one impressed by your own beauty.

Quickly turning yourself at the sudden voice, you see Shalnark standing there; dressed in a classic black suit. With his hair lightly gelled back—except for a couple of blonde strands that couldn’t seem to stay put—you could get a clear look at the red blush that covered his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“U-uh.. umm..” Shalnark stumbles over his words for a couple of minutes as he stares at you before suddenly getting a hold of himself and clearing his throat, “H-here.”

Swiftly, Shalnark pulls out a bouquet of red roses behind his back and extends them out to you. As you take the flowers from his hold, your fingers ever so slightly graze his, causing his blush to only worsen.

“Shal—“ “(Y/n)—“

You both paused for a second, staring at each other owlishly before trying again.

“You first—“ “You first—“

This time you can’t hold back the giggle that escapes from your lips, “You first, Shal.”

Shalnark quickly nods his head at your words, ever so slightly fidgeting with his tie as he suddenly feels as if it was strangling him. With blood rushing to his ears and a nervousness he hasn’t experienced since he was a kid, Shalnark takes a shaky deep breath.

“You don’t have to answer me right now. I don’t actually expect you to. I J-just…” Shalnark lets out a sigh, frustrated with how nervous he suddenly was. “Just… let me have you for tonight.”

“Only for tonight?” You questioned out loud, bashfully playing with the petals of one of the roses as you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“Well, I’ve never felt this way about anyone else so I wanna do it right.” Shalnark rubs the back of his neck as he looks away, “... Not too fast, no pressure…”

Lightly, you stuff your face into the flowers to hold back the grin that has etched its way onto your face as Shalnark encases his hand in yours. Even though you have held his hand many times before, this time feels different.

“...just going with what happens.”

Taglist: @meromelodi, @quartetstarheaven , @yumezai, @lvndrhwis, @writtenappreciation, @jojo-sinner, @pastelbear12, @aly-kurta, @bbunnycore , @feifood, @akobere7u7, @aleksa784

#hxh #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #shalnark #shalnark x reader #shalnark ryuseih #a helping hand

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koreanmadeingreece · 4 years ago

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Why, why, why (4)

University student!Yuta x reader

Genre: slight enemies to lovers au, a bit of angst, a lot of fluff, and several mixups

Summary: You just got into uni and decided to move in with your childhood friend!Taeyong at the city where you are going to study. As you’re about to start your new, adult life, you meet his friends, and you realize that not everyone likes you. Nakamoto Yuta in particular almost seems like he hates you.

A/N: In this fic, Jonghyun from NU’EST appears for a while (just to avoid confusion). Also, wow I never thought I’d post this. I hope you guys like it. Also I thought I’d update every Sunday but I couldn’t restrain myself. Welp.

Warnings: n/a

Word count: 1.6K (I should let you know that I’ve finished writing it so I’ll update it every 3 or 4 days!)

Part 4/11 (I think) First / Previous / Next

Taglist: @melitadala @chxotickpoptrash @aiforyuu @fineapplehoe (please let me know if you’d like to be tagged!)

As soon as you told Chan what happened, after the other two left, he was speechless. He immediately offered to come home with you and help you choose what to wear, as he was the one person of those you had met that day that you were sure you reached your house, where you found Taeyong sitting with Yuta at the balcony. You let Chan in and Taeyong came to meet him in the speed of light.

“SO, you’re in her class, right? I’m Taeyong, oh and this is Yuta. We’re two years older. Do you like it here? Did you find a nice place? Oh, and let us know if you need anything…”

“Taeyong, just let the man breathe.” They both laughed at your comment and you went outside to find Yuta.

“Hey, how are you?”

“Great, thanks. You?” he asked, with a smile on his face.

“Awesome, honestly. My first day was amazing and I also met a lot of people, actually. I didn’t expect to be so lucky on my first day, so I’m kinda thrilled,” you said.

“And she’s got a date.”

“Chan, oh my god, it’s not a date!”

“Yet…” he smirked. Taeyong was looking at you in shock, and Yuta wasn’t even blinking for two seconds.

“Well, we went for a coffee with two other guys and the waiter kinda hit on me.”

“You hit on him first.”

“Fine. I hit on him first. The point is that I’ll see him again tomorrow and Chan came for emotional support.”

“Oh my god, my baby’s got a date!” Taeyong shouted in enthusiasm and ran to hug you.

“Did you say a waiter? Where?” Yuta asked.

“At that coffee shop close to our building. His name is Jonghyun. He’s a third-year student, so you might know him.”

“I do,” Yuta answered.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Is he nice? Like, am I going to die if I’m alone with him? Is he a good guy?”

“I think so, yeah,” Yuta replied. “I don’t know him well enough to have more details though.”

“It’s okay. I guess I should be thankful for the fact that you’ll know who to blame when you find me murdered at the bottom of a cliff.” You made everyone laugh. Yuta laughed as well. It was a beautiful sight to watch. You thought of that every time you saw him, but quickly snapped out of it, when Chan started dragging you back inside the house and towards your room.

“So, what’s the deal with you and those guys?” Chan asked, as he was going through your closet.

“Well, Taeyong’s my best friend ever since we were little and now, he’s my roommate, and Yuta is a friend whom he met here. He’s a nice guy.”

“Kinda cold though.”

“Yeah, he is. Taeyong’s other friends told me he’s a sweetheart when he opens up to people though.”

“I sure hope so, because he barely said hello to me earlier.”

“I hope so too…” you mumbled and continued searching with Chan, until he thought he had found the perfect outfit for you to mesmerize your potential date.

A while later he had to go, leaving you alone in your room to sit, when you heard a knock on your door.

“Are you decent?”

“Yeah, come in,” you said, and Taeyong opened the door.

“Will you come sit with us?”

“Taeyong, I wanted to talk to you about this.”

“What? Sitting with us? Did anything happen with anyone?”

“Oh no, not at all. But it’s not necessary that they always want me around. I just moved here and stole their friend away. And I don’t want them to think that.”

“But Johnny would never… And V, no.” He paused. “Is Yuta acting weird?” You didn’t even have time to react and he was already making assumptions. “If he is, I’ll kill him for sure. He has nothing to worry about! Tell me. Has he said anything to you?”

“No, of course not. He was being a bit distant and I asked Johnny about it, is all. But, Taeyong, think about it. You used to be two, and now I’m here. It’s not irrational to feel like this. Now, please go. You’ve left him alone.”

“Fine. Come whenever you want though. I have other friends besides him, and he needs to know that.” Taeyong left your room, obviously irritated. You worried that something would happen with Yuta, but you didn’t hear them raising their voices. You feared that one day it would happen, but you were safe for now. Besides, you had already met enough people to hang out with and not become a load on Taeyong and his friends. You were already becoming independent.

The next day, you wore the outfit you had found with Chan and went to college, where you found him staring at you from afar, admiring the work he’d done.

“Oh my god, red suits you so much.”

“Come on, you’re making me blush,” you said and he laughed.

“Are you ready for five long hours of class and then for your date?”

“Shhh, don’t say that so loudly. Someone might hear it.”

“Someone might hear what?” you heard and turned around, only to find Yuta standing right beside you.

“Nothing. What are you doing here?” you asked in panic.

“What do you mean? I study here.”

“Oh, right.”

Chan didn’t hesitate to interfere, seeing you were in complete panic mode. “Don’t get her wrong, she’s just nervous for this afternoon.”

“Ah, right, the date.” Yuta smiled. “I hope everything goes well with that. But, that’s not why I wanted to talk to you. Can you come with me for a second?”

“Oh no, don’t bother. I’m going to class, alright? I’ll get you a seat next to the others,” Chan said and you thanked him.

Yuta waited a few seconds for Chan to leave before he started talking, which seemed like the longest seconds of your entire life. “So, since you’re new here, and you probably don’t know about this, our department hosts movie nights two times a month for people from different departments to get to know each other. And it’s this Saturday. We’re watching The Zodiac Killer. Would you like to come? I told the others already and they said yes.”

As shocked as you were from Yuta’s suggestion, you thought you wouldn’t dare to lose this opportunity, since it only happened once in a lifetime. “Yes, I’d love to!” you exclaimed, trying and not succeeding to hold back your enthusiasm.

“Okay, I’ll text you the details,” he smiled. “Well, I probably won’t have to, though, as I’ll be seeing you all the time from now on. Anyway, I have to get going. Bye,” he said and left soon after, leaving you speechless and unable to go to class. Yuta, who was colder than an ice cube, had invited you voluntarily. If that wasn’t progress, you didn’t know what could be.

You went at your class, sat next to Chan, who was mocking you for Jonghyun all day, and BamBam, who was practically sleeping on is desk, and that was how the day passed until you actually had to man up and go to the coffee place.

“Chan, please slap me in the face. I can’t go in.”

“No, I can’t slap you. We need you to be pretty for your date.”

“Ah, come on! This is not the way to give some strength to a friend.”

“Neither is slapping you before meeting a hot guy!”

“Fuck, you’re right. Okay, I’m going in.”

“You’ve got this! I believe in you.” He waved goodbye at you and left as you entered the coffee shop around 5:30. You spotted him on the counter, taking an order from an older lady. You hadn’t consciously noticed it, but you spent a few seconds looking at him, admiring his subtle but rather gentle smile that showed off his cheekbones and all the beautiful characteristics of his face.

You soon snapped out of it, as you heard his voice.

“Y/N, you came! Hi! What can I get you?”

You blinked a few times, trying to get it together and actually retain contact with the planet earth, and replied to him. “Oh, hi! Um, a double cappuccino with a lot of sugar please.”

“Sure. You can sit for a while until I finish my shift and then we can go for a tour around the city, since you’re new. I can show you a few places if you’d like and maybe we can sit somewhere…?” he said, smiling. You couldn’t take your eyes off his smile. He was incredibly handsome and seemed like an amazing guy. What could possibly go wrong?

“Yeah, sure! I’d love to,” you replied. Besides, it wasn’t really that hard to watch this guy work while enjoying a perfect cup of coffee.

After a few minutes, you noticed him going at the back of the shop. He returned moments later, wearing his normal clothes and not the shop’s uniform, finding you emerged in your thoughts.

“You look so good in red.”

“Oh my god thanks,” you were already blushing, three seconds into your date. That was when you realized he was wearing a dark gray shirt and black pants that made him twice more handsome than usual. In fact, you wished Chan hadn’t left the city center just to see him like this. You were sure your words would not even be close to how he really looked. “You don’t look bad yourself,” you teased.

He offered you his arm and you followed, watching him show you the basics in the city since you were new there. He knew all the best coffee shops, bars and stores you wouldn’t notice at first glance. After a while, you decided to sit at a place near the park for a beer, since there was the best view. The orange leaves falling off trees were the best setting for your date. Or, at least what was starting to look less than a get-to-know encounter and more like a date.

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shesawriter39049 · 5 years ago

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|AFTER HOURS| M|

Pairing: Namjoon X OC

About- Your husband and business partner finds you up way past acceptable work hours for the 3rd night in a row! So, daddy has to step in and remind you that’s not something we do in this household. You come before work, in every sense of the phrase!

OR- Namjoon and yourself run a successful Adult Film Entertainment Company called “Onyx” with your 5 best friends from college who you also happen to be in a open relationship with! Your in desperate need of a 2nd videographer/editor! So here you are, up at 1 AM scrolling through resumes because your that boss that hates to overwork her employess so she overworks herself!

Warnings:Daddy kink, Dom Namjoon, switch OC (More of a sassy/bratty sub)Top OC, Oral (F recieving) Light ass play, (Rimming), Dirty talk, Breath play, Spanking(Pain kink),Hair pulling, unprotected sex, light cum play, VERY LIGHT degration (He calls her a “little bitch” once but it’s playful still noting in case it offends ppl)The end hints at a threesum…...with a certain redhead

Tae is their sassy exec.assistant and makes a cheeky little appearance at the end.

Jonnie baby is tatted...LORDT

There a fun freaky little couple...

WC:6k

NOTE- This is kinda old and was set to be part 1 of an OT7 AU called “7 DEEP”

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“Really?” Goddamn, leave it to Namjoon to make one word sound just as sexy as it was intimidating!

You heard the footsteps fuck you did, you just opted to ignore them and hope maybe he’d just, I don’t know leave? Maybe he was just doing a wellness check? But, if that’s the case, as your tired, unfocused, half-lidded gaze caught the bottom right of your laptop screen, which was glaring back at you something vicious! You realize that you’ve royally fucked up, and its a cute little 2 am right now! So no, he’s not going any damn were, anytime soon….

“Baby” The word left his lips just as much disappointment as it did allure which is a hell of a combination I know, I know, but in all honesty, it fits the mood. You caught his visual briefly through the mirror mounted against the wall and fuck, your man is fine as all hell! Frame resting casually against the entryway, arms folded firm across the smooth chiseled planes of his caramelized tattooed chest. Oversized cat-eye glasses perched on top of that cute little button nose of his, A pair of loosely fitted sweats sitting low against his v-lines, the thin grey fabric left nothing to the imagination as he’d clearly opted against boxers tonight. Shoulders and arms flexing effortlessly due to his current position which screams nothing but “Your ass is in trouble”. Which I mean, your kinda here for...kinda not….

Only offering a low hum in response as you continued scrolling through mounds resumes and video reels that were currently clogging up the admin email that was typically reserved for Taehyung. And that’s when you hear his feet shuffle closer, and closer until there’s a heavy yet comforting weight pressing against your back. The temperature around you shifting, as he leans down, arms braced on the table on either side of your frame. His long, beautiful, veiny fingers pattering idly against the glass, showcasing an array of rings, one of them being his Cartier wedding band as his lips nuzzling into your neck. Nosing up and down your skin slowly, almost teasingly, just breathing you in until your shifting back against him, a strong chill running down your spine.

“We talked about this…” Voice low, seductive, yet stern and still clearly a little disappointed...nipping at your neck, not hard enough to leave a mark but just enough to make a point. Forcing yourself not to lean back into his touch no matter how bad you wanted to beg for more than just him grazing his teeth along your skin! You needed him to bite, hard, and he already knows it too, how much you get off on being marked..and that’s exactly why he’s not doing it...The little shit!

“I know but -” Namjoon reaches up to slam your laptop shut, sliding it and the stack of papers to the opposite end of your dining room table, that you’ve managed to convert to a makeshift office.

“We talked. About this” Simply parroting the words again, just slower this time as if to say you clearly must not have heard him correctly initially.

You sigh. Deep, slow, defeated, a nod rendering, out as a half-arsed response triggering Namjoon to pull back from you only to slide your chair from beneath the table. Shifting it to face him before dropping to a squat between your thighs. Gaze unwavering as he took in your blatantly exhausted appearance, still, he couldn’t help but melt as he reached out to caress your jaw feeling the way you nestled into it instantly. Your eyes fluttered shut briefly, as he smoothed his hands down your body, slipping beneath your robe to gently massage your thighs.

“So what the fuck, are you doin?” Brow arched as if he was daring you to actually respond, yet there wasn’t a single sharp edge to his voice, it was suddenly soft, calm. As if he was genuinely asking why you were doing this to yourself because he can’t make a lick of sense of it! You’re barely able to hold your eyes ajar right now yet you were out here working....

You couldn’t really handle the intensity of his gaze right now, more so because you knew he was right, you were so fuckin exhausted right now it’s unreal! Let’s also mention that the two of you have to catch a flight to Vegas for a business meeting in a good oh I don’t know 7 hours! So, instead of acknowledging that this was really stupid, you opted to reach for the one resume he didn’t manage to move out of reach. Eyes nervously scanning the paper as a distraction while you tried to think of a rational that even you’d believe at this point!

'Fuck, we just- I don’t know Joon, we just have so much going on right now! And you know I’ll never complain about us having too much work I mean, I'm grateful every damn day that we’re not where we were!”

You intentionally paused, letting “that” have its own moment because it's something to always be acknowledged! The two of you went from living in a 900sq ft apartment with 5 other people to effortlessly clearing 8 figures as of this last tax year. Humbled and grateful to be busy isn’t even the beginning of how you feel!

“But I just look at everybody...Yoongi’s responding to emails at fucking 3 AM! Jimin playing around docusign at the ass crack of dawn every damn day sending out contracts! Taehyung up scouting locations at 6 AM on a Sunday which is supposed to be his only day off I just- Everybodys in over their head so I thought I’d just- “ Namjoon reached up and grabbed your chin, snatching the paper out of your hand and forcing you to look him dead in the eyes.

“So thought you'd overwork my wife instead?”

You just shrug and nod again, tossing your hands in the air, it’s clear you have an attitude but it’s also clear it’s with yourself! You keep piling more and more on your plate instead of delegating it out to other people to handle! It’s a trust thing, and Namjoon know’s that, it started out with just the two of you, then for years it was seven , seven deep. It’s hard for you to let new people into something you and your husband built from nothing! However, Taehyung just got a part-time assistant of his own so he can go back to strictly being your right hand, and realistically, he’s salary! Your little Gucci boy probably doesn’t mind drinking his Starbucks and driving his BMW around LA looking for houses to film in! You could have spread the workload out a little you just fuck, I don’t know, you’re always that person to put people first to a fault I guess! Point being, Tae could easily handle this, tomorrow, during normal business hours, you could have and should have been in bed with your husband!

Namjoon can sense how uneasy you feel right now, almost like your a child being scolded and that’s not at all what he’s aiming for; he's just genuinely concerned. So he opts to ease the atmosphere just a little to remind you, that the two of you are always on the same playing field, he’s only reacting like this because he cares! Flicking the bottom of your chin before leaning in, pressing a firm, yet passionate kiss to your lips as if he’s trying to drive the point home, slipping his tongue past the seam almost instantly. Not even attempting to keep this somewhat chaste, needing you to feel every inch of infinite love and fire he has burning through his veins when it comes to you! Kissing you with enough force to knock the wind out of your chest, moaning contently as you give your husband free rein to explore your mouth. Turning the kiss slightly more delicate as he lets his hands slide even deeper under the robe to continue roaming your body. The slide of his tongue becoming softer, slower….as the pads of his fingers trickled up your spine.

Sucking your bottom lip between his teeth as he pulls back “Were all busy baby, I get it, I hate seeing them like this too, you know I love them just as much as you do! And that’s exactly why we put out those ads, but that does not mean you get to take on everyone else’s shit! Don’t make me put in a complaint to HR about unfair treatment within the workplace!”Murmurs against your lips, as you stare down at his, barely paying attention to a damn thing he said!

“Joon I am HR…” You mumble low and unamused, eyes rolling to the back of your head in annoyance and he could give less than a damn. Leaning in with a smirk playing on his lips, leaving another lingering kiss against your own. Kissing you with enough fire to have every hair along your body standing on end! Until your practically chasing after him in a pout the minute he pulls away from you.

“Mmm, and my point still stands….” Namjoon's hands tighten around your hips, scooting you forward so your legs are wrapped around his waist. Your arms instantly lace around his neck, trailing your fingers upward, so they can get lost in his freshly dyed locks.

“Stop, overworking my baby! You know I don’t like it…” His delivery was just as much playful, as it was stern!

“Fuck, whatever okay, sorry!” You really weren’t at least not right now, there wasn’t a lick of conviction in that as you reached up to bring his lips back down to yours. Sliding in tongue first, capturing his lips in another opened mouth kiss, the rhythm quickly starts getting messy more so on your end because you’re getting needy! Namjoon tastes intoxicating and you’re blissed out of your mind, even after all these years, this man can still manage to have your toes curling with just a simple kiss! , Arching forward giving him easier access to grab you ass and he takes the hint, the faint sting of blunt nails digging into the swell of your ass has you whimpering out low and filthy against his tongue.

The kiss breaks much to your dismay but before you can even protest Namjoons tongue is lapping down the side of his neck, mapping out all the places he’s learned over the years. Nipping down on your flushed skin ever so often this time he’s biting with a purpose though, giving it to you just the way you like it.

“Y/n were done with work now right??” He can hear you panting out low and wanton into his ear once he attaches himself to the crook of your neck, sucking maliciously, an almost animalistic growl leaving his lips in the process. There’s a hint of frustration mixed in with arousal dripping off his tongue right now, your too caught up to notice!

“Namjoon '' You breathe out his name with nothing but lust pouring off your tongue, not an ounce of shame insight in regards to how needy you sound right now. The sound goes straight to Namjoon’s dick which is beaming at you like a spotlight through the thin fabric of his sweats. Tilting your head back, and anchoring one of your hands into your husband’s hair keeping him in place, overwhelmed with pleasure as you go completely pliant under his menstruations. Regardless, this man's self control was somethin’ serious,and he wasn’t giving in just yet...you still had one more cross to bear baby girl!

“Fuck. Please” Tugging on his scalp like the brat you tend to be, as if to emphasize your point, making Namjoon pull away licking up your jaw in the process. The drag was slow, messy, waving his tongue against your skin the same way he would your pussy and you felt yourself start to involuntarily clench harder and harder by the second.

“Hmm? What was that baby?” Tugging the shell of your ear between his teeth hard enough to make you whimper into his hair “Now you wanna come to bed?” You can feel him smirking against your skin and you just really don’t like your husband at all right now just so we’re clear.

All you do is whine in response, yanking his hair even harder until you feel a firm hand land on your ass making you yelp out of your seat.

Nam-fuck!” Hissed through clenched teeth, thighs tensing around his waist.

“So again…” Tone as coy and casual as can be as he winds his hand back only to land smack dab on the curve of your ass again, right in the same spot, you wouldn’t be surprised if his palm left an indentation behind!

Namjoon’s hand was literally pulsing against your skin the impact was so damn strong, all the metal dancing along his fingers didn’t help either! You swear the ripple echoed throughout your entire apartment, and the scream that left your throat was without a doubt noise complaint worthy! Fuck your gonna need to send them an edible arrangement or somehing, they already hate the two of you as it is…

Your panting and whining opened mouth right into his ear, and it’s getting you nowhere but horny and frustrated! Nails, digging little crescents into his shoulders as you try and almost reroute so of the pain that’s buzzing through your veins. But it’s good, it’s soo good, the slickness coating your inner thighs gave that away! Namjoon can smell how much you’re enjoying this, his little pain slut as he often likes to call you!

“You wanna stay out here all damn night. Work yourself into the ground. Leave me in bed alone, and now all of a sudden you think you get to boss daddy around? Hmm? Just because your pussys nice and wet and your feelin needy ...now you want to go to bed?” Namjoons tone is blatantly taunting and a little harsh yet the slight growl laced with it all has your head spinning far too fast to even be mad.

‘Oh my god, Namjoon just fuck me already! Shit!”

“Why the fuck should I do that? Could’ve had me hours ago baby, all I wanted to do tonight was fuck you, that’s all I wanted all damn day.” Slipping his hand between your thighs pinching your clit between his fingers, slowly rubbing the pads of his together on either side, stimulating your clit head-on until your groaning into the side of his neck.”Do you even, know, how hard it was for me not to just bend you over the conference room table today!?”

“Joon” You try again and he doesn’t budge, he actually let’s go of your clit all together and just teasingly trailing his fingers along your entrance never entering just driving you fucking insane! Looking as fine and unbothered as ever, as his lips ghost up the curve of your jaw.

“Hmm, let’s try this shit again.Why-” Bringing that same hand up to grip your jaw with enough pressure to indicate he wasn’t fucking around anymore. “Should I give you what you want when you continuously keep disobeying my only request? Hmm???” You can feel your own slickness against your skin, yet all you can focus on is the blatant aganer, and hurt running through your husbands veins. Even beneath all this bravado..he’s clearly really hurt about this, so play times over!

“Fuck, okay!” There was slight elevation to your voice, tetoring on yelling actually. The arch in Namjoons brow said you had about two seconds to fix that , but you already planned on it! Taking a deep slow breath, letting your eyes flutter shut to just...recenter yourself for a moment!

“Baby, I’m sorry. I’m. Sorry. ” There it was, not that bratty whiney shit you did earlier to get what you wanted, a genuine “I’m sorry” . Soothing your nails through his scalp, it’s almost instantaneous the way his demeanor shifts once those words fall off your tongue in a more..sincere fashion.

A low hum rang in the back of his throat at the admission, nosing at your cheek “Sorry for what exactly? Because I don’t want it if you doing this just to appease me baby. That won’t do shit for me. ” Namjoon’s tone is a lot softer now, all of the prior theatrics and pettiness is gone as he awaits your response.

“No, Joonie baby, no!” Pressing a soft but firm kiss to those sinfully plump lips of his that you still can’t get enough of no matter how many years go by…”No”

“ As your partner, I gotta look out for me just as much as I look out for you and I clearly haven’t been! I know better! And I should be taking advantage of the fact that we’re lucky enough to now be in a position where I can hire an array of people if need be. It’s just- you know I’m a control freak, this business isn’t just a business it’s our baby!”

You watch his mouth open in protest and you just simply continue speaking “But regardless, I know it’s not more important than me, or my health I know…” You instantly feel the tension within his body dissipate at that, thumbs kneading at your hips.

“ I’m sorry, I love you and I’m sorry I’m not trying to stress daddy out!'' There's a slight playfulness to your delivery trying to lighten the mood a little though you know how serious this topic is for him! You find yourself wiggling in his hold trying to somehow get even closer than you already were.

So here’s the thing, back when you were in college just starting out, the two of you had a lot on your plate! Between school juggling multiple jobs, internships, and just trying to figure out how to even start a company of this caliber….The level of exhaustion he often saw you at was utterly heartbreaking. The number of times you passed out due to lack of sleep is unmentionable… so seeing you like this...was fucking unacceptable in Namjoon’s eyes!

You notice those big brown orbs of his get a little glassy so you grip the back of his neck even tighter dropping your forehead to his. Feeling like complete and utter trash right now!

“This business is not more important than my wife, my partner, my best friend...it’s not! However, you are more important than, all of it, this fuckin overpriced apartment, all the shiny little toys we’ve been able to buy, and this entire company in general! I love you, but I need you to look me in the eyes and fucking promise me that you’ll stop this! Please…”

You can hear a slight trimmer laced within that deep honey-coated tenor of his and the sudden vibrato’s foreign, and you’re not a fan! It took everything in you not to cry at the blatant plea rolling off his tongue, well aware this man does not beg! So instead you just leaned in and kissed him, hard, slow, just letting everything you couldn’t really articulate pour from your lips to his and hope he got the message.

“I promise, I love you…I promise!”

“And you know I fuckin love you…” You do, fuck you do, even if this marriege was high key an accidnet..it’s without a doubt one of the best things that’s ever happened to you!

“I know”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck, yeah”

Ducking down, kissing you reckless and with fevour, messy, wet, teeth clacking together. Slowly transitioning the mood from deep and touching to just...raw and nasty which is kinda what you’d prefer at the moment!

“I wasn’t lyin when I said I’ve wanted to fuck you all damn day though…”

“Please” you whisper out as he pulls back to lick down your neck, pressing your chest together to give him better access. Sucking his mark in a spot right beneath your jaw, well aware you’ll need an ass-ton of conclear within the next couple of hours, but right now you could care less!

“Please what baby? Tell daddy, what you want?” Namjoon presses, biting his lip and sliding his hand back between your legs groaning out at how completely drenched you are right now.

“Fuck me!” You pant out low and whiney

“You want it here baby? You want daddy to bend you over the table?” The familiar hunger that was back in his eyes was so fucking sexy and it had you rutting against him for any ounce of stimulation!

“No.Bedroom” Namjoon moans in agreement, securing your thighs around his waist and scoping you out of the chair, heading towards the opulent master suite the two of you shared.

Once inside he throws you down on the bed, hard and almost animalistic, making you bounce a little against the firm California king. Namjoon follows immediately, crawling over to cover your body with his own, his broad form completely engulfing your frame. Ripping your robe apart, and letting your tongues meet once more. Hot slick, and eager as you pant out hot and heavy against one another. Soothing is palm down your stomach, cupping your entire heat in his palm. Moaning out that it feels just fuckin like that. Wet and warm, so damn warm...ducking his head down to lick your nipple into his mouth, sucking slow but hard at the same time, nipping and grazing the bud between his teeth.

“Fuck” You moan back arching off the bed and into your husband’s mouth, as he licks trails across your sternum and over to your other nipple. While also stroking his entire palm against your pussy, Namjoon’s always loved how responsive you are to him even after all these years. Just letting his tongue lave over the buds over and over, alternating between, licking, sucking, and biting so your body never gets used to the stimulation.

“You fuckin, love this shit don’t, you? Bet I could get you to come just like this...wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” You can feel his lips curling into a smirk around your nipples the harder he sucks, bringing his other hand into the mix, the one that’s nice and slick with your arousal. Using it to twist and turn your nipple between his nimble fingers until he can’t tell if your arching into the pain or away from it. He can feel you grinding against his thigh, more importantly, he can feel your clit sticking to his thigh your so damn wet, soaking straight through his sweatpants. Moaning out loud and unfiltered, eyes shut as you rock your hips against him, your hands getting lost in your hair the harder you rock against the bed.

“Fuck, look at you baby, rubbing your sweet little cunt against my thigh..” A low almost arrogant chuckle rumbling in his throat, vibrating against your skin making you moan even louder. “Fuck, here I was thinking you wanted to come on my dick...”

“Fuck- I do, I wanna come all over you, want your mouth too though…” Reaching out to play in his hair, almost pushing his face down even harder, though you swear you can feel his lips curl into a wicked little smile at that moment.

“Yeah? You want daddy's tongue all over your pussy…” He didn’t even bother phrasing it as a question, especially once he meticulously started rolling his tongue along your nipples, in a oh too familiar motion that had you turning into a whiny brat within seconds!

“Namjoon!” He doesn’t even respond, just pulling off and flipping you right on to your stomach, hard and fast, making you damn near choke on your own spit. Face pressed into your fresh linen sheets.. You start to slightly arch your back on insctint. You feel him shift off the bed, peeping over your shoulder to see his sliding off his sweats, stashing his glasses in his side pocket. Namjoons length is just standing straight up, damn near laying flat against his stomach and you straight up moan, mouth-watering at the sight alone. A pleased hum leaves those plump lips of his as he shuffles back onto the bed. Kissing and licking his way up the back of your thighs until he reaches your ass, straddling your hips.

Palm rubbing at the swell of your ass before smacking it, lightly at first, and your hip twitches you actually have the nerve to giggle. “That all daddy’s go-fuck” Another. Scream. Literally. Scream as he reels back even harder than he did earlier, just keeping his hand intact too, wanting you to feel the trob, the ache, radiating off his palm to your ass.

“Hmm what was that baby?” Leaning down to spread your cheeks apart, just blowing a trail, against your pussy, watching the way your hole clenches from that alone. “Always so fuckin wet and ready for me…”

He groans and you, arch your back, even more, moaning out slightly at the contrast hitting your skin. Bracing both hands on your ass and he can hear your breathing shutter in your chest, already anticipating the first drag of his tongue. Dipping one thumb over you rim, just circling it gently, feeling you jerk at the sensation, no matter how light, fuck your still so damn sensitive. That will never stop amazing him, it’s been almost 8 years. Yet you still react like it’s the first time he’s ever touched you like he’s still helping you explore new places along your own body! Namjoon leans forward, nipping, licking, and sucking, open mouth kisses, against the backs of your thighs, before leaning down to kiss your clit. Tongue and all, sucking it straight into his mouth, moaning out deep and strong around the bud. Inhaling slowly as if he's breathing you in and your knees already start to buckle, nails clenching around the sheets.

A broken moan of his name being muffled into the fabric, as he rolls his tongue in deep, languid strokes up and down your folds, licking from front to back. Your wetness is already painted all over his face and he wouldn’t have it any other way, as he continuously, maliciously sucks down on your clit, gently grazing the skin between his teeth just enough to make you squirm. Bringing his tongue to lather over your rim and he feels how hard you start shaking, sliding in two fingers into your heat, knuckles deep at the exact moment he slips his tongue past your rim. The vision that is you, open, needy, and whiney, on all fours...is driving your husband absolutely insane! How quickly you’re falling apart, knees spreading even wider to give him all the access he needs to do with you as he pleases.

“Yeah..” You sign, blissed out of you goddamn mind ‘Fuck”

Your voice drips in the whiniest tinge of need imaginable like you’ve been aching for this, and the sounds richotect straight off your tongue and into Namjon’s lap! Your chest drops forward, letting Namjoon essentially all support your weight, as his tongue dives in even deeper, while continuously fucking you open with his fingers, he’s already added a third one. Mind completely spinning at how hard your clenching around all three of his fingers, cock throbbing at how good you’ll feel around him soon enough. You feel him pull back to spit right along your rim, watching it drizzle down toward your clit, he picks the trail up with his tongue and leads it where he wants it to go. Namjoon moans out, low, and content as he really starts to eat you out your tongue and fingers working your pussy open until your voice hitches in your throat and shatters. Ripping, a long drawn out whimper to leave your throat.

“That feel good?” He murmurs low and taunting, and you can’t help but roll your eyes, as if he can’t physically tell he feels good.

“I’ve had better”

He bites your cheek playful, a snort leaving his lips “Fuckin same..” slurs out against the swell of your ass and you can’t help but cackle.

“Fuck, I bet you have now, stop talking and get your fucking tongue back in ME!!” Bossy as ever, damn near pushing his head down and he reaches up, biting the side of your hand forcing you to stop.

“How about my cock instead?” Leaning back to smack his length aginst your ass a couple times, letting you feel how hard and ready he is.

“Yeah! God yeah, fuck yeah! Gimme! In me now! Fuck me!!” All your prior teasing is gone, just the mention of his cock has you needy and clenching painfully hard around his fingers, while also simultaneously rutting back against them as if you don’t want him to pull out. Pulling his fingers out slowly. Curling them upwards, purposely coating his fingers in your arousal to use to lather his cock which is so hard right now it’s almost painful.

“Daddy” Wiggling your offensively empty ass in his face, making him chuckle, and smack it lightly. before gripping your thigh and flipping you onto your back with such ease it was almost offensive.

“Nam-”

“Fuck off” Leaning down and stealing your breath and sarcasm away with a deep kiss “I wanna see my baby..” Lining himself up to your entrance, you exhale softly against his mouth as the blunt head of his cock breaches your entrance. Hiking your leg around Namjoon’s waist to make him slide in even deeper.

“Yeah, fuck”

“I hope you don’t think…” Shifting forward wiggly his hips a little, giving you half a second to adjust to how fucking big this man is! “We’re about to make love or some shit, because I’m about to break your ass..” There’s just as much of a smile as there is a dangerous edge to your husband’s voice, that has you beaming up at him. Before you even had time to think of a response he was snapping his hips forward hard enough to have the two of you scooting up the bed a little.

Namjoon, propped your leg even higher over his shoulder, as he snapped his hips forward again, even harder this time. You moaned out, and scurried to grab onto your husband’s neck to anchor yourself as he fucked into you hard and fast, you tried to arch and fuck him back but it was hard with how intense he was pounding into you!

“Oh my godddd” You drawled out, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Yup, Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been called that, in this position.....” You could hear the smile in his voice as he continued fucking you like he was trying to split you open with his cock. Nails clawing into his back hard enough to break skin!

You could’ve just laid there and took, it because fuck if it wasn’t good, but that’s not the mood you were in at the moment. So you dropped your leg from his shoulder and wrapped them both around his waist. Tipping your hips forward, clenching down hard around his cock as you started grinding your hips against him. Fucking him back the same way he was giving it to you. Hard and smooth..

“Y/n” He half growled half whined as you smiled up at him, something wicked, releasing your hold around his cock only to clench down even harder. He groans in what seemed like frustration reached down to smack pinch your clit between his fingers hard enough to make you cry out his name. Arching forward even harder.

“Yeah, daddy like that, fuck.Me.just like that” you were breathless but the sass was clear as day, a slight chuckle leaving your throat.

“Fuckin brat!” Reaching down with the same hand that was on your clit, wrapping it around your windpipe, adding just enough pressure to have your eyes rolling to the back off your head. The added stimulation throwing off your rhythm a little but you didn’t care, he had you…

“Yesss,yes, fuck!” His tattooed chest was flushed and covered in sweat as you continued fucking back against his cock, which was warm and continuously pulsing side of you. Filling you up and sliding completely out every single time. Your hole twitched painfully hard as the two of you worked in sync thrusting against each other in a smooth yet malicious rhythm, the sound of skin slapping you moaning, Namjoon grunting...

Fuck an edible arrangement maybe the two of you should treat your neighbors to a spa weekend or something because they damn sure aren’t sleeping right now!

“Ya know, if you would’ve came to bed earlier” He panted right into the side of your ear, still rolling his hips into you “I could’ve fucked you, came inside you” Leaning down to lick up the side of your jaw “Licked all, of my come out of you, and then” Pulling back and snapping his hips up even sharper, as if to accentuate every word “Fucked.You.All.Over.-Fuck-Again” Every thrust had the wind being knocked out of your chest “ But now..we don’t have tim-”

Reaching up to twist his nipple between the tip of your nail, kneeing him in the stomach just enough to make his hips stutter and have him shuffling back so you can push him onto his back which he falls to willingly. That is, until you literally bounced down onto his dick, damn near gagging in the process he feels so deep in this angle. Almost tempted to feel up your sternum and see if he’s poking through.

“You little bitch” Chokes from his throat with a stated smile the tones playful and airy, digging his nails into your ass, letting out an involuntary gasp as he rolls his hips up. Only for you to start rolling your hips back, again, and again, and again, in deep, slow, circles, switching up the pace a little from what it was before. Making sure your clit grazes against his pelvic bone every time.

“Yeah, fuck you” Your breathless, and tired, but you can’t help but smile at how completly fucked out he looks right now, eyes barley ajar, jaw tight, he looks so damn good!

“Yeah, yeah, fuck daddy baby..fuck me..” It’s clear he’s only egging you on but fuck if it’s not working,he sounds down right sinful as you ride him. His moans are deep, loud, almost needy, at every roll your hips make, and it’s intoxicating! Reaching up and grabbing you down by your neck , licking his way back into our mouth, his grip is strong enough to without a doubt leave a bruise. Both of you moaning out pleased and needy as you start slamming your hips down meeting his upwards thrust. Instantly matching the pace he’d set. Namjoon pulls back, and slips three fingers into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat to make you gag a little. Exchanging the grip he held on your neck for the back of your hair, as he brings his other hand down between your bodies to play with your clit, before licking his way back into your mouth.Feeling the way your thighs start to shake as you cry out against his tongue barely able to kiss him back at this point .

“Your fuckin close baby, your pussy’s just screamig around me..” He’s breathless, not even trying to hide it anymore, voice horse and dripping with arousal. “Goddamnn I love you…” You clench so damn hard around him at that..I actually don't think anything turns you on more than hearing your husband say that. Especially sounding all fucked out and needy.

“Love you too baby..so fuckin much… “

“Good” He chuckled low and dark agaisnt your lips “Now come, all over my cock like a good girl” Fucking into you faster and harder, hand still rubbing blunt circles around your clit, tightening the grip he holds on your hair until your roots burn “Y/n , baby, my baby, come for me, come for daddy...”

It only took a few more thrusts before your orgasm ripped through you and you were crying out your husband's name, body spasming on top of him. Yet you still didn't stop rutting against him until he came in. You couldn't, you needed to feel it, body running away from him just as much as it was running towards him! You can feel how hard your clenching and its involnaty this time,so he reaches up with both hands rolling your hips against him one more time before slamming you down onto his cock. Just holding you in place while you continue to pulse around him, body shattering to pieces.

“Namjoonnnn fuck-fuck-fuck-” He grounds you agaisnt his cock as he jerks his hips up hard and fast, eyes squezzing shut, neck arching off the pillow, as his relase washed over him. A long drawn out moan of your name slipped off his tongue as he came, hard, hips stilling making sure to fill you to the brim, until he's sure he released every last drop he had to give..His own body shuttering in ovesentivty at this point. Namjoons fingers slowly soothed up your thighs, both of you panting painfully hard, wincing at the contact as you continue pulsing around him. Eyes locked in a half lidded gaze, a smile that started on your lips and ended on his as the two of you racked over each other's forms, hot sweaty, marked up, and fucked out.

“Namjoon” You finally say, breaking the silence, a slight moan hanging off your tongue and he smiled back at you, reaching up to grip the back of your neck.

“Y/n” Parroting your name with the same lust filled drawl that you had, making you moan…

Nam-fucking-Joon” Leaning down to place a firm kiss to his lips, humming out instanly at the contact.

“Y/n Kim….”

“Yup, that’s me!” Smiling out tired and dazed against his lips, while you felt his hand soothe up and down the curve of your back.

“I love you”

“And, I love you”

The two of you laid there like that for a moment, until his cock was completely soft and he gently slid out, still keeping you flush against his chest….just sitting in comfortable silence, breathing together..until..

“ Oww!! What the fuck was that for ?!” Your poor ass...at least it’s a pinch and not a smack this time...

“I mean it. I love what we do and I know sometimes realistically it happens there are only so many hours in a day I understand that. We wouldn’t be where we are if we didin’t work our asses off! But you’ve been doing this and running on fumes all damn week! I’ve just been watching from afar and keeping my mouth shut, hoping that you would sort it out yourself but I couldn’t watch you burn yourself into the ground anymore. Y/n. I’m serious! “

You can feel the weight behind his words, the way his heart seems to be beating harder now than it was when the two of you were having sex.

So you lean down to press a kiss on his lips that almost seems far too delicate and out of place for what just happened only moments prior.

“I know.”

Namjoon holds your gaze for a second longer before cupping the side of your face and kissing you firm and sweet, smiling against your lips once he feels you sigh into it. Hesitantly he pulls away and heads towards the bathroom and he already hears you whine in protest. Just flagging his hand in your direction, not even bothering to turn around.

“We literally have a 9 AM flight and an 11:30 business meeting at the Plaza! Meaning, you have to be dressed and fully ready when we hop on the plane. Your fuckin showering..now. I don’t wanna hear it. ”

Honestly, you were far too tired to protest and the tone of his voice let you know you wouldn’t win anyway! So I mean, fuck, at least there’s a bench in the shower!

“Ugh, fuck, fine! Come carry me! I have to preserve my energy to walk in my Louboutins tomorrow!!!” Making grabby hands in his direction knowing damn well he can’t deny you anything.

“You mean today!” You heard his voice echo off the tiles and hoenstly he seems far to chipper to remind you have of, which only makes you whine even louder!

Heading back out the bathroom with a smirk on his face, shaking his head in dismay as he scoops you effortlessly into his arms. “Come here you little brat!”

“Your brat!” You fire back, with nothing but smugness rolling off your tongue as you loop your arms around his neck, kissing his dimple.

“Fuck yeah you are, my brat, my wife, my fuckin baby” Inviting his tongue back into your mouth as he leads the two of you back into the bathroom!

The two of you moved together lazily whilst in the shower, taking turns washing each other, slow touches and kisses. Murmuring sweet nothings mixed in with business because though you tried to leave work at work...sometimes it’s impossible!

Not even bothering to look at the clock once you finally melted into your bed, honestly, you didn’t even wanna know.

~~~

Far too soon the sound of all 6 of your alarms went off, ya know, the “Okay I should get up but I don’t have to get up” All the way to the “Fuck, I’m late!” Alarm! They all went off until you found yourself practically being scraped off the floor and led into the guest room that the two of you converted into an additional closet and a place for you to get ready in peace!

Sitting down, Starbucks in hand as you set out to beat your face, do your hair and try not to look like you stayed up until 1 am then got fucked into the mattress until you damn near cried!

The Starbucks was curiosity of Taehyung who had keys and free reign to your apartment whenever we felt so inclined. The redhead welcomed himself into your space, waltzing over in your direction with an all-knowing smile on his face. Ducking down to leave a slow lingering, open mouthed kiss along the one mark on your shoulder you apparently forgot to cover this morning. You can feel him smirking against your skin,as he pulls back to flop down on the pink furry chair currently covered in rejected outfit choices. Trying to force yourself to ignore the sudden chill that rang through your body because you didin’t have the time or the engery for anything else.

‘Why aren’t you wearing this? Your ass looks fuckin great in this!” Holding up a black halterneck Jumpsuit, brows furrowed in the center of his face.

“I know, but, it needs to be steamed and I don’t have the time..” A feigned pout playing on your lips as you batted your lashes at him through the mirror. Watching as he slid off the chair, with an exasperated huff, eyes rolling to the back of his head more times than you can count. Heading towards the steamer you had hanging along one of your many clothes racks.

“Thank you, baby!!” Blowing him a kiss that he swatted away in the process!

“Yeah, yeah! Soo I see someone was impatient and went through the resumes last night…At fuckin midnight!” Eyes glaring in your direction, you could hear the frown in his voice. “Y/n-“

“Don’t!” Eyes narrowing in his direction through the mirror “Daddy Joon already got in my ass enough about last night for all of you!”

“As he fuckin should! That’s what you have me for baby, so you aren’t doing that shit to yourself anymore!” You can tell he’s trying to sound authoritative but instead, he just sounds sad and equally disappointed!”

“I know, Tae, I know, I’m fuckin workin’ on it!.” Your delivery comes out a little sharper than you intended but he’s known you far too long to take it personally or even fully acknowledge it honestly!

“Speaking of, I actually met this kid, not fully a kid he’s like 21, but anyway he just graduated from USC, for some sort of Film. I actually ran into him at Starbucks today and he’s supposed to be sending me his resume and some video reels in a little while.”

A low hum ringing in the back of your throat, far too focused on carving out your brows to talk...but he took that as a hint to continue.

“His name is Jungkook, he seems somewhat promising just from talking to him, so, I’ll feel it out and if it seems worth your time I’ll forward over his information! I’m also going to try and set up a couple of interviews for you and Joonie next week!”

Offering a faint nod in response, still far too focused on your makeup to give much else, or realize the sudden fire burning in Taehyung's eyes as he watches you get ready. Silk robe hanging loosely off your frame, a pair of white lace panties peeking out...

“What time were the two of you trying to get dropped off at the airport?” The sudden shift in conversation, and the blatant octave change had your eyes meeting him through the mirror. Trying to feel out his mood…

“In the next hour or so…” Then there’s Namjoon, standing in the doorway wearing nothing but his dress pants, an unbuttoned silk shirt, and a smirk that screams nothing but trouble.

“Come’re” The bass in Namjoon’s voice alone has chills running down your spine, a second away from shifting out of your seat until you realize he’s not talking to you. Flicking his finger in the redhead’s direction, edging him off the wall slowly. Biting his lip as he sways coyly in your husband’s direction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THAT’S ALL SHE WROTE! FOR NOW, IF YOU LIKED IT.. ,SHOW THIS SOME LOVE AND I’LL CONSIDER ADDING TO IT! I DID MAP OUT THE FIRST 3 CHAPTERS LAST YEAR WHEN I STARTED THIS BUT I DIDN’T PHYSICALLY WRITE THEM! BTW I KNOW I DIDIN’T MENTIONED ALL OF THEM, BUT ALL O BTS MINUS KOOK WORK FOR THE OC AND NAMJOON!

MASTER LIST

#namjoon #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #namjoon au #bts #bts smut #bts au #bts fanfic #bts poly #taehyung #taehyung au #kpop #kpop smut #kpop au

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threeletterslife · 4 years ago

Text

01 | Redefining Destiny

→ next chapter

→ summary: You were convinced you were in love with him. A former member of the mafia in the states, that is. It was true love. Destiny. Until one day you wake up with a memory lapse; then that love is replaced with hatred. The thought of marriage is substituted with revenge. If your love with Jeon Jungkook really was destiny, you’d fall head over heels in love again. But if only he weren’t such a hot, goading asshole.

→ pairing/rating: jungkook x reader | PG-13

→ genre: 70% fluff, 25% crack, 5% angst | e2l!au & soulmate!au

→ warnings: none??? (ok fine JK thinks ‘shit’ once but that doesn’t really count)

→ wordcount: 3.4k

Sweat slowly trickles down the back of Jungkook's neck as he stands behind the fiery heat of the burger grill. He's been gripping the metal spatula for so long that there's an angry red dented mark in his right hand. The greasy smell of oil from the french fries has penetrated through his nose for hours now; at this point, he has no other choice but to breathe sparingly through his mouth. God, he hates working overtime.

But he desperately wants to provide for you financially, and working overtime at his local burger joint was just one small step closer to financial stability when you both graduate. It's the least he can do for you.

Jungkook adjusts his red hat, which is part of his work uniform and checks the clock hanging on the wall. Ten minutes and he's out of here. He can definitely take this hot, stuffy kitchen for ten more minutes. He's been through a lot worse in his life; in comparison, this was nothing.

Ten minutes pass painstakingly slowly, but once the clock strikes 10 p.m., Jungkook pushes the spatula into his co-worker's hands and dashes out of the kitchen, grabbing his casual clothes from his corner at the back and rushing into the restroom to change. He hates the greasy, fast-food smell that clings onto his work clothes even more than you do.

And today's supposed to be a special day. Normally after a late shift, Jungkook likes to go home and lay in bed with you as you stroke his soft hair until he falls asleep. But today is definitely a special day.

When Jungkook comes out of the bathroom wearing his normal black jeans and an oversized hoodie, he sees his long-time friend Yoongi waving at him in a corner seat of the parlor. Jungkook smiles, rushing over to slide into the seat across from his friend.

"Hey," Yoongi says. "Just finished your shift?"

"Yeah," Jungkook answers.

"How was it?"

"It was okay," Jungkook lies. "It's bearable. And it's extra money."

"It's been a while since we got to meet up like this, huh?" Yoongi sighs. "How are you holding up?"

"Since..." Jungkook whispers.

Yoongi nods. "It's been nearly two years, Jungkook, but I know how much you miss them... or him."

Jungkook nods solemnly. Yoongi's right. It has been nearly two years since the Crescents collapsed and everyone but Jungkook was murdered on the spot. He's been having nightmares about that night ever since it had happened. Nightmares about his best friend... Taehyung... He shudders just thinking about it.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Yoongi says. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for it."

"It's really fine," Jungkook says, shaking his head. "It's not a big deal... I just miss Tae once in a while. It doesn't always plague my thoughts," he lies. "Besides, I have Y/N, you know?"

Yoongi nods, smiling. "You lost a loved one so the universe brought you another."

But Jungkook doesn't think anyone could become the Taehyung of his life—not even you, though he loves you more than mere words can describe.

"Oh, right. I forgot to tell you, Jungkook," Yoongi says, leaning forward in his seat and grinning. He's trying to lighten up the mood; Jungkook can tell. "My wife's pregnant!"

"Really?" Jungkook gasps, his eyes turning wide as he stares at his proud-looking friend. Well, this was news that he hadn't expected at all. "Wow, congratulations!" He really means it.

"I dunno about congratulations, but I am pretty glad I'm finally going to be a father," Yoongi hums. "Except that child is hoarding my wife's attention. And I'm kinda nervous," he sighs. "A lot of pressure to be a perfect example now..."

Jungkook nods. "I can imagine. But you'll be a great father."

His friend smiles. "Thanks. That means a lot. Anyways, how's school been going?" Yoongi asks, resting his head on his propped up hand. "I know you were kinda worried because of the age gap and everything..."

Yoongi's right. It wasn't easy to start up school again after neglecting to go to college in his early adult years. He would be at least three years older (or more) than everyone else in his classes... and he hadn't touched a textbook or actively listened to a lecture since senior year of high school. He was worried that he would be severely behind all the bright and chipper students who hadn't taken several gap years. And he was behind at first. But his determination to be somehow involved in law was just so much greater than the adversities that academics hurled at him, that he fought through. Of course, you'd helped him as well. So, as of now, school was going—

"Great, actually," Jungkook answers. "It's because I'm doing what I'm interested in."

"Good," Yoongi answers. "My wife sends you her best of luck. She said being a paralegal will definitely suit you."

Jungkook smiles. "Tell her I said thanks. That was sweet of her."

"You know my wife," Yoongi snorts. "Always trying to do the right thing. Oh yeah," he pauses, "how's the love of your life?"

"She puts up with me," Jungkook chuckles. "She's been great. We've been talking about her moving in for a while and it finally happened a few weeks ago."

"That's amazing, Jungkook," Yoongi says, smiling. "You really love her. I can tell."

Jungkook laughs, face heating up just thinking about you. "You know what's funny? I hated you for the longest time—no offense—because you left us, you know, for your wife. But now I know what it feels like to be crazy in love."

Yoongi snorts. "Yeah. Wait until she's pregnant with your kid, though."

"I still think I would love her as much as I do now," Jungkook says. "I don't think our love can ever fade."

Yoongi laughs out loud. "Oh, to be young and in love!" he declares.

Jungkook makes a face that makes Yoongi laugh even harder. "You're only a year older," Jungkook protests. "And if you were in school, we'd be in the same year!"

"Sure, sure," Yoongi says.

Jungkook's about to say something snarky to get back at Yoongi when he hears the familiar tune of your favorite song playing on his phone. Last Valentine's Day, you'd gone out of your way to customize Jungkook's ringtone when you call him. It was some Christian song that you belted out every Sunday at the top of your lungs—a song that Jungkook knew every word to after listening to it so many times. "Hold up, my girlfriend's calling," Jungkook says, fishing out his phone and clearing his throat to answer.

Yoongi leans back, nodding to himself as he watches his younger friend get excited over a call from his girlfriend. Jungkook presses his phone against his ear, lips already pulling up into a smile just at the thought of talking to you.

"Hey, baby!" you chirp the moment Jungkook picks up. "Can we please have ramen for dinner? I'm craving it so hard for some reason! And it's not like we can really afford anything else..."

"Of course, baby," Jungkook says, unbelievably happy just hearing your voice. "Do you want me to make it when I get home?"

"Yes, please!" you exclaim in your bright, golden voice. "We have a nasty quiz in ethics tomorrow, remember? I have no idea how you're hanging out with Yoongi knowing that, but whatever. I've been FaceTiming like six of my friends to cram for it... But also at this point, I'm kinda getting distracted—frick, I'm going off into tangents again. Wait, okay, sorry, Kook, I have to go."

"Don't worry about it, babe," Jungkook says. "Study well, okay?"

"Okay! Bye, Kook. Have fun with your friend!"

Jungkook can tell you're smiling just from your voice. "Bye, Y/N!" He ends the call, putting down his phone and looking a bit dazed.

Yoongi laughs at him. "God, Jungkook, you really love her. It's been like what, a year? And you're already even living with each other."

Jungkook scrunches his forehead. "You ran away from the only family you ever knew to be with a girl you've reunited with for less than a year," he retorts.

Yoongi chuckles. "Touché. Maybe we're both deranged love-seeking lunatics."

Jungkook laughs. "Maybe..." he muses. "Or maybe we've found our true soulmates and we're not stupid enough to let them go."

"Ha, good one," Yoongi laughs. "If I told my wife that we were soulmates, she'd tell me to open my eyes and wake up."

"Really? But she loves you and you love her," Jungkook says.

"So?" Yoongi asks. "You loved my wife too, once. So did..." he hesitates. "So did Seokjin and Taehyung... Just because we love each other doesn't make us soulmates."

"I loved your wife a long time ago. That shouldn't even count. And that was before I knew my soulmate existed," Jungkook huffs. "I guess maybe Y/N and I are lucky."

Yoongi smiles. "Extremely fortunate," he says. "True love like that doesn't happen often in this cruel universe." He folds his hands in front of him like a wise man, leaning in as if he were going to tell Jungkook a secret. Naturally, Jungkook leans in to listen to what the wiser man has to say. "You deserve it, Jungkook," Yoongi tells him. "You deserve to have someone like Y/N to give you purpose to live. To put purpose in your life. You deserve a lot, and from what I could tell, Y/N is the 'a lot' that you deserve."

Jungkook can't stop the wide grin stretching his lips. It's rare that Yoongi has such heartfelt words to say so openly in public. He must be out of his mind—or insanely excited about becoming a father.

"Thanks, Yoongi," Jungkook says.

Jungkook knows that Yoongi's always been a practical man who doesn't believe in soulmates or destiny or any of that cutesy, Disney princess, Hollywood shit. And for months, Yoongi was Jungkook's makeshift role model—someone to take the place of Kim Taehyung, who was dead now... But Jungkook knew he and Yoongi were too different when he met you. You were something else. Something so completely different that when he's with you, he feels like he's taken to the moon. He has to disagree with Yoongi on this one. Destiny exists.

Because destiny, and what was written in the stars of the vast universe, is what brought you and him together to fall in love.

You immediately sit up in bed when you hear an ear-piercing scream, quickly reaching across to switch on the bedside lamp and turning to your boyfriend. He's kicking the covers and whimpering, sweat running profusely down his face as he squeezes his eyes shut and frowns at the figures in his nightmares. You put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Kook?" you whisper, yawning and trying to blink away your drowsiness. "Hey, you were screaming again," you say, shaking him softly.

Jungkook nearly hits your head with his when he jerks awake. And the moment you see the fear in his wet but alert eyes, your drowsiness vanishes. "Baby, you're crying," you say, pulling him into your arms and hugging him.

He relaxes a bit in your embrace for a split second before tugging back and shaking his head. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he groans nearly breathlessly as he massages his head with his hand. You try to wipe his tears away with the sleeve of your nightshirt. "It's so early in the morning... And we have a quiz today. You need to sleep."

You shake your head, ruffling Jungkook's hair. "Sleep is the least of my worries, Kook. Tell me, it's about your friends again, isn't it?"

Jungkook stays silent, still trembling slightly from the leftover shadows of his nightmare.

"C'mon... I wanna help, baby," you say, reaching out to hold Jungkook's hand. He's sweaty and his skin feels hot against yours but you don't mind. "You can tell me. It'll make you feel better, I promise."

"It was horrible," Jungkook finally whispers. "And you were right. It was about the Crescents again..." he hesitates and you patiently wait for him to gather his thoughts and continue. "I-I watched T-Taehyung be b-brutally tortured. A-And I... I couldn't do anything about it b-because I was in invisible restraints." He lets out a gigantic sigh, shivering from the last remains of the nightmare in his mind. "Everyone else was already dead and bled out," he quickly says, spitting the words out so fast he doesn't have time to stutter. "I want to spare you the details." He's shaking as he tells you this, eyes fogged up and lips set in a thin line.

"Oh, Kook..." you breathe. You reach out to hug him. "Hey... do you want me to get you an ice pack and a glass of water?" you ask, rubbing slow circles on his back. "We can talk about it in-depth when you're feeling better."

"No," Jungkook murmurs softly in your ear. "I swear, I'm fine, Y/N. You don't have to do anything. It was just a dream..."

"It was a nightmare," you correct him, pulling back from the hug. "And you keep having them. What can I do to help?"

"You're helping right now," Jungkook says. He gives you a grateful smile. "I'm sorry I keep waking you up at ungodly hours of the night."

"You shouldn't be sorry," you reply. "You've been through a lot, Kook. It would only make sense for you to have bad flashbacks about it... Hey, if you don't want to go back to sleep, I'll stay up with you."

Jungkook shakes his head. "No way. You need your sleep."

"You do too, silly," you say. "How about we both go to bed?"

Jungkook smiling, slipping back into the covers and dragging you under with him so that you're using his pillow instead of yours. "Can you stay by my side until I fall asleep again?" he whispers hopefully.

"Of course," you say, "you're really warm, anyways." You snuggle against your boyfriend, closing your eyes immediately to relish in the darkness. "Goodnight," you whisper. "I'll pray for you so that the nightmares won't bother you again this night."

"What would I do without you, Y/N?" Jungkook sighs as he closes his eyes too, wrapping an arm around you.

"Everything," you murmur. "You're... a strong man... Kook..." you trail off. Jungkook waits for you to continue, but it seems like sleep has overtaken you before you could say any more.

Jungkook smiles. When he's in your arms, he can finally have a peaceful slumber away from the nightmares and horrible memories. He dozes off the sleep again and this time, he isn't plagued by the fatal cries of his friends' last words.

When the 2 p.m. alarm rings, Jungkook's the first one up, hopping out of bed and checking to see if you are awake. You obviously aren’t, so he decides he's going to let you sleep for a little bit longer while he makes breakfast—er, lunch.

It's Friday, which means you and Jungkook only have one class today—ethics. Jungkook has a habit of studying for his classes little by little and every day but you tend to cram last-minute. You were up until 3 a.m. last night studying and you'd also woken up at around 4 to comfort Jungkook. Feeling a little guilty, Jungkook pads into the kitchen with heavy, drowsy feet and lets you get the extra sleep you deserve.

The smell of bacon sizzling on the pan permeates through the small apartment's air, reaching the bedroom to wake you up. Soon, you're making your way into the kitchen, stretching your arms as you yawn.

"Hey, baby," Jungkook greets you, turning around from the stove to give you a warm smile. "Sorry about last night... er, early morning."

You yawn again, waving a dismissive hand as you open the fridge to take out some eggs and apples. "It's nothing, Kook. Can you scramble these eggs? I'll cut the apples."

Jungkook nods, taking the eggs from you and cracking them open expertly against the fry-pan before letting the contents fall out. He takes the cooked bacon from the pan before it burns, looking around to find some plates to set them on.

"Here you go," you tell him, handing him just what he needed.

Per usual, it's like the two of you have telepathic communication.

Once the bacon is hot and ready on the plates, the eggs are scrambled into a golden yellow and the apples are freshly washed and cut, you and Jungkook sit down at your small table and eat. Jungkook's just about to finish up his eggs when you sigh. Jungkook looks up at you, and he sees that you have abandoned your silverware, twisting around your gold purity ring—it's a small habit you picked up when you're nervous.

"Is something wrong, Y/N?"

"No, nothing's wrong, Kook," you tell him. "I'm just worried about you. You keep having nightmares, baby, and I just think it might be detrimental to your mental health...”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he lies, shaking his head in denial. “I’m fine. I promise, Y/N.”

You know he’s lying, but you don’t say it out loud. “In that case, I have a verse from the Bible for you,” you say, pausing to close your eyes. “Maybe repeating this in your head can somehow help you...” Your brows furrow as you concentrate to pull up the scripture from memory. "Be strong and courageous,” you begin, “do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go."

"Joshua 1:9," Jungkook finishes for you. "I know, Y/N. I know."

He doesn't really, though. Jungkook respects your closeness to God; he respects your religion and your beliefs, but he, a murderer, a major sinner, cannot possibly receive salvation. He can't take back the lives he's ruined, the people he's tortured and turned insane, the victims he'd killed slowly, taking his sweet, sweet time... You understand his struggles, so you don't push the subject of religion on him. But it had been a hard move for you to choose to date Jungkook. To choose to move in with him. To choose to sleep on the same bed and maintain your purity. Jungkook understands. And this mutual understanding—even though none of it was spoken verbally—is what makes the two of you so special.

You connect on a level that transcends speech and language.

"You don't deserve being haunted by the things you did when you were younger," you say. "Former mafia or not, you're a good man, now, Jungkook." You grab his hand from across the hand, encompassing it with your own. "That's what matters."

He smiles, nodding. "Thank you..."

"Of course," you say. "Hey, after class, wanna eat out for dinner? You know, to celebrate another quiz."

"Ah..." Jungkook sighs. "I can't, baby. I have to work overtime today."

"What?" you pout as a frown places itself on your lips. "You worked overtime yesterday. And you didn't get a good night's sleep today..."

"Well, we need all the money we can get," Jungkook says. "I'll be fine. Maybe you can get dinner with your friends? I'll meet you outside my workplace at 10?"

You sigh. "Alright, Kook, but you have to promise you'll sleep in tomorrow."

"I promise," Jungkook grins. "Hey, I'll clean up so you can cram a bit more for the quiz."

You laugh, shaking your head as you gather up your utensils and your plate. "No way, Kook. You know, I don't have to try as hard anymore. I'm not going to intern abroad."

"Really?" Jungkook asks, frowning. "But that's such a great opportunity, Y/N! You can't just miss out on it..."

"Well, going abroad would mean we'd be long-distance... And what if I never come back?" you say. "I'm not gonna risk that. I'm not going. I'll have to explain that to my parents... somehow."

"You don't have to give up on your future for me..."

You laugh out loud. "I think God meant for me to have a future with you, Kook."

Jungkook hums. "In that case, I can't really argue against what He planned for you, can I?"

"No," you giggle, shaking your head. "You can't."

Jungkook smiles; God or not, you and he were meant to be, and he'd prove time and again that he is worth your love.

After the ethics quiz that had gone fairly well, you and Jungkook part ways after he kisses your cheek goodbye. Usually, Jungkook walks straight to the burger parlor, but, today, he takes a little detour to the flower shop.

He's been buying you one sunflower every week since the two of you began dating. He doesn't really know how that tradition started, but it never really stopped because the two of you enjoyed it so much. But today, he wants to get you something special.

Jungkook feels a little guilty, after all, that you'd given up your internship abroad to be with him and that you always had to wake up in the middle of the night or at early dawn to comfort him through his nightmares. It isn’t much, but sunflowers give you happiness.

He makes his special purchase and walks to the burger parlor where the smell of grease and oil isn't as bad today—his mind is preoccupied with your reaction when he gives you your present.

You're already waiting for him outside the burger parlor when Jungkook comes out, a bit sweaty with the smell of burgers still lingering on his skin.

"Hey, babe!" you say brightly, hugging him and immediately taking his hand. "How was work? I went to get some street food with friends. It was so good! I have to take you there some time—goodness, are those��" Your eyes turn huge as you see the packet that your boyfriend is holding.

"Sunflower seeds," your boyfriend smiles. "I know I usually get you sunflowers... but I figured it would mean more if we could plant them and grow them ourselves."

You gasp, putting a hand to your heart. "That's so thoughtful, Kook. I don't even know what to say."

Jungkook shrugs shyly, face blushing. "It was nothing, babe... But hey, did you walk here alone? That's kind of dangerous..."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Oh no, my friend dropped me off here. I didn't even wait that long for you. You don't have to worry."

"Sorry," Jungkook says, squeezing your entertained hands. "I'm just... paranoid, I guess."

He's referring to Jimin and you know it. "Hey... I'm fine," you say. "It doesn't hurt to worry or be cautious, you know. Wanna start walking home?"

Jungkook nods as the two you begin to walk down the familiar streets, the bright moonlight illuminating what was otherwise dark. A few minutes pass before you speak again.

"It's a full moon, tonight," you say, looking up at the sky.

"I really like full moons," Jungkook hums.

You turn your head to look at him in shock. "Really? I always thought crazy things happen on the night of a full moon. Like men turn into werewolves and witches brew their potions and warlocks cast their spells?"

Jungkook laughs as he looks at you fondly through his half-opened eyes. "Maybe," he giggles. "But... I don't know... it's just that it's a better, more completed version of a crescent moon. I feel like it guides me in the right direction."

"I thought I did that, not the full moon!"

Jungkook smiles. "You're better than the moon," he says, pointing at the stars twinkling in the night sky. "You're the stars, Y/N. You're the sun. You're my sunflower!" he exclaims confidently.

You smile, a faint, rosy blush tinting your cheeks. "I really don't know what I would have done without you."

"You'd be abroad," Jungkook says. "Studying a foreign language and becoming successful."

You shake your head. "Not at all. I'd be unhappy. I'd feel stuck. You know I hate what I'm learning..." you shrug. "Without you, I wouldn't have anyone to lean on."

Jungkook smiles. "Me too."

You smile, about to say something sweet right back to your boyfriend, but you halt walking instead. Jungkook stops with you, looking around to see if anything is wrong.

"Hey," he says. "You good?"

"Was that always there?" you say, tilting your head and looking curiously to the right. "I've never seen it before."

Jungkook looks to where you're looking and smiles curiously. It's a little shop, the windows displaying glowing potions and little sparkling trinkets. "A magic gag shop?" he asks. "Maybe it's new."

"Gosh, it's adorable!" you gasp, running toward the windows to peer inside. "Look, baby! There's a cute little flying teacup set! I can barely see the string that's holding it up!"

Jungkook catches up to you, looking in to see exactly what you are talking about. "It seems so professional," he says in awe. "Do you think the owner works in the film industry or something? Some of these look so real. Look at that!" He points at a crystal ball in the middle of the shop, displaying vibrant images of sunflower patches. "That's insane!"

"It's like it was made for us," you laugh. "Let's check it out!"

"Woah, uh," Jungkook hesitates, "it's late, Y/N. The shop's probably closed."

"The lights are on," you pout. "C'mon, I wanna talk to the owner! I wonder what they're using to get such vivid photos on that thing!"

With that, you tug your boyfriend into the little magic shop with you. One step in, it's like you've entered a new universe.

—next chapter

—masterpost

#btswritersnet #bangtanfairygarden #btswritingcafe #ficswithluv #btswriterscollective #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts #redefining destiny #redest

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mopeytropey · 4 years ago

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a beer buds series: chapter 5

newest update available below the cut and on AO3 here :) those of you anticipating more of gay disaster!Lexa should be pleased ...

Timeline: takes place between chapters 4 and 5 of 'apu' after Clarke attempts to host a dinner party only to have Lexa arrive as her only guest

Beer: Sunday Paper IMPERIAL STOUT WITH COFFEE

The smoothness of this beer belies it’s 9.9% ABV. Fresh roasted coffee nose leads into a smooth and rich roasted dark chocolate and coffee flavor with hints of dried black cherries.

ABV 9.9%

Sunday Paper Imperial Stout: Exhibit A (Framingham, MA)

Lexa has settled into the worn comfort of Lincoln’s sofa for all of six minutes before a large, curious ball of grey fur is sitting beside her. The cat blinks up at her with its owlish eyes the color of rust, and Lexa smiles while rubbing behind its ears.

“I still can’t believe you’ve named your cat after my father.”

“Come on! Tell me she doesn’t look exactly like Gus!” Lincoln shouts from the nearby kitchen.

The cat begins to purr at Lexa’s doting touch, and she thinks it enhances the resemblance even further. A docile temperament hidden beneath the imposing stature of her father. Uniform grey coloring gives way to a wide swath of darker fur beneath the cat’s chin, cascading down its chest like an unkempt beard. Lexa smiles again. Gus the cat has a bulky frame but is gentle and affectionate. She thinks the comparison is entirely apt.

“She’s bigger than when I was here last,” Lexa observes as Lincoln enters the room carrying two glasses of dark beer with heavy foam.

“She eats like a horse,” he laughs, setting a drink in front of Lexa before collapsing onto the other end of his couch. “Plus, I’m fairly certain Octavia is spoiling her with extra treats. Cheers, buddy.”

Gus abandons her immediately for the comfort of Lincoln’s lap while Lexa retrieves her glass.

She reaches down the short expanse of sofa cushions to clink her glass against Lincoln’s. “How drunk am I going to be after this one?”

“Imperial stout. 9.9%,” Lincoln smiles. “But, I’ve got lasagna and garlic bread in the oven to compensate.”

“So I’ll be hungover and doubling my running route tomorrow. Thanks a lot.”

“What are friends for?” Lincoln beams. “Hey! We should do 1A down to the island and back—weather is supposed to be super mild tomorrow and I’m done with my meetings by 4:00.”

The route past Clarke’s house.

The new information of Clarke’s residence is like a hot coal buried deep in Lexa’s stomach. The architecture. The pungent smell of the marshes. Seeing Clarke backdropped by her own surroundings had completed so much of the picture Lexa has been composing for months. Everything about the house, and Clarke in it, made sense—from the colors of her open kitchen to the art hung on the walls to the spiral staircase that Clarke practically forbade Lexa to ascend.

She swallows, wondering if the blush she feels on her cheeks will show in the low light of Lincoln’s living room. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“So, how was it on Tuesday? Sorry we bailed.”

Not for the first time, Lexa wonders if Lincoln has somehow infiltrated her inner thoughts based on the timeliness of his ask. The inquiry does nothing to lessen her blush, but Lexa hides further embarrassment behind a large sip of stout.

“You mean showing up for a dinner party to find you’re the only guest in attendance? Not awkward at all, that’s for sure.”

Gus seems to vacillate between the two of them for a moment, finally curling against Lexa’s leg and pushing her paws into Lexa’s thigh when she sinks her hand into thick, soft fur. The sound of Gus’s purring is amplified by Lincoln’s quiet apartment, and Lexa begins to relax with its perpetual hum.

“Yeah, but it’s Clarke,” Lincoln laughs. “I’m sure you guys had fun without us anyway.”

Lexa can’t decide if he’s really so oblivious or playing dumb for her sake, but she looks at him like he’s sprouted a second, immaculately shaved head anyway. She is tempted to recount every movement, and look, and smile, and gesture that she was forced to endure in Clarke’s company that made her feel, in fact, incredibly awkward. And, unsure. Anxious. Elated. Questioning every decision she’d ever made in her life to that point.

But, sure: fun is more succinct.

“We had a nice time.” Lexa smiles into her beer, remembering. “I think I talked a lot.”

“I’m sorry—what?” Lincoln further mocks her by cupping a hand around his ear as if to hear her more clearly.

“You’re such an ass. Why do I even hang out with you?”

“I’ve been grandfathered in,” Lincoln shrugs.

“When we were out on the boat, Clarke shared some things with me—personal things—and it felt like it was time to reciprocate.”

“Her dad?” Lincoln asks in a far more cautious tone. Lexa nods, taking another sip of the dense, dark beer. “The way the girls talk about him, he sounds incredible. A great guy to have lost so soon. O says the Griffins practically raised her. She really loved Jake.”

“I think Clarke’s connection with him was quite strong.”

Lincoln slowly nods through a heavy sigh. “So, how much of the backlog did you offer up in return? How far back into the Brooklyn archives did chatty Lexa venture?”

He’s broken the mood, and Lexa gives him a grateful smile. “Quite a bit, actually. I was also sort of high at the time.” Lincoln almost chokes on a sip of beer as Lexa shrugs. “But, I’m glad I told her. It felt good to talk about it.”

“Yeah.” Lincoln’s dark eyes have taken on a distant quality, and Lexa suspects he may be thinking of Octavia. Perhaps he’s thinking of all the parts of his dark history that he’s been able to share with someone as strong and resilient and unwavering as her. For someone as reticent as Lincoln, it must feel like infinite relief to give that part of himself to someone else. “We beat some shit odds, didn’t we?” he finally says.

Lexa exhales a humorless laugh. “Understatement.”

It had been a childhood of survival for them both. Anya too. But then they found each other, and it started to feel less harrowing, less isolating and alone. Even when they lost track of one another—transported from one family to another, in different boroughs, different schools—Anya taught them to rely on a network of trusted contacts. Information from other kids in the system became the string that kept them tied together.

And then, during that frightening summer when Lexa was thirteen and Anya disappeared, lost to another state—shipped halfway across the country—Lexa wouldn’t let them rest until she and Lincoln found her. It would be another eight months before Anya landed back on New York City asphalt and Lexa could breathe steadily again.

A timer sounding off in the kitchen breaks the atmosphere again, and Lincoln sets his beer down to briskly stand from the couch. “I’m gonna check on the lasagna. You good on beer?”

Lexa eyes him, incredulous. “I’ll be drinking this same beer in an hour. Quit trying to get me drunk.” Her phone buzzes while Lincoln exits, his laughter trailing after him.

Clarke’s name on her phone screen has Lexa shifting around on the couch, setting down her beer and resting her elbows on her knees. That now familiar coil of excitement swirls in her stomach as she opens the message.

Clarke Griffin (6:07PM): new artist featured at the coffee shop has some amazing photography of NY

Clarke Griffin (6:07PM): red hook, I think?

Lexa gives in to the tug at her lips, the way Clarke’s innocuous observation blooms warmth in her chest because of its casual consideration.

Clarke had been thinking of her.

She more often tries to suppress the way her mind wants to calculate just how much Clarke thinks of her. But tonight, she allows it. Even a momentary concession has Lexa biting at her lips to keep her smile from spreading.

(6:08PM): Clarke, please tell me you are not drinking coffee at six pm.

Clarke Griffin (6:08PM): Ok. Lexa, I am not drinking coffee at 6pm.

Lexa is readying her next reply, gently chastising Clarke for her irresponsible caffeine intake for what is likely the hundredth time, when Lincoln’s voice announces his return to the room.

“What’s Costia up to tonight?”

A lurch in her chest has Lexa nearly dropping her phone onto the floor. Mention of Costia while staring at an innocent message from Clarke is like a head-on collision in her brain. She blinks, closing her phone all together and setting it carefully on the table beside her beer.

It shouldn’t feel like an irritant, like vinegar in an open wound, but Lincoln asking after Costia grates the skin at the back of her neck.

Lexa works to remain calm, grinds her jaw, and goes for vague nonchalance. “Boston. Working late.”

“Damn, that sucks. Again?” Lincoln returns to the sofa and stretches his arm along the back cushions. Gus had since wandered off during Lexa’s less-than-scandalous text exchange about photography, but she returns to nuzzle at Lincoln’s calves.

“Par for the course,” Lexa exhales, willing herself to ease the raised hackles she feels along her spine.

Lincoln’s tone is sympathetic. “It’s been happening a lot lately, huh?”

After another sip of beer, Lexa turns into the couch, folding one leg beneath the other. “I’ve lost track, honestly.”

“We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to, but I have a lot of questions.”

Lexa runs her fingers through her hair and stares at the drink held in her right hand. She doesn’t like to think about all the ins and outs and what-ifs of her current relationship, let alone voice her wandering thoughts aloud. But, Lincoln is a good friend—more than that, he is an integral part of her found family. She finishes the last quarter of her pint in two or three gulps.

“I’m probably going to require more beer.”

Lincoln smiles kindly, patting her kneecap before taking the empty glass and standing once again. “More of the same? Or do you want to try something else?”

Lexa stops herself from asking for an entire bottle of whiskey. “What else do you have?”

“Come have a look,” Lincoln offers.

She follows him into a petite kitchen, further dwarfed by Lincoln’s immense stature.

“It smells amazing in here.”

“Should be ready in the next half hour or so,” Lincoln tells her as he swings open the fridge door. There is a low shelf stocked entirely with various cans of beer. “Pick your poison.”

Lexa squats onto her haunches to examine a few of the labels, in the end deciding on an IPA she remembers seeing on the taps at Dockside.

“That’s a good one. Octavia is obsessed with it,” Lincoln tells her as he opens his cabinets for a fresh glass and snaps the tab on the beer can for her. He hands over the new glass of beer before rinsing the can and tossing it into a squat recycling bin beside his trash can.

Lexa rests the small of her back against the edge of his kitchen counters and enjoys her first sip while Gus winds around her ankles and flicks her bushy tail.

“Octavia has good taste.”

“Tell me something I didn’t already know,” Lincoln smirks.

Lexa shakes her head in mock astonishment. “Legitimately. Such an ass.”

His smile transforms to something more genuine as Lincoln props his weight against the counter opposite. “She’s a complete workaholic—never stops thinking about the job, reading up on new techniques, emerging brewers, hop varietals. All of it. The success of that bar is her life. She lives and breathes it, and it shows.”

“But she—” Lexa adjusts the fit of her plaid button down, swallows her uncertainties with another sip of beer, and forces herself to engage in a conversation she has long since ignored. “You two still spend a lot of time together?”

“I think the fact that our mutual interests and careers virtually overlap sort of helps. But, yeah, I think regardless of that, we would still make time for each other.”

Lexa can only nod in response, returning to her beer in lieu of anything profound to say in turn.

“Are you guys able to spend any time together at this point? Costia’s schedule seems heinous.”

“We are. Here and there,” Lexa shrugs. “We went to see an exhibit at the MFA last weekend, which was nice.” Lexa frowns at the floor. “None of this is her fault. She tries.”

“There’s not always someone at fault when things stop working,” Lincoln says, not unkindly.

It doesn’t stop Lexa from grinding her jaw on instinct.

“I moved here for her. If we were to—I don’t even know what I would do if that happened.”

“Lex, you told me months ago that you were moving here to sort things out—not just with Costia, but with yourself, too.”

Lexa nods again and answers softly. “I know.”

“Let me ask you this: if Costia’s schedule were different, if she were able to do what she loved in school while also making more time for you and her, would it make you want to hang out any less with, you know, other people?”

Not so oblivious then.

He doesn’t have to say her name explicitly—the knowing look they share speaks volumes. Lexa looks away and licks her lips, stalling a response as her pulse quickens.

“I don’t know if—”

Her half-formed response is interrupted by Lincoln’s phone ringing on the counter beside him. He grins as he picks up the call.

“Speak of the devil. Hey, Clarke.”

Lexa sips her beer helplessly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as her mind races. He’s answered the call on speaker, and Lexa braces for the distinct rasp of Clarke’s voice.

“Hey, it’s me,” Octavia answers, her voice sharp and distinct in it’s own way, and Lexa relaxes by a fraction.

“Oh! Hey, it’s you. Why are you calling from Clarke’s phone?”

“I can’t fucking find mine. Have you seen it at yours?”

“Uh, no,” Lincoln answers, nevertheless casting his eyes around the kitchen surfaces for any sign of it. “I can look around for it though.”

“We’re actually parked outside—”

“Hi, Lincoln!”

Clarke’s voice pipes through at a distance—as if Octavia hasn’t put the call on speaker but Clarke wanted to be included anyway. Lexa tenses in an instant.

“—on our way to Abby’s for dinner. Do you mind if I run up for a sec?”

“No, of course not. Come on up.”

“Are you sure? I’m not trying to interrupt your bro date with Lexa.”

“Hi, Lexa!”

“Clarke, is it possible for you to have any chill for longer than ninety seconds?” Octavia snaps.

A short and hushed squabble ensues over the next several seconds, likely within the confines of Clarke’s car. Lincoln shares a smile with Lexa across the small expanse of his kitchen as her stomach jumps with nervous energy.

“I’ll be up in a second,” Octavia grumbles.

She’s at the front door a moment later, and Lexa lingers by the kitchen doorway while Lincoln greets her with a brief kiss.

“Hey, Lexa.”

“Hi.” Lexa offers a half wave.

“I’ll be out of here so quickly, I swear.”

“Don’t worry about it. Do you want help looking?”

“Nah, I’m good. Clarke wants to talk to you anyway.”

This jolts Lexa to a standstill where she had begun to move slowly towards the sofa with Gus at her heels.

“Oh, she—I uh,” Lexa swallows down a fresh set of nerves that Octavia doesn’t seem to notice.

“Babe, can you check the back deck while I look in your bedroom? I was out there this morning for a little while, and I might have left it on one of the chairs.”

“Sure,” Lincoln answers, his arm still slung around Octavia’s waist as he leans down to kiss the top of her head.

They’re both gone from the room in another instant, leaving Lexa standing awkwardly between the front door and the couch where Gus has perched herself atop the back cushions. Lexa hesitates for long seconds, adjusting the rolled sleeves of her shirt while gnawing her lip as the decision to stay or go to Clarke flits irritatingly against her conscience.

Gus observes her solemnly, and she swears it’s the same look her own father pinned on her during that summer she turned sixteen and formed an unwavering desperation to impress Nathalie Rivera, who Lexa did not, irrefutably, have a crush on. Even going so far as to bribe Lincoln into teaching her the Spanish he’d picked up from his new foster mom. Lexa’s determination to get her attention could not be deterred, but she was not romantically interested in any way, Anya’s accusational taunts be damned.

“Don’t give me that look,” Lexa tells the cat as she rests her beer on Lincoln’s coffee table, slips into her shoes, and heads for the door.

She practically sprints (without logical cause) down the flight of interior stairs to the main door, which opens onto a front walk, at the end of which sits Clarke’s silver car. Lexa manages to calm her breathing enough by the time she reaches the driver’s side of the car that she’s not visibly out-of-breath, but her lungs feel constricted nonetheless.

“Hey!” Clarke beams as she slips from the driver’s seat when she notices Lexa approaching.

“Hi.”

Lexa forces her mouth closed to keep from audibly stuttering. Clarke is often dressed at Dockside in an expansive wardrobe that feels like a personal attack on Lexa’s wellbeing. But, something about seeing Clarke in jeans and a warm sweater, looking casually elegant for a dinner with her mother, has Lexa stumbling over basic conversation skills like she hasn’t in years.

“You’re, um, you guys have—” she clears her throat, completely ineffectually, and Clarke very poorly hides her amusement.

“We’re on our way to my mom’s. Raven just got this major promotion so we’re celebrating by letting her cook us dinner.”

Lexa places her hands into her front pockets and smiles at Clarke as if her whole body doesn’t feel like a brittle, shaken leaf.

“You maintain very bizarre friendships.”

“That’s an interesting take coming from one of my best friends.”

“I didn’t know what I was getting into,” Lexa smirks. “Clearly.”

Clarke looks away with a laugh and leans against the side of her car to cross her arms along her stomach. The gold of her necklace pendant glints in the streetlamp above them. She nods towards the house at Lexa’s back when her laughter has subsided.

“Sorry we crashed.” Clarke’s face scrunches prettily with guilt, and Lexa makes the wise decision to avert her eyes with a shrug.

“It’s totally fine. Unavoidable emergency, right?”

“Or, they just devised a pathetic excuse to makeout for a few minutes.”

“Right,” Lexa laughs. She cranes her neck to look back at the house. “Maybe I shouldn’t have left them alone.”

“At this rate, they could be grabbing a quickie.”

It’s now Lexa who is twisting her mouth at Clarke’s overt sexual reference, hiding embarrassment behind disgust. “Clarke, ew.”

It only serves to make Clarke laugh again, and Lexa is forced to look away a second time.

“So what’s up? Did you need something? Or, did you just really miss me?”

“What?” Lexa must look horror-stricken because Clarke is sputtering more laughter. “No, I’m just—Octavia said you wanted to see me.”

Smooth. Very smooth.

“I didn’t—” Clarke starts to protest, looking a little unnerved herself before rolling her eyes. “She’s an ass.”

The familiar insult makes Lexa laugh, and Clarke smiles in kind. “She’s well matched then.”

“Lincoln? An ass?” Clarke looks scandalized. “No!”

Lexa shakes her head with a long sigh. “You have no idea.”

A charged moment between them stretches taut, as it so often does, and Lexa is reminded of all the other moments that have preceded it.

Tuesday night spent salvaging a failed dinner party.

A blissful day on the water in Clarke’s boat.

Coffee along the harbor.

Aimless walks about town. Lingering goodbyes.

And, countless other instances in which Lexa must fight this same impulse. She’s not at liberty to admit to such wants, let alone act on them, but the thought of kissing Clarke persists behind a veneer of practiced composure.

Sometimes Lexa thinks that if Clarke were to lean in, make the decision for them both, she would let her.

Clarke is too good a person to make such advances; even hoping for such an outcome is wildly unfair, and Lexa hates herself a little bit for it.

She wears a regretful smile that she presumes Clarke has come to recognize—the way it is reflected back to her as Lexa sighs. “So, I guess I’m going to head back up. Lincoln has promised me twice my weight in carbs.”

“Ooh!” Clarke’s eyes light up as they so often do at the mention of food. “What’s on the menu?”

“Lasagna.” The answer comes from over Lexa’s shoulder, and she turns to see Octavia ambling down the front walk with a small plate and a mouthful of pasta. “And, it’s so, fucking good.”

“Aren’t you two on your way to dinner?”

Octavia shrugs, “Appetizer.”

“I hope you know you’re sharing that with me,” Clarke tells her as Octavia rounds the car and opens the passenger door.

“You’ll have to pry the fork from my cold, dead fingers.”

Clarke scoffs, opening her own door. “As if cutlery has ever stopped me from stealing food off your plate.”

“I’ll see you guys later,” Lexa smiles, taking one or two backwards steps towards the house.

“Later, dude,” Octavia answers before closing herself into the car.

Clarke smiles warmly, her eyes softening even as Lexa creates more distance between them. “Bye.”

Lexa can feel the warmth of Clarke’s gaze at the base of her stomach, swirling lazily. “Bye.”

She ascends Lincoln’s stairs briskly, determined to figure out her emotional baggage sooner rather than later and finally get her life together.

:::

#a beer bud series #apu #a pleasant undoing #brewkru!#clexa fic

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