#biked past this this morning. four cars had stopped to help her but she was unresponsive. they had already called an ambulance

[sixeye-sketch]

[devondespresso]

I Can Only Hope Now (STWG Daily Prompt: Claudia)

G | 1269 words | ao3 link | cw: absent father, brief references to Steve’s absent parents

Thank you @saradika-graphics for the dividers! 💛

Claudia Edine Henderson never wanted to get married. Not really.

But she wanted kids, so that meant either getting married or seeing if the daycare was hiring.

Anthony Laurence Goldman wanted a family. She thought that meant the same thing, so they married.

And it was good. They had a beautiful baby boy, Dustin Clarence Goldman, healthy save for a defect with his bones. No collarbones, and the high chance he’d need a little extra medical attention down the line, but he’d still be living long and happy, and she couldn’t ask for more. 

Eventually, their baby's cries stopped waking both of them up in the middle of the night. It was just her, because mothers had a sixth sense for it. 

No sleep, no time, no awareness of what she let it do to her until her mother called, apologizing for the odd hour, and she realized she couldn’t tell the difference between four in the morning or six at night. After that, her mother stayed a while, helped with the baby when Anthony was at work.

Anthony helped when he could, but his real specialty was money. He knew how mortgages and insurance worked, knew how banks and credit card companies stayed in business, knew how to get the lowest bill from the hospital, so having to pay out of pocket for Dusty's somehow only ‘cosmetic surgeries’ wouldn't leave their wallets dry.

He knew how to juggle all that convoluted adult shit that scared the living daylights out of her. It was like it came so easy to him.

Maybe it didn't. She'd never really know.

It was his domain, and he preferred it that way, for years and years until it started looking like family was more like the backdrop for his dreams, instead of the subject of them.

She talked to him, lord knows she talked to him about it, but each new month of trying faded back into three of forgetting.

Dustin grew old enough to ask. Just enough words to get the question across. Where did Daddy go?

They separated a few months, hoping he’d miss his son enough to work with her on this. 

She gave him the ultimatum that turned into a divorce.

He agreed happily, saying that it would prove how much weight he was really pulling. That he didn’t need custody.

Claudia Edine Henderson and Dustin Clarence Henderson moved back in with her mother, and for three more years she figured the rest of it out. She found a job at a bank, learned the ins and outs of the business while balancing her own funds separate from both her ex-husband and her mother.

When Dusty was old enough to bike to and from school on his own, they finally moved out to a quiet small town, far away from Anthony. Dustin found friends so fast, faster than she ever could have hoped, and she was able to tell him everything.

She had no idea if she made the right choice for him. It was the right choice for her, and in a way that probably made her a better mother for him, but she could never be sure if that distance made any of it easier on him. Sometimes she wishes she did more to bring him into their family, offered to help with any of those things that scared her too much to do herself.

Sometimes she wondered if Dustin would ever resent her for it. If he didn’t already.

But then one night, Dustin was out way past curfew, without calling. Karen and Sue couldn’t find their boys either, so the three of them ran up to the station. Ms. Flo, the angel, called the chief himself immediately and gave them a spot in the waiting room.

An hour or so later, the chief showed up with all three boys in tow.

They were all grounded, no question, but before she and Dusty started heading home, he begged her for five minutes to talk with his friend in the chief's car. She relented, and Dustin ran to the passenger seat of the car, where a teen boy was leaning on the door and resting his eyes.

Dusty opened the door and the boy nearly fell out of the car, followed by a very loud “Henderson!” that made her chuckle.

Hopper said it was the Harrington’s son, and his next stop would be taking the kid to Hawkins General Hospital for ‘a concussion and a half’.

They both had to get going, and despite his anger earlier, Harrington Jr. said goodbye with a smile and a ruffle of Dustin’s cap. And when Dusty hopped into the front seat with stars in his eyes and the energy of a successful campaign, he talked about Steve Harrington.

Steve was awesome. Steve was like the tank their party needed. Steve was a badass until he got his ass kicked, which apparently wasn’t even fair anyway, because Steve would have totally won if Bobby? Billy? Was playing fair. Steve was strong, Steve was cool, Steve told him how to do his hair, of all things, which was also apparently a secret. Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve.

She had to be wary, just a little, because that was her job. But even more than that, she wanted to be hopeful.

So the next day, when Dustin asked if he could bike to the hospital to check on Steve, even though he was grounded, she decided to make an exception, and they both took the car.

Hopper’s car was still camped out in the parking lot, but before she could look for the right cars around, Dustin dashed again to Steve’s room, almost slamming the door open.

Dustin jumped on the bed before Steve could get a word in, let alone sit up to greet them, but the wide, if a bit confused, smile said it all.

Hopper offered the chair next to him for her to take a seat, and he filled her in properly on everything that happened. Most of the story was a better rehash of Dustin’s accounts with those in-betweens better filled, but the one thing that stayed perfectly consistent was Steve.

A new girl’s step brother got too rough with Sue's boy, Steve stepped in and started a regular fight, then step-brother grabbed a dinner plate and ended it. Step brother apparently fled after Steve wouldn’t get up, and the kids looked after him until Hop could get there. All four of them were worried, but Dustin by far the most.

She looked back to her boy, trying to get his hat back from Steve who held it high above their heads. Dustin stood to grab it, and Steve clearly planned on throwing it before Dustin managed to snatch it and punch him in the arm with a victorious yell.

She couldn’t help but smile. Couldn’t help but let them stay until Steve was discharged with a stack of paper and a call home to make sure he wouldn’t be alone. Couldn’t help but leave an open invite to their home, though ideally after Dustin’s grounding was over.

After a few weeks, he joined them for dinner, and never asked why they had to hunt for a third chair to the table.

And another few weeks after that, Steve stopped by to drive Dusty to the Snowball, coming inside because Dustin can’t get his hair just right.

And a month later, when he joined them for Christmas, Claudia could be comfortable in her hope. She could think that, at least going forward, Dusty would have everything he needed.

[foxymoxynoona]

After the Applause (Chapter 1)

Header and linebreaks by @awrkives

Single Dad Jimin x Female OC

SUMMARY: Jimin doesn't know how he would have made it this far after the shattering of his world without the support of his thoughtful, generous, helpful neighbor. Hanbyul has lived next to hottie Jimin and his adorable daughter for years now, long enough to remember the wife he was so devoted to and lost far too young. With each safely ensconced on their side of the brick wall of the Parks' grief, it will take an enterprising little scientist to set the stage for a second chance at love.

CW: grief, prior loss of spouse/parent, comfort, explicit sex, secondhand embarrassment

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Jimin waited on the corner of the block with his hands in his pocket and a smile on his face. He looked at the bike rack to his right, designated by Sun-young as the closest he was “allowed” to get to the school. Had it hurt when she begged for that boundary? Yes. Yes, it had. But when he’d talked it over with Hanbyul, she’d admitted at that age she’d told people her dad was her grandfather because she was embarrassed by his age. He would have cried. Then she reassured him that she adored her father now and it was normal to want a little more independence at Sun-young’s age. It was a good sign. A healthy, happy, growing daughter spreading her wings. Jimin wasn’t ready for her to fly away from him yet!

As he waited for the school bell to ring, he wondered if it was really about independence or if, like Hanbyul, Sun-young had identified something in her father that embarrassed her. It couldn’t be his age, Jimin was only thirty-four which was on the young side to have a nine-year-old but not so young it raised eyebrows. He and Subin had married young and, because they’d always know they wanted children, didn’t waste any time getting pregnant. He had no regrets about any of that.

But if it wasn’t his age… was it his style? He could see the warped reflection of his outfit in the windows of cars as they drove past. He dressed stylishly because he enjoyed it, and because his job as a dancer meant different demands than the officemen who fathered most of Sun-young’s friends. He hadn’t worn a suit since the funeral. He didn’t think it could be his earrings, since Sun-young had been the one to pick these out –each a simple hoop but with a streak of red. And his blonde hair –well, Sun-young and her friends were just of the age where they were starting to notice boy idols, maybe flirting with feelings they couldn’t articulate yet and certainly weren’t telling him about, but she was begging to go see Dream Thought for her birthday and several members had, at any given time, also dyed their hair. Maybe it was too close for comfort? Jimin brushed his fingers through his hair using the reflection of a stopped car and pondered… well, maybe it was time to go dark again anyway…

    The car moved and he remembered someone was inside, possibly watching him primp. He looked back to the school just as the bell rang, freeing students for the weekend. Forgetting himself, he began to move forward, then stopped short only a few steps further than the bike racks. It was unpleasant to stay like a stone in place as the bubbling brook of students moved around him down the sidewalk. It made him think of Sun-young’s early school days, when she’d sprint out the front doors of the school towards him, sparkly pink backpack bouncing, more than half the size of her body. She’d throw her arms around his neck and he’d scoop her up and take Subin’s hand and they’d walk home together to hear about her day over snacks before he had to go to work.

    There was no sprinting towards him now. Jimin spotted Sun-young the moment she came out of the school, able to recognize the motion of her walk even before he could see her face. She had braided her own hair that morning and not done a good job of it, which might explain why her hair was down now –Jimin had wanted to help but she’d refused, saying she was old enough to braid her own hair. Was he going to fight with her over braids? Pick your battles, his mother kept telling him. It’ll only get worse. Great.

“Sunnie!” he called as she got closer, because he wasn’t sure she’d noticed him yet. She had her head down now, talking to her two friends they walked home as a favor every day. “Sunnie! Over here!”

“Appa, quiet!” she finally yelled, and pressed her hands to the sides of her face. He laughed. Was she really already being like this? At nine? It was like something out of a movie. It had to be a joke.

“Fair princess, I have waited at the perimeter as you requested,” he greeted as she and her friends got closer. He held his arms out in order to bow, but accidentally smacked another kid in the head. “Oh, hey, sorry, you ok?”

“Appa!”

“Young ladies,” he beamed, motioning them close. “I have come to escort you home. If you can walk this way please.” Ginam and Boyeon both looked at him with smiles and giggles but Sun-young sighed loudly. Jimin turned and clapped his hands to his sides and did a little bit of a waddle. When he looked over his shoulder, Ginam and Boyeon were still giggling and Sun-young looked like she wanted to murder him.

“Come on, Sunnie, it’s just a little joke,” he said, reaching to try and hug her. “How was school? Anything exciting happen?”

“It’s not funny though…” Sun-young mumbled.

Ginam looked between the other two girls before saying, “You’re really funny, Mr. Park.” Jimin couldn’t decide whether she meant that or not. A year ago, he would have known for sure she was sincere. Sunnie’s friends had always loved him! Fourth grade really changed you, huh?

With a sigh, he herded them along and tried not to be hurt when the girls walked together several yards ahead of him. It made him nervous on the busy streets, and he’d jog to catch up as they came to crosswalks. At one point he had to grab onto Sun-young’s backpack as she started to cross without him.

“Again with the murderous glare,” he complained. “Why are you looking at your appa like that?”

“Why did you grab me? We’re just crossing the street!”

“Yeah and did you look both ways?”

“It’s the cross signal!”

“Wa, don’t trust that! You have to look both ways before you cross, always!”

Ginam got dropped off first, waving goodbye and darting down a side street. Boyeon lived on the first floor of their building.

“She’s such a nice friend,” Jimin said of her as they waved goodbye and stepped onto the elevator.

“Appa, you didn’t have to embarrass me!”

“I did?” Jimin asked, arching his eyebrow. “Me? Impossible. What did I do that was embarrassing?”

“You just acted like… that!” she said, gesturing with flappy, frustrated hands.  

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, can’t you just be a calm normal appa?” she cried.

“Ah… I really don’t think so,” he admitted, teasing. She did not appreciate it. The door opened on their floor and she stomped ahead. It felt like just yesterday she’d done that with light-up shoes but she’d begged him for a pair of red Keds last time. They looked both cute and painfully grownup with her school uniform. Teenage. She wasn’t supposed to look like she was trying to be a teenager yet! He refused the classification of pre-teen yet. It was all happening too fast. 

The door to his right jostled as he followed Sun-young down the hall, and he stopped as it swung open.

“My love!” he cried as Hanbyul stepped out, then dropped to his knees so Hudu could jump up and lick his face. “There’s my boy. There’s my boy!”

“Appaaaa, let me in– oh, hi Hanbyul-ssi!” Sun-young interrupted, instantly a different child. She too sank down to give Hudu scratches.

“I’m glad I ran into you both. I made too much jjapaguri. Can I give you some for dinner?”

Jimin’s smile grew as he stood, sighing, “Ahhh, Hanbyul, you’re too kind to us. Can you eat it with us?”

“You’re not working tonight?”

“Not tonight. No classes on Mondays.”

“Right, I knew that. But I don’t want to intrude on your day off–”

“That’s funny. See? She’s funny too,” Jimin said to Sun-young. He assured Hanbyul, “You never intrude. Come over to eat the food you made with us. Maybe I have something I can add…”

“She’s a lot funnier than you are, Appa, but I don’t think that was a joke. You can come to dinner though, Hanbyul-ssi.” She said it so graciously, as if Sun-young was the true head of household. He narrowed his eyes at his daughter and she pretended not to see.

“Then I’ll be there. See you at six.”

“I’ll make a salad!” Jimin offered before handing Sun-young the apartment key so she could run ahead, scratching Hudu’s head one more time. Doing his best to ignore the sting of Sun-young being so much happier to see their neighbor than himself. Just because Hanbyul was a little younger and liked the same idol groups and they liked to paint their nails together while they watched filmed performances… so? He could watch idol groups! He could paint his nails! Hadn’t he used to do that with Sunnie and Subin all the time?

***

    There were two types of dinner to be had in the Park apartment. Dinners with just Jimin and Sun-young featured simpler fare, and questions that went unanswered about school days, and one-sided monologues about things coming up –Sunnie’s dance recitals, Jimin’s performances, rehearsals, children’s day at the park that Sun-young thought she was too old for now, seasonal fruit now available at the grocery. The dinner was never great because Jimin had never mastered the culinary arts. And short; Sun-young ate as quickly as she could to be excused.

Dinners with Hanbyul were different in every way.

“The food is so good,” Sunnie praised, sitting on her knees as if she couldn’t get close enough to her plate. Her second plate. And she had a big smile on her face the whole time. Hanbyul barely voiced a thank you in the space between the thanks and Sunnie continuing, “So they did a show and Danmi said her eomma and appa are taking her to the next one and she didn’t tell them this because she wants to go because she thinks that Taejoon is probably like her soulmate or something. They have the same birthday.”

“Oh is that what causes that?” Jimin asked. But Sunnie wasn’t looking at him at all; if anything, she seemed annoyed by the reminder he was there, and he tried not to let that break his heart and just enjoy basking in the cast-off glow from Sunnie’s smile in Hanbyul’s direction.

“Tomi wanted to be Danmi’s girlfriend and he gave her a flower but she said no one can be her boyfriend because–”

“Because Taejoon is her soulmate,” Hanbyul nodded. Sunnie looked relieved Hanbyul understood.

“Do you like Tomi?” Jimin asked. He knew who Tomi was. Foreign exchange student. Kind of a little shit but his parents seemed weird so it probably wasn’t his fault.

Sunnie’s face crinkled up in disgust as she huffed, “I’m nine, Appa. I don’t have time for boys and you shouldn’t ask a question like that. Maybe boys like me but I don’t like them.”

“What boys like you?!”

“That’s a good way to look at it,” Hanbyul grinned, leaning closer like they had some secrets from Jimin. Because he had never been a little girl, but Hanbyul had. Sunnie should have someone who could talk to her about little girl things, and the bigger girl things that lay in her future. And that someone should have been her mom. Looking at Sunnie roll her eyes and reassure Hanbyul how annoying the boys were and that she wanted to go to a concert too but Appa didn’t like the same music she did, he felt again that ache of absence. 

“I do,” Jimin insisted, pushing past that shadow before it dragged at him. “I’ll take you. Who do you want to see?”

“Name one member of Mango Crush.”

Shit, was that a boy group or a girl group? The name wasn’t familiar to him… He knew lots of the other groups… He watched the good ones dance… He’d worked with debuting groups before!

“I heard your appa singing ‘Five Minutes to Sundown’ when he took out the trash the other day,” Hanbyul told Sunnie in a whisper. A clue! He hummed the melody, recognizing the name of the song, and then that it was a girl group.

“Yeah, I can take you to see them. Uh… I’ll find out when they’re in town! We could go for your birthday or something..”

“My birthday?” Sunnie sighed.

“Tickets are expensive and– we’ll talk about it later. Let me see what I can do. You know I’ve worked with some of the choreographers.” Now his grin grew, “Yeah, I bet I can get us tickets! So you’re interested in that kind of thing?” Being an idol? He didn’t want to suggest it. He didn’t know how to feel about it. Obviously he would want to support her in whatever she did, but the idol industry was even more toxic than the dance industry and he was already worrying more by the week about how he was going to protect her from that…

“Uh, everyone likes idols, Appa, that’s why they’re called idols –Oh make sure you get more tickets so Hanbyul-ssi can go with us too! And maybe my friends from school, ok?” She rattled off telling Hanbyul more about her school friends and Jimin tried to keep up because he knew about these other kids but not as much as what Sunnie poured at Hanbyul’s feet. Despite never stopping the chatter, she also managed to clear her plate again.

“I have a lot of homework to do,” Sunnie admitted mid-thought. “I guess I’d better get started.”

“You don’t have to rush away. It’s family dinner,” Jimin said. He meant it as a joke, sort of, just a little teasing nudge because it was so rare that Sunnie sat for a full meal with him. He didn’t mind that she was a little snappish with him sometimes. She was nine. She was busy. He knew she didn’t get as much of his attention lately as she deserved but… he’d do better! He’d find a way to be there more for her at this crucial time… but the problem was, it was always a crucial time and this would have been so much easier with her mother still here–

“Thanks for feeding me,” Sunnie said, throwing her arms around Hanbyul’s shoulders. “I’m wasting away! I’ll never get breasts this way…”

“That’s– what– you’re nine–” Jimin spluttered out. Sunnie just laughed and practically skipped away, cheerful to do her homework and maybe at the possibility he’d actually take her to see an idol show.

A comfortable moment of silence settled around the dinner table. Jimin had finished as well but wasn’t in any rush to hurry Hanbyul, who had eaten only slowly while listening to everything Sun-young had to tell her. He appreciated that patience. Not everyone –his own parents among them– could handle the onslaught that was his excitable daughter. He loved it, of course, and her. He didn’t always know what she was talking about, but he appreciated when she did, and he appreciated that Hanbyul was one of those women who had held on to her empathy for small, over-eager, somewhat aloof, kind of bossy but really golden-hearted little girls.

“She’s so great,” Hanbyul sighed, as if she’d read Jimin’s own mind.

“She’s better when you’re around,” Jimin mused, lifting his glass of wine. “Happier, I mean. She is great. Hey, you don’t think she’s hiding something about a boy, do you?”

Hanbyul arched her eyebrow and pressed, “Why would I know that?”

“I don’t know, can’t you just tell? I don’t remember what age girls noticed boys… I mean, no one noticed me until…” He grimaced rather than putting an age down, to make her laugh, and it worked.

“I doubt that.”

“I’m serious! I was a virgin until college. You didn’t expect that, huh?” he teased.

“I didn’t.”

“Because you didn’t see what I was like when I was younger. Puberty was hard for me. Late bloomer or whatever. I don’t know the first thing about being a girl going through puberty…”

“You’ve got a few years before you really have to worry,” Hanbyul assured him. “Not that you need to worry! But I just mean… well, twelve is a tough age. If you can get through twelve…”

“If!” he repeated with a laugh, and slapped his hand to his face.

“You’ll make it through!”

“Maybe as long as we’re still living next to you and you’ll still come over for dinner,” he lamented. “I don’t mean to be creepy about the boy thing. I don’t want to make her grow up too early or anything. Maybe she’ll like girls, that’s fine too! It’s just hard to figure out what’s the right information and the right time and the right place to be nosy. I don’t want her to feel like she can’t talk to me about things, but if I say too much or don’t say enough… you know?”

Hanbyul considered this with that careful way she always had, then offered with a smile, “I think you’ll find your way with her just fine, Jimin. She’s a good girl and she knows you love her.”

“I’m getting on her nerves lately,” he admitted with a sigh, knowing Hanbyul wouldn’t judge him for it. She never judged, not when he’d knocked on her door in the middle of the night with Sun-young in his arms because she was running a fever and he, recently widowed, had forgotten everything he ever learned about taking care of a sick child; or when he’d set his kitchen on fire trying to make a birthday cake for Sunnie because it was what her mom used to do every year; or when he’d burst into tears at her bringing over a package that had been misdelivered to her, because the dentist said Sun-young had two cavities that needed filling and he saw this as proof he was the worst parent in the history of the world and Sunnie was doomed (the package had nothing to do with that.) Doomed to a lifetime of bad teeth and store-bought cakes and getting dragged to the doctor over the slightest illness because Jimin didn’t trust anything anymore. One day you could be healthy and the next day you were–

“It’s not you,” Hanbyul assured him. “She’s a wise soul. She’s just figuring things out for herself. The social life of fourth grade is hard!”

“Yeah… yeah, I had wondered if maybe she kind of pulled away from me in school because I’m all around her at dance.”

Hanbyul considered this again, always careful in her speech. “That could be true. You’re such a big force in the dance world. Those are big shoes to fill. Er… slippers? I don’t know what dance shoes are called.”

“Dance shoes is fine,” he winked. “But I meant more because– well, yeah, that, but it’s given her a leg up. She’s better than her peers. There’s a reason why she has the solo in the festival performance next month. She’s so good and it makes things difficult –some of the other kids her age are jealous of her skill. I thought maybe she was wanting me to back off so she could handle things on her own with them…”

“Do you intervene a lot?” Hanbyul asked. “What are you seeing?”

“I don’t know… well, she doesn’t really have many friends at dance anymore. Her best friend there split off to a different style, and she had a couple little friends in the same class but they seem to have sort of broken off too… I don’t really know who her closest friends are anymore. When I observe her dance classes, she seems kind of alone the whole time.”

“What do you do then?” Hanbyul asked. She propped her chin in her hand.Talking to her always gave Jimin such comfort. She was cautious and slow to ever give advice, but Hanbyul was the one glimpse into the mind of a young girl he could rely on, and she was a good friend, and so non-judgmental. Sometimes talking to her was like talking to himself but with more of a brain. He appreciated her presence so much but he did worry that she did more for them than he did for her, dumping his problems on her like this. But he couldn’t help himself, her insight was so valuable.

Now he was eager to get this over with and ask about whatever she had going on instead, so he waved his hand, “I don’t know. I’ll make them all sit together or partner up and I split up the cliques. That kind of thing. Nothing too intrusive! But maybe it’s not helping…”

“Have you asked her?”

“She doesn’t want to talk about it,” he sighed. “This…” He gestured at the table. “She doesn’t talk to me the way she talks to you anymore. Maybe I make her feel like she can’t…”

“All you can do is try,” Hanbyul offered sagely. “Sometimes young women have to work things out on their own.”

“I think she’s still a little too young for that… but… I’ll keep that in mind. But enough about my woeful single dad life– how did that meeting with the execs at work go?”

He could see the disappointment flash across her face, enough of an answer, but she still lifted her wine glass and admitted, “Oh, I don’t know. I got edged out. I didn’t get to go.”

“What? But you built the slides!”

“Yeah and apparently I built them so well they didn't think I needed to be there to present them.” She allowed a shallow sigh and an equally shallow smile, like she didn’t really want to talk about it. “It’s fine. There will be other opportunities.”

“But they keep taking those opportunities from you– I don’t think it’s a good place to work, Hanbyul. They don’t appreciate you there. You’re the glue that keeps that place running.”

“I don’t know if that’s true,” she laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “If you don’t have glue, you can use something else. Tape. Rubber cement.”

“Oh my god I haven’t thought of rubber cement in… wow. I was class president when I was younger–”

“I know,” she said, then blushed and looked down and laughed. “Sorry! I remember…”

“Oh no, do I brag about that?! God that’s so lame,” he cried, covering his face. “My glory days as class president… I really peaked back then…”

“No! That’s not true!”

“Let’s ask Sunnie, I know what she’ll say!”

“What’s cool now wasn’t the same as when we were kids. Sunnie is intelligent and cool. She’s really a wonderful girl.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I bet she never stole a bottle of rubber cement…”

Hanbyul’s laughter was such a joyful sound echoing around the table. Jimin found his heart and shoulders relax even further. Even though he was talking about things that stressed him out, he could always catch his breath when Hanbyul was around. Maybe if things had been different…

“What did you do with the rubber cement?” she asked. “Park Jimin, a delinquent! I never imagined it!”

“No, this makes me sound so deranged… nothing sinister, I swear.”

“Just tell me!”

“I kept it in my desk and I’d just take a little bit and roll it around in my hands if I was having a hard time staying awake in class.”

“Gross,” Hanbyul giggled. “Why were you so tired?” She propped her chin in her hand again, like the mundane facts of his life were actually at all interesting. He came from normal people, had a normal childhood, predictable, pleasant, smooth sailing. His troubles as a child seemed so mild from this side of actual tragedy.

“I’d wake up early to help with my Grandmother’s rice cake shop,” he explained. “My parents worked there too. When I was young, I helped her in the kitchen and building the displays. When I got a little older, I’d run deliveries.”

“Oh right I forgot your family had that shop. It’s not still open though?”

“It is. My parents still run it with my older brother. Have I never brought you anything from it?”

“No. Are you tired of rice cakes?”

He smiled, “No, they make me homesick. I’m very picky about them! If I go into a shop and I know I can make a better one… well, so many are just factory made these days. It’s hard for the little shops to stay afloat.”

“But your family does all right?”

“They do all right,” he nodded. It was a simple statement. They had begged him to come home with Sun-young after Subin passed and for a heartbeat he’d almost done it. He didn’t see how he could do this on his own. But the idea of leaving this place that he and Subin had chosen together to raise their daughter, where the local parks and the market and movie theater still held the ghost of his marriage with her, where their favorite restaurant –the one he’d proposed in– was still open for business –he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave the dance troupe he’d toiled and sweat so hard to build and gather funding for. He couldn’t tear Sun-young away from her friends when she’d already lost her world.

So they’d stayed. Even in the same apartment, where he could sometimes close his eyes and listen for Subin’s key in the door. Pretend she was just working late and would be home in a bit.

“I mean they wanted us to come home but– It was hard to leave in the first place. It’s hard to be away from them. But Sunnie and I have a life here.”

“It’s lonely so far from family, I think. I understand why they wanted you home. But I’m glad you felt like you could stay here.”

“Thanks to friends like you,” Jimin smiled at her. “I told my mom about that kimchi you made! Ah, next time I go home, I’ll bring you rice cakes from the shop, and when my parents come here, maybe I’ll share the jar you gave me.”

“I have more jars!” she told him, sitting higher.

“They’ll come for Sun-young’s performance.”

“I can give you a jar for them.”

“No no, not a whole jar–”

“Yes! My mother tells me all the time that the younger generations aren’t learning things like how to make kimchi.”

Jimin nodded, “Yeah, or rice cakes!”

“So I can share some comfort. I think my kimchi was all right.”

“It was more than all right. It was perfect, really! Best kimchi I’ve ever had. Don’t tell my mom. Well, I already told her but… just don’t gloat.”

Hanbyul looked pleased, her whole round face flushing a sweet shade of pink, her cheeks balling up so high, as if her smile swallowed her whole face.

“I won’t,” she assured him, but of course he wasn’t worried about that. Probably Hanbyul had never gloated about anything in her life, and she should. She should gloat about work, she should gloat about her cooking, she should gloat about how healthy the African violets she grew in her windowsill looked. She was so capable, so on point, when Jimin felt taped together and messy by comparison. What must she think when she came over for evenings like this and this single father constantly stealing her time and attention and food dumped more worries on her. She shared her home-cooked food and all he had to offer her in return were complaints and the gossip of a fourth grader.

The wave of guilt prickled across his shoulders and up his scalp, that same voice that whispered to him sometimes in the low moments and the high moments alike: you are alone now; don’t make your aloneness someone else’s problem. He did. Repeatedly. He’d had to lean on others around him for so long… maybe he should have taken Sun-young home to grow up with his family, where at least there was a blood-bond to support the burden he’d placed on those around him to keep him afloat when he’d felt the world drop away from him.

“Jimin.” She called his name so softly he thought he’d imagined it, but quickly turned his gaze to her, embarrassed to have slipped away. “You’re working so hard lately. Would it be helpful if I sat with Sun-young for an evening so you have a break? Or an afternoon?”

“Oh, no, no, you don’t have to do that,” he told her. “Er. Again.”

She smiled warmly and nodded, “It’s really not a big favor. You know I adore her. If you think she’s stressed about her performance, maybe I could take her on a… a girl’s afternoon to help take her mind off of things?”

“Of course you offered that, you’re the kindest– you’re too nice to us, Hanbyul. You do too much for us. I already take up so much of your time!”

“No, don’t think like that. You don’t have to decide right now if you want to talk to Sun-young about it but I mean it. I can’t imagine how hard it is doing this on your own.”

“I’m not on my own,” he insisted. “I have people like you. I rely on too much! Like now, I’m keeping you here for your whole evening. I need to go see if she’s actually doing her homework.” He didn’t know the graceful way to set her free. Just like he never knew quite how to thank her for her patience, for her support, for her presence. Hanbyul was the sort of person who gave and gave and never asked a thing in return which made it hard to feel like you thanked them properly.

Even now, she was so graceful in accepting his fumbled thanks, in insisting he keep the last of the dish, in going to say goodnight to Sun-young before she left. Hudu deigned to rise from where he’d spent the meal stretched across Jimin’s feet, yawning and slow as he walked to the door. He knew the routine. He didn’t seem to particularly care whether he was here or in Hanbyul’s apartment. Hudu was such a good dog. Maybe Sun-young would be happy with a– no, no, they couldn’t get a dog. Even a cat seemed like more than Jimin could handle right now.

**

“A girl’s afternoon!” Hanbyul sighed dramatically to Hudu as soon as they were back in her apartment. She let herself fall face first on the couch. Hudu came over to press his cold nose to her arm, but when she turned her face, he wandered off, bored if she wasn’t actually in crisis.

Well, she was in a crisis, just not a medical one.

“A girl’s afternoon,” she sighed again, and rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling. It was a slip. She wasn’t surprised Jimin had basically kicked her out right after. Jimin, the beautiful, kind, funny man next door, with the smile of a god and the grace of a dancer because he was one, and the most soulful brown eyes Hanbyul had ever seen. Jimin, the loving, doting, adoring father, with the absolute sweetest, funniest, most wonderful little girl who was growing up so fast right before Hanbyul’s eyes but just out of reach of all the attention and love Hanbyul wished she had the right to shower on the girl. Jimin, the romantic, devoted, lovesick husband to a very dead wife.

Hanbyul felt that shivery sick feeling she always did when thoughts of Ga Subin arose. Which was often, because it was often for Jimin. She could always see the flicker of grief on his face when it happened. Less often now, less often with each passing year, but frequently enough that Hanbyul did everything she could not to accidentally cause it. It was challenging, it had taken her years to build up the list of things not to mention: wives, marriage, couples, love, college, Valentine’s Day or White Day, anniversaries of any kind, illness, unexpected occurrences, surprises, baking, etc. And sometimes there were things she never would predict could call up those memories that caused him such obvious and immediate pain, probably driving in some sharp blade or a private thing he’d had with his wife, like rainy days, stacks of laundry, and seagulls.

She couldn’t imagine the loss. She couldn’t. To fall in love and marry and have a child and expect you have a whole life together only to have your other half suddenly sliced away like that… She’d cried on Jimin’s behalf. If that was crazy, so be it, but it was tragic. Heartbreaking. Jimin was such a wonderful man and he deserved never to have gone through that sort of loss. She supposed there was some comfort that at least he had Sun-young, but the poor girl too had not deserved to lose her mother who must have loved her fiercely. Hanbyul had cried for her too, and at the fear of losing her own mother, whom she loved and who had supported her through everything in life, big and small, to date. What would she have done in middle school or high school or college if she couldn’t call her mother at any time, just to hear the voice of the woman who loved her? Or ask advice? Her mother had taught her to make the kimchi Jimin and Sun-young enjoyed so much, and had given her a vase as a housewarming gift when she got her own place “so you’ll have something for the flowers men will bring you,” and when no men were bringing her flowers, her mother regularly sent her some on her own. Sun-young deserved a long life with her mother never further than a phone call away.

And, whether it made her creepy or not, Sun-young had shed tears for Ga Subin too. Whether there was a heaven from which the late wife and mother watched her family try to get on without her or not, there was no doubt that she had loved her husband and daughter and been cruelly denied the lifetime with them she deserved. Hanbyul had only known the family in passing before shock and grief left Jimin vulnerable to asking her for occasional help, but she’d always thought they seemed like such a bright, sunny, loving family. Ga Subin had built her marriage with Jimin and brought such a perfect daughter into the world and she didn’t even get to enjoy them for her whole life. There were no promises in life. What a terrifying reminder.

“I fed you before we went to the Parks,” Hanbyul scolded as Hudu whined and crouched down beside the couch. Hudu rolled onto his back and wiggled; he didn’t want food at all, just attention. Of course he was bored and lonely as soon as they came home and he had only her as company. Jimin and Sun-young adored Hudu. Of course he’d rather be over there. She would too!

Still grumbling, she pushed up from the couch and shuffled to the kitchen to dig the treats out of the cabinet beside the fridge. Hudu’s treats were stored beside a bag of butterscotch candies, so she took one for herself too, a little treat to ease her past another day of disappointment.

No, not disappointment. Joy at getting to spend an evening basking in the presence of Jimin and Sun-young. Gratefulness that rent had not gone up too much for her to continue living here next to them all these years –though it had gone up, and not for the first time, she briefly began to calculate how much money she could have saved by moving somewhere more affordable– no, how much money she had spent for the privilege of living next door. They needed her, she always reasoned. Jimin had a daughter and no local family. What did the money matter when it came to being a good friend? Because they were friends. Of course they were friends, after all this time.

She crunched on the candy mindlessly, deciding not to calculate the money. It didn’t matter. It was gone and she wouldn’t have done things differently anyway, no matter how many times her mother sighed when she admitted that no, she didn’t have someone to bring to family dinner; no matter how many times her sister sighed when she admitted that no, she had not confessed her feelings to Jimin. Why would she do that? She already knew Jimin’s answer. He was a soulmate kind of guy, and he’d already found his. Hanbyul wouldn’t mind playing second, but Jimin wasn’t looking for a second.

“Shit,” she hissed as she chomped down on her tongue. She was chewing too aggressively. She breathed out sharply through her nose and looked down at Hudu tossing his treat happily around, fetching it, tossing it again.

“TV or walk?” she asked, hoping Hudu would make the decision for her. Usually at ‘walk’ he’d go crazy but now he gave her a wild look, like he wasn’t sure if she was serious. But the treat wound up winning and he continued to toss it around, so Hanbyul went to find something to distract her from the patheticness of her own life.

“Appa, what’s a catalyst?”

A simple question, posed by a studious daughter as she did her homework at the kitchen table Sunday night while Jimin did his best to make ahead lunches for the week alongside dinner. A science question, probably. Sunyoung hunched over the trio of tablet, textbook, and worksheet with a shocking focus for a girl who’d barely been able to keep her wiggly butt in the chair for lunch at her grandparents’ earlier. Jimin could read it on their faces: they worried he was raising her to be rude. She would have turned out better under the guidance of their daughter. He was sure that was what they were thinking.

“A catalyst is…. Something that makes something happen,” he answered, pulling the definition from the steamy air flushing his face. It was one of those things it was easier to think of examples of than a useful definition.

“Like what?”

“Uh… milk? No. Baking soda? Heat.”

Sunyoung sighed, “You don’t actually know, do you?”

“That’s the answer! If you’re so smart, you look it up,” he scoffed. She was smiling though, laughing at her dumb dad, and it made him grin too. A catalyst is this question, which caused a positive reaction between the two of us, he thought to himself as he listened to her laboriously type it into the tablet and then read out the dictionary definition.

“A substance that increases the rate of a chemical reaction without itself undergoing any permanent chemical change,” she said. “Or a person or thing that precipitates an event. What’s precipitate?”

“Aren’t you on a dictionary app right now?”

“Oh, you don’t know…”

“I know!” he spluttered, playing into it because her smile lit up his world. He heard the tap-tap of her fingers against the screen as he flipped the dumplings. He always burned them a little no matter how hard he tried, afraid of undercooking them and poisoning his daughter. Hanbyul knew just the right length of time somehow; he ought to ask her what the magic number of minutes was…

“Precicipate,” Sunnie read. “To cause an event or situation, typically one that is bad or undesirable, to happen suddenly, unexpectedly, or prematurely.”

Jimin froze.

How wonderful that Sunnie had such a young, fresh, beautiful mind so very different than his own aged, battered one. It didn’t leap to the conclusions that his had learned to make over time. It didn’t draw the same lines that seemed so obvious to him. Her mind was still learning how the world connected, soaking up language and culture and history and science like a gasping sponge, learning how to draw the constellations of thought and feeling inside of herself. These would become the way she navigated the world as she grew, some things baked in her since the moment she was born and others learned over time by the environment and people JImin let around her.

So when Sunnie hard the words bad, undesirable, suddenly, unexpected, prematurely, she just continued on. She didn’t have alarms for those words. No strings were tugged because they were abstracted here, read in her little voice from a sterile dictionary app on her school tablet.

But Jimin's brain leapt right to it: Subin. To a sudden fall at work that precipitated a concussion that precipitated one doctor who wanted to look a little further into symptoms possibly connected to the fall that precipitated the discovery of late stage ovarian cancer that precipitated the second hardest four months of Jimin’s life that precipitated the hardest years of Jimin’s life. Or maybe that was reversed. Had watching her quick and brutal fight with cancer been better than the After because he had her or worse because every day was an agonized victory for her. She had suddenly been sick, so so so sick, and then she no longer hurt anymore but Jimin was left in shambles to rearrange the shattered pieces of his life into a new one with Sun-young and without his best friend who had been the glue of their family all along.

“Appa, the dumplings are burning,” Sunnie calmly pointed out. Completely oblivious to the brief hurricane Jimin had endured in his mind. He sprang into action, yanked the pan off the stove, dumping the crispy dumplings on a plate, flinging some oil onto his hand in the process. “You should just steam them,” Sunnie suggested as he cursed and shoved his hand under a cold stream of water in the sink.

“But you prefer them panfried.”

“I prefer them not burned,” she grumbled. Sassy. A butt. A rude thing to say, especially when her father had just slingshotted through the stages of grief again –albeit a duller, more distant version than the raw cycle that had kicked off with Subin’s death three years ago. Time did that, nothing else. Time in which he discovered time and time again that he didn’t stop breathing no matter how hard the pain clenched him, that he could keep moving blindly forward because he had to for his daughter, and that no amount of tears, rage, guilt, or begging gave him another day with Subin. She was gone. It was a fact. Maybe she wouldn’t have been gone if they’d found the cancer earlier, or maybe she would have had more time, or maybe nothing would have really changed at all except that they would have known the ending was coming earlier. Was that better?

Jimin thought it was better. He would rather have known. He would have held her closer. He would have appreciated her more. He wouldn’t have taken for granted that he and Subin had a lifetime to be together. He would have spent less time arguing, and more time giving her whatever she wanted –although what she had wanted was more children. He would have given in earlier, and given her that, and yet it would be more children living without their mother, more children he did his best to raise without the parent for whom parenting had seemed so easy and natural–

“Did you get burned bad?” Sun-young asked, coming over to see now because he’d been still for so long. He took a deep breath and let it out through his mouth, willing away the familiar feelings. Grief was an old companion now, a shadow in the corner that sometimes rose to poke him and sometimes let him be but was never quite gone. Sunnie might have to live without a mother, but Jimin was not sure how he could have made it through the loss of his wife without such a perfect daughter to carry her light forward.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. And impulsively pulled her close and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

She wrinkled her nose at the kiss before suggesting, “I’ll get the burn gel.”

“It’s…” He trailed off before insisting it wasn’t that bad. Ok, he’d accept some caretaking from his daughter. Sun-young showing concern over him was welcome, especially right now when he could use a little extra comfort. So he protected his hand as he plated the dumplings and noodle dish and carried them to the table in the time it took her to fetch the bottle of burn soothing gel from beneath the sink upstairs.

“Just don’t eat the burned side,” he suggested when she frowned at the blackened bits.

Instead of commenting, she shook her head and offered, “I’ll squirt it on. Where are you burned?”

It was only a few small spots along the side of his hand and wrist, but he watched her unblinking concentration as she carefully squeezed dollops out on each spot, peering from every angle to make sure she got them.

“Are you going to be a doctor?” he teased –something she had never expressed the faintest interest in. Just as quickly, he regretted it. Medicine and doctors were forbidden references. She might not fall to pieces over the definition of “precipitate” but there were still trauma lines etched into his daughter’s brain and watching her mother sink away in a hospital, surrounded by doctors and medicine that couldn’t save her, was a deep one. “Sorry, I meant–”

Sun-young frowned, as expected, and assured him, “No. I hate doctors.”

“Sorry, we’ll talk about something else– hey, did you give any more thought to whether you want to try out for that duet? I can learn the choreo to help you rehearse if you want to audition for it,” he suggested. She already had the solo, and a couple ensemble performances, but the duet would be another opportunity for her to shine, he had no doubt she’d get if she wanted it. And not because of his ties to the school, but because she was a fantastic dancer on her own.

“I already have a solo,” she argued. “Another girl should get the duet.”

“Oh. Are you sure? You’ve been doing really well with the choreography and there are plenty of opportunities for other dancers to be on stage.”

“Yeah but I already have a solo.”

“So you aren’t going to even try for it?” Ah, Jimin understood. “I’m not the one who makes the call; if you got it, it would be because of your own dance merit–”

Sun-young actually rolled her eyes as she chewed around the burned part of her dumpling. For a moment he had a teenager and he did not like it.

“I’m already doing a lot, Appa. I don’t want to do so much I fall behind on my grades.”

“Ah… but you can do both… your grades are top of the class–”

“Most of the classes,” she mumbled and flinched.

Jimin waved his hand, “Look, science was never the strength of anyone in our family, so don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“But you got good grades in everything.”

“And now I don’t use any of it as an adult,” he countered. He felt like it was a very good dad-thing not to pressure Sun-young about her grades. Sometimes she had poor test scores or incomplete homework, but honestly, she was doing a lot, and he thought she’d handled losing her mother very well, and grades weren’t literally life and death like he’d thought they were when he was in school, so who fucking cared?

“But maybe if you remembered it, you could help me with my homework more!” she pointed out.

“Ah,” he grinned. “Shit.” She giggled and his smile grew. “But I help you out with your dance! That’s more important for a dancer anyway. You don’t need science or history or math or–”

“Appa, that’s sexist.”

“Sexist! What do you know about sexist?” he demanded and she laughed too, clearly pleased with his mock outrage. It felt good, it felt so fucking good to be laughing with her again when she’d had so little time for him lately. He felt himself walking back the hopelessness he’d expressed to Hanbyul. Ok, things were ok with Sunnie.

He noticed immediately the change in her demeanor as she shrugged, “I don’t know, it’s kind of interesting.”

“What is?”

“Catalysts and stuff.”

“Why are you even learning that? I thought in fourth grade you just learn about like… magnets. And animals. And plate tectonics.”

“Yeah this is an extra thing…”

“An extra thing?” he asked, head tilting. “Extra credit.”

“Yeah. You know, to get my grades up…”

“Well don’t worry too much about it. You don’t need to take on a lot of extra stuff, ok? Like I said, your grades will be fine. No one will remember what you did in fourth grade science in a few years.”

“Tomorrow Ms. Kwan is doing a science experiment for anyone who stays after the bell,” Sunnie told him, as if she hadn’t heard what he just said. “That’s what this is for.”

“After the last bell?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah, well, don’t be late meeting me, we have to get to your dance class.”

“Oh. Yeah…” She looked down at the paper again and looked genuinely unhappy.

“Well… I guess if it’s for extra credit, you could be a couple minutes late. But just this once, ok? We can’t make a regular habit of being late. It’ll look bad.”

Sunnie’s smile lit up again, “Ok yeah, thanks, Appa. I just want to see the catalyst.” Ah, he’d give anything to earn that smile from her all the time. He pulled her plate closer and began cutting the burnt bits off her dumplings.

He decided to push his luck and asked, “Hey, what about after we eat, we can watch something together?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Whatever you want.”

“The Ariana Grande documentary?” she asked, eyes going wide. “It’s on Netflix!”

“We don’t have Netflix,” he pointed out.

“Uncle Koo does.”

“Yeah but–”

“He gave me his password.”

“He what?!”

“Don’t freak, he said I had to use a kids profile–”

“Excuse me, ‘don’t freak’?” Jimin repeated, then sighed, “That’s it, he’s never babysitting again.”

“He doesn’t say that, Uncle Tae says that.”

“Yeah, him either. From now on, only Hanbyul or Uncle Hobi–”

“Uncle Hobi said you should let me drop ballet and modern and just do hip-hop–”

“OK, Hanbyul only now,” Jimin joked. Sunnie grinned, clearly thrilled to have tattled on so many uncles. Jimin appreciated the run-down as well. Yes, they might let her get away with things he wouldn’t, but words couldn’t express how much he appreciated their positive presence in her life. He wished they all lived closer. He wished he felt less guilty about leaning on them. He wished he could find a better way to thank them for the support group they had been for him despite themselves not knowing anything about mourning, widowhood, or solo parenting a little girl.

“Fine, let’s watch Ariana Grande,” Jimin decided.

“I’ll get the wine.”

“Wait, what?! Who lets you drink wine–”

“Nobody, Appa, I’m kidding,” she rolled her eyes and Jimin felt a pang of terror. She was growing up. She was growing up so fast. When had she stopped being his little tiny infant daughter?! This time next year she’d be in college!

“Yeah, you better be. Finish your dinner and put those books away. No more homework tonight. You’re working too hard.”

“You’re the one who works too hard. Are you sure you can just be lazy on the couch for the whole thing or are you going to start doing leg-lifts halfway through?” she demanded, crossing her arms and looking briefly so much like him that Jimin laughed.

“All right, little dumpling. Let’s see who can sit still longer.”

“It’s me.”

She was very wrong, but Jimin enjoyed jumping around too, dancing to the music when it was on, watching his daughter’s rapt attention every time Ariana spoke, quietly murmuring the English words she knew under her breath. She knew a lot of English words, actually, they were studying it too much in school. Should he learn? What if one day his daughter spoke in a language he couldn’t understand at all? 

Masterlist | Next Chapter

[yslkook]

UNFUCKWITABLE (9)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: jungkook convinces you to take a staycation with him for a few days (a week).

pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc

warnings: cursing, alc, excessive use of pet names, oc and jk discuss their unprotected sex practices, vomiting, some jealous jk, mild exhibitionism, fingers in oc's mouth grinding, making out, oral (m), titjob

word count: 7k

a/n: if you want to be tagged, send an ask plz. would love to hear your thoughts. also...cant believe mom manifested into butter jk im in pain

****************************************

Jungkook is unsurprised to enter your home with the key you’d given him the other week and find it completely empty. You’ve been working early mornings and incredibly late nights for the last week and a half, and he can tell it’s beginning to take a toll on you. The first sign that you were beginning to wear down was when you had skipped dinner in favor of sleeping. The second was when you had snapped at him in irritation and then immediately cried over hurting his feelings.

He can think of about a dozen other things, including the even more pronounced bags under your eyes. You’ve always had dark circles under your eyes naturally from hyperpigmentation but these days, not even concealer can help you mask them.

In fact, the reason that you’d even given him a key was because you felt like work was taking over your entire life. You’d hardly had a chance to see anyone who wasn’t a work colleague, and you just missed Jungkook. At least this way, you could wake up and go to bed with him.

You had only been calling Jungkook your partner just shy of four months, and he had a key to your home. Perhaps it was fast for other people, but with him, it felt right. So he keeps a copy of your keys on his lanyard- it’s possibly his most prized possession right now. Jungkook usually only comes when you ask him to, he’s been staying at your place for the last week because of how tired and busy you were.

Usually you stop by the tattoo parlor at least once or twice a week, but you have been sparse because of work. So he’s here, in your home without you. It felt strange the first few times he’d been here without you, but then he started leaving little pockets of himself- his shoes next to yours, his hair product on your shelf, and his two of his jackets hanging near yours in the closet. He’d even purchased a new plant to keep on your windowsill in your living room (which you take turns dutifully watering and making sure she gets enough sunlight).

It’s all very domestic. He had jokingly told you not to expose him to your shared friends, specifically Mina and Mei. To which you had rolled your eyes.

Though some small, very small, part of him wonders if the magic will fade away soon. Considering how fast you both are moving both physically into your home and in your relationship.

It’s only been a few months, and you both were incredibly comfortable with the idea of unprotected sex- after all, Jungkook always pulls out in time. Until, of course, you’d had a pregnancy scare. Hoseok and Yoongi, ever the pair of realists, had scolded him when Jungkook had revealed that you both hardly ever used any protection-

“Are you trying to knock her up? Is that it? You both ready to potentially be parents?” Yoongi says mildly as he polishes off his wine, looking at Jungkook expectantly. Jungkook’s cheeks burn.

“No, I’m not trying to knock her up and no, nobody’s trying to be parents-”

“You both are lucky you haven’t knocked her up already,” Hoseok says, with more heat in his voice, “You both are fucking stupid, but you especially.” He even smacks the back of his head with the book in his hands and Jungkook glares at him.

“Hey, my pull out game has always been strong, and I’m serious about her. We wouldn’t fuck raw if-”

“Oh, yes, then we definitely have nothing to worry about,” Yoongi says, “Keep it moving, Hobi.

“Talk to her about it, or else,” Hoseok threatens, “I don’t wanna hear about another pregnancy scare because you’re both idiots.”

“I know, I know,” Jungkook relents, “We’ve been talking about it. It just sucks that birth control can fuck up a woman’s body like that, you know? Mood changes and appetite changes, nausea and everything…”

“You could always get a vasectomy,” Yoongi says bluntly.

“Mei said the same thing. She was way more mean about it, though. Told me she’d cut my balls off if I didn’t get my shit together.”

“I don’t blame her, considering what a mess you both were last month.”

“We were not a mess!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so stressed ever in your life, not even when your first bike got run over by a car. Or when your tattoo got infected three consecutive times. And I’ve never seen her cry so much before.”

“Alright, maybe we’re a little bit of a mess.”

In the end, you and Jungkook had both decided that yes, condoms were probably a good idea. Considering the pregnancy scare you had last month, you both were on edge and a little paranoid. Jungkook hadn’t even mentioned the idea of you taking birth control or getting an IUD, knowing that your last few experiences with the former were unpleasant-

“I can get a vasectomy, you know. In fact, Yoongi suggested it,” Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly but your jaw drops.

“Jungkook. I don’t think vasectomies are reversible like that. Think about what you’re saying,” You murmur, “I’m touched you’d consider a surgical procedure so I don’t have to take birth control, but what if-”

“I looked it up, they can be reversed-”

“But Jungkook! You don’t know that, what if you want to have kids later and you can’t because you decided on a fucking whim to get a vasectomy? It’s still trauma on your body! You can’t just snip snap, snip snap your vas deferens tube whenever you please. At least with birth control you can start and stop it, even if that’s not a completely benign process.”

Jungkook looks at you long and hard, his tongue poking his cheek and you sigh. “But I don’t-”

“Honey. I appreciate your thoughtfulness,” You murmur, squeezing his hands in yours, “But we’re both being stupid. We’re both acting like condoms don’t exist. Why don’t we start with condoms and then think about getting your tubes tied or me getting an IUD?”

“You spoiled me,” Jungkook complains dramatically and drops his head to your chest, “With your pussy. I’m spoiled now.”

“Shut up.”

And so now, a box of condoms sits in the drawer of your nightstand and you’ve taken to bringing a few with you in your purse as well (and so does he). You’d been far more nervous buying condoms than you’d ever been of buying anything else, and Jungkook had only cockily grinned at you.

Today’s Friday and it’s the day of your deadline. Meaning that you’d hopefully be home soon and be his for the rest of the weekend. He fully plans on getting you to relax and stay in for the majority of the weekend, so that you can catch up on sleep.

But then you come home past dinner (you had sent him a text earlier telling him that you were going to be late. He knows your mood is sour- you had been in a foul mood all week, and the fact that you’re so close to being home but so far just makes it worse). You come home with an empty belly, a weary mind and wetness along your lash line. Climbing into bed next to him, you circle your arms around his waist and cry tiredly into his chest.

“J-Jungkook,” You hiccup, “I’m so tired, they kept me s-so late today but it’s done. Everything is finished-”

“Oh, baby,” He sighs, rubbing your back soothingly, “It’s okay. We can just sleep now. You should take a few days off next week, baby.”

“I don’t know…” But your eyes are wide and considering it.

“You’ve been running on empty all week,” Jungkook points out, “For longer than that. Your job can handle two or three days without you while you recharge. Text your boss, baby. You need to rest, too.”

He nudges your cheek with his nose and you hum in agreement. “Okay. Five day weekend? Sure you won’t get tired of me?” You murmur and laugh when he squeezes your waist.

“We can make it a staycation.”

And you’re already texting your boss, telling her that you needed a few days off next week. She gives you a thumbs up and encourages you to rest up, making it a point to recognize how hard you’ve been working. She even suggests you take the full week off, which you jump at and Jungkook only grins at you.

“My brilliant girl, charming her way into a full week off.”

You swat his hand away and hide your burning but satisfied face in his chest. “Yeah, your bad habits are rubbing off on me.”

“Oh, that’s not the only thing rubbing off on you,” Jungkook says wickedly and pushes his hips into yours, earning a fierce pinch to his bare waist.

“Hush, I’m trying to nap,” You mumble, your voice muffled. Without warning, you lick his neck and bite lightly at the base of his neck, ignoring his soft yelp. He doesn’t have a chance to question you on what that was, as you’re already falling asleep.

You’ve always thought from the beginning, even when you and Jungkook were just friends, that he was an ass man. You’ve caught him staring at your ass many, many times- in jeans, in a dress, in a skirt. And now that you both are officially together, he spends any and every moment he can with a hand on your ass. Casually, when you both walk side by side. And purposefully when you’re both just in his bed or on your couch. His hand is a well known presence on your ass, not that you’re complaining.

One of Jungkook’s favorite places to nap is on your ass, with his cheek pressed into you and one hand firmly gripping your ass. He also likes laying with his head on your lap. But his favorite place to nap is with his head buried in your chest, specifically buried in between your tits. He is currently analyzing his hypothesis that your right tit is smaller than your left, a thought he’s had for a while now, but needs further samples of evidence to properly assess.

But he’s always had an affinity for your tits, whether you’re blissfully unaware of it or not. You don’t notice it not really- you like any and all of his touches on any inch of your skin, as you’ve told him many times before. Especially when he holds you close next to him or under him and you feel protected, surrounded by only him.

He holds you, looks at you as if you’re as soothing as the sea and as bright as a supernova. And yet, the universe is contained in his big, doe eyes.

But really, at the end of the day, it’s an affinity for you. Jungkook loves every part of your mind, body, and soul, and he thinks he has for a long time. His heart has been tangled with yours since the first time he had seen you years ago at Hobi’s surprise birthday party that you had planned. Jungkook is sure that when he had seen you with a homemade red velvet cheesecake with a ‘Happy Birthday Hobi <3’ written perfectly in red icing in your arms, a silly party hat on your head, and a shy, beaming smile on your lips, he had been magnetized to your center of gravity from then on.

But even then, he had only hovered. Barely introducing himself, if it weren’t for Mina and Mei. He thought he had known girls like you- girls who baked cakes, planned elaborate birthday parties for their friends and wore flowery dresses liked other predictable people. It’s another one of his hypotheses (which has been clearly debunked)- but by now, he knows not to be so judgmental of others.

But he doesn’t dwell on that for long. Even the first time he met you, right after he had introduced himself to you and you had stared at him with starstruck eyes and stammered a quiet ‘hello’ in return, Sora had cornered him. And told him to back off from right then, that you were off limits. That you’d never be interested in a guy like him, so to not even spend a second in his stupid little mind even entertaining the ridiculous idea.

So he backed off subconsciously, thinking it wasn’t worth it to even know you as a friend. He’d convinced himself that it was too much trouble, and Jungkook has always been an easygoing kind of guy in most instances. After all, your best friend would know you best, right? And really, what did he care? As the saying goes, there were about a million other fish in the sea.

However. Even then, with each word uttered between you both, with each laugh that he pulled from your soft mouth, he couldn’t help the reluctant fondness for you that began to bloom. You had surprised him every few months after that, just saying hello at events that you were both present at and asking how he was. With that stupidly beautiful smile and those bright, shy eyes.

You were a smart, kind woman, always remembering details about others. And he was no exception.

That was years ago. He’s known you since your third year at university, hanging by a thread just outside your orbit. But this is now.

This is now, and your lips are against his neck, your chest pressed to his. You climb into his lap haphazardly, nearly knocking your mug off of the coffee table. You both have only just woken up and stumbled out of bed for coffee and breakfast. You had combed the tangles out of his bedhead with his head in your lap, but now sleepiness has washed away and you’re tugging at his oversized shirt.

You promptly bite him, right where his neck tattoo starts and ends. Jungkook meets your eyes with an incredulous, breathy laugh. “What’s gotten into you?” He murmurs, palming your chest from under your shirt.

“Nothing. You just have a very biteable neck, I told you,” You say, resuming your inspection of the vein next to his tattoo, “What a juicy jugular vein-”

Jungkook holds your wrist and flips you so that your back is on the couch. “My sexy vampire girlfriend. Love when she starts talking about my jugular vein.”

“Watch out, I might drink from it. You never know,” You giggle with a wink, squirming in his grip.

“You can do whatever you want,” Jungkook murmurs but then an idea that has been planted in his head for weeks now spills from his lips without him meaning to, “I wanna fuck your tits, baby.”

Your eyes go comically wide, mimicking Jungkook’s own. His cheeks are a little pink from his abrupt confession as silence falls between you both.

“That’s really interesting,” You muse.

“Is it?” He asks, feeling a little lightheaded. You tug a little at his purple locks to pull him down to you.

“Yeah. Always thought you liked booty. And legs,” You shrug, “But I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised.”

Jungkook’s throat is too dry for him to reply coherently. But he finds his voice after you give him a reassuring smile, “Uh, when it’s you, I like everything.”

“Me too. When it’s you, I like everything,” You mumble, heat rising in your cheeks, “And uh… you can. Do that I mean.”

“Do what?” He asks teasingly, tilting his head to the side.

“Don’t play dumb,” You whine, shoving his shoulder.

“C’mon say it,” Jungkook jeers, not unkindly, “Put your big girl panties on.”

“I hate you,” You sigh dramatically, “Fine. You can fuck my tits, if you so desire.” His face splits into a grin as he thumbs your chin and ducks his head into your neck. He playfully nips at your skin, murmuring that he’s just giving you a taste of your own medicine, but you feel his half hard cock pressing against your thigh.

The image of his cock wet and slick between your tits is now imprinted in your mind, and when both of you want something, you’ll surely get it.

Despite your eagerness of making Jungkook’s wish a reality, neither of you have had the chance for your usual shenanigans just yet. You still have quite a few days of your staycation left, so you won’t rush it. You had spent most of the first two days sleeping, cuddling, spooning, eating and lots and lots of slow sex.

You think you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve left your bed. Jungkook has been nothing short of wonderful, bringing you food (just this once, you hate eating while in bed), giving you shoulder rubs and booty rubs without you asking. Your favorite ice cream is in your freezer. Life is good.

His shirt hangs off of your shoulder and you’re too lazy to fix it. In fact you’re too lazy for pajama bottoms, only settling on your favorite pair of comfortable panties (nothing flashy. Just a standard black cotton panty) to wear under your shirt. One might even call them granny panties or whatever, but lace was uncomfortable on your skin. Lace and thongs are for very, very special occasions (hardly if ever) and you are in the comfort of your own home. You’ll be comfortable if it’s the last thing you do.

In fact, you’re too lazy to even raise your head to pucker your lips for a kiss from Jungkook. You only open your arms and hum, as if he’s supposed to telepathically know what you want from him. But he does, and he flops onto you once he tugs his shirt off. Jungkook’s face remains buried in your chest as you gently rub his scalp.

He hums happily, nearly purring at your touch and shoves himself closer into your hold. You can’t believe this man, the man who mildly intimidated you for years, is now in your arms and purring like a baby kitten. He’s admitted a few times that his scalp has been irritated and inflamed ever since he dyed his hair purple. One of his favorite things is to lay in your lap while you massage a mix of coconut oil and peppermint oil into his scalp.

He looks up at you, warm heat blazing in his eyes. You’re about to ask him what he’s thinking about but he palms your pussy from under your shirt- your still swollen, puffy pussy from the four times he’s made you cum already.

“Can I help you, Jungkook,” You ask flatly, but your poker face breaks when he dots you with kisses up and down your thighs.

“Yeah, fuck,” Jungkook groans, voice slowing to a whine, “I’m still hard, baby, fuck. Help me.”

“How are you still hard,” You wonder with a grin, “Damn, Jeon. You must really like me, huh?”

“If that wasn’t obvious then I’m clearly not doing something right here,” He breathes into your skin.

“Gimme a kiss then,” You murmur, pushing his long hair behind his ear. His eyebrow piercing glints in the light of your bedroom and you trace it gently with your fingertips. Jungkook desperately pushes his lips to yours, parting your lips easily and slipping his tongue into your mouth. He kisses your teeth hungrily, strands of his hair brushing against your cheeks.

His hips roll into yours impatiently, hands already pawing at your shirt. The air in your bedroom is suddenly so stifling, thick and nearly choking you both with the intensity of your desire. You just want him to feel good with you.

“Jungkook,” You say softly with warm cheeks, “You can use me, however you want. Tell me what you want, bunny.”

He lets out a quiet gasp, his eyes bright and wide.

You’re both on the same page, because he’s scrambling to chuck his boxers to the side and you’re tossing your shirt on top of his boxers.

***********************

“Fuuuck,” Jungkook groans. He’s breathless, heart racing erratically. All he can do is hold your shoulders as he watches with a piercing, hazy gaze as his cock is swallowed in between your tits. You squeeze them tightly together, trying to create as much friction as you can for him.

“Fuck,” He whines, “Fuck, you look so good, baby. O-oh, shit, my pretty baby, you’re pretty-”

Jungkook nearly cums when you mischievously stick your tongue out to brush against the head of his leaking cock. The visual is almost too much for him and his breaths are choked, strangled as he forces himself to look into your dark eyes.

“So big, bunny, look,” You say softly, “You like this? You’re so hot like this…”

He’s nearly in tears, eyes shining and wet at how good this feels. If your pussy was a slice of heaven, then your tits were the next best thing. You moan softly, feeling your own wetness and heat pooling. Jungkook’s cheeks and chest are flushed, eyes wild and wet as he slides his cock in between the valley of your tits languidly. Almost as if he doesn’t want the moment to end.

You’re so warm, warm everywhere.

His muscles are tense, the furrow in his brow beginning to appear when he’s about to cum. “Shit, baby, oh my god, I love your tits,” Jungkook moans, tossing his head back, “Fuck, I love everything about you-”

You don’t know how he’s able to form coherent sentences to you when he’s this close to cumming. But he’s always been a man of many talents.

“You know what I just realized,” You gasp suddenly, “Neither of us made it official that we’re dating. Like I never asked you ‘out’ and you never asked me ‘out’-”

“Fuck, you talk too much,” Jungkook nearly snarls, “My cock is literally in between your tits and I’m about to fucking cum all over you and you think I belong to anyone else?”

You swallow thickly, Jungkook narrowing his eyes at you. He looks intimidating and intense above you, his powerful, golden thighs straddling either side of you.

“N-no, I was just-”

Jungkook shoots you a glare, reaches behind him and gathers your wetness with two fingers. Before you can ask him what he’s doing, he pushes two fingers into your mouth to shut you up. You send him a glare right back, but it melts away quickly when you swirl your tongue and suck on his digits.

He cums without warning, hastily and with a broken sort of sound ripping from his throat. It’s warm and sticky as it lands on your chest and your cheek. But he cums so much and much to your chagrin some of his cum gets in your eye and you nearly shriek at the burn.

“Jungkook! What the hell, your cum is in my fucking eyeball-”

He’s still panting above you, like some sort of golden boy, and it takes him a few seconds to register your irritation. “Oh shit,” Jungkook says and jumps into action. He tugs you into the bathroom to gently wash your eye for you (after washing his own hands), with you grumbling the entire time.

“I’m sorry, baby,” He says sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. You roll your eyes and demand to be taken back to bed and lavished in kisses as penance for his cum shooting into your eye.

Jungkook tastes himself a little when his tongue slips into your mouth, but it hardly registers as he rolls on top of you, caging you in between his arms.

Jungkook fleetingly thinks he should’ve spent more time trying to convince you to stay home with him. Maybe with a few soft, long kisses to your neck, he might have. You looked delectable, good enough to eat- your dress fitted around your hips, nails, hair, and makeup done, the scent of your perfume subtle but not irritating to his sensitive nose.

You had asked him to pick what jewelry to wear, so one of his long necklaces sitting around your neck and disappearing into the valley of your chest. It doesn’t really match with your dress, but you don’t care.

And Jungkook… well, it was difficult for you to keep your hands off of him as well. His hair is tied back into a neat ponytail, he’s wearing a sequined black (fitted) button up with the top four buttons undone, a thick, silver chain and ripped, black jeans. Your eyes are glued to his chest and he knows it- you can’t help but grip his arm, his bicep whenever you can.

Neither of you really enjoyed the club scene, but you had wanted to go out since it had been a really long time and after all, you were on your staycation. Mei had planted the idea in your head, and so now here Jungkook was.

Here he was, catching flashes off the satin, coral colored wrap dress that you were encased in. For someone who doesn’t like the scene, you blend in effortlessly. But you’re a grown woman, so he takes his eyes off of you and orders a round of shots for him, Jimin, Taehyung and Jin while nursing a bottle of soju.

In the midst of the thumping bass bouncing off of the walls in the club, you’re only aware of you and Mei while you both sing along to whatever song is blasting through the club. Mina disappeared a while ago, presumably to find Jimin.

You’re holding two drinks, one in each hand, and all you feel is the vibrations of the club. Along with your own drunkenness. Mei holds your arm to keep you steady as you move your hips in time with hers. You laugh loudly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders at something she said. Everything is amplified and muted at the same time, the swirl of alcohol settling comfortably in your veins.

You’re having a great time with your friends, dancing, swirling, singing and drinking. It’s a nice night to unwind, in the company of dear friends and strangers.

“Hey,” Mei murmurs in your ear, “I gotta pee and I’m gonna go find Seulgi-”

“You can just say that you wanna go find her,” You giggle, “Don’t blame your bladder on it, Mei.”

“Oh, you’re funny. I’ll text Jungkook and tell him to come find you, alright?” Mei says, patting your head. You nod and tell her to go find her girl, and she does. Leaving you to your own devices for a bit, at least until Jungkook makes his way to you.

However, what neither of you realize is that the cell reception in this building is terrible. Mei’s text never goes through and you stay in your bubble, with your two drinks in your hands and bounce along to the music.

You’re not sure how much time goes by, but it feels like you’ve been alone for quite a while. You squint your eyes at your phone to check the time and send a text to Jungkook. A text that never goes through. You frown and are about to turn on your heel to link up with your man (wherever he might be), but you hear a surprised call of your name.

It’s hard to keep the incredulity out of your face when you come face to face with Yunho, the man who had stood you up all those months ago. The air has almost been punched out of your lungs, and you have to squint at him to believe what you’re seeing.

He calls your name again, giving you a wave and a bright smile. “Funny seeing you here, huh?”

“Uh…”

“Can I buy you a drink? I feel like I owe it to you after…” His eyes are sincere. At least you think so, with your drunk goggles on.

“I don’t know, Yunho, it’s okay…” You mumble unsurely, “Isn’t this weird?”

“It’s only weird if we make it weird,” Yunho says and pulls a chuckle out of you.

“Oh, alright. I guess a drink won’t hurt,” You shrug and lead the way to the bar. The least he can do for you after standing you up and hurting your feelings is buy you a drink, you think.

“Hey listen, I owe you an apology,” Yunho says, sliding your drink towards you.

“Oh, it’s- it was a long time ago,” You shrug, avoiding his eyes. Sure, it was a hit to your ego, but in hindsight it doesn’t matter. Not when you have Jungkook. Honestly, you’ve forgotten that Yunho had even been a blip in your radar once upon a time. It was only because of Sora, anyway.

“I had something urgent come up last minute that day and I asked Sora to tell you,” Yunho continues, “I’m sorry I didn’t follow up or even reach out to you after. But I’d heard that you were with Jeon now, so didn’t want to… overstep, I guess.”

And even through your drunken haze, you understand. You sigh deeply, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Oh boy,” You groan, “Sora never told me about that but we’re not close anymore, Yunho. It’s okay, I understand. I’m sorry she got you, too.”

Yunho’s lips part in surprise, “She didn’t… Alright. What’s done is done, I guess.”

“Yeah,” You murmur airily, “And yes, I am with Jeon. Though I can’t seem to find him…”

“I’m happy to keep you company until you do.”

Despite how well you and Yunho seem to hit it off (most of your time spent bitching about Sora), you can’t help but think of Jungkook. You quite miss him, not having seen him all night in the club. You want to dance with him, and little do you know that he’s been scouring the entire club for you in a frenzy once he ran into Mei and Mina and hadn’t seen you with them.

He had sent them a glare, his jaw clenched and walked away to find you. So when his eyes finally land on you at the bar, after about twenty-five minutes of searching and trying to get through strings of people around you, his heart soars. But he sees you laughing with someone else at the bar. With Yunho.

Jealousy is petty, he tells himself. But he struggles to keep it at bay as it rears its head and comforts him. He’s always been protective and possessive of those he loves and cherishes. You’re definitely no exception.

You wobble a little on your feet, but you hold your own. Even from here, he can see the drunkenness of your smile, beads of sweat as they race down your neck to hide in the valley of your breasts. He zeroes in on your necklace (his) around your neck and reminds himself. It’s his necklace that you’re wearing, after all.

Then why is the man who stood you up all those months ago making you laugh like that?

You must have a sixth sense or something for him, because you turn your head a bit as if you can sense him. Your entire face lights up when you see him, in a way that makes his tough heart swell in adoration.

You make your way over to him with your drink and peck his lips chastely, despite his desire to pull you into his arms and kiss you long enough that your knees buckle. So that Yunho sees that he is yours.

“You disappeared on me, baby,” Jungkook murmurs, adjusting your necklace. He’s gripping it tightly, but you don’t notice.

“I was with Yunho, remember him? ‘Member, he stood me up but he didn’t because it was Sora’s fault-”

“That’s no surprise,” Jungkook says, rolling his eyes. You take his hand, squeezing and introduce him to Yunho. As if he doesn’t know him already. Jungkook’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, his jaw clenched. He doesn’t like how Yunho looks at you, how his gaze lingers on your skin and the curves of your dress. You lean against Jungkook heavily, absently playing with his fingers. You stay mostly quiet, sipping your drink as the two men speak (rather tersely).

Jungkook knows he’s being ridiculous.

“Kook, finish my drink?” You murmur, offering him the glass. Jungkook maintains eye contact with Yunho as he downs the remainder of your drink in a few solid gulps.

“Was nice to see you, Yunho,” You say, “I think Jimin and Mina are looking for us, Jungkook. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

With that Jungkook firmly holds your waist, keeping you close to him. You both know that neither Jimin nor Mina are looking for either of you. You’d only wanted to be alone with Jungkook.

So Jungkook leads you to a spot where he knows Yunho can visibly see you both. You let loose, giggling as Jungkook twirls you easily and moving your arms to match the beat of the music. He makes you laugh with his moves, winking at you and shooting finger guns at you as he twirls and swivels around you. He’s always been a great dancer, you realize. That’s funny, because you’re sometimes clumsy on your own two feet. He pulls you into him, his chest to your back and his hips pressed against your ass. You sigh contentedly, head lolling against his shoulder and you rest your hand over his hand to let him lead you.

His nose is buried in your neck, lips lightly brushing your pulse. He bites your earlobe gently, earning a soft laugh from you. Jungkook tilts your jaw to the side to meet your eyes and plants a deep kiss to your glossy lips. He holds you steady when your knees weaken, your belly flipping at the intensity that he pours into you.

Jungkook is all around you, encasing you within his arms and there’s not a single place you’d rather be. When you pull away for air, you thumb away your gloss on his bottom lip and bite his bottom lip gently.

“I adore you,” You say dreamily, “You are so… Everything. Everything. I adore you.”

Jungkook’s cheeks burn, but he ducks his head for another sharp kiss. And if Yunho is watching him shove his tongue down your throat and holding your hips to his possessively then that’s fine by him.

The journey back home is a quick one (after you both stop for fried noodles, despite the inevitable heartburn it’ll give you both the next day but you’re both so hungry). You both stumble into your home in a mess of giggles and groping, nearly falling to the floor due to your clumsiness.

Jungkook has been hard since he kissed you in the club, in front of Yunho. He knew Yunho had been watching, feeling the man’s eyes on you both the entire time. His jealousy has crawled back into the box that it was unleashed from, but he knows that’s something to revisit later.

Something else to revisit is that he liked that someone else was watching him with you. He stores that information for later, instead focusing on keeping you upright from falling.

Somehow, through your blurry vision and wobbly legs, you get on your knees and palm Jungkook’s cock through his pants. A shameless moan rips through you- any and every inch of him makes you dizzy with desire.

You like him so much that it nearly makes you cry.

“Gonna blow you now,” You announce happily, fumbling with the button of his jeans and using all of your concentration and strength to pull his pants down along with his boxers. You sloppily kiss your way down his chest, spending extra time on his tattoo and licking (then biting) his happy trail before humming around his leaking cock.

He’s so wet already, and it’s all because of you.

Jungkook groans, eyes closing in pleasure as your pretty mouth wraps around his cock. He thrusts lightly into your mouth, peeling his eyes open to watch you. Only to find you already staring up at him, your makeup smudged and tears already forming in your pretty eyes. He cradles your cheek affectionately, stroking your cheekbone-

But before he can compliment you, softly praise you, he hears a noise. It originates from the back of your throat, something both familiar and unfamiliar. You gag uncontrollably around his cock, and while it’s certainly not the first time it’s happened, it’s different this time. Because you’re a little drunk. So he should be unsurprised when you retch on his cock, pull yourself off of him before your drunk self can get any more vomit on his cock and sprint into your bathroom.

You manage to lock the door in your frenzy of utter humiliation and alcohol addled mind. You hover over the toilet bowl, the sounds of you throwing up bouncing off of the walls. You’re crying, sobbing more like it- from both the pain in your chest from vomiting violently into the toilet bowl coupled with the humiliation of quite literally throwing up on your boyfriend’s cock.

You groan and squeeze your eyes shut, as if that’ll erase the memory.

“Baby,” Jungkook calls softly, his cock fully hanging out in the open, “Baby, please open the door. It’s not a big deal, but I need to wash my dick off.”

You let out a choked, watery laugh at that and move to flush the toilet and rinse your mouth out. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment when you unlock your bathroom door, and you can’t bear to look Jungkook in the eye. But he holds your wrist to his when you try to escape into the safety of your bedroom.

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of your chest, heat flooding your ears in shame. It feels like your head is empty, static filling up the spaces that the silence between you both doesn’t.

“It’s just me,” Jungkook coos, “Do you want to shower with me?”

“Jungkook, ‘m absolutely mortified,” You say flatly, voice a little high in pitch as fresh tears burning behind your eyelids, “I want to evaporate from this plane of existence in about three-point-four seconds, I literally threw up on your penis, I’m so sorry. Don’t even look at me-”

Jungkook winces at your tone and the way your shoulders are hunched, hands gripping the hem of your dress unsurely.

“Baby,” Jungkook sighs, “It’s really okay, there’s nothing to apologize for. Come shower. The vomit is drying on my dick-”

But that’s the wrong thing to say because you start to cry immediately, shoving your face in your hands. Jungkook sighs, mentally kicking himself and running a hand through his purple locks. He calls your name softly and pulls you into his arms for a tight hug, despite the drying vomit on his dick, which is hanging out and brushes against your hip. You sniffle, peeking at him with shy eyes and he rubs your back soothingly.

“When I say it’s okay, I mean it,” Jungkook murmurs into your hair, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize how drunk you were. I know you feel embarrassed, but it’s just me, baby.”

He kisses you, despite your protests, and helps you rinse your mouth again. You allow Jungkook to somehow maneuver you into the shower, peeling you out of your clothes. You feel grimy and sticky from the club and you’re grateful for the cool water against your skin. You stand behind Jungkook, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face in between his shoulder blades, letting him wash himself.

“Can I wash you?” You whisper, voice unsure. You feel awful, cheeks burning but still. He nods and you take your body wash and lather him with it, washing his now limp dick gently and swallowing nervously.

“See? Not a big deal,” Jungkook says, coaxes you out of your nervousness, “Lemme wash you, baby.”

And so he does, taking your loofah and gently rubbing your skin. Under the cool spray of water, your nerves slip away with each giggle and kiss that he pulls and plants from your lips. Your eyes are still a little shy, a little slick with alcohol. But it’s just Jungkook, and you’re safe with him.

Jungkook nearly wrestles you to get you to eat something more, after throwing up the remainder of your guts after you both had showered (it was mainly just water and alcohol at this point). You’re nearly falling asleep on his shoulder but he manages to shake you awake for a slice of leftover noodles and two glasses of water. But eventually, he coaxes you into eating with a few kisses, hugs, and shoulder rubs.

Once you both are in bed, Jungkook wraps himself around you, his hands immediately drifting below your sleep shirt to your belly. Your cheeks burn as the events of the night replay in your mind’s eye and you press your face into your pillow with a groan.

“I can’t believe I threw up on your dick a-and you’re so nice a-about it,” You mumble, “You really are everything.”

“Well, what else am I going to do if the girl I like vomits on my dick,” Jungkook murmurs, “Don’t worry about it, baby. It happens.”

“To who? Only to me,” You say sadly, “I drank too much. I’m sorry, Kook-”

“Shhh,” Jungkook says, tightening his arms around you and kissing your forehead, “I promise it’s okay. I promise I’m not looking at you any differently.”

His words make you relax in his hold and you nod. Jungkook tilts your jaw towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You don’t say anything else after that, only allowing your soft, breathy sighs to spill out of your lips and into him with every comforting kiss and every slip of his tongue in your mouth.

He tells you to rest in between kisses, but your eyes are already closed.

**************************************

MOM TAGS: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe @yiyi4657 @mygscafe @beeeetsandskzreads @maichiverse @hordanhearsawhooo @anonymous2505 @dreadity @mysugarkoo @ultraanonymousey @moonchild1 @fan-ati--c @yeotan07

TAGS: @kookdbean @codeinebelle

[imagines4thefandoms]

Bucky Jr.

so i was planning on writing a small one shot based off of “Ive been watching you” by Rodney Atkins but it grew into a 5K+ imagine.

Takes place during/after endgame so don’t read if you haven’t seen it but it you haven’t are you living under a rock? all of the details based on the movie were written based off memory so if the dialog is a bit off its because i haven’t seen the movie in a while. 

word count: 5k+ like i said i got carried away. 

Bucky Barnes x reader, Steve x platonic! reader

y/n found out she was pregnant three months after they lost to thanos i think you can imagine how this story goes based off the ending of the movie and the song i based this story off of. 

You honestly never thought that you could get Bucky  after you found out that Thanos destroyed the stones. You did everything you could to try and get him back: going to the sanctum to see if there was a spell, pray, hell you even thought you would try to sell your soul. You even looked into the multiverse theory but nothing worked. Three months after half the universe turned to dust you found out that you were pregnant. The thought of having the baby without Bucky there, hurt.  

Steve knew something was wrong when he hadn’t heard from you for a couple of days. He drove over to the house that you and Bucky had gotten.  The only people who knew about the house was you, Bucky and Steve. And because Steve was Steve, he had gotten a spare key, so when he pulled up to the house he just walked right in.  

Steve called out for you but you were too deep into your depression to hear him. You didn’t know that her was here til there was a knock on the bedroom door. You got out of bed so fast cause you thought that Bucky was back.

“Buck,” you asked opening the door.

Your smile fell when you saw that it was just Steve. You had forgotten that Steve knew about the house. Steve game you a soft smile because he knew how hard you were taking the loss. You left the door open and climbed back in into the bed. Steve walked over and sat by your feet.

“He’s not coming back is he,” you asked softly.

“I don’t think so,” he replied.

“I can’t do this without him Steve.”

“Do what?”

You reached into your night stand, grabbed the positive pregnancy test and handed it to Steve. He looked at the text then back at you.

“Did he know,” he asked placing the text on the nightstand.

“No. I didn’t know til last week. Steve I can’t do this alone.”

“(Y/n) you will not be doing it alone. I will be here for you,” he told you pulling the covers off. “Now come on. Time for you to get up.”

“No,” you said taking your pillow and covering your face with it.

“As godfather and favorite uncle it is my duty to get you to get out of bed.”

“Bold of you to assume you're the godfather,” you teased.

~five years later~

Ever since then Steve has been there for you every step go the way. He went to the doctor’s appointments, he helped you decorate the nursery, he even helped you pick the perfect name when you found out it was a boy: James Buchanan Barnes Jr.

Steve moved into the house, Bucky made sure that there was a spare room for Steve, to help you with the long nights after James was born. Every time he woke up to chance a dirty diaper, you would complain and tell him that you got it but he would reply with his same cheesy joke, “I’ve slept for 70 years.”

Steve was there for each step of James’ life. His first word: Steve, well it was te. His first steps, his first day of school. Steve even taught him how to ride a bike. He was like a dad to James, but he never took the role of dad. Every night before bed Steve would tell James stories of Bucky and growing up the two of you made sure that James knew about his father.

“Is daddy ever going to come back,” James asked Steve.

“I don’t think so,” Steve told James sadly.

“Mommy doesn’t talk about what happened to daddy. Can you tell me uncle te,” your son asked.

“Well you know how your parents and I are avengers?”

“Yea.”

“Well there was a bad guy that wanted to wipe out half the universe, so us and the rest of the avengers went to stop him. But we didn’t win so he wiped out half the universe and your daddy was one of those people who got wiped away.” Steve explained.

“Oh you mean the blip.”

“Yea.”

“I wish I met him,” James said pulling his covers up to his chin.

“Me too bud,” Steve tucking him in.

“Uncle te.”

“Yes buck,” Steve responded using the nick he called Buck. He only calls James that when you’re not around as to night hurt your feelings.

“Do you think daddy would like me?”

“I know your daddy would love you,” Steve assured him as he kissed if forehead.

James grabbed the photo of Bucky that you put of his nightstand and held it against his chest. Steve turned off the lights then left his room. Steve stopped when he saw you standing outside James’ room.

“He wanted to know,” he started to say ready to explain why he told James what he told him.

“He’s old enough to know. Im just glad you told him and not me. I would have broken down.”

Steve pulled you in to a hug. You pushed away from him and gave him a small smile letting him know that you appreciated the hug. Steve left to go to bed while you went to the living room and sat on the couch. You grabbed the photo book off the coffee table full of pictures of you and Bucky and just looked at them til you fell asleep.

The next morning you woke up from James pulling your eyelids open. Steve tried to stop him before he woke you up but he was a little too late.

“Sorry I tried to stop him,” Steve said handing you his coffee.

“But mommy had to wake up cause we are going to see Aunt Nat,” James said sitting down at the table eating his breakfast.

After finishing half the cup you got up and went to kiss James’ head. “Your right how silly of me to sleep.”

You finished the coffee and handed the empty up of Steve on your way to your room to get dressed. Going to your closet, you grabbed one of Bucky’s shirts and a pair of jeans. As soon as you finished getting ready for the day there was a little knock at the door.

“Mommy hurry up. I want to see Aunt Nat,”

You opened the door and ruffled his hair as you walked past him. “It that because she shows you all of the old weapons at the compound,” you asked as you grabbed the toast that Steve had made for you.

James stoped in his tracks and looked at you and Steve. “How did you know. It’s supposed to be a secret,” he asked.

“Thats because your mom knows everything,” Steve replied.

“Nu uh, Mommy what’s 12 x 12,” James asked crossing his hands over his chest and tilting his head a little.

“144,” you answered him.

James went over to Steve and held is hand out for Steve’s phone. He pulled it from his pocket and opened the calculator app. He checked your answer and looked up at you with shock and awe.

“Wow mommy does know everything,” he replied handing Steve back is phone.

After ten minutes and James running back to his room to grab his teddy bear Sarge, which he dressed to look like Bucky, the three of you left for the compound. While in the car, James wouldn’t sit still cause he was too excited to see Natasha.

“James, pleas stop kicking my seat,” You asked him.

“Im just too excited,” he replied using his hands to emphasize his statement. “Can we listen to the song?”

“What song it that buddy,” Steve asked looking to James in the rearview mirror.

“Mommy knows the song.”

Steve looked over at you from the driver seat and you smirked at him while grabbing your phone and finding the video. James quickly calmed down once he knew you were going to put the song on.

“Uncle te, you can sing it too,” He said hold Sarge tight in anticipation.

“I might not know the song,” Steve replied.

“Oh you know it,” you smirked.

The song started to play and James pretended to march in place while in his car seat.

Who’s strong and brave to save the American way

“Not all of use can storm a beach or drive a tank. But there is still a way for all of us can fight” James spoke.

Who vows to fight like a man for what’s right night and day

“Series E defense bonds, each one you buy is a bullet in the barrel of your best guy’s gun”

Who will complain door to door for America

Carry the flag shore to shore for America

From Hoboken to Spokane

The Star Spangled Man with a Plan

“How do you know that,” Steve asked James and you.

“Mommy found it. It’s my favorite,” James replied.

Steve looked over at you and just shook his head. You noticed how red his face was and you just turned it up a little. The entire ride James spoke Steve’s part. After the second go around James convinced Steve to do it with him.

You couldn’t tell who was more happy to see the compound James, to see Nat, or Steve, so you could stop playing his song. As soon as the car came to a stop James unbuckled and got out of the car. Natasha walked out of the compound and held her arms open for James.

“Aunt Nat,” James yelled running into her arms.

“Hey JJ.”

After they went inside you didn’t really see either til lunch time. And since you didn’t hear an explosion you didn’t worry. James was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while nat was talking with Carol, Okoye, Rocket, and Rhodey.

After everyone hung up nat teared up a little because of Clint and James noticed. He grabbed Sarge who was in the chair next to him and handed him to her. “Here Aunt Nat, Sarge makes me feel better when I am sad.” James then went back to eating his sandwich while Steve and Nat talked a little. Then you noticed that someone was at the gate.

“Is that Scott,” you asked.

“How old is that,” Steve asked.

“Its live.”

“James stay here,” you told him as the three of you ran to see if Scott was really back.

The four of you came back to the room and James just looked at confusion. Scott explained how he was here and his plan to get everyone back. You, Nat and Steve looked at each other while Scott sat next to James and ate Natasha’s peanut butter sandwich.

“Hi,” James said pushing a glass of milk to Scott.

“Hey,” Scott replied with a questioning look.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes Jr.,” James introduced himself. “Wait are you Antman?”

“Yes I am.’

“You are so cool.”

“Thanks kid,” Scott thanked him and finished the sandwich. “I knew your dad.”

“Really, were you friends or did he try to beat you up when Hydra was hurting him?”

“Friends, well I helped him when he was in trouble,” Scott explained.

James nodded his head and thanked Scott for helping his dad, then continued to eat his sandwich. Scott finished his milk then walked over to you and motioned back to James.

“Cute kid.”

~time skip~

After the meeting with BruceHulk, you and Steve knew of the only person who might be able to help. James sat in the middle between you and Scott one the ride up to Tony’s cabin. The entire ride James and Scott were talking about Antman things. Once we got to the cabin James’ fascination with Scott disappeared. All he want to do was play with Morgan. He ran past Tony and gave Morgan a hug.

“Hi Morgan,” James said after their hug.

“James you came to play,” Morgan asked James nodded his head and they ran off to play.

“Hello to you too,” Tony called out to your son.

“Sorry. Hi uncle Tony,” James called out.

Steve, Nat, Scott and you talked to Tony and explained what the plan was. Tony didn’t agree with the plan and kept saying that it wouldn’t work. Morgan and James ran inside. Then Morgan ran back out to “save” Tony. He invited you to stay for lunch which you accepted and went in to see James helping pepper set up the table.

“Aunt pep, I need one more fork,” James said looking at the table counting the plates.

“Here,” she said holding one out for him.

He put the fork in its place and then ran to whisper something in Morgan’s ear. She agreed to whatever he said. They went into the kitchen and grabbed a towel and held it over their arms. James opened his mouth then closed it and went over to pepper. He tapped her leg and motioned for her to bend over so he could whisper in her ear. She whispered something back then came back to stand next to Morgan.

“Lunch will be ready in three minutes,” James said.

“Please wait to be seated,” Morgan stated.

They both came over to Steve and asked for his name. After he gave it name they check the “list” on Morgan’s hand and both nodded their heads.

“Right his way, Mr. Rodgers,” James said leading Steve to his seat.

They did this for everyone and then helped hand out the food to everyone. After lunch the kids played a little while longer but then it was time to leave. You had to figure out time travel without the help of Tony.

“Bye Morgan,” James said sadly.

“Bye James,” Morgan replied equally sad.

The entire time you guys where trying to perfect time travel James was standing next to Bruce wearing a lab coat that was too big and hold a clip board holding some of his drawings. You didn’t tell him why you guys were building a time machine because you didn’t want to get his hopes up.

After all the mishaps with Scott you walked over to James and asked for his scientific opinion on what you were doing wrong. He replied with ‘maybe the clock is broken’. Steve went outside for fresh air while you tried to help Bruce solve this. You were surprised when you saw Steve come back inside with not only his shield but also Tony.

“Let me guess, you were messing around and cracked time travel,” you asked throwing your hands in the air.

“Yes,” Tony said walking over to bruce.

“Wow, is that the shield,” James asked running over to Steve and ran his fingers on the vibranium disk. “Its beautiful.”

“Hold it,” Steve said handing it too James.

His eye lit up and he ran around pretending to be Captain America. After Tony explained how he cracked time travel the team split up to get more people to help with the mission. Tony got Rhodes, Nat got Clint, once rocket and Nebula got back to earth bruce and rocket went to get Thor. You called Pepper and asked her to watch James while you completed the mission and she agreed to so you and Steve brought him back to Tony’s cabin.

Once you pulled up you and Steve looked at each other and decided that now was the time to explain everything to him. Before he opened the door you told him that you needed to talk.

“Do you know why your staying with Morgan and aunt Pep for a couple hours,” you asked him.

“Cause you have a mission,” he asked.

“Yes but do you know what the mission is,” Steve asked him.

“No its top secret. Constitutional.”

“confidential,” you corrected him. “The mission is to bring back daddy and everyone who got blipped away,”

“Your going to save daddy,” James asked.

“Yes.”

“I want to help,” he exclaimed.

“I know you do bud but it's too dangerous. And we need you to be safe. Your dad would want you to be safe,” Steve stated to talk him down.

“Fine but you will call me right after.”

“Yes.”

“Ok, be safe and save daddy,” James said kissing you and Steve on the cheek before he got out of the car and ran too Morgan.  

Pepper waved to you to let you know everything would be okay then you and Steve drove back to the compound. Once you two got back, everyone was in a room talking about the stones and when the best time to get them was. It was decided that New York 2012 would be the best time to get the mind, space and time stone, 2013 Asgard would be the best time to get the reality stone, and 2014 Space would be the best time to get the soul and power stone. The teams were Steve, bruce, Tony and Scott would go to 2012, Thor and rocket would get the reality stone, nebula and Rhodes would get the power, while you Clint and Natasha would get the soul stone.

Everyone suited up and we all wished everyone good luck on their missions to receive the stones. You were standing next to Steve and the next thing you knew you where on an alien planet in the year 2014. Rhodes enlarged the Guardians’ ship and flew team soul stone to vormir. There was a long hike to where the stone was supposed to be. The three of you climbed to the top of the twin mountains and where greeted by the Red Skull. It threw you for a loop but decided to focus on getting Bucky back then the head of hydra at least for now. He explained how we were to get the stone and it was along the lines of soul for a soul. So the three of you sat there in defeat.

“There has to be another way,” you said looking between the two former assassins who where having a whole conversation without talking.

“We have to get that stone. What ever it takes,” Nat said and Clint repeated ‘whatever it takes’

They both stood up and then looked confused at each other. Then you realized what their plan was. Nat was going to sacrifice herself for the stone and Clint was going to do the same.

“No way. That is not happening,” you told them.

“Its the only way,” Nat said walking over to you. “Tell JJ I love them. And get everyone back.”

Nat gave you a hug and an electric shock surged through your whole body. The amount of electricity that you got hit with knocked you out and you didn’t wake up it after you go the stone. You woke up next to Clint in some lake.

“No,” you cried when you saw the stone in his hand and Nat no where to be found.

The two of you took a second to gather your emotions then pressed your belt and went back to 2023. You came back to the platform where left on and just dropped to your knees. Steve came over and checked you for any wounds.

“She’s gone,” you cried as you wrapped your arms around him.

Everyone gave Tony the stones so he could build the gauntlet while you went out to the lake. One by one everyone showed up too. There was a small argument over whether or not we gaunt get Nat back with the stones but you and Clint knew you couldn’t. Steve walked over to you and sat down.

“How am I going to tell James that she’s gone,” you asked him.

“You won’t have to do it alone cause we are going to get Buck back and then all three of us will go tell him,” Steve said rubbing your back.

Everyone went back inside to prepare to bring everyone back. Thor really wanted to be the one to snap everyone back but it was decided that Bruce would do it. In his works, “its mostly gamma radiation. I was made to do this.” He put the gauntlet on and snapped his fingers. The power of the stones sort of burned his arms and you ripped the gauntlet off of him while Tony tried to help with the burns.

You couldn’t really tell that it worked but you heard birds. Lots of them. Then a phone started to ring and by the look on Clint’s face you were guessing it was his wife calling and so it worked. You looked at Steve and were about to tell him it worked when the whole compound blew up. The force knocked you out a bit and you woke up later next to Clint. You saw the gauntlet laying a couple feet away so you grabbed it cause there was no was a friend blew you up.

And you were right it turned out to be Thanos from 2014 because the nebula that came back want your nice nebula. You were trying to get out from all the rubble when you heard Steves painful groans. Of course Steve was facing the titan by himself. Once you could breath fresh air you looked out at the wasteland that was once the compound. You saw Steve get up and take a stand against Thanos alone. You were about to run to his side when you heard a faint voice on the comms.

“On your left,” you heard Sam say.

You never thought hearing Sam Wilson’s voice you make you cry but it did. Because if he was back so was Bucky. All around golden circles of sparks emerged and dozens of people stepped out. You made your way to take a stand against Thanos and out the corner of your eye you saw him. You fought the urge to run to him and never let him go. That could wait.

Thanos’s creepy alien army charged at us and we charged at them. You killed a bunch of the dog thingy and eventually found yourself next to Bucky. During a small window of peace you turned to him and jumped in his arms.

“Hey doll,” he said holding you tight.

“God I missed you Buck,” you cried.

“Sorry I was gone so long,” he replied pushing you back and pressing his lips firmly against yours. “You look gorgeous by the way.”

“There is something I really need to tell you Bucky.”

He pulled you close to him and then shot at some aliens behind you. “We are kinda in the middle of a war here doll. Tell me after we win.” He ran off to kill more aliens and you did the same. You were taking a hit but over the comms you heard a plan. To get the stones back before Thanos could use them again. So during the fight there was a game of Hot potato that was being played with the gauntlet. It work for a while but eventually Thanos got the stone. It happened so quickly. He was about to snap his fingers when Tony jumped on him. Thanos threw in aside then snapped his fingers. You closed your eyes to prepare for another loss but nothing happened. Then you looked over at Tony and saw that he had the stones. He snapped his finger and Thanos and the other aliens turned to dust.

You ran over to bucky and jumped in his arms again to celebrate the win but stopped when you noticed that Tony wasn’t getting up. Pepper and Peter when over to him. It didn’t look good. You noticed pepper crying and you knew that he didn’t make it. Everyone took a knee to honor him. The Steve, Thor, and Dr. Strange walked over and helped cover his body and retrieve the stones.  You cried into Bucky’s then thought of James. Once Tony’s body was covered and the stones were safely put in a briefcase. You let go on Bucky and ran to Steve.

“James,” you cried.

Pepper walked over to you and you gave her a hug. She told you how Happy was with the kids. You felt bad for only thinking of James while your friend just died. Pepper looked at you and shook her head like she knew what you were thinking.

“Lets go,” Pepper said and you walked over to strange and asked him to do his portal to the cabin.

Bucky was right behind you completely confused on what you were doing. You looked at him and just smiled as you grabbed Steves hand then his and walked the the portal after Pepper. She ran inside but the three of you stayed outside.

“Bucky that thing I wanted to tell you,” you told him.

“I get it doll. Five years is a long time and you didn’t think I would come back,” he said looking at how you were still holding Steve’s hand.

You followed to where he was looking and stepped away from Steve. “No its not that,” you started to explain but were interpreted by James running out of the Cabin.

“Mommy,” he cried running to you. “Uncle Tony.”

“I know,” you dropped to your knees and hugged him.

You didn’t let go til he look over at Steve and he ran out of your arms into his. “Your okay,” James cried.

“Yes buddy. Just a little come cuts but I will be okay,” Steve replied.

You got up and looked over at Bucky was you could tell what he was thinking by the look in his eye. You went to go tell him he was wrong but heard James from behind you.

“You did it. Thats him right,” you son said wiping his tears away.

“Yea. Thats him,” Steve informed him.

James walked over to Bucky and just looked up at him. Bucky knelt down to meet the boy who he thought was yours and Steve’s kid.

“Hey,” Bucky said.

“Hi,” James replied looking at Buck’s face. “You’re taller than I imagined.”

“Yea,” Buck laughed. “Whats your name?”

“James Buchanan Barnes Jr. and this is Sarge,” James said showing Bucky his teddy.

Bucky looked at James then at you. “I thought…”

“You well you were never the sharpest tool,” you cut him off.

“Im glad I get to meet you dad,” James said wrapping his arms around Bucky.

“Me too.”

~time skip~

It has been a couple weeks since Tony and Nat’s funeral and James was taking Nat’s death better than you expected. You were pretty sure he was to busy getting to know Bucky to let her death get to him and you weren’t complaining.

“What happened to your arm. Mommy and uncle Te never told me that story,” James said poking Bucky’s metal arm.

“I lost it when I fell off a train,” Bucky explained.

“That was back in World War 2. How are you still alive? Did you crash a plane into water like uncle te?”

“No but I was frozen like him for a while.”

“When you were getting hurt by hydra.”

“Yes but now I'm all better.”

“Cool will you feel it if I punch your metal arm?”

“No.”

“Awesome. I want a metal arm.”

“Maybe for Christmas,” you replied laughing.

Steve came into the living room from the kitchen with drinks. James yelled something about doing something important and ran out of the room. The three of you sat in the living room and caught up. You told Bucky everything about James and Steve told y’all about his trip to return the stones. James came back into the living room ten minutes later with a huge smile on his face.

“What did you do,” you asked him.

“Nothing,” he replied.

Steve and Bucky looked at each other and just laughed. They mentioned how much James was like Bucky when he was a kid.

“Mommy can i’m hungry,” James told you as he sat next to Bucky.

You got up to go make his something to eat when you noticed black paint on the floor. You looked over at James and saw that his left hand was black with gold lines.

“James what did you do? And please tell me it comes off,” you asked.

James got up and took off his jacket to reveal that he painted his left arm black and gold to match Bucky’s

“Now I really match daddy, see. Same name and same arm,” he replied showing off the slightly wet arm.

You opened you mouth to yell about how there is paint on your floors and probably on the stairs too and how he ruined his clothes and possible the couch with the paint but just closed your mouth and shook your head.

“Now that you are back this is your problem,” you said walking into the kitchen to feet Bucky Jr.

“Did I do something wrong,” James asked looked between Bucky and Steve.

“No buddy, you just made a mess with the paint,” Bucky said pointing to the black paint on the floor.

“Oops,” He replied.

After eating and cleaning the paint, life started to normal. Steve staying til he found an apartment close by which James couldn’t understand why he was leaving. After Steve told him that he could come over and have guy night he decided that Steve could move out. And with Bucky back James basically pushed you aside and preferred his dad. Everything Bucky did James did. Everything Bucky ate James ate, even vegetables.

“James, I have been trying to get you to eat your vegetables for ever and now that your dad is here you love vegetables,” you asked when you saw him finish his carrots.

“No vegetables are gross but I want to be just like daddy and daddy eats vegetables,” he replied making a face over how gross he thought carrots where.

After he got in trouble for painting his arm James decided to do the next best thing and waste all the foil in the house to wrap is arm. You even caught his pretending to be Bucky while he was playing in the back yard.

“What,” Bucky said wrapping his arms around you are you watched James play.

“Red Skull I am the winter soldier and I am here to put an end to you and the rest of hydra,” James said pointing his toy gun and sarge who was wearing a red hat.

“He idolizes you,” you said resting your head against Buck’s shoulder.

“Jealous,” he asked kissing your neck.

“No just annoyed that he is a mini you.”

“Daddy come play,” James called.

Bucky walked outside and pulled you with him. James explain how Bucky would be on his team.

“We are stopping Sarge, he’s the red skull. And im you so you can be… Uncle Te.”

“What about me,” Steve asked waking into the back yard.

“You can be a bad guy with mommy cause she needs a partner,” James said placing Sarge’s red hat on you.

“Why am I the red skull,” you asked slightly offended.

“Cause you get mad a lot and look like him,” James stated like it was a known fact.

Bucky and Steve started laughing while you took the hat off and changed James around to get back at him.

“Daddy, mommy is crazy help me,” James yelled at the top of his lungs which caused Bucky and Steve to laugh more.

Bucky was too busy laughing so James stopped running and took of his jacket to reveal his foil arm and held it out.

“I am Sargent James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th infantry of the US army and I order you to stop chasing me,” he said and crossed his arms.

You stopped and just took in your son’s appearance. “Mommy you look really pretty,” James said with the same smirk Bucky gives you when he is trying to apologize or get himself out of trouble. Yea James was defiantly Bucky Jr.

[all-the-love-harold]

Fine Line

Chapter 1 - Lovin’ you’s the antidote 

The First installment of my new series, let me know what you think about Harry and Clara

December 16th 2019

Clara was sitting on her window sill staring out at the rain falling down onto the street below her. People were battling with their umbrellas against the wind and she felt a sudden feeling of warmth as she stared into her living room, her best friend's new album playing through her TV and grateful that she wasn’t outside and that she didn’t have to leave her flat now until tomorrow morning she turned it up. The sound of Harry’s voice singing “Just let me adore you” echoed around the room and in that moment, she couldn’t help but feel lonely. Harry was still in LA after the release of his album and the rest of her friends were back in their hometowns for Christmas already. Normally she would call her boyfriend, but less than 2 hours after Harry boarded his plane to LA, Will called her and said that he wasn’t in love with her anymore and it was probably best that they stopped seeing each other. And just like that 8 years was over in one phone call and her shoulder to cry on was on a plane halfway over the atlantic.

Clara had met Will on her first day of university and they’d been together ever since but apparently his work had become too important and he didn’t have time for her anymore. She knew this was a load of bullshit, she knew that he’d been spending a lot of time with his assistant, who was very skinny and very blonde and everything that Clara hated about the world.

“You’re better off without him” Harry had said to her over the phone when he finally had the chance to call her back

“Doesn’t feel like it right now” she replied

“I know,” Harry sighed “I wish I could hug you”

“Me too” she said, Harry’s hugs always made everything better, they had ever since they were little and the worst thing that happened to them was falling off their bikes onto the concrete.

Clara sighed deeply as she sunk down into her spot on the bay window. She hated that she couldn’t enjoy having one night to herself, but she had gotten so used to having people around her, people she had to look after or take care of in some way.

“Maybe I should get a dog,” she thought to herself. Then she would never really be alone and she’d always feel needed.

But she lived in a small apartment so she would need a dog that was ok with being left inside while she was at work. Or maybe even a dog that she could take to work with her. Or a dog that Harry could dog sit for her when he was home. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and googled her local shelter. This was the most excited she had felt for months and the advice her mum gave her when she was young kept replaying in her head

“A dog or a baby will never be a mistake, they might make things harder sometimes, but you’ll love them so much that you’ll never feel like you made the wrong decision” and love was exactly what Clara needed right now. Because after Christmas Harry would be leaving for an almost year long world tour and she couldn’t stand the thought of being alone in London for that long. And her job meant that she couldn’t move back home to Holmes Chapel.

With just nine days left until christmas the shelter was full of dogs that needed new homes, dogs of all shapes and sizes, some who had been there for months and some who had only spent a few days there so far. If she had a bigger space, she'd adopt them all, but for now, one would do. She scrolled through and looked at all the profiles on the website before deciding that she would need to meet the dog before making any kind of concrete decision. And that was that, tomorrow morning she would pick Harry up from the airport and take him straight to the shelter to help her choose her new baby.

***

“Good Morning Ra” Harry said, shoving his bags into the boot of her car. The advantage of having a best friend that lived in London was not having to feel like an ass who needed a chauffeur to drive him around his home city.

“Good Morning Harold” she smiled trying to contain her excitement. Sleeping on the idea of getting a dog had not changed her mind, if anything it had only made her more sure of herself. And maybe slightly nervous.

“You’re very cheerful for someone who’s just been dumped” he said as he sat down in the passenger's seat and buckled his seatbelt.

“Do you have anywhere you need to be today?” she asked, ignoring his attempt at mentioning the elephant in the room

“I have rehearsals tonight, but until 7 I am free, don’t you have to be at work?”

“I have the day off”

Harry frowned “You never take days off” he said suspiciously “What’s going on?”

“We’re going on an adventure” she handed him her phone, “You’re in charge of the music”

“Da da da da da da ddada” The opening line of Golden echoed through the speaker, and Clara drove off,away from the airport, rolling her eyes at Harry for playing his own album.

They drove mostly in silence, Harry didn't want to ask where they were going and after the way she ignored his comment about the break up he didn’t want to bring it up in case it made her sad when right in this moment she seemed happier and more excited than he’d seen her in months.

They pulled up in a dingy looking car park on the outskirts of London and Harry furrowed his brow

“Where are we?” he said, half tempted to lock his car door

“I’m getting a dog” she smiled widely

“A dog?”

“Yeah, you know four legs, barks, like to go on walks, looks really cute when it’s asleep”

Harry laughed “I know what a dog is” he said, “But you’re not home enough for a dog”

“Office dog” she smirked “and I didn’t think you’d have any objections to dog sitting when you’re around”

“I mean, I don’t” he half smiled “but are you sure”

“Harold, in the very wise words of my beautiful mother, a dog or a baby is never a bad thing. And since the other half of my baby decided to up and fuck off a week ago, I’m getting a dog”

Harry sighed and unclipped his seatbelt, “You know most people find a rebound after a breakup, but a dog suits you better.” Harry knew when to stop arguing, he’d known Clara his whole life and, in a way, he knew she was right, a dog really was exactly what she needed.

They walked into the shelter side by side and anyone walking past would guess that they were a happy couple, looking to add the first addition to their little family. But that wasn’t the case, Harry and Clara had never been and will never be more than friends, despite what their mothers might think.

“Hi” Clara said as they walked into reception “I’m looking to adopt a dog”

“Of course” the girl smiled eyeing Harry off “just follow the hall all the way down to the end and one of the girls will help you once you’re down there.”

“Thanks” Harry smiled, winking at her as they walked away.

“Do you you have to flirt with everyone?” Clara said to him once they were out of earshot

“Just helping you get a really cute one”

Clara rolled her eyes and ignored him, she found that sometimes if she indulged him too much he became even more annoying.

They walked through the door at the end of the hallway and Clara’s heart immediately split into two. The dogs were all in tiny cages and a few of them looked unwell and malnourished, and that sympathetic feeling she felt when scrolling through their profiles last night only increased tenfold, staring into their lonely little eyes.

“Hi, my name’s sarah” a girl came around the corner, a wide grin on her face “are you just having a look or are you here to adopt today?”

“I’d like to adopt” Clara said definitively

“Yay!” Sarah said, “These dogs here have only just arrived and they’re not quite ready for adoption yet, but if you really fall in love with one of them you can come back in a few weeks and pick them up once they’ve had their needles and health checks or, if you go a little further down, those guys are ready to go - do you have a yard for a big dog, or were you looking for an apartment dog”

“I have a flat” Clara said, “but he has a yard just around the corner from my flat where I would take the dog to run around”

“I think I have the perfect boy for you!” Sarah exclaimed and started down the hallway, stopping outside a cage.

Clara smiled up at Harry and followed, almost at a run she was so excited.

“This is Larry, he’s a 10 month old greyhound and he’s been living in this shelter for 7 of those months”

Clara turned to face the dog and instantly fell in love, she crouched down and let him sniff her hand and instead he gave it a big lick and snuggled into it.

“He’s a sweet boy” Sarah said “but he’s not without his issues, he’s been seen by our behaviour therapist and he’ll need ongoing training and support but a little bit of love will go a long way with this little guy”

“What did he need to see the behavior therapist for?” Harry asked, knowing that Clara wouldn’t.

“He’s displayed a few guarding behaviors, they’re not uncommon for his breed, with the right training, he’ll grow into a wonderful dog”

Clara had stopped listening, she was kneeling down now, with her hand outstretched so that Larry could sniff it. But he didn’t want to just sniff, he greeted Clara with a great big lick and she knew right then that this was the dog that she would be taking home today.

“I’m sold” she said, without taking her eyes off the dog, who was now sitting very elegantly, staring up at her.

“Really?” Sarah said “Great, I’ll go and get him and take him to the play area and you guys can get to know each other while I get all the paperwork sorted - any questions?”

“Just one” Clara said thinking of the only obvious issue with adopting a dog named Larry and being publicly linked to Harry “Can I change his name?”

“Of course” Sarah smiled “He’s still a pup so he’ll learn his new name very quickly”

“Perfect”

Harry smiled at Clara as Sarah walked away “Are you sure Ra?”

“I’m sure as hell H, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life”

“Alright then” he smiled “guess I’m becoming an uncle today”

***

“How about David Bowie” Harry said later that afternoon, sitting on Clara’s living room floor, throwing Larry the tiny tennis ball that he’d gone out and bought after they got him home.

“Bowie for short” Clara mused “I really like that”

“David when he’s in trouble” Harry laughed

“Bowie” Clara called and Larry’s ears pricked up

“Bowie” she said again, and he bounded over to her.

“Well that’s settled then” Harry said.

Bowie sat down on Clara's lap while she petted his head gently.

"I'm so in love with you already little dog"

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon watching as Clara turned into the dog mum she was always meant to be and he felt his heart swell every time she smiled at something Bowie did.

"Loving you's the antidote" he thought to himself although in that moment he wasn’t entirely sure who was helping who.

***

December 19th, 2019 - London’s Electric Ballroom.

Late was one thing that Clara hated being. If she was ever late for something it usually filled her with so much anxiety that she would have to call someone and let them know that she was in fact on her way. But tonight she was running late because she couldn’t tear herself away from a snuggle on the couch with her beautiful boy and she hadn’t called anyone because couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone that she was late to her best friend's album release because she was too busy snuggling her dog and that she wasn't sorry at all. So instead she snuck in the back door, slipped into the dressing room and pretended she had been there the whole time.

“Gem!” she exclaimed when she spotted Harry’s sister “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.

“No you haven’t” she smirked “You just snuck in that back door, you were late”

“Shhh” clara hushed “Don’t tell H”

“He won’t care, not today, anyway - Have you met the latest piece of arm candy?”

Clara batted her eyelashes at the news that Harry was dating someone new

“No” she shook her head, “I didn’t know there was anyone new”

“Oh they only met a few days ago, just before he left for LA I think, but she’s pretty clingy and so far she doesn’t seem that nice”

“Blonde?” Clara asked, a tone of bitterness evident in her voice

Gemma nodded

“Skinny?”

“You bet” Gemma sighed

“Checks out” Clara nodded, “That’s why he hasn’t told me, I think he’s afraid I’ll get sad if he’s dating someone that looks like the girl Will slept with 2 days after he broke up with me”

“What a prick” Gemma said “Will, I mean, not H… maybe H a little bit” she added

“Is she here?” Clara asked, raising her eyebrows as if she was on a mission.

“Yeah” Gemma nodded towards the closed door to Harry’s private dressing room “They’re in there together, doors locked”

“Gross” Clara rolled her eyes.

All of Clara’s gulit about being late seemed to disappear after that, Harry would never know, or care if he was too busy having sex with a girl he’s only just met in the dressing room just before the show. Especially if hadn’t deemed her important enough to tell Clara about.

Go time was fast approaching and eventually Jeff and Tommy, Harry’s managers, started ushering all the guests into the concert hall, so that Harry could get ready and warm up. Clara had never been to this venue before, but as herself and Gemma stepped out onto the balcony, she understood why it was called the electric ballroom, the room was buzzing with excitement and she felt herself become excited too. She did always love watching Harry perform. She had ever since they were babies and Harry would dance in the kitchen play area at daycare and she would giggle along.

“Just there” Gemma whispered to her, pointing at the tall blonde that just walked into the room.

Clara shrugged and handed Gemma the glass of wine that she herself had just been handed “Well if H won’t introduce me, I’ll just introduce myself”

She walked over to where the girl stood, looking lonely and out of place and held her hand out to her quickly withdrawing it, thinking about where it might have been not too long ago.

“Hi, I’m Clara” she said, keeping her hands firmly by her side, “I’m Harry’s best friend, Gemma told me that you guys are dating”

The girl looked her up and down “I’m Shelly” she said, sounding bored with the conversation already “If you’re his best friend you’ve probably been to one of these things before right”

“Yeahhh” Clara nodded, not sure where she was going with this “Once, this only his second album”

“How long do they go for? I’ve got a somewhere to be later”

“He’ll be on stage for about an hour and half” Clara said taken aback by the lack of support she was showing “but it’s a release show, so he’ll want to hang around celebrate the album going to number one already”

Shelly scoffed “Oh well I Probably can’t stay for that, I might even have to leave before he gets off stage”

Before Clara had a chance to reply the house lights turned off and a voice began to echo around the room.

“Right” Clara nodded, not wanting to say too much, although it was becoming pretty clear to her that they both seemed to only be in this for sex “Well it was nice to meet you, I’m going to go watch from over there”

“She’s a delight, isn’t she?” Gemma said, handing Clara back her glass of wine, glad that the screams were echoing around the room loud enough to drown her words out from any eavesdroppers.

“I give it a month”

Gemma didn’t have a chance to retort, because Harry had made his way onto the stage and the screams filling the room became deafening, but she thought a month was ambitious.

“Golden, golden, golden, As I open my eyes' ' A smile as wide as Harry’s cheeks spread across his face as he looked out into the crowd and he winked at Clara when he found her standing next to Gemma on the balcony.She always loved that his first instinct was to find her in a room full of people. She smiled back at him and tears filled her eyes. She was so proud of the man standing up on that stage, he’d come so far since the last time they were standing in a room like this and she’d been there every step of the way.The smile on his face said it all, he was happy and he was proud of the album he’d written and so was she.

“I’m Harry, nice to meet you, thank you very much for having me, how are you? Harry said after playing Golden “The crowd cheered and Harry moved his gaze back to where Clara and Gemma were standing, tears streaming down both of their faces “Good! Before we start the show properly, I’d like to point out that my beautiful sister and my beautiful best friend are already crying, after they promised they would wait until I sang Falling”

The crowd laughed and Clara only cried more while Gemma tried to hide her tears from everyone who had now turned around to look at them.

“So my new album came out a week ago, and tonight I’m going to play it for you. London is home. You are my home, it only felt right to sing it in front of you before it goes on tour. So welcome, and sing along when you can”

As Harry began to sing Watermelon Sugar, Clara glanced over at the space where Shelly had been standing and noticed that she was gone. Clara shrugged and turned back to face the stage. All she wanted to do now was dance, and enjoy the art her best friend had devoted himself to for the last year and a half.

When the first notes of “Falling” echoed around the room Clara’s heart sank and she was taken back to the day he’d written the song. It wasn’t that long ago, 4 months maybe, and he was heartbroken, a complete mess, he had been so in love and camille had ripped his heart right out of his chest and walked away with it. He didn’t know what to do with himself, so he found comfort in Clara’s apartment, pretending that none of it ever happened. And that’s exactly how Clara felt now, Will was gone, she was alone, and she felt like maybe that was it for her, she’d had her one great love and now she was someone no one would want around. Life had it’s funny ways of letting you know that you’re on the right path, and for Clara, listening to Harry on stage, reclaiming his heart for himself in a room full of people who loved and supported him through his worst moments, was one of them, if he could do it, so could she. Each song after that filled her heart with more and more pride and by the time Harry came off stage she felt as though she was going to explode.

“Harry fucking Styles” she said running into his arms when she finally got backstage

“Clara fucking Riley” he wrapped his arms around her

“I want to stay and party but I have to get home to my Bowie”

Harry kissed on the forehead “If I could I’d skip the party to hang out with Bowie too.”

“He’s pretty much the best”

“I’ll stumble in at some point later on though” he smiled “So we can head back home for christmas early tomorrow”

“Good idea, alright, Love you H - and we have to talk about Shelly in the car!”

“No we don’t” he smirked

[kippykasey]

Revelations - Chapter 1: Wolf Moon

Teen Wolf x SPN AU crossover

Word Count: 9745

A/N: Totally occurred to me that I wrote the teaser like they're in summer but its actually like winter in Beacon Hills so ignore that totally time confusion.

The Smith family just wanted normal, yet the new semester is bringing a new student, secrets in the woods, and secrets even in their own home?

Revelations Masterlist | Masterlist

“Guy’s your going to be-” Dean started to call from the kitchen but Mick ran in dragging his twin sister behind him with one hand his other hand gripped around his lacrosse stick. “Morning pops!” Mick calls as he awkwardly holds the lacrosse stick while still tossing Stevie the keys to her 93 Subaru Loyale. “Bye pops!” Mick waves the hand that he has holding onto Stevie so in a way both of them were waving to their father. Dean just shook his head as the twins exited the house.

“Okay. Slow your roll bro-tater. What’s going on with you this morning? Did you drink the rest of dad’s coffee or something?” Stevie questioned pulling her arm out of her brother’s grasp. “You missed out on something last night and you have to know. Like now. It could be life or death for our dear Scott.” Mick was slightly exaggerating, sure but that’s just how he could get when he was excited. The twins put their things in the back seat and got in.

As Stevie drove the two to the school her brother told her what he had gone through the night before. The blonde teen girl parked her car and shut it off. Her mind was wheeling as it processed what she just heard. “Okay let me get this straight. Stiles climbed into my bedroom where you were playing video games on my tv, which by the way ask next time! Then he dragged you and Scott out into the woods of the preserve to look for half of a dead body?! Which given its Stiles, I would do it too but.. His dad showed up and he just left you two there? In the freaking woods where a dead body was found?! What if you got hurt??” Stevie started to repeat what she heard, getting nods of confirmation from her twin.

“Scott did get hurt, Stevie. A wol-”

“Not possible.” She shook her head and got out of the car as she saw Scott ride past on his bike. By the time the twins reached the bike rack Stiles was already standing next to his best friend. “Okay let’s see this thing,” they both heard Stiles say as they stopped next to him. Scott let out a grunt as he lifted his shirt up enough to reveal the bandaged area on his abdominal. There was a brownish-red spot from where the blood had tried bleeding through. Stiles reached his hand out like he was about to touch it but Stevie slapped his hand away.

“Mick fill you in?” Scott asked, letting his shirt fall back down so he could pick up his backpack. Stevie nods her head, shoving her hands into her pockets. “Kinda upset that I missed the excitement.”

“Well it was pretty dark but I think we agreed that it was a wolf.” Scott looked between Stiles and Stevie. Stevie shakes her head, “Just like I told Mick, not possible.” Stiles snapped his fingers pointing at the girl and nodded in agreement. “But we heard a wolf howling.” Mick points out as he and his sister split to walk into school with Scott and Stiles in the middle, Mick on Scott’s side. “No you didn’t.” Stiles disagreed with the other two.

“What do you mean, no I didn’t? How do you know what Mick or I heard?” Scott asked not understanding why Stiles and Stevie didn’t believe them. Stevie sighed softly pushing her wavy blond hair out of her face. “Look guys, California hasn’t had wolves in like 60 years, right Stiles?”

“Yeah exactly. So there are no wolves for you to hear.” Stiles points as he turns to stand in front of the other two Stevie just a foot ahead of them, looking over her shoulder at the three males. “All right, well, if you don’t believe us about the wolf then you definitely won’t believe me when I tell you I found the body.” Scott almost looked proud that he found the dead body. Stevie’s eyes met her twin brother’s and Mick almost looked sick as he nodded at her. Stevie stepped close as the four huddled together. “You.. are you kidding me?” Stiles inquired in disbelief and excitement.

“I wish he were. I think we’re going to have nightmares from seeing it.” Mick told Stiles, glancing at Scott to see if they were on the same page. Stiles looked at Stevie whose blue-green eyes were shining with curiosity. “Oh, god, that is freakin’ awesome. That has got to be the best thing that’s happened to this town since...” Stiles lifted up onto his toes to clearly see over the blonde next to him at the strawberry blonde walking by, “since the birth of Lydia Martin.” Stiles fumbled as he tried to turn but bumped into his friend, knocking her into Scott’s side. “Hey, Lydia.. You look.. like you’re going to ignore me.”

Scott helped steady Stevie at his side while watching Stiles attempt and fail to talk to Lydia for the nth time. “You know what. I’m going to get to my locker and make sure it’s not surrounded by idiots.” Stevie tells them although she’s pretty sure Stiles didn’t hear a thing. “Want me to come?” Mick offered but Stevie just shook her head with a smile and hurried into the school.

Stevie moved through the halls towards her locker for the year, or what was supposed to be her locker. Stopping nearly 500 feet away from her locker she noticed who was either side of her and let out a groan. On one side was Jackson Whittemore, someone who Stevie just could not stand due to his ego. Then on the other was Matt Daehler, her middle school boyfriend who thought she was cheating on him with Stiles. Stevie turned around and nearly ran right into Lydia Martin in her haste.

“Stephanie Smith,” Lydia greeted, eyes scanning over the outfit Stevie wore-- black ripped tights, black combat boots, a black skirt and tank top, and an oversized green flannel (it was technically Stiles’ shirt). “Hmm, you know if you lost the flannel and wore a nice scarf you might actually look nice today.” Lydia states flipping her hair over her shoulder before walking away. Stevie was baffled at the backwards compliment from Lydia as she slowly walked towards class now out of time to stuff her things in one of the guy’s lockers.

Stevie slid into the seat next to Scott in front of Stiles, since her brother was already behind Stiles, Michael always sat in the back corner of whatever class he was in and usually the farthest from the door (a habit he got from Dean). Michael leaned over towards his twin confused by her confused face. “What’s up with you? Didn’t you go to your locker?” Stevie turned to her brother, face now back to normal. “Huh? Oh right uh. I’m sharing my locker with you this year. Get this, Lydia-” Stevie was cut off by the bell and then the teacher who was writing on the black board started to talk right away.

“As you all know, there indeed was a body found in the woods last night,” Scott looked over his shoulder towards Stiles who gave him a dramatic wink, “and I am sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened. But I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody,” three of his friends turned to Stiles who looked just as stunned and confused at the teacher as they all did. “Which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus which is on your desk outlining the semester, Ms. Smith please turn all the way around.” Stevie rolled her eyes and turned back around.

Next to Stevie, who never looked over the syllabus until she got home, Scott was looking around for something. His searching stopped as he looked out the window and his eyes seemed locked onto something as his head turned. “Gimme your pen.” Scott whispered, holding his hand out to Stevie knowing she had more in her bag. “What?” The girl asked her friend, confused. “Just give me it.” Scott’s fingers wiggled as he waited for her to hand it over which she did moments before the classroom door opened. The principal entered with a girl the same height as him who could pass as a live action Snow White.

“Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome.” Allison gave the class a tight lip awkward smile before walking back towards the only open seat behind Scott. Scott turned in his seat holding out the pen he just got from Stevie to Allison. Next to them the Smith twins and Stiles are exchanging glances at each other. It was then that the teacher began his lesson.

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When the bell finally rang dismissing everyone from the last class Stevie followed her twin to his locker, which was next to Scott’s. The dark haired teen was looking down the hall at the new girl, she caught him looking and smiled at him. Stevie waited for her brother to open his locker, leaning her chin awkwardly on Scott’s shoulder. “Hmm Lydia is already snatching her up.” The blonde’s mumble nearly pulled Scott’s eyes off the girl. The teen leaning on his shoulder moved, turning to her brother. “Lydia Martin talked to me earlier. Like actually kind of gave me a compliment.” Stiles popped up like the mention of Lydia summoned him.

“What about Lydia?” Stiles inquired looking between three of his friends. Mick shrugs his shoulders with a sigh looking over at Lydia along with the other three. “I just want to know how the new girl is here all of five minutes and she’s already hanging out with Lydia’s clique?” Stiles' response of “Because she’s hot” made the only girl in the group roll her eyes. Seeing the annoyed expression on his female best friend’s face Stiles quickly stumbled over his words to correct himself slightly. “Well, what I mean is.. I mean beautiful people herd together.” The female Smith twin crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Stiles. “What are you saying I’m not beautiful Stiles?” Stevie scoffed. The buzzed head boy opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water.

“Stephanie!” The blonde turned her head down the hall towards the strawberry blonde that just called her name. “Go. Get over there.” Mick lightly pushed his sister towards the popular girl while leaning as casually as he could next to his other two friends. Stevie stumbled over her feet from the push but quickly caught herself and moved over towards Lydia, Jackson, and Allison. “Hi,” Stevie smiles at Allison before turning her head towards Lydia pointedly ignoring Jackson.

“So this weekend there’s this party,” Lydia starts looking at both Stevie and Allison. As soon as she heard the word ‘party’ Stevie wanted to run. “A party?” Allison looked at the couple then over at Stevie who gave a clueless look towards the girl next to her. “Yeah. Friday night. You two should come.” Jackson's suggestion made Stevie school her reaction from letting her jaw drop in amazement at the direct invite. “Uh, I can’t. It’s family night this Friday. Thanks for asking.” Allison excused herself. “Are you sure? Everyone is going after the scrimmage.” Jackson double checked.

Stevie glanced over towards her brother and friends, the only one looking towards her still was Scott. Stiles and Mick seemed to be in a very intense conversation over something, or someone. The blonde girl looked over at Allison. “You mean like football?” Allison clearly was new to the school and Stevie opened her mouth to politely correct her but Jackson beat her to it. “Football’s a joke in Beacon. The sport here is lacrosse.”

“The team has won the state championship for the last three years.” Stevie told Allison before Jackson got the chance to brag about it. Lydia reached up to fix Jackson’s hair as she proudly commented, “Because of a certain team captain.” Allison looked at Stevie almost as if asking if Lydia was being serious, given that Jackson wasn’t even playing for one of those years. Stevie tilts her head with a smile that Allison returned. “Well, we have practice in a few minutes. That is if you don’t have anywhere else--” Jackson was cut off from inviting Allison to watch their practice by Allison herself, “Well, I was going to--” Allison was then cut off by Lydia. “Perfect, you’re coming. Even Stephanie here is going to be there.” Jackson turned leading the way as Lydia grabbed both Allison and Stevie’s hands to make sure they went with. Stevie and Allison turned their heads nearly insync to look over towards Scott.

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Stiles jogged to keep up with Scott as Mick followed them. All three of them were in their lacrosse gear prepared for practice. “Wait, if you’re going to play, who am I going to talk to on the bench?” Stiles pants looking at Scott who was serious about playing this year. Scott looks over his shoulder at Mick who waved at Stiles nonverbally saying ‘uh me?’. “Look, I don’t want to sit on the sidelines anymore. This is the season I make first line.” Scott tells the two friends as Mick looks to the stands spotting his twin arriving with Lydia and Allison. She had left her jacket at home like usual so she was hugging her arms around herself. Mick sat his stuff down and lifted his hoodie pointing at it when Stevie looked at her twin. She shook her head turning down his offer of taking the hoodie as she turned back towards Allison who was smiling at Scott.

Stevie leaned over towards Allison who was in between her and Lydia, her voice soft as she whispered to the dark haired girl, “Just so you know, coach is a bit.. Eccentric. He can also sometimes be harsh but he’s good.” Allison gave a small nod. We watched as Scott took a different stick and put his helmet on before moving towards the goal post. Allison’s eyes never left him even as she asked Lydia, “Who is that?” Lydia pressed her lips together before looking at Scott, “Him? I’m not sure who he is. Why?” Scott turned towards the girls in the stand, his head tilting to the side like a puppy with his ears perking up. “He’s in my English class.” Allison shook her head as if it was no big deal. Stevie smiled at how smitten Allison and Scott seemed towards each other as she leaned forward placing her elbows on her knees and resting her head on her hands. “That ladies is Scott McCall, sophomore. He’s one of my best friends, although he is a bit closer to my twin.”

The assistant coach blew his whistle and McCall clutched at the helmet on his head like he was trying to cover his ears from the pain. Stevie’s eyebrows furrowed at the action. Due to the distraction Scott received a ball to his face making Allison and Stevie wince. Coach and other players laughed. “Hey, way to catch with your face, McCall!” One of the players called. Stiles dropped his head in a groan when Scott looked at the benches while Mick gave him a supportive thumbs up.

Scott stood back up physically shaking off the first fail. The second ball was thrown and Scott almost seemed shocked to see the ball in the net of his goalie stick. In fact most of the team looked shocked. Stiles was repeatedly slapping at Mick’s shoulder pad next to him. By the third block Stiles was cheering from the bench cheering. Stevie’s eyes drifted from Scott, who was killing it blocking, to the goofy guy ruffling her brother’s hair. Her attention did turn back to Scott until she heard Allison comment on how good he was. “Yeah, very good.” Lydia agreed. Stevie smiled, “He’s been practicing all summer with my brother from what I heard.”

Jackson moved up the line cutting in front. The moment was so intense that if it was filmed it would be in slow motion. The way Jackson ran forward, bringing back his stick to launch the ball towards the goal. The captain leaped into the air as he swung the stick forward sending the ball flying towards the net. Scott swiftly twisted at the waist bringing his stick up to block the ball from hitting the net. Stiles and Mick jumped up from the bench cheering for their friend. Both teens were shouting “That’s my friend!” Lydia stood from her seat cheering, making Jackson turn to face his girlfriend with a jealous gleam in his eyes.

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The girls sat together until practice was over before going their separate ways. Stevie headed towards her car to wait for her brother and the other two troublemakers. After practice the four headed over to the preserve to look for Scott’s inhaler that he dropped. Stiles and Mick held a hand out for Stevie to hold onto as she balanced on a fallen over tree to cross the small creek that the boys basically just walked through or easily stepped over.

“I don’t know what it was. It was like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball.” Scott was talking about practice. That’s not the only weird thing either. I can.. hear stuff I shouldn’t be able to hear.” McCall ducked under a branch, Stiles who walked around it looked back to make sure Stevie was okay but she had taken the easy way out and hopped onto her brother’s back. “Smell things.” Scott added making Stiles look back at his best friend. “Smell things?” Like what?” The Stilinski boy looked amused by what he was hearing. Yet Scott was serious as he took a moment smelling the air before looking back at the three teens behind him. “Like the mint mojito gum in your pocket. Or Stevie’s coconut shampoo.” Stiles instantly searched his pocket to prove him wrong, “I don’t even have any mint mojito--” Stiles stopped talking a half piece of gum from his pocket. Mick looked up at his sister. “I thought you were using a green apple shampoo?” Stevie shook her head, “Changed it up when I was in South Dakota.”

Scott turned and began to walk again with the others following. “So all this started with a bite?” Stiles was looking for clarification so he could piece it all together. “What if it’s like an infection, like my body’s flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?” Scott worried looking back at his friends every once in a while. Stiles glanced back at Stevie and Mick who were behind him. “You know what? I actually think I’ve heard of this,” Stevie knew that tone Stiles was using and she smiled tapping her brother’s shoulder to get down so she could move to Stiles’ side, “ It’s a specific kind of infection.” Scott looked back at Stiles, his eyes wide with worry. “Are you serious?” Stevie nods her head solemnly. “Sadly, yes. I know the infection he’s talking about.” She joined in, “What’s it called again?” Stiles looked at the girl next to him then to Scott, “I think it's called lycanthropy.”

Stevie snapped her fingers and turned to Scott, “That’s the one.”

“What is that?” Mick asked, followed up with Scott’s question, “Is that bad?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s the worst.” Stiles responds completely seriously. “But only once a month.” Stevie adds placing a hand on Stiles’ arm. Scott looks at the two confused, “Once a month?” Stiles nods his head, “Mhm, on the night of the full moon.” Together both Stiles and Stevie made soft howling sounds. Scott pushed Stiles into Stevie muttering something about them being the worst. Stiles wrapped his arm around the girl’s shoulders to make sure she didn’t fall as he quickly caught himself. “Hey, you’re the one who heard a wolf howling.” Stiles let out a soft chuckle as he teased the dark haired teen. “I heard it too, ya know.” Mick walked over to Scott showing that he was on his side in this. “There could be something seriously wrong with me.” Scott huffed annoyed at Stiles joking about this. “I know you’re a werewolf!” Stiles imitated a fake growl as he lifted his hands up like claws. Stevie giggled, bumping her hip into Stiles. “Okay, we’re obviously kidding. But if you see us in shop class trying to melt all the silver I can find, it’s ‘cause Friday’s a full moon.” Stevie told Scott as he finally slowed to a stop.

“No, I-I could have sworn this was it. Mick and I saw the body, the deer came running. I dropped my inhaler.” The McCall boy bent down to ruffle through the leaves to see if the missing item was underneath them. “Maybe the killer moved the body?” Stiles suggested as Mick was shifting leaves around with his foot. “If he did I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are like 80 bucks.”

Stevie looked up from Scott and her eyes locked onto a man in all black causing her to jump back into the tree behind her as she let out a yelp in fear, where the hell had he come from and why didn’t they hear him? Stiles and Mick looked up hearing the noise from Stevie. Mick quickly made his way to his sister’s side sliding himself slightly in front of her. Stiles hits Scott’s shoulder to get his attention. Scott stood and turned towards the figure, now making it harder for Stevie to see the man. The man stalked over to us a brooding look on his face

“What are you doing here? This is private property.” The intense gaze from the man on top of how close he now was made Stevie subconsciously grabbing at her shoulder. “Uh, sorry man, we didn’t know.” Stiles apologized looking like a caught kid sneaking a cookie. “Yeah, we were just looking for something, but..” Scott explained but there was a slight pause in which the man in front of them just looked at them. “Forget it.” Then the man shocked us all by pulling Scott’s inhaler from his pocket and tossing it over. He turned and began to walk away when Stevie stepped forward and called after him, “Thanks terminator!” Mick grabbed his sister’s arm and pulled her back but the man never turned around.

“Are you insane?” Mick looked at his sister like she was in fact crazy. “Don’t be such a bitch,” She muttered, turning towards Stiles and Scott. “Sorry for caring about you, jerk.” Mick huffed as Stiles turned towards them. “Come on guys, I got to get to work.” Scott sighs, turning to go but Stiles stops him. “Dude, that was Derek Hale. You remember right? He’s only a few years older than us.” Stiles looked back to where Derek, the creepy Terminator man, disappeared into the woods. “Remember what exactly?” Mick asked just as confused as Scott looked. “His family all burned to death in a fire like ten years ago.” Mick gasped pointing over at his twin. “That was the first emergency response dad went on.” Scott looks between the three faces before stopping at Stiles, “I wonder what he’s doing back.”

Stiles let out a scoff before the four of them headed back to where they left their vehicles. Stiles and Scott pulled out first leaving the twins. Stevie tossed her keys over to her brother. “I think I hit my shoulder on something on our way back, you drive.” Mick nods and moves to the driver’s side of the car while Stevie takes a moment to scan her eyes over the woods. She stopped for a moment when her eyes landed on Derek Hale. He was a few yards away watching them, or more specifically her. “Come on Stephanie, we gotta get home before pops questions where we’ve been.” She finally pulled her eyes away from Derek and got into the car.

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The twins parted ways when they got home. Stephanie settled into her room to go through her meticulous notes and organization. Mick never really understood the teachers so he usually studied with his sister to understand things the day before the test. Not to mention that since she always had the notes the boys always came to her for them, even if they were based on the book and not necessarily what the teacher said or did.

There was a light rap at the door before it opened wider than the few inches she kept it at. Dean leaned in the doorway, his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. The teen girl looked over at him from where she was color coordinating her notes. “Hey pops.” Dean looked over his shoulder towards Michael’s closed bedroom door before walking over to his daughter. “Mick, said your shoulder was bothering you. Which one was it?” Dean inquired as the girl closed her eyes. “Stevie,” Dean warned her for not answering him right away. “It’s nothing. Mickey is probably just over reacting. You know how worried he gets when it comes to me.”

“We all do kid. Finish up, we’re having ‘Smith Surprise’ for dinner.” Stevie dramatically laid back on the floor where she was sitting and let out a groan. “I swear that is not what it's supposed to be called, old man.” Dean was already turning towards the door to leave her room. “Yes it is. Call your uncle Sammy if you don’t believe me, baby doll.”

In a matter of minutes later the Smith family was gathered around the kitchen table, or close to seeing as James was getting ready for work. “So dad, pops..” Stevie started pushing her food around on her plate. Both of the parents in the house looked at their daughter who seemed hesitant about whatever it was she would ask or say. “What is it?” James glanced at Mick for any clues but the boy was too busy stuffing his mouth with food. “There’s this party Friday night after the scrimmage-” Stevie began to explain but was cut off by Dean, “No.” James hit his husband’s shoulder. “What about this party?”

“I was invited to go by Lydia Martin.” Mick’s fork clattered onto his plate from the shock of his sister’s statement causing him to drop his fork. “Widdia Marhim?” He tried to say Lydia Martin with a full mouth which earned him a light smack on the back of the head from Dean in scolding. “Whose all going?” James asked, leaning on the counter between where Dean was sitting and where his daughter was. “The lacrosse team and a couple others. No offense to the boys and all but...maybe it's time for me to have some girlfriends?” The last part changed the looks in all three of the male’s eyes. None of them have ever known Stevie to have a female friend to hang out with. Her sleepovers were usually at Stiles’ or at their own house with her brother and best friends. “I think it’s a good idea. Just no underaged drinking.” James pointed at his daughter as he pushed off the counter and headed towards the door to leave the house. “You really got invited by Lydia?” Mick asked, still shocked over her interaction with Lydia. Between Stiles and Mick it was hard not to hear about the girl. Stevie rolled her eyes and just ate her meal.

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Scott was at his locker the following day. His head is a mess between the vanished bite mark, going on a date with Allison, and the strange sleepwalking. He reached back to close his locker when it was slammed closed for him by Jackson. Both were dressed in their lacrosse training gear. “Alright little man, how ‘bout you tell me where you’re getting your juice.” Jackson states bluntly looking a tad intimidating the way he stood in front of Scott. It took Scot a moment for him to focus on what was just instructed on. “What?”

“Where are you getting your juice?” Jackson repeated speaking slower and enunciating every word more clearly for Scott to understand him. Scott clearly wasn’t understanding what Jackson was getting at. Or at least not fully. The teen was thoroughly confused as he replied, “My mom does all the grocery shopping but Stevie sometimes gives me some of her fruit smoothie.” Jackson was slightly baffled by how Scott just wasn’t understanding him. “Now, listen, McCall.. You are going to tell me exactly what it is and who you’re buying it from, because there’s no way in hell you’re out there kicking ass on the field like that without some kind of chemical boost.” It was at that moment that everything clicked in Scott’s head. “Oh, you mean steroids.” Scott lowered his head a new wave of confusion setting in. “Are you on steroids?”

Jackson grabbed onto Scott’s practice jersey before shoving him into the lockers, “What the hell is going on with you, McCall?” Scott was looking right into Jackson’s eyes as he replied, “What’s going on with me? You really wanna know?” Jackson let go of Scott thinking he was about to get the answer he wanted. “Well, so would I! Because I can see, hear, and smell things that I shouldn’t be able to. I do things that should be impossible, I’m sleepwalking three miles into the middle of the woods, and I’m pretty much convinced that I’m totally out of my freaking mind!” McCall’s rant ended with a heavy sigh.

Whittemore chuckled thinking he was joking. “You think you’re funny.. Don’t you McCall? I know you’re hiding something. I’m going to find out what it is. I don’t care how long it takes.” The captain’s hand banged against the lockers for emphasis and intimidation before he walked away leaving a frustrated and confused Scott behind.

Scott kicked his foot back against the locker before heading to the lacrosse field for practice. Stevie was leaning against the bench where her brother was sitting with Scott across from them when Stiles comically came running towards them flailing his arms. “Scott! Scott, wait up.” Stevie ducked behind her brother whenever Coach looked towards them so she wasn’t kicked off the field towards the bleachers. “Stiles I’m playing the first elimination man, can it wait?” Stiles had one hand on McCall’s shoulder and the other moved from a stop motion to his side along with the other, “Just hold on okay? I overheard my dad on the phone.” Stiles grabbed Scott to make him look at him, “The fiber analysis came back from the lab in LA they found animal hairs on the body from the woods.” Scott finally got away from Stiles trying to hold him in place. “I gotta go.” McCall ran out onto the field leaving Stiles there with Mick and Stevie. Stevie put her hand on Stiles’ arm. “What was the result?” Stiles turned towards the twins. “It was a wolf. The animal was a wolf.”

Stevie moved to the bleachers to sit with Allison and Lydia when they arrived. Stiles and Mick heading out to the field. Coach was giving his yearly explanation of ‘make the cut you play the rest of you losers sit on the bench’ or at least that’s how Mick always took it. Stevie bumped her shoulder into Allison’s as she sat the two exchanging a smile. The three girls watched the mock game played by the team. “Your brother doesn’t mind sitting on the bench does he?” Allison asked as they watched Mick jump away from another player. “Mick is a bit of a softy. Sometimes I think he plays just to stay close to Stiles and Scott.” The teasing smile on the blonde’s face made the fair skinned girl laugh. Both let out a small gasp as Jackson knocked Scott to the ground.

Yet when Scott got up and the new round began. McCall to the ball right from the start. None of his friends had seen him maneuver around the other players like he currently was. Stiles and Mick exchanged a look from the bench where Stiles waited for his chance to play and Mick just came off the field. Cheers erupted throughout the watching crowd as Scott scored a point. Lydia pulled at Allison’s arm playfully as the girls stood up with the other students. Another standing ovation was given seconds later as everyone overheard Coach announce that Scott made first line.

Mick went over to Scott’s after school, the two were going to do some homework together using the notes they borrowed from Stevie. Stevie herself decided to go with Stiles leaving Mick the keys to the car. The blonde climbed into the blue jeep along with her best friend. “Okay Watson, we have a mystery to solve.” Stiles begins as he pulls out of the school parking lot driving towards his house. “Mystery of what happened to Scott McCall?” Stevie inquired looking over at Stiles who nodded his head, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. “There has to be a reason for what’s going on and we’re going to figure it out.”

Stilinski hit the brakes as he slowed for a stop light, his right hand left the steering wheel as his arm reached across the passenger side of the jeep. Stevie rolled her eyes and smiled. Stiles Stilinski always soccer moms her in his jeep. She called him out on it once but he just said he didn’t trust her seatbelt. Scott and Mick teased him about it since she was the only one he did it for. Stevie sent a text to her parents letting them know where she and Michael were, since her twin probably forgot to check in. Arriving at the Stilinski house she and Stiles greeted his dad who was in the kitchen. “Hey dad.” / “Hi Sheriff Stilinski.” The sheriff waved at the both watching the teens run back towards Stiles’ room.

The two discussed for three hours what it could be before they came to one conclusion. “Hey Steph, I’m heading back to the station if you need a ride.” The Sheriff offered, leaning half way into his son’s room. The blonde smiled up at him from where she sat on the floor, her hair partly braided. “Actually Sheriff, I’ll probably just stay here with Stiles a bit longer. Thanks though.” The sheriff smiled at her, “Make sure to call your parents and let them know.” The sheriff waved before leaving.

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Stevie was laying on Stiles’ bed reading some of the printed out pages from their research. After realizing they probably had as much information on werewolves as they were currently going to get they moved on to other things like silver and wolfsbane. Stiles closed his laptop at the sound of a knock on the door. Stephanie laughed softly as she looked around the floor of his room which was littered with printed out pages. Stiles opened the door seeing Scott and Michael standing there waiting.

“Oo door was closed with a girl over. Glad pops doesn’t know about this.” Michael teased looking at his sister. The shorter girl grabbed a balled up piece of paper and threw it at her brother. Stiles let out a sigh and stepped back. “Get in.” Both teen males joined Stiles and Stevie in the room before the door was swiftly closed behind them to avoid the sheriff meddling into their research. “You gotta see this thing. Steph and I have been up all night reading; websites, books. All this information.”

“How much Adderall have you had today?” Scott inquired looking at his best friend before glancing at the tired girl on the bed. “A lot.” She answered, pushing herself up into a sitting position. “Doesn’t matter. Okay, just listen.” Stiles grabs a few of the papers off his desk, spinning to face the three other teens. Scott tossed his backpack onto the bed next to Steph, “Oh, is this about the body?” Then sat down in front of the girl who leaned forward to rest her head on his back. “No, they’re still questioning people, even Derek Hale.”

“The guy from the woods? Terminator dude?” Mick asked, sitting down next to Scott while reaching back to hand his sister a can of coffee he bought for her. Stevie’s eyes sparkled in excitement before she opened the can and took a sip. “Yeah! Yes. But that’s not it, okay?” Stiles looked over at Stevie who was too lost in her coffee to explain so he continued. “Remember the joke from the other day? Not a joke anymore.” The change of Stiles’ tone made the other two males in the room focus on him. “The wolf-- the bite in the woods. We,” Stiles wiped around his mouth before gesturing between Stevie and himself, “started to do this research and reading.” Stiles stands up from his seat as his voice changes again, “Do you even know why a wolf howls?”

“Should we?” Michael asked a bit slowly, his eyebrows furrowing with confusion.

“It’s a signal. When a wolf is alone it howls to signal its location to the rest of the pack.” Stevie finally speaks up more awake than she was half a can of coffee ago. “Exactly, so if you heard a wolf howling, that means others could have been nearby. Maybe even a whole pack of ‘em.” Stiles was definitely hyper fixated as he even stumbled over his words in his rush to get them out. “A whole pack of wolves?” Scott’s question was quickly shot down by Stiles, “No.. Werewolves.”

Scott stood from the bed, suddenly making both Smith twins look towards him. “Are you seriously wasting my time with this?” McCall was in disbelief at how his friends could be so serious about this. Stevie got up from the bed and grabbed his bag to stop him. “You know I’m picking up Allison in an hour.” Stiles reached out to also stop Scott. “We saw you on the field today, Scott. Okay, what you did wasn’t just amazing alright? It was impossible.”

“Yeah so I made a good shot.” Scott gave an extra little tug making Stevie let go as he walked towards the door. Stiles put his hand on his friend’s chest. “No, you made an incredible shot. I mean the way you moved, your speed, your reflexes. People can’t just suddenly do that overnight.” Stevie couldn’t tell if Stiles was getting emotional or was simply that passionate about what he was talking about. “And there’s the vision and the senses and don’t even think that we haven’t noticed that you don’t need your inhaler anymore.” Stevie adds on as she walks around Scott to stand with Stiles. “Okay! Guys, I can’t think about this now. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Scott snapped at them, making Mick slowly rise to his feet feeling like a fight might break out.

“Tomorrow?!”

“Have you lost your marbles?!”

Stiles and Stevie both objected at the same time. Stiles glanced at the girl next to him for a brief moment. “The full moon’s tonight. Don’t you get it?” Stiles points out. Michael stepped closer to his sister feeling more protective the louder the conversation got. “What are you trying to do? I-I just made first line. I got a date with a girl who I can’t believe wants to go out with me, and everything in my life is somehow perfect. Why are you trying to ruin it?” Scott literally ended up talking down at Stiles as he sat back down on his computer chair. “We’re trying to help.” Stevie scoffs annoyed with how Scott’s acting. “You’re cursed Scott. You know, and it's not just the moon will cause you to physically change. It also just so happens to be when your bloodlust will be at its peak.” Stiles really was worried about his friend, the softer tone he lowered to proving that he didn’t want to argue or fight.

“His bloodlust?” Mick asked, speaking up, bringing Scott to glance over at the twins. “Yeah, his urge to kill.” Scott’s blank face turned to the two confronting him. “I’m already starting to feel an urge to kill.” At Scott’s admission Mick stepped closer holding his hands up. “Whoa, let's bring it down a few notches.” Stiles reached for one of the books ignoring Mick, “You got to hear this. ‘Change can be caused by anger or anything that raises your pulse.’ All right?” Stiles looks at Scott pointedly closing the book he just quoted from a bit loudly. “We haven't seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison does. You gotta cancel this date.” Stiles side steps Scott and reaches for his bag to grab the boy’s cell phone. “I’m going to call her right now.”

“What are you doing?” Mick looked at Stiles with wide eyes. “He’s canceling the date.” Stevie answered for him. “No, give it to me!” Scott ordered in anger, slamming Stiles up against the wall. Mick grabbed his sister’s arm pulling her next to him before moving himself to be in front of her. Stevie gasped in fear grabbing onto the back of Mick’s jacket as she peered over his shoulder at Scott who had his arm pulled back ready to punch his best friend. Instead of hitting Stiles, McCall shoved over the computer chair and released a yell of rage. The heavy panting breaths Scott took to calm himself were all that were heard as the other three watched him. “I’m sorry. I-I gotta go get ready for that party.” Scott stepped away from Stiles and to the bed where his bag was. When he passed the twins Mick stood the slightest bit straighter as if he could hide his sister from view. No one moved otherwise as Scott made his way out stopping one more time at the door to apologize to Stiles.

Stiles banged his head gently back against the wall in frustration that Scott wouldn’t listen to them. “You okay, dude?” Mick stepped towards Stiles, his sister right behind him. “Yeah, I’m good.” Stiles moved to pick back up his computer chair. “But I don’t think he is.” The twins looked down to what Stiles was looking at. Carved through the material on the back of his computer chair, right where Scott’s hand touched to shove it, where three marks eerily similar to claw marks. “Well I hope everyone is up for a party.” Stevie sighs as she runs the tips of her fingers over the torn fabric.

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“Stevie, let's go, you're taking forever.” Mick called up the stairs. He had washed up, changed and talked to Stiles who was driving them there. “Stiles is literally going to be here any minute.” Steph huffed as she walked halfway down the stairs. “Is this something Lydia would approve of?” Steph asked her brother as Dean walked in from the kitchen with a large slice of pie. “Why are you so dressed up?” He asked, looking at his daughter. Mick looked from Dean to his sister. “She might hate the shoes.” Mick told his sister who groaned and turned going to change out of the converse. “That party Stevie mentioned.” He told Dean who narrowed his eyes and pointed the fork at him.

“Now if I remember correctly, your sister got invited, not the whole Scooby gang.” Dean takes a bite of pie. “Don’t get caught doing something bad. No underaged drinking. Watch out for your sister.” Dean started to lecture with his mouth full as Stevie clunked down the stairs having exchanged the converse for chunky heeled boots. Stiles beeped out front and Steph leaned up to kiss her dad’s cheek. “Bye see you later pops.”

Upon arrival at Lydia’s house Stevie was pulled away from her twin and Stiles. Both males instantly went to find Scott in the crowd of teenagers dancing. Lydia, who was pulling the blonde girl behind her, walked back over to Jackson and a few of the other lacrosse players. Stevie was introduced and seconds later Lydia and Jackson disappeared to dance leaving Stevie with three of the lacrosse players. Danny was the only one she knew by name given they had been hanging out since last year doing study sessions together. Danny patted her arm and gestured to her to follow him.

“I take it Lydia is trying to set you up with a guy from the team?” Danny asked over the music making Stevie laugh with a shake of her head. “I actually don’t know. Kinda looked that way though.” Danny hands her a cup of punch before he wrapped an arm around her so he didn’t lose her in the crowd. “Good thing I know you better.” Danny leaned down to whispers as they approached a teen sitting secluded in the quietest corner of the back yard. He was tall, curly blonde hair, and he was wearing a grey cardigan like sweater over a t-shirt. “Isaac, I want to introduce you to someone. Stephanie Smith this is Isaac Lahey. Isaac works the graveyard shift at the cemetery. Isaac, Steph here is into the spooky stuff. I have a date to get back to. Mingle.” Danny pointed at the two teens he just introduced to each other before walking away.

Steph drops her head and sighs before rolling it to the side and looking up at the teen who was nearly the same height as her uncle. “Hi. Hope you don’t mind the company.” She took a small step closer to the half wall he was leaning against before tossing the contents of the cup into the bush behind it. “Not a fan of the punch?” His voice was low and with a gentle tone that made her smile slightly at him. “It’s spiked. Don’t want to go home after drinking.” Isaac nods his head. “Michael’s your brother right?”

“Yeah. What number are you?” Steph pushed herself up onto the half wall. “Uh fourteen.” Steph snaps her fingers and points at him. “You were amazing at the scrimmage. That toss to McCall. Golden. Sorry you got tackled so hard for it though. Is your neck okay?” Isaac nods his head slowly. “Yeah. My neck’s fine. I’m.. I’m a bit clumsy so I’m used to it.” He tugged at his sweater sleeves and Stevie looked around the party catching sight of Derek Hale stalking around. “Just so you know. The nurse might leave before practice but my dad is an EMT and he always makes me keep a fully stocked first aid kit in the car. If things get too bad I can always patch you up. I’ve done it for Danny before when he skinned his shin. Not to mention growing up with the Three Stooges.” Steph looked over to where Stiles and her brother were awkwardly standing around talking while watching Scott with Allison.

“I’ll keep that in mind. I uh, I have to get to work at the cemetery. My dad doesn’t know I’m here so I still have to get to work. See you at school?” Isaac looked down at Stevie as he stood up. “Sure thing. Be safe.” She smiled and waved before moving back towards the party to join her brother and Stiles. On her way over to them Danny stepped in front of her. “How did it go?” He asked with a smile, making her roll her eyes. “It’s good he seems sweet. We’ll talk more at school. Hey, have you seen any of my usual group?” Danny looked around for a moment. “Stiles and your brother went inside and Scott was just with Allison.” Danny pointed towards the girl left standing outside so Stevie walked over to her quickly.

“Al, is everything okay?” The blonde asked her and Allison grabbed her friend’s hand hurrying inside. Ahead of them Stevie could see Stiles and Mick hurrying outside together. “Something’s wrong with Scott.” Allison said over her shoulder as they hurried towards the entrance. They just made it down the stairs when Scott peeled out of there like a bat out of hell followed closely behind by Stiles and Mick in Roscoe.

“Allison,” A smooth voice called from behind the two teen girls making both turn around. Of course standing there looking out of place at a high school party was Derek Hale. Stevie looped her arm through Allison’s making it clear that she wasn’t leaving the other girl. “I’m a friend of Scott’s. My name’s Derek. I actually know Stevie here too.” Allison looked over to the blonde who was looking at Derek trying to figure out what his motive was. “Maybe I can give you two a ride home?” Hearing Derek’s offer instantly made Stevie wish she could physically snarl at the man, or maybe it’s all the werewolf talk getting to her.

“Uh, yeah that would be great. Let me grab my jacket.” Allison went back inside to grab her jacket leaving Stevie alone with Derek. “I don’t like you. Something about you is just off and I don’t like it but if you hurt Allison I will do everything in my power to make sure Sheriff Stilinski and Scott knows it was you. Got it Zuko?” Stevie poked his leather clad chest as she looked up at him trying to be as threatening as she could. Derek huffed out what was almost a laugh before pushing her hand away. “You’re something else..” Before Steph could ask what he meant Allison was back and both girls were getting in Derek’s Camaro.

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When Stiles and Mick left Lydia's, their focus was solely on Scott who was clearly under the influence of something. Neither noticed that they forgot Steph until they were pulling up at Scott’s where they followed him to. Mick turned to tell his sister to wait in the jeep but she simply wasn’t there. “Shit pop is going to kill me later.” Mick mumbled as they both hopped out of the jeep running inside the house.

Stiles persistently knocked at Scott’s bedroom door. “Go away.” The weak reply from Scott came from inside. “Scott it’s me and Mick.” Scott came to open the door just enough that Stiles could probably fit his head in. “Come on, let me in. Scott, I can help.” Scott rested his head on the wooden door right above the sliding lock. “No! Listen, you gotta find Allison.” Stiles looked at Mick who was looking at his phone. Mick held the phone up for Stiles to see the text from Stevie. “She’s fine, Stevie’s with her, all right? They were getting a ride from the party. Stevie’s got her.”

“No, I think I know who it is.” Scott said still not opening the door enough to let his two male best friends in. “Just let us in Scotty, we can try--”

“It’s Derek.” Scott cut Mick off, “Derek Hale is the werewolf. He’s the one that bit me. He’s the one that killed the girl in the woods. Mick’s face paled at what Scott was claiming. He took a slightly staggered step back to lean against the wall. “Scott.. Derek’s the one who drove the girls from the party.” Stiles told him, realizing what this could mean. The bedroom door closed leaving Stiles to bang on it. “Scott!” Scott was ignoring his best friend, leaping from the window, the only thought on his mind was Allison, protecting Allison.

“Stiles, Stevie’s phone is going straight to voicemail.” Mick’s worried voice told the sheriff’s son as they tried looking for Scott as they hurried to Allison’s. “It probably just died. You know how she is with that thing.” Stiles tried to reassure his best friend. Mick jumped out of the jeep before Stiles even had it in park and was up at the house ringing the doorbell. When Stiles got to the door he rang the doorbell yet again. Not getting a response fast enough for either of them they both knocked on the door. The door opened to reveal one annoyed woman.

“Um.. Hi Mrs. Argent. You don’t know us but we’re friends of your daughter’s.” Stiles began to ramble. The woman turned towards the kitchen, “Allison it’s for you!” Allison just steps out of the kitchen with a confused look on her face. “Stiles, Mick...what are you doing here? I just got back from taking Stevie home.” Mick released a sigh of relief knowing his sister was home safe and so was Allison. “Sorry Allison, my sister’s phone died and I kind of panicked.” Mick rubbed the back of his head giving an apologetic smile to her and her mother. “We should go. Sorry for that.”

“Don’t worry. She did seem a bit upset though. Just warning you guys.” Allison nods her head as she sees them both out of her house. Mick called Dean, who didn’t answer so he called his dad’s cell and was thankful to get an answer to let his dad know he would be with Stiles tonight. Which his dad was okay with as usual.

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Neither of them knew the argument taking place at home between Dean and Stevie. Dean was in the garage doing some late night work on his car when Allison and Stevie pulled into the driveway. Dean wiped his hands out and came to greet the two girls. “You’re home early and without your brother.” Dean comments looking at his daughter. “Mick mentioned something about going to Stiles’. I wanted to head out early so I got a ride. Pops this is Allison Argent, Allison this is my pops, Dean. You’ll have to meet my dad another time.

Allison agreed to go along with my lie on the way over which I was very thankful. Despite being upset that Stiles and Mick left I understood. Allison smiled at my dad as they shook hands. “Argent, huh? Nice to meet you Allison. Thanks for giving my daughter a ride. You better head home before it gets too late.” Allison nods and waved goodbye before getting in the car and leaving.

Dean followed his daughter into the house. He stood in the living room where she stopped to take off her shoes. “I don’t want you to hang out with Allison, Stevie.” The request took Stevie by utter shock as she snapped her head over to him. “What do you mean you don’t want me to hang out with her?” Stevie gaped as her pops shrugs with his hands in his pockets, “Exactly what I said. I don’t want you to hang out with her.”

“No. You can’t do this. I finally made a female friend and you say I can’t hang out with her? Why?” Stevie stands to face him, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “Because I said so now just do as I say.” Dean raised his voice as he gave her an order. “No! That’s not fair!” She objected, throwing her arms down to her sides. “Stephanie, I have my reasons and I am not going to explain them to you now. Just listen to me or I will ground you and you won’t be hanging out with any of your friends.” Stevie took a step back, her jaw locked in anger. Dean rarely ever called her by her first name, he was the one who gave her the nickname ‘Stevie’. So sure he was serious but to her it was still unfair. Grabbing her boots she stomped up the stairs to her room where she stayed for the rest of the night.

When James got home early the next morning Dean was sitting at the kitchen table picking at the label on an empty bottle of beer. He moved to sit next to his husband concerned for why he was still awake. “What’s on your mind?” James’ voice cut through Dean’s thoughts causing the man to grunt and push the bottle away. “I got to meet one of Stevie’s new girl friends today. She’s an Argent. Stevie and I got into a fight because I told her she couldn’t see her friend.”

“Why would you do that?” James began setting up the coffee pot as he looked over at his husband. “I know Argents James. If Argents are here in Beacon Hills that means something is going on.” Dean tapped on the table sitting forward on his chair. “Or they just want a safe place to raise their daughter like we did.” James walked over to pet Dean’s hair and soothe him. “You don’t get it. The Argents, they aren’t like me and Sam or even Bobby. They live their life for the job, it is their job from the moment they agree till death.” Dean stood from the table to pace. “Son of a bitch, I just wanted to raise our kids in peace.”

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It was dawn by the time Stiles and Mick found Scott walking down the road without a shirt or shoes. While Stiles slowed to a stop to pick him up Mick climbed into the back of the jeep. “You know what worries me the most?” Scott spoke aloud drawing attention from the other two males in the jeep. “If you say Allison I’m going to punch you in the head.” Stiles comments glancing over at his best friend.

“She probably hates me now.” Stiles sighed in disgust over how love sick his best friend was. “I mean if it means anything I’m pretty sure Stevie hates everyone right now.” Mick muttered from behind them. He got a text about an hour ago from his sister telling him the story she used to cover for him and then some slightly angrier texts about being left alone, pops not liking Allison for no reason, and being grounded. “Guess we all need some pretty amazing apologies.”

“Stiles patted Scott’s shoulder, “We’ll get through this. Come on, if I have to I’ll chain you up myself on full moons and feed you live mice. I had a boa once.” Stiles was slightly joking, making Mick snort, “Pretty sure Stevie fed that thing more than you did. “We got this chill.” Stiles smiles at his friends.

Taglist:

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

[chojiakimichi]

Take Me Back To The Start

Pairing: Nara Shikamaru x OC

Summary: Uchiha Madara was dead; a man who had always made it seem like the only reason he was still alive was because the Grim Reaper was too scared to take his soul was dead. And Uchiha Toshiko, was back to bury him. She wasn't back to remember or stroll down memory lane with the boy who broke her heart, she was there to say goodbye to the man who raised her. But if she just so happened to find herself once more walking familiar paths while doing just that, well then, Toshiko supposed it just couldn't be helped.

Chapter: One — Six Feet Under

Word Count: 12.5+

Warnings: None; Angst, Modern AU

Notes: Find on ao3

Uchiha Madara was dead; the man who'd survived over just over century on nothing but spite, determination and soba noodles was dead.

He'd never wake up and huff at the sun for shining in his eyes again. Never again would Uchiha Madara hobble into the kitchen of his ancestral home and huff at whatever eldritch horror his eldest grand-nephew Obito had accidently made for breakfast that morning nor would he ever again sit on the back porch, smoking his pipe whilst glaring at any local children that rode their bikes far too close to his lawn.

Because he was dead and in three days time he'd be cremated and his ashes would be scattered into Naka river like every other passed Uchiha leaving nothing of him behind but the memories he'd help create and the decrepit sandals he had refused to replace for the past— who could even remember how many —years.

Toshiko, the youngest of Uchiha Madara's grand nieces' and nephews' rested her head against the cool glass of the trains window as she swallowed the lump in her throat.

Death wasn't a stranger to Toshiko; how could it be, she and her older brothers— Sasuke and Itachi —had all watched their parents die in a car crash as children. And yet despite the fact that Death wasn't a stranger and despite the fact she had lost her parents already and should know what it was like to lose someone— to loose a parental figure; Madara had almost been like another father to her, after all he had been the one to take her and her brothers in after their parents deaths —Uchiha Toshiko still felt her eyes mist over and her heart twist in her chest.

Because her grand uncle was dead. Because she'd never get to see the perpetually grouchy, practically ancient old man she loved like a second father ever again. Because she missed him and that feeling would never go away.

Toshiko's dog, a young, fluffy white Chow Chow she'd named Masshu— short for Masshupoteto —after being gifted him, stirred at her feet, his head popping up from atop his paws as he turned to look up at her.

Sometimes when when Toshiko looked into Masshu's eyes she'd swear she could hear nothing but Wii music going on behind them; she thought that her supposed guard dog's head was filled with nothing but the thought of chasing squirrels and the promise of future treats. This time though, as her wet eyes flickered from the thick tree-line the train was speeding past to Masshu, Toshiko could have sworn she could see concern in the canines whiskey eyes; almost as if he knew she was upset.

Toshiko flashed the Chow Chow a wobbly smile; it was the kind of smile that the more it screeched across her face the more it turned downwards. Her heels squeezed at the large dogs sides in acknowledgment— Masshu set his head back down on his paws —as she turned back to the window; Toshiko's eyes dragged across the blurred scenery.

Her stop was getting close.

The twenty-six year old female sucked in a deep breath before she grabbed her phone from her smoky colored coat pocket and untangled the headphones she'd wrapped around the device before her impromptu nap earlier during the train ride.

Toshiko punched in her phones code with the pad of her thumb. Her password was just the numbers that correlated to the first four letters of her name; eight-six-seven-four. Her brother Sasuke liked to make fun of her for it, saying how if someone wanted to seal any information from her phone they could; that it'd be easier then taking candy from a baby and while he was right, no matter how many times the older man harped about it to her, Toshiko kept her passcode the same.

Toshiko opened her Spotify app and shuffled her liked songs. Train's Drops of Jupiter was already playing by the time she put in her right earbud. Toshiko's head tilted up at the sound of the songs first few cords, her head once more resting against the windows cool glass.

Now that she's back in the atmosphere, with drops of Jupiter in her hair.

Toshiko kept her password the same not only because it was easy to remember but mostly because— as Sasuke had gone into the private sector after having dropped out of college —he'd undoubtedly still go on about security and safety even if she ever did change it, but also partly because if she just did whatever Sasuke said, when he said it he'd always expect her to and she refused to have that.

Little sisters, after all, were supposed to be difficult.

She acts like summer and walks like rain, reminds me that there's a time to change, hey.

When was the last time Toshiko and her grand uncle had talked?

When she had been in university the year before they had talked two-three times a week. Sometimes they'd only chat for a few minutes; just checking in with one another, while other times Toshiko and Madara would talk for hours. He'd gripe about whatever new annoyance plagued him for an hour or so before she'd go on about how stupid people in her classes could be and their idiotic options on social policies and how they were so wrong it was almost maddening.

But lately, ever since she had started her job at the Fukuoka prosecutors office Toshiko's life had began to revolve around work. The only time she ever seemed to go back to her tiny apartment was when she needed to feed and walk Masshu and even then, as of late, Toshiko had begun to hire the boy who lived on the floor below her to walk the Chow Chow.

So when was the last time Toshiko and Madara had spoken?

Since the return of her stay on the moon. She listens like spring and she talks like June, hey.

It hadn't been the day before he'd died. Hadn't been that week either. Two weeks? Toshiko racked her brain to remember only to come up with the last time they had spoken being sixteen days before he'd died; twenty three days ago in total.

Nearly a month.

At the time of their call Toshiko had told her grand uncle about a case she'd won while sitting first chair— it'd been a negligent homicide case; not only her first homicide case of any kind but the first case she'd sat first chair for —and though he hadn't said it in so many words, Madara had sounded so proud of her. Toshiko could remember the light feeling that'd carried her through the next two days following that call.

"Konoha station coming up next," the conductors voice rang out; snapping Toshiko out of her thoughts.

Toshiko pocketed her phone and grabbed the bookbag she'd stuffed full of clothes the night before in one hand and the loop of Masshu's leash as she stood from her seat, nudging Masshu out from under her and towards the trains doors, pausing at them as she looked around her mostly empty train car to see if anyone else would be getting off with her.

No one moved from their seats; three of seven people left in the car were asleep and the four that weren't were all too engrossed in whatever they were watching on their phones or reading from the books propped up in their laps to be getting off with her, leaving Toshiko's dark eyes to move from the sea of mostly empty seats to the window closest to her.

The train was slowing down.

Toshiko wrapped the length of Masshu's leash once around the palm of her hand, and then twice. While she didn't expect Masshu to bolt when the doors opened up— Masshu had been incredibly well trained; the whole point of Sasuke having bought Masshu for her was for him to act as her guard dog once she'd moved off campus and into her own apartment —it just was easier to hustle him off the train quickly on a tighter leash.

The song changed from Trains Drops of Jupiter to One Directions new song Drag Me Down, something that while Toshiko wasn't quite in the mood to listen to she didn't bother to skip as she still liked it.

"Approaching Konoha station now. Please remember to take all your belongings with you when you exit the train car," the conductors voice said as the train began to lull to a stop.

Toshiko could see the colorful benches that littered the Konoha train station; several of the benches had foxes painted on them. As the train continued to stop Toshiko's car passed the stairs that lead from the platform to the road and the tiny station building that sold snacks for people to eat on the train and tiny Konoha-centered knick-knacks to tourists who had wandered into the small building in search of directions.

"This is Konoha station," the conductor sounded, as the train came to a full stop. "This is Konoha station, the next and last stop will be Aomori. Please remember to take all your belongings before you exit the train. Thank you for riding Thunder Rails."

Toshiko shuffled closer to Masshu; the fingers not curled around Masshu's leash tightened as they gripped the strap of her bag. Her heel clicked against the floor once before the doors opened up with the same kind of sound Tupperware's made when being unsealed. Then as if she were in a race and the gun signaling the start had sounded, Toshiko shot off the train and into the platform, Masshu trotting behind her, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth.

Half way up the platform Toshiko felt her phone buzz; the young woman paused to pull it from her coat and saw it was a message from her brother Itachi.

Parking lot. First row.

Toshiko felt her lips press together, she could have sworn Sasuke was the one who was supposed to pick her up, not Itachi.

Not bothering to respond— not because she minded that it was Itachi picking her up and not Sasuke but because she'd see her eldest brother in less then a few minutes anyway —Toshiko paused her music before shoving both her phone and the headphones attached to it back into her pocket. She tugged at Masshu's leash, signaling that once more they were on the move. Something Masshu instantly complied with.

Toshiko and Masshu both scampered up the concrete steps that lead to the main road and the orange station building, that had been built the same time as the railway only to turn left and walk down the hill that lead to the dead end that was the Konoha train stations parking lot. There were three cars in the parking lot; Itachi's, like he said was in the first row.

Though even if it hadn't been, and even if there were more cars littering the lot, Toshiko would have easily found her brother as he was leaning against the front end of his car.

Like Toshiko he was dressed in black. His long hair was tied back into it's usual low hanging pony tail, his wiry glasses were perched at the end of his nose and though his smile didn't reach his eyes the tension in his shoulders disappeared at the sight of Toshiko, who, at the sight of her eldest brother, felt the tears she'd been holding back on the train quell up in her eyes once more.

Their grand uncle— their ōoji-san —was dead; Uchiha Madara was dead. The only parent Toshiko had known for the past twenty years was dead.

Was gone.

She loosened her hold on Masshu's leash.

"Nii-san," Toshiko croaked, her tears falling. One then two; Toshiko caught her bottom lip between her teeth only for it to trembled violently. She hadn't really cried when Obito had called her the week before and told her of their grand uncles passing; sure tears had automatically fallen at the new but it hadn't been real then.

Uchiha Madara being dead were just words; they hadn't been true, couldn't be. He had always seemed too stubborn to die, seemingly immortal; Uchiha Madara had been a hundred and two when he had died. At the time hearing that he had died had almost been like hearing pigs had learned to fly; absurd.

But then the closer she'd gotten to Konoha on the train the more the truth had began to set in until she'd been forced to acknowledge it. To swallow it; Uchiha Madara being dead wasn't just words, they were Toshiko and the others new reality.

Come three days time she and her brothers and her cousins would be cremating their grand uncle.

Itachi pushed off the square front of his car and Toshiko met the older Uchiha half way, her arms outstretched. Toshiko heard Itachi let out a soft sounding oomph when she barreled into his bony chest. Toshiko clung to Itachi the same way she had when their parents had died and Sasuke had been hospitalized following the car crash; like he was her last and only life line tethering her to the Earth.

Toshiko's shoulders shook as she cried into her eldest brothers chest; Masshu's nose pressed against the back of her thigh as one of Itachi's hand's moved from her upper arms so that it was splayed out between her shoulder blades while the other was curled around the back of her head, cradling her against him.

"It's alright Toshiko," Itachi said, his own voice raspy, the same way it would be if he were on the verge of tears; and perhaps he was.

Itachi— and Shisui —hadn't been close to Madara, not the way Toshiko and Sasuke and Obito had all been, not because of any family drama or clash of ideologies, but because unlike them, neither Itachi or Shisui had been raised by Madara.

Shisui had grown up in Tokyo with his mother following his fathers death, only ever visiting Konoha during the summer while Itachi— who'd been born a genius —had gotten out of living in Konoha year round following their parents deaths due to the fact that at thirteen— right before the deaths of Toshiko, Itachi and Sasuke's parents —Itachi had been accepted to university. Meaning that he only ever came to town during Christmas break and summer holidays with Shisui, when neither of them had classes.

But just because he hadn't been close to the their grand uncle didn't mean he didn't care. Itachi had always had the biggest heart out of everyone Toshiko knew, always caring about every little thing.

Toshiko felt herself nod and though she tried to collect herself and force the tears to stop it wasn't until several minutes later that Toshiko, puffy faced and red-eyed pulled away.

"I'm sorry," Toshiko said with a forced smile, as she wiped her face with the cuff of her sleeve, "I didn't mean to cry on you."

"You've done worse. Incase you forgot I used to help mom change your diapers," Itachi said with a smile; like Toshiko's it was obviously forced. Though unlike hers it looked far more natural, anyone who didn't know the tall thirty-four year old wouldn't suspect a thing.

Toshiko let out a breath, one that could've doubled as a quiet laugh, and stepped away from her brother. Masshu rubbed up against the outer part of her leg. "You are so gross Itachi."

"What?" He blinked innocently, the slight, sudden upturn of his lips was far more genuine then it had been a moment before, "It's true."

His left hand raised— Toshiko didn't bother to try to dodge; she'd long ago learned the effort was fruitless —and just like he'd always done to her and Sasuke when they'd all been growing up, Itachi poked her in the dead center of her forehead.

Toshiko's nose wrinkled at the touch.

"Whatever nii-san," Toshiko said; her chest was still heavy and her eyes were still wet but Toshiko nonetheless rolled her eyes at her brother. "Anyway," she said, motioning to Masshu, who'd taken a seated position next to Toshiko, "This is the dog Sasuke got me when I moved a few months ago, 'Tachi, meet Masshu. Masshu," Toshiko motioned to Itachi, "Meet my brother, Itachi. Be nice."

Itachi crouched down and held his hand out; Masshu didn't hesitate to put his paw in the palm of Itachi's hand. Itachi shook it the same way he would a persons.

"Nice to meet you Masshu." Masshu's large head rolled to the side before Itachi dropped his paw and straightened up; he looked to Toshiko, "I have my luggage in the back seats, will he be alright in the trunk?"

"Yeah," Toshiko nodded, only to frown. Just like she could have sworn it was supposed to be Sasuke picking her up she could have sworn that Itachi had been meant to arrive in Konoha two days before then to help with the last minute funeral preparations. "You haven't gone to the house yet?"

Itachi shook his head, "I only got back to the country early this morning, I got delayed at the conference and missed my original flight in."

"Oh," Toshiko said. "I'm sure Sasu loved that," she added sarcastically.

It wasn't that Sasuke hated Itachi— Toshiko wasn't sure Sasuke could ever —it was just that the middle Uchiha sibling still carried around the childhood anger and resentment he had towards Itachi, something that Toshiko— though she wished Sasuke would let go of now that they were adults —understood.

Toshiko got why Sasuke resented Itachi. He— Sasuke —had been, for the first few months following the crash that had killed their parents in a coma due to the head trauma he had sustained when their father had lost control of the family car and gone into the river. And when he had woken up their parents had already been buried, their house— the only home Sasuke had ever known —had been packed away and Itachi had been practically out the door and on his way to university, leaving them behind with Madara and Obito two family memeber who— neither Sasuke nor Toshiko had know well —at the time were virtually strangers.

"I know," Itachi nodded as he lead her and Masshu to the back of his dark red Toyota Roomy. "It's why I'm picking you up though and he's not. Sasuke got in last night and I was already on the road, I figured it'd be easier."

Itachi opened the trunk's door.

"Up," Toshiko said with a snap of her fingers and her hand in the trunk; effortlessly Masshu jumped up into the trucks back.

"That was sweet," Toshiko— as Itachi closed the trunk's door —said instead of the You know it won't stop him from giving you shit for not arriving when you said she wanted to say.

Itachi let out a hum as he moved towards the drivers side; Toshiko passed him as she moved to the other side of the car towards the passengers seat. Toshiko, before she got into the car, threw her bookbag over her seat and into the back next to Itachi's two large suitcases.

"Is that all you really brought?" Itachi asked with a raised brow and an amused glint in his eyes.

"Yeah?" Toshiko responded as she slid into the passenger seat; "I know I still have pajama's here, at least enough for the next few days and I accidently left a pair of sneakers here last time I visited Obito and Ōoji-san so I didn't bother to bring any other shoes but these," Toshiko explained, pointing downwards towards the black flats she was wearing, "So between no pajamas and no extra shoes, all my clothes fit into my bag."

"Alright," Itachi said as he began to pull out of the parking lot.

They hadn't even fully pulled out of the lot when Toshiko saw Masshu peaking over the top of Itachi back seats. She smiled at the dog only to quickly frown when Masshu rocked forward and placed his paws over the seats, his nails biting into the seats pleather.

Toshiko turned in her seat so that she could look back at her dog, her finger outstretched and wagging in Masshu's direction.

"No. Down," Toshiko ordered Masshu, "Sit normally. Sit." Obediently Masshu's paws dropped and hit the trunks carpeted flooring. "Good boy," she said in a high pitched baby-voice, "You're such a good boy."

Masshu, as if agreeing, let out a loud bark. Toshiko smiled at the white Chow Chow before turning back in her seat only to grimace when she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror; her face was splotchy and red, and her eyes were the kind if pink you only ever got after crying, the kind that made her dark eyes seem darker then they really were.

Pointedly looking away from her reflection Toshiko peered out her window and at the familiar sights of Konoha that passed her and Itachi by.

Hokage Rock, the mountain range that ran along the north of the town— the one that if you squint hard enough looked like it had faces carved into it —still seemed to stretch endlessly into the sky; the same way it had seemed when she'd been a child.

Ichiraku Ramen, a tiny ramen restaurant that was situated between two larger buildings, looked exactly same as it always had. As she and Itachi passed by Toshiko even saw the familiar flash of blonde sitting along the Ramen shops counter.

Only to frown; because for every unchanged thing Toshiko saw the twenty-six year old found something that had changed or something new that had popped up since the last time she had stepped foot in Konoha and while she didn't hate the new changes she spotted outside the car window— like the pair of officers who stood idly outside the Konoha Bank, half-heartedly guarding it because they had been needed and without a doubt over due —Toshiko could still remember what had been there before.

She could remember what had once been in the same exact spot the new, nice looking restaurant Yakiniku Q stood. It'd been a Lighting Burger that'd burnt down one New Years Eve after a few of the local high school students had too much fun with the box of fire works they had managed to get their underage hands on.

Toshiko could remember how for days the smell of sulfur had lingered in the air; she could remember how the outside of the Konoha library— which she saw was a greyish sort of pink —had for years, been a bright ugly purple because someone had messed up when placing the order only for it to be kept that way because no one on the town counsel had wanted to figure out which funds to reallocate to repaint it properly.

Nostalgia— the leaden kind that made Toshiko's bones feel waterlogged —washed over her.

Was this growing up?

Was adulthood coming home— because while perhaps Toshiko had begun to build a life for herself in Fukuoka, the place her mind always flew to when thinking of the word home wasn't her one bedroom apartment or her tiny office at work but Konoha —to find out the places you had memory after memory of had been bulldozed while away?

Was adulthood just longing for a home that no longer existed?

Or was it something else? Was it supposed to be?

Shifting in her seat, looking away from her window and along the curve of her brothers face Toshiko couldn't help but think, Ōoji-san would know.

0.0.0.0

Toshiko's breath caught in her throat when Itachi pulled up to the curb outside Uchiha families home.

When she had been growing up Madara had always said that the house before Toshiko and Itachi was their families ancestral home, the one where— back before Konoha had been a village —the first Uchiha had been born centuries before and while the the dark colored, three story home looked old it didn't look quite as old as Madara claimed their family had been living in it.

Though that was without a doubt due to the fact that the home had been fixed up numerous times over the years. The roof had needed to be replaced after a terrible storm when Toshiko had been ten, the floors had been redone right before Toshiko had last visited as a pipe had burst; the pluming had been installed in the nineteenth century and by twenty-sixteen nearly all of it had been replaced at one point or another.

Toshiko got out of the car, and grabbed her backpack from where she'd tossed it, her eyes never once leaving the home as she slung the backpack over her shoulder.

Her home.

Ivy grew along the sides of it making the house look like it was one with the trees that surrounded it, the crows Madara had feed for years— since he had been a child —littered the roof, several of them cawing loudly whilst two circled the house overhead, looking for him.

Toshiko moved to the back of her brothers truck so that she could let Masshu out of the back only to pause mid-step when the front door opened.

She knew it was stupid— that her grand uncle was dead and waiting to be cremated —but for a second, as Shisui stepped out of the house she couldn't help but think of how much he had looked like a younger Uchiha Madara; the one Toshiko saw in the albums her grand uncle kept in his room.

"Hey you two finally made it!" Shisui called out with a wave.

Itachi, who'd gone to grab his suitcase turned at the voice his and Toshiko's cousin; Itachi shot Shisui a two finger sault only to beam when two small children— a little girl, no older then six, with pigtails that flapped behind her as she ran forward and a slightly younger boy who had a frog themed bandage over his right brow —both darted out of the house from behind Shisui's legs.

"Oji-san!" The two small children called out as they raced across the Uchiha family homes lawn, "Oba-san!"

Like her brother Toshiko smiled brightly at the sight of her cousins children; Hideko and Daiki.

Daiki, a four year boy who had inherited Shisui's pointed nose and dark rounded eyes but his mothers dark brown hair, ran head first into Itachi's legs while Hideko had skipped over to Toshiko; Toshiko— though she probably should have as Hideko had grown since the last time she'd seen the her —hadn't hesitated in scooping the young up.

Hideko let out a squeak as her hands gripped at the front of Toshiko's coat.

"I missed you Oji-san!" Toshiko heard Daiki cry into Itachi's knees as he wrapped his arms around Itachi's thin legs. Toshiko leaned her head back and looked at Hideko; from the corner of her vision Toshiko saw Shisui move towards them, out from their ancestral homes doorway.

"You saw me last month Daiki," Toshiko half heard her brother telling Daiki as she gleefully gapped at the fact that Hideko's tongue was poking out from an angry looking gap in her teeth.

"Too long!" The boy said as Toshiko spoke, their voices overlapping.

"You lost a tooth!" Toshiko bounced. Itachi who— like Toshiko had done with Hideko —had gathered Daiki in his armed turned in surprise at Toshiko's excited tone, "When? How?"

"This morning!" Hideko said, "It was wiggly so papa and Obi-ji—" when Hideko had first started talking she had constantly tripped over Obito-oji and instead taken to calling him Obi-ji, "—Tied one end of a string to it and then the other to a door and then papa slammed it really hard!"

Toshiko's brows shot up, her eyes swiveled to Shisui who's cheeks had pinkened. "Mari seriously let you two do that?"

Mari, Shisui's wife, was as kind as she was no nonsense; something she had to be if she was going to be married to likes of someone as lively— as headstrong, stubborn, driven, and at times inept —as Shisui. Apparently Shisui had fallen in love with her the first time he'd seen her; he'd walked into the coffee shop she had been working at and she had been yelling at a man who'd crossed several lines when harassing her coworker.

Mari was also a dentist, having finished up medical school just before her and Shisui's wedding.

Shisui blew a breath of air out of his mouth; Hideko beamed at Toshiko, her tongue still peaking through the gap.

"Obi-ji said it was better to ask forgiveness then permission."

"Which is what we did," Shisui added pointedly in his daughters direction, he looked at Toshiko and then Itachi, "And why your mother is a saint."

"She'd have to be, to be married to you," Itachi jabbed playfully.

Just as Toshiko and Sasuke were close, Itachi and Shisui were close; though unlike Sasuke and Toshiko who grew close after their parents deaths Itachi and Shisui had always— for as long as Toshiko could remember —been close. Growing up, before Toshiko and Sasuke had come to live with Madara and Itachi had gone off to university,  Toshiko, Itachi and Sasuke had all lived three blocks up from Shisui and his mother. Almost all of Toshiko's earliest memories had Shisui in them; he was practically her third bother.

Not that it was surprising; from what  Toshiko could remember from her fathers stories— because she had never met Shisui's father herself as the man had died of colon cancer shortly after Shisui's birth —both her father and Shisui's father had both been a lot like Itachi and Shisui, practically joined at the hip having had grown up together in the same house, raised together like brothers.

"You are so lucky you're holding my kid Tachi," Shisui said good naturedly. Toshiko set Hideko down, though the girl took to clutching the gray fabric of her coat, set on following her around.

"Please I could still take you," Itachi fired back. Itachi was usually the cool one of the bunch; always quite and laid back. The only time he became lively was when he was around Shisui and the only time he ever got loud when when he and Sasuke's arguments turned into full on fights.

"Yeah and have Mari look out the window and see?" Shisui scoffed as Toshiko lead Hideko around to the trunk, "Do you want her to freak out and go into early labor? Cause that's what'll happen if she sees us fighting with Daiki in your arms."

"Puppy!" Hideko cried once Toshiko opened the trunk and Masshu jumped from it and onto the street, his leash hit the concrete and his tail wagged back and forth as he looked at Hideko, though he didn't move from where he stood.

"Puppy?" Daiki sounded, "Where?"

"Can I pet him, please, please, please?" Hideko asked, tugging at Toshiko's coat, her bottom lip stuck out into a pout and the grey eyes she'd gotten from her mother pleading.

"Sure," Toshiko said, "But gently." Toshiko kneeled next to Hideko only to turn when Daiki— who stopped next to the trucks tail light; his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape at the sight of Masshu —appeared behind her. "Dai, do you want to pet Masshu too?"

Daiki nodded and Toshiko beckoned the boy over until, like his sister, he was standing next to her.

"Masshu," Toshiko said sternly, "Sit." He did, she then put a hand out and held it up to Masshu's nose for him to smell. "I want you two to do this alright? Let him smell you first."

Both Hideko and Daiki did; Daiki giggled as Masshu's wet nose swept over his palm. Masshu was large for a Chow Chow, bigger then Daiki but still smaller then Hideko, not that that made him any less intimidating when he was snarling; the whole reason Chow Chows had somewhat of an iffy reputation was because— or so Sasuke had said when he'd given her Masshu —of the fact they were great guard dogs.

According to Toshiko's brother— and Goggle —Chow Chows had once been used to guard many great palaces back when Daimyō's and Shōgun's ruled the country.

"He's so cute!" Hideko cooed, gently petting Masshu as she took a step closer to him. Her brother followed in her wake, scratching behind the dogs ears while Hideko got under his chin.

Masshu's eyes closed, his tail thumped a steady beat against the street.

"This is dog our little Sasu got you for protection?" Shisui laughed; Toshiko, with her arms crossed over her chest and her brows raised looked at her cousin.

"What's wrong with my dog?"

"Nothing," Shisui said, "He just looks like a total marshmallow. Literally. You'd think if our little Sasu-kun was going to get you a guard dog he'd get you-I dunno, one what doesn't look like it'd roll over for a bugler."

Toshiko could have defended Masshu and pulled Hideko and Daiki away so that she could show off how well trained he was, instead though, she looked at her cousin and said, "I'll give you twenty yen if you call Sasu that to his face."

"And what? Have him break me in half?" Shisui asked rhetorically, "In case you forgot your big brother's a scary mercenary now."

Toshiko swung her head from side to side, "Sasu, Tachi, Masshu, everyone else. Is there anyone in this house who can't break you in half?"

"Oh so that's how it is Toad?" Shisui asked; Toshiko felt her shoulders drop at the childhood nickname. Where her brothers and Obito— and friends —had called her Toshi, Shisui had always— for as long as she could remember —called her Toad after the Nintendo character her mother had dressed her up as for her first Halloween.

Shisui had been Bowser, Itachi had been Luigi, Sasuke had been Mario and she, because the store had been out of infant sized Princess Peach costumes, had been Toad.

"I hate you," Toshiko said without any real heart and with a snort as his children giggled under the weight of Masshu's kisses, Shisui slung an arm around Toshiko's shoulders. He pressed a brotherly kiss— because Shisui was as much her brother as he was her cousin; always right there with Itachi when she needed them —to the side of her head.

"How you holding up?" He murmured.

"Fine," Toshiko shrugged, she peered around Shisui to see Itachi was nowhere to be found having disappeared into the house, "Totally balled when I got off the train. I just-it doesn't seem real you know?"

"Tell me about it, when Obi called I thought he was joking. I mean when I heard him tell me that ōoji-san was dead, I thought no way." He scoffed with the shake of his dead. Toshiko took in a deep breath at his words— Ōoji-san was dead; Uchiha Madara was dead —and Shisui just tucked her under his arm more firmly then she had been.

"Come on we should get inside," he said to her a moment later, "Everyone been waiting for you and Tachi to show up-Kakashi even made dorayaki just for you."

Toshiko smiled at the mention of her eldest cousins husband and his cooking; up until her and Sasuke had learned to cook for themselves the only reason she and her brother had eaten anything other then soba noodles had been because of Kakashi, as Obito couldn't cook to save his life and soba noodles seemed to be the only thing Uchiha Madara ever ate when left to his own devices.

Hatake Kakashi— not Uchiha, because while he and Obito considered each other husband and husband, and had held a wedding ceremony when Toshiko had been eight, they weren't legally married —was a great guy who Toshiko was happy her cousin had chosen to spend his life with.

Sure he was also a total loser who read badly written cheesy romance novels and liked to dress his dogs up in silly costumes for fun but he was a nice, kind-hearted loser who loved her cousin wholeheartedly.

"Alright," Toshiko murmured, "Masshu!" She said loudly, moving out from under her cousins arm. Masshu got to his paws, his attention no longer on Hideko or Daiki but solely on Toshiko, "Follow."

Masshu listened and moved so that he was next to Toshiko as she and Shisui began to walk towards the house; Hideko and Daiki rushed over to Masshu's side.

"Oba-san?" Daiki asked in his adorable high pitched voice, "Can onee-chan and I please play with Masshu in the backyard?"

"Sure," Toshiko said, Hideko and Daiki both cheered as he went to pick Masshu's leash that been trailing behind him up off the ground.

"Come on Masshu," Daiki tugged, pulling the dog towards the side of the house so that neither he, Hideko or Masshu would have to cut through the house to get to the backyard. Masshu looked to Toshiko— who nodded at the dog —before following after Daiki and Hideko, disappearing around the bend of the house and towards the backyard moments later.

"You know they're going to want a dog after this, right?" Toshiko joked.

"Then they can take it up with the landlord," Shisui rolled his eyes.

"How's work been?" Toshiko asked her cousin, he shrugged.

"Same as always." Shisui was a software engineer, "My boss is looking to promote, I might get it."

"That's great Shisui," Toshiko said brightly knocking her elbow against her cousins, again he shrugged.

"It's not definite as of yet, everything's up in the air at the moment but hey-fingers crossed am I right?"

"Please you've been at that company since you graduated university, you're going to get it," Toshiko said confidently.

"Thanks" Shisui replied, the palm of his hand swept through his already tousled hair as he stopped to let Toshiko up the stairs that lead into the Uchiha family house first. The two of them, once through the door and in the titled well took off their shoes at the door before stepping further into the house.

Toshiko paused after having stepped up onto the wooden landing. Her throat suddenly tight; Madara wouldn't be on the back porch smoking from his pipe while he watched the kids play with Masshu and the coy circle around and around the pond he'd along ago put in.

He wouldn't be shuffling around the house, muttering to himself about things that needed to get fixed up either, nor would he be in the living room reading the paper or even in the kitchen eating a bowl of soba noodles.

Because he was dead.

Suddenly Toshiko was six again and the house felt far too large; strange and uncharted. Her heart pounded heavily in her chest. Growing up Madara was what made the house a home, for a grouchy and unpleasant as he could be— as he had been most days —him no longer skulking through the halls was disbarring.

Was wrong.

"Toshi!"

"Obi!" Toshiko threw her arms out and open in front of her at the sight of her cousin. He hadn't changed much truth be told, except for a few small details— like the several gray strands that had seemed to have accumulated in his hair since the last time Toshiko had seen Obito, and the dark bags that had developed under his eyes —Obito still looked exactly the same since Toshiko had last seen him.

The same— at least for Obito —being covered in scars, one armed, slightly blind and somewhat deaf.

Uchiha Obito had been in a terrible rockslide when he'd been fourteen; he'd lost his left eye and was missing his right arm. The entire right half of his face had been terribly scarred from the rocks nearly caving in that side of his skull and though he could still somewhat hear out of his right ear at nearly fifty Obito had started wearing a bright green hearing aid.

Obito's left arm wrapped around Toshiko's waist while hers wrapped around his shoulders. Shisui with a clap to Obito back passed the two and walked down the long hall that lead to the kitchen.

"I'm glad you're here," Obito said lowly, before pulling away, his palm against her hip.

"Like I wouldn't come," Toshiko responded, squeezing his shoulder before once more pulling him into a tight death grip of a hug.

A moment later after they had untangled themselves from each other and Obito had ushered her towards the kitchen Toshiko was met with Kakashi, Mari, Shisui and her brothers all gathered around the kitchen island, all quietly talking to one another, the dorayaki Shisui had mentioned was laid out in a dish on the island.

Sasuke had positioned himself next to Kakashi furthest from Itachi; Mari, who's hands rested atop her swollen stomach was leaning against Shisui front as he had wrapped his arms around her from behind, his lips pressed firmly against her shoulder.

"Yo," Kakashi waved, smiling from under his mask. Toshiko could remember all the times she and Sasuke and their friends— all of Toshiko's friends had been older then her; Sasuke's age and usually in his homeroom class —had tried to catch Kakashi without his mask on.

When he and Obito had held their wedding ceremony Obito's Maid of Honor, his and Kakashi's friend Rin, had handed the married pair a wreath size bouquet in order to hide Kakashi's face during their first kiss.

"Kakashi," Toshiko waved back, her head jerking upwards. Sasuke smiled faintly at Toshiko as Mari had moved out from Shisui's hold and hobbled herself over to Toshiko who— as best she could —hugged the woman. Mari rocked Toshiko from side to side.

"You've grown!" Mari said, still rocking Toshiko from foot to foot. Though Mari and Shishu had only married several years ago Toshiko had known the woman since she and Shisui had first started dating, back when she'd been eleven and in despite need of a womanly figure in her life.

"No I haven't Mari," Toshiko said, "I'm pretty sure I stopped growing in the tenth grade. You on the other hand—" Toshiko leaned back and rested one of her hands on the side of Mari's swollen stomach. She looked up at the older woman through her lashes, "—Do we know if it's a boy or a girl yet?"

The last time she had called Mari and Shisui the fetus hadn't been turned in the right direction for the obstetrician to determine the gender; just that the baby was healthy, which at the end of the day was all that was important.

"We do actually," Mari said, she looked to Shisui who straightened under his wife's gaze. He nodded, "It's a boy."

"That's great," Toshiko said; Itachi clapped Shisui on the back as Kakashi raised his cup of whatever up into the air.

"We actually-I mean, I only seems right, we did only find out the day before," Mari sputtered, looking between Toshiko and her brothers and cousins, "As long as it's okay with the rest of you, of course."

"As long as what is?" Sasuke asked.

"We want to name the baby Madara, in honor of ōoji-san," Shisui said. Toshiko's head jerked back, Sasuke frowned and Obito blinked owlishly between Mari and Shisui.

"Why?" Sasuke asked, "You didn't even like ōoji-san."

"Sasuke," Itachi said in very reprimanding voice, one that made the muscles in the back of Toshiko's neck jump. It hadn't even been ten minutes; her throat tightened with the need to suddenly scream.

"What?" Sasuke sniped at Itachi, "It's true."

Toshiko saw Itachi's eyes narrow and the youngest of the five Uchiha stepped up to the kitchen island, one hand behind her and wrapped around Mari's wrist. Her blood hot; their grand uncle was dead— the man who had raised three out of the five of them —he hadn't even been buried yet and they were fighting.

"It's fine," Toshiko told Shisui, though her focus was on Sasuke; her voice air and fair lighter then normal, "I mean you remember when Daiki was born right?" She looked at Shisui, "Ōoji-san almost had an aneurism when he found out you didn't name him after your dad."

Madara had gone on and on about how reusing family names was important, how it showed respect towards their ancestors and how— apparently —young people seemed to have none of that anymore.

"Yeah," Obito nodded, his tongue flicking out over his lips, "Honestly if you didn't name the baby after him the old man would probably come back from the grave so he could throttle you."

Sasuke shifted his weight, his lips pressed down into a frown. The combative look in his eyes was gone and had instead been replaced by a dull burning light, "Like he wouldn't come back to throttle us for any other reason."

Toshiko couldn't help but snort at her brothers words; he was right.

If anyone would reanimate themselves from death just to complain and lecture their still-living family members because they couldn't wait another fifty years until said family memeber died and joined them in the afterlife, it would be their grand uncle.

Toshiko pushed off the island.

"I'm going to put my stuff away-Sasu?" She looked at her brother, "Want to come help me?" It wasn't so much as request as it was an order; Toshiko jerked her head towards the kitchen archway. Sasuke's shoulders fell and though Toshiko knew he could have, he didn't argue with her when she took another step back, signaling that she was going to head to her childhood bedroom.

"Coming," her brother said before following her out of the kitchen. Sasuke, didn't bother to say anything before he slide Toshiko's backpack down her arm and over his; silently the pair clomped the houses two narrow flights of stairs until they were standing outside of Toshiko's old bedroom.

Sasuke's bedroom had been across the hall from hers.

At first Madara had tried to keep Itachi and Sasuke close together and Toshiko on the floor below, with him and Obito only to give up and swap Itachi and Toshiko's rooms after three months of Toshiko to sneaking out bed every other night and worming her way into Sasuke's; back then Toshiko used to have terrible nightmare's about the crash and the only person who could ever seem to comfort after them her was Sasuke.

Growing up Sasuke had always been the brother she'd run to when scared or hurt; Itachi was who she went to when she needed advice about life. Shisui was who she had went to when she was in trouble and needed to get out of it— preferably without her grand uncle or brothers finding out —while Obito was the person Toshiko had always went to when she needed to be cheered up.

Toshiko threw open her bedroom door and stepped into the room; the paint on the walls had faded over the years, dulling the champagne pink color Toshiko— and her best friend; a boy she still carried around in the back of her heart, but never wanted to think about —had painted them in middle school. Dozens of photos she hadn't taken with her to university or her new apartment in Fukuako were still hanging up on the wall.

The stuffed dinosaur her father had gotten her when she'd been born— the one she'd long ago named Mamarou; Protector —was on her bed; for the two years following the crash and the move she'd carried the yellow Tyrannosaurus-Rex everywhere with her.

School, play dates, the doctors; it hadn't mattered where she was, for years Mamarou had been with her.

"You don't have to play peace keeper all the time you know," Sasuke said, sitting on Toshiko's bed. Her bag next to him. "Itachi and I are big boys now, we don't need our little sister stepping in every time we have a disagreement."

Disagreement her ass, Toshiko could remember the arguments Itachi and Sasuke used to have, the ones that would quickly turn into screaming matches if no one— if she hadn't —intervened; more then once those fight's had nearly caused the two to come to blows.

"Yeah and if I don't who will? Shisui? Obi?" Toshiko rolled her eyes as she opened her backpack. She shot her brother a look from the corner of her eyes as she began to take her clothes out of her bag, "Did you really have to start though?"

"Come on," Sasuke scoffed, his voice bitter, "I didn't start anything-Shisui was never close to ōoji-san, not like we were."

"Maybe not," Toshiko conceded, "But he was still Shisui's ōoji too and besides, it's not like the rest of us are having kids any time soon so really, where's the harm?"

Sasuke shrugged, "It's wrong, ōoji-he, he was ours. Even when he was here Shisui was never interested in getting to know him, all he and Itachi ever wanted to do was chase after Obito and Kakashi and study. Him naming his kid Madara, it'd be like naming it after dad. Our dad."

Toshiko pushed her bag and clothes to the side and sat next to Sasuke, her head resting against his upper arm.

"Want to say that again and hear how you sound? Our ōoji?" Sasuke let out an indignant huff, "Sasu, if ōoji-san was here you'd know what he'd say right?"

The hum Sasuke let out sounded like an irked growl; "Stop being a piece of shit and be nice to your brother and cousins. Uchiha's are supposed to stick together. He'd say how we're stronger together." United we stand and divided we fall; and all that.

"Exactly," Toshiko nodded.

Over the years since they'd come into his care Madara had told Toshiko— and the boys —about him and his brothers. About how in the beginning there'd been five of them; Uchiha's Akihiko, Keiji, Isao, Madara and Inzuna and how the oldest four of them had all fought like cats and dogs growing up for a myriad of different reasons and how the minute he had turned fifteen Madara had left Konoha and his brothers behind without so much as a second thought.

Madara had told them all about how he had taken off to travel the world— all about his travels —and how one by one his brothers had followed until the last to leave nearly thirty years later was the youngest brother of the bunch— Toshiko and Sasuke and Itachi's own grandfather —Inzuna.

Madara had said how he hadn't thought much of his brothers while he'd been traveling. That until he'd come back to Konoha at nearly fifty years old with expectations, Madara hadn't really allowed himself to think of his brothers and what had become of them, partially because he had been too angry to think of them— even years after having left Konoha —and partially because he had expected them to do fine so to him, there hadn't been a reason to think— worry —about them.

He'd expected them to all have large families, homes of their own that they'd built near enough to their ancestral land only to come back and find grave after grave; his father was dead, as were all of his brothers except for one.

His second eldest brother Kenji had died first, shortly after leaving Konoha. He'd taken a job as a fisher and gone overboard, drowning before his crewmates could pull him back aboard.

Next had been Akihiko who'd passed from some kind of illness; his widow and son— Obito's father —were still in town. That was how Madara had met them, at the foot of his eldest brothers grave. After Akihiko, Isao and his wife, a sister-in-law Madara hadn't even known he'd had, had both died in a house fire. At the time they'd left behind a young son— Shisui's father —who Madara's last living brother Inzuna had taken in.

Inzuna had been in his late thirties when Madara— who was nearly thirteen years older then him —had found him. He was no longer the same little boy who had once followed Madara around like some kind of lost duckling; he had buried his father by himself, survived the war and married the nurse who had swept him off his feet and save his life all in one breath. He'd had a son and a nephew he adored like his own.

He had changed; grown up, and to Inzuna growing up meant he no longer wanted anything to do with Madara.

Madara always said that if it weren't for the fact that he had moved back to Konoha after Inzuna had turned him away— back into their families ancestral home with Obito's grandmother and father —Madara would have never known his younger brother had died shortly after Shisui's birth.

Nor would had Toshiko's grand uncle ever gotten the letter Inzuna had written him; the one Fugaku— Toshiko's father —had given him upon her grandfathers death.

The only part of the story Madara had never told them what was in the letter; all he ever said about the letter his brother had left him was that it was a letter full of regrets, ones they— Toshiko and her brothers and cousins —had to be careful not to repeat.

"It almost doesn't feel real," Sasuke said a moment later so quietly Toshiko had nearly missed it. Like what he was saying was some kind of secrete, and perhaps to Sasuke— who always looked like he rather have his teeth pulled then actually talk about the emotions raging inside of him —it was. "I miss him."

"Yeah," she said thickly. "I do too."

0.0.0.0

Hours after arriving and settling in Toshiko was in her room; Masshu was curled up at her side, tired after having played with Daiki and Hideko. She was supposed to be sleeping— napping —before dinner but she couldn't, not when she had a hundred and one thoughts racing through her mind, weighing her down.

Masshu's head rested on her stomach, his golden eyes met Toshiko's dark ones and the human girl let out a heavy sounding sigh.

There was a box of pictures in her closet pushed all the way to back of the shelf Kakashi had put up year ago for her. They weren't of Madara or her brothers or cousins but rather of someone else Toshiko missed.

Someone who she shouldn't miss, who was no longer hers to miss.

Toshiko threaded her fingers through Masshu's white fur and scratched between her dogs shoulder blades as she willed herself to stay on the bed. She was already sad; already mourning one loss. She tried to tell herself that there was no room in her heart for another but Toshiko knew that was a lie.

There was always room in her heart for him; it was as if her heart had been made for him. Molded into his shape and left with the imprint of his fingers so that it would never forget him.

"I am such a loser," Toshiko said to Masshu. She knew if Sasuke or Shisui came in and found her thinking of the box they'd burn it. Say it was doing more harm then good collecting dust up there; that it had been years.

Ten years, to be exact. A decade.

Obito would say she needed to move on and not in the half hearted way she'd been doing since university but truly. Really.

Madara wouldn't though, he never had when the topic of dating— of her moving on —came up. He'd always given her a measured look and told her how he understood; Uchiha's felt differently then others. They felt more deeply, and while perhaps sometimes they kept their feelings bottled up that didn't mean those feelings weren't there.

Weren't consuming them.

Toshiko curled herself around Masshu and let herself feel; in two hours time she'd be at her grand uncles favorite restaurant trying to swallow her feelings with a side of soba noodles. At least until she was back inside her room and could cry into her pillow.

0.0.0.0

Yashuda was a izakaya style restaurant that had opened when Konoha had first been founded; Toshiko's grand uncle had been going to the restaurant since he'd been a child, back before they had ever even thought of buying the building next-door and expanded. Yashuda had been where Madara had taken Toshiko and her brothers and cousins to celebrate everything— birthday's, achievements, it hadn't mattered what the reason for celebration was for —so it had only made sense to have their first dinner back in town there.

The restaurant lights were low and the new song radio stations loved to over play— Here by Alessia Cara —was set low over the speakers in the background; the bar on the other side of the restaurant was littered with people in loose ties and ties and long skirts, all celebrating the end of the work week.

Toshiko had squeezed herself between Itachi and Hideko, who had, before they all left for the restaurant, had made sure to let everyone know that she wanted to sit next to her mother and Toshiko.

Shisui had Daiki on his lap as they waited for the entrees— their appetizers littered the table, some of the plates with nothing one them and others with pieces of edamame and shumai still left —and though their hands were out of sight Toshiko knew her eldest cousin and his husband's fingers were interlocked together under the table.

Sasuke was across from tell telling a story about how he and the rest of Taka— his team; Toshiko had met them once in passing when she'd been visiting Sasuke —had snuck into a country Sasuke refused to name and rescued the daughter of a Swiss diplomat. His lips had twisted upwards as he recounted how Jugo, the tall, orange haired man he worked along side had nearly shot himself in the foot when a large— nearly hare sized —rat had run over his foot.

"But did he scream?" Kakashi asked, his eyes alight with mischief as he leaned across Obito and towards Sasuke.

"You know it. Jugo can talk all the shi—" Mari coughed loudly in Sasuke's direction, her eyes flickered pointedly to Hideko, "—Uff, stuff," Sasuke covered, "He want's but when you get down to it he's a complete cry baby."

"Tall, bright hair, over emotional. Just your type, right?" Shisui snickered as Daiki scribbled on the placemat he'd been given when they'd all been seated.

Toshiko took a sip of her plum wine in favor of laughing. Obito, who like her, only liked sweet drinks, had ordered them the Awamori Umeshu, a plum wine, and truth be told Toshiko couldn't find herself disappointed in her cousins choice of drink.

Sasuke's face went pink, "Shut up."

"Ooh," Hideko sung, "Sasu-oji has a crush!"

"I do not," Sasuke said. He picked one half of the chopsticks he'd sat down when he'd finished picking at the appetizers and flipped it so that he was holding the end that picked up the food; Sasuke leaned across the table and bopped Hideko lightly in the nose, "Twerp."

Hideko's mouth dropped open indignantly. She moved to kneel on her seat— so that like Sasuke she could lean across the table —only for Mari to grab hold of Hideko's shoulder.

"But mama!" Hideko tried as she attempted to wiggle out from under her mothers hold only to pause when she caught sight of the sobering look Mari was shooting her. The young girl's eyes widened as she allowed her mother to push her back down into her seat.

When Mari turned to speak to Itachi Hideko leaned against the table and poked her tongue out at Sasuke who pretended not to see it in favor of answering Obito's question; whether or not this was the kidnapping that had made international news when it'd first happened.

"What do you think?" Sasuke replied.

"That's why I'm asking you!"

"Since when dose he tell us though," Shisui said with a smile, "Hell I bet if Sasuke here saved the world he wouldn't tell us whether it was him or not, just that he and his team went on a cool mission."

"They're jobs not missions," Sasuke rolled his eyes, "And I can't. I know you can't read and all but there are these things called non-disclosure agreements I have to sign every time I renew my contract."

"I can read thank you," Shisui snarked back, his usual easy-going smirk stretching across his face, "Besides what's a little fine between family?"

"Little?" Sasuke scoffed, "Try eleven million, fourteen thousand and five hundred yen."

Toshiko let out a squeak at the number, Itachi nearly choked on his drink— showing he'd been at least half listening to Sasuke and Shisui's conversation—while Kakashi let out a low sounding whistle and Shisui's head bobbed back.

"Jesus," he said, "Never mind, keep your secretes."

"Sweet, foods here." And like that the table of Uchiha's— and Kakashi —stopped talking and turned on command in the direction of their waitress and the other members of the Yashuda wait staff that had been roped into bringing them their food.

One by one the wait staff dropped plates of various cooked mountain vegetables, ika kara age and maguro tatuta age�� deep fried squid with sweet chili sauce and flash fried tuna —samurai steak, chicken curry before they placed a large bowl of what had been Madara's favorite, the yakisoba combination platter in the middle of the table.

Once the wait staff had once again spirited off to the back of the restaurant and to the other tables and the patrons sitting at them, the eight Uchiha's and Hatake Kakashi paused; Obito raised his glass. The rest of them followed; Hideko raised her glass of juice along side her mothers and Toshikos'.

"I propose a toast," Obito said in an almost dignified sort of voice and familiar playful kind of smirk, that only meant one thing, "To Uchiha Madara. He was spiteful and rude and maybe he wasn't the kindest but once you peeled back his layers he was good. So, to ōoji-san, may he be happy where he is and may he rest pleasantly until the rest of kick the bucket and annoy him once more. Here!"

"Here here!" Toshiko and the others called before bringing the rims of their cups to their mouths and drinking.

"Time to dig in," Shisui grinned, setting Daiki back in his own chair next to him. "Itadakimasu."

Toshiko, after following her older cousins example and expressing thanks for her meal, reached for the cooked mountain vegetables and ika kara age, pausing over the samurai steak before she decided to grab herself a piece of that as well.

If Itachi liked it Sasuke would— like a petulant child —eat most of it so that Itachi wouldn't be able to while if if Kakashi decided that he he liked it, Obito would pile almost all of the steak up onto his own plate to save it so that Kakashi would be able to eat it at home, where no one would be gawking at him, trying to see what the rest of his face looked like.

"Obi-ji!" Hideko said with a frown, Toshiko, mid bite looked at the girl from the corner of her eyes and then to Obito who had the bowl of yakisoba noodles in hand, "You can't eat sōsofu's soba noodles! You know that's all he eats, if you eat that what will he eat when he comes back?"

Toshiko felt the bite of fuki and other mountain vegetables turn to ash in her mouth.

Obito's smile fell and Sasuke, who'd been chewing on his bite of curry grabbed his still somewhat full glass of sake and brought it up to his lips.

"Sweetheart," Mari said gently, "Hideko-chan, papa and I told you about Sōsofu-san."

"Yeah, you and papa said he went away," Hideko blinked, "But Obi-ji even said we'd see him later and sōsofu-san's going to be hungry when he comes back." Hideko's voice was filled with such innocence only a child— untouched by any true horrors the world beheld —could have.

Mari's face softened as it fell.

"No, sweetheart. Sōsofu-san isn't coming back." Hideko's brows creased as her face twisted in confusion.

It was the same look Sasuke had worn when he'd woken up in the hospital after the crash and Itachi had told him about their parents. Like he hadn't understood what the words coming out of Itachi's mouth— "Mom and dad are dead, Sasuke." —had meant.

"What do you mean he's not coming back, he couldn't have moved we were at his house before, so he has to come back."

"Hideko-chan," Itachi said gently, moving to the edge of his chair, "You know what death is right? When characters on television and in movies die, you know what the means, right?" Hideko nodded, the crease between her brows got deeper.

Her brother looked at his sister and then at their mother and father and the rest of their family, unlike Hideko who was viably connecting the dots in her head, he still looked lost.

"It means that they're gone," Hideko said softly. She shook her head, "But Sōsofu-san can't be dead though. He's not."

Toshiko blinked her eyes rapidly, she was in a restaurant. She was twenty-six— a fully grown adult woman with a job and an apartment and a dog all of her own —she couldn't break down crying next to her cousins daughter in public, no matter how sad she was.

She took another sip of her wine; the once sweet flavor suddenly bitter on her tongue.

Hideko's bottom lip trembled as her eyes glossed over.

"Hey Hideko-chan!" Shisui said in a falsetto tone, the smile that was on his face was obviously fake, "How about you and I go outside for some air okay?"

"Okay," Hideko croaked, her small voice cracking. Shisui didn't hesitate in picking her up once he'd wiggled out from between Daiki and Sasuke; when neither of them were could any longer been seen Toshiko set her chopsticks down on her plate, her eyes flickering to the others.

"I'm-I need to use the restroom, I'll be right back." Sasuke nodded and with that Toshiko— with her eyes turned downwards towards the floor in hopes no one would see the tears in them —all but hit the ground running which was why she wasn't all that surprised to have hit someone as she went to turn the corner that lead to the restaurants bathrooms.

Hand's grabbed at Toshiko's waist as she teetered backward, her right hand had shot out and fisted itself into the white button-down of whomever she'd nearly run down.

"Sorry about—" Toshiko cut herself off with a blink. Her mouth had dropped open slightly at the sight of the man before her; her breath caught in her throat. Her heart both stopped and sped up. The tears that had been welling up in her eyes only second before were no longer anywhere to be found.

"Shika?" She breathed out, though she still seemed unable to take a breath. Not that she was really focused on breathing, but rather the man in front of her, "Maru?" she added on choppily after another blink; he really was there in front of her.

She swallowed the leaden lump that had appeared with Nara Shikamaru's arrival.

"Shikamaru-san," she said again, this time all together and with a slight tremor.

"Toshi," he said in the same kind of shaky, breathy voice she'd used; he didn't however, add on the rest of her name or any honorific but instead smiled at her. Warmly and brightly in a way that made Toshiko feel like she had been both submerged into an ice bath and thrown onto hot coals; like she was cold and burning at the same time.

"I didn't realize you were back," Shikamaru said, his smile dimmed and he looked sorry. Not the pitiful kind of sorry most people wore after someone's death— like they were sorry for you —but rather, Shikamaru's smiled dimmed and the sorry look that overtook his face was the kind that read apologetic; like if he could somehow fit it— bring Uchiha Madara back to life —he would.

"I mean," he corrected, "I heard about your ōoji-everyone has. I'm sorry for your loss. Madara, he was a good guy. I just, didn't realize you back already." The point of his tongue darted out and swept along his bottom lip.

"Yeah," Toshiko said, "I got in this morning."

"You drove?" Shikamaru's brows darted up in astonishment. Toshiko snorted at the question, and for a moment her nerves melted away.

"Are you kidding me? I took the train in." While she was fine in the passenger seats of cars— sort of; that was more a recent development that had only just happened and only with people she trusted —just the thought of even driving one made the twenty-six year old break out into an anxious sweat.

"That makes sense," Shikamaru nodded, his shoulders dropped and he sucked in a deep breath of air; something Toshiko felt she might have forgotten how to do. "How have you been though? Besides your ōoji, I mean."

He cares, a tiny voice in the back of Toshiko's mind crowed happily. Snuffing that voice out Toshiko shrugged, only to be reminded that not only was her hand was still wrapped up in the front of Shikamaru's shirt, twisted around the forest green tie he had loosed around his neck but his were still planted on her waist.

With a burning face Toshiko dropped her hand and took two half-steps backwards; Shikamaru twitched where he stood.

"Fine," she said. "You?"

"Good," he replied, his shoulders once more tense. His hands shoved deep into his pockets. "I work in the mayors office now," he said with a proud half-smile.

"That's great," Toshiko congratulated, "Really."

"And you?" Shikamaru wondered, "You graduated last year, right?"

Ten months ago but really, who was counting? Toshiko nodded, "Yeah, I got a job in Fukuoka at the prosecutors office about six months ago. I just sat second chair to my first homicide trial last month."

"That's great!" Shikamaru said, his hands moved from his pockets to her arms only to pause, hovering over them like he wasn't quite sure if he should go in for the hug he'd about to give. A metal band on his right hand gleamed under the restaurants lights.

Toshiko's heart dropped into the pit of her twisting stomach.

"You're married," she gasped, unable to tear her eyes away from the silver band on his finger. Shikamaru's fingers curled inwards and he moved his hand so that it was resting against his chest. Toshiko finally looked away from the ring and to him; to his burning face.

"I-no," he shook his head, "Sure I have a ring but me? Married?" He let out a wheeze Toshiko supposed was meant to me an airy laugh; she hadn't ever heard him make that sound before. "I'm not," he said, his voice firm as he slipped the ring off his ring finger and between his thumb and index ones. "It's complicated. Long story, really, sort of troublesome to explain, you know?"

No. Toshiko wanted to say; because how could she know any sort of story in conation to marriage when she had only ever loved one man before. The man before her. It felt as if ice had been poured down shirt and was sliding down her back. No I don't.

"Yeah," she said instead.

"I could though," Shikamaru said in a half rushed but overall breathless sort of voice; it was the sort of voice Toshiko rarely heard growing up, the kind Shikamaru used when his plans fell apart and he was winging it. "Explain it, over lunch or something. Maybe? How long are you back for?"

If Toshiko hadn't known better— hadn't remembered the last ten years  —she would have thought Shikamaru sounded nervous when he asked to explain his long ring-centered story.

"Not long," Toshiko said, "Just until after the funeral. I leave the day after that." So four days in total.

Toshiko tried not to think about the twitch in Shikamaru's shoulder or the way his knuckles had gone white and just how off kilter the man in front of her looked as he nodded but rather— as Shikamaru grimaced —Toshiko focused on the curve of his nose and how much she hoped he couldn't hear her hemorrhaging heart pounding in her chest.

"Then maybe we could meet up then. Grab breakfast together or something before you leave?" Shikamaru proposed.

"Are you sure, I mean, working for the mayor must have you pretty busy? I'd hate to be troublesome and for you to have to go out of your way." Troublesome; a word Toshiko hadn't used in a decade rolled off her tongue like it was nothing. Like it had always been there, like she always used it.

"You wouldn't be," Shikamaru said, "Saying that I'm going out of my way makes it seem like a favor or something, and it wouldn't be Toshi. I want to catch up."

Oh, Toshiko thought. She smiled though, through the pain. It was a small doll-like smile.

Why couldn't he have gotten meaner in the past ten years? Or uglier? Why did he have to look as beautiful has he'd always been; why did he have to have ring around his finger?

"Maybe," she said, which just meant not at all, "I'll have to see. Everyone is really broken up about ōoji-san's death."

"Right," Shikamaru swallowed, he nodded, "Right, of course."

His head tipped downwards and his eyes connected to Toshiko's. They were as dark as she could remember; they reminded Toshiko of Tahitian Pearls. Toshiko moved to step around him only for Shikamaru to step with her.

"I'm here if you-any of you—," he said, earnestly, "—Need something. Anything, it doesn't matter what, or when. I'm here."

And there was the kindness Toshiko had fallen in love with years ago; no matter how lazy Shikamaru could be, no matter how unmotivated he was at any given moment, if she had needed him— his help —he had always been right there next to her, willing to do whatever need be.

Toshiko couldn't help but think that maybe he had gotten meaner over the past ten years. That it would have been nicer— hurt less —if he had reached through Toshiko's chest and twisted her hear manually.

"Thank you Shikamaru," Toshiko said softly before moving around him. She tried not to look like she was running towards the women's bathroom, where Toshiko— for the first time since she had last found herself in Konoha; since she had last seen Shikamaru —broke down in stall.

As she cried in the restaurant stall Toshiko couldn't help but wish she could go back twenty years. Back to the start.

[myemergence]

take me back to the start

Title: take me back to the start Author: @myemergence Rating: E (for one smut scene, later in the fic) Artist: @benjaminrussell Artwork: MAGAZINE COVER and MUSIC VIDEO Warnings/Triggers: mentions of alcoholism, mentions of OC character death, car accident Notes: Thanks to @marcia-elena for the beta on this. I so appreciate all the work you put in! Written for @buddiebigbang. And the artwork is amazing! I love them so much, Holly! Summary: Country music star, Eddie Diaz, is on a break before his US tour when he gets unexpected news: he has a son. He needs to come home to his hometown in West River, TX right away. He hasn’t set foot there since he left for Nashville nine years ago, leaving his old life behind. West River is the last place that Eddie wants to be—he needs to focus on his career, and his tour—not looking after a kid that he doesn’t even know yet.

Crossing paths with his high school sweetheart, Evan Buckley, who’s now a Deputy with the sheriff’s office just might change all of that, reminding Eddie of the person that he used to be… and the kind of person that he wants to be.

Read the whole thing here: AO3 LINK

*

The thing about being a musician and wrapping up a big tour is that it makes the time afterward to unwind and let loose even more rewarding. Taking the time to ground himself before hitting the road again has become essential for Eddie, an integral part of his process. 

This time, there’s no unwinding. As soon as the last concert in the tour ended, he boarded a red-eye flight from Los Angeles into Houston. And he’s tired, a feeling that’s not exactly foreign to him, but he feels weary down to his bones. He’s headed back to West River, Texas, about fifteen minutes outside of Austin, where he was born and raised.

A place he hasn’t as much as set foot in for nine years.

Eddie blinks blearily as he pulls his rental car up to the drive-through at Dunkin for a much needed coffee. He’s within an hour of West River, but he’s going to need something to power through the last hour of his drive as the sun is beginning to rise over the expanse of otherwise deserted small-town Texas that surrounds him.

It’s so quiet out here that it’s almost unnerving.

“Good morning, sir. That’ll be $3.27.” The dark-haired girl at the drive-through window can’t be more than eighteen. 

“Morning.” He holds out his phone so that she can scan his payment.

“Aren’t you…” She trails off slowly, eyeing him suspiciously. 

Eddie adjusts the trucker hat that he’s wearing, despite the fact that the sun hasn’t become a hindrance yet. He’d put the hat on before he pulled up to the drive-through only a couple of minutes ago. He knows that he’d be nowhere without the support of his fans, but he’s exhausted. He just wants to get to his abuela’s so that he can fall into bed. He’s tempted to drag a hand over his face and beg for his coffee.

“Eddie Diaz.” He introduces himself with a winning smile. He’ll try to find time to rest later. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Rosie. I-I can’t believe I’m preparing Eddie Diaz’s coffee. Nobody is going to believe me,” Rosie practically squeals, her face flushed as she fumbles with scanning his phone. “Here, um,” she steps away from the drive-through window momentarily and comes back with a pastry bag along with his coffee. Simple like always: black, with 2 sugars. “For the road. Gone Now really helped me through a hard time, when I lost my grandpa—and you wrote it about yours.”

Eddie’s smile becomes more genuine as he takes the coffee and muffin from the girl. He’s sure he looks like a mess, with blood-shot eyes and bags under his eyes. “I think most people have forgotten about that song. That was on my debut album.” He’d written that song what feels like a lifetime ago.

Like he was a different person back then than he is now. He supposes that in some ways, he was.

“I was only thirteen when it came out,” Rosie says. “I hope you make more songs like that. Your new stuff is great, but… that’s definitely my favorite. Anyhow, I won’t keep you, I’m sure you’ve got somewhere to be.”

“I do,” Eddie confirms, reaching over into the top of his duffel bag that’s resting on the passenger seat. “It was really nice to meet you, Rosie.” He hands her one of the signed albums that he carries with him, a simple thank you that he likes to have for those truly special fans. “It’s not my debut album, but I do hope you’ll enjoy it.”

Eddie offers her a parting wave as he pulls away, and tosses the hat that was his poor attempt at disguise onto the passenger seat. He takes several sips from the steaming coffee, then sets it in the cupholder, wincing as the heat nips at his tongue, hoping that the caffeine will help keep him alert for the rest of the drive home.

Before he pulls onto the road, he scrolls through his phone, pulling up his debut album on Spotify and pressing play, a wistful smile crossing his face. He’s trying to put a little space between him and the reason that he’s coming home to West River; Rosie’s words remind him, at least for a moment, why he started making music in the first place. He hears the familiar opening chords and pulls out onto the quiet road.

There was a time when not a single day

Went by without us talking

And now I can barely remember your face

We’d spend hours weaving words

And guitar notes together

Just you and me in the music’s embrace

But you’re gone now, you’re gone

All those moments lie six-feet deep in the ground

You’re gone now, you’re gone

I keep missing you ‘cause you’re not around

He knows he can’t live in this world of make-believe for long. He can’t pretend that what matters is his connection to the music anymore—he stopped writing his own music long ago. But it’s nice to remember, even if those moments are fleeting.

*

Eddie pulls into the same gravel driveway that he used to skid his bike tires on as a kid. His abuela still lives in the same house she did back then, only a few doors down from his childhood home. His parents moved an hour north about five years ago. Eddie’s stomach flops a bit, and he tries not to dwell on how little he talks to them these days, or their lack of support over the years.

 He drags himself out of the rental car and grabs his bag out of the passenger side, leaving the rest of his luggage in the trunk. Before he can even make his way up the short drive, his abuela steps out onto the porch.

Eddie yawns into the crook of his elbow, then makes his way up to her. “Hey, Abuela,” he murmurs, pecking her on the cheek.

“Eddie,” Abuela says. She welcomes him with a crushing embrace, and he smiles as he hugs her back. She pulls back just enough that he can see a fire in her eyes; he already knows what that means, so he remains silent until she spits it out. “You were supposed to call me back so I knew you were doing alright.”

“I told you I have you listed as my emergency contact. If anything happens to me you’ll be the first one they call,” Eddie teases with a laugh.

“Edmundo,” she scolds, swatting his arm, and he watches as her jaw tenses under his name.

“Okay,” Eddie acquiesces. “I’m sorry, alright? I’ll be more cautious next time and call you. But Houston to West River isn’t a long drive.”

“Shannon—”

“Can we talk about this later?” Eddie asks. “I haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours. I just need a couple of hours and then I promise we’ll talk, okay?”

“But, Eddie—” Despite the fact that he’ll probably be reamed for not turning his full attention to her, Eddie pushes the door open and steps inside. He stops in his tracks as his eyes catch sight of the figure who’s settled at the table, and his duffel bag drops to the floor. He feels abuela’s hand on his shoulder. “This is—”

The pretending is over.

“This is Christopher, your son.”

*

Eddie knew coming back home to West River wasn’t going to be a vacation in any sense of the word. He knew what would be waiting for him; baggage so heavy that it had the ability to destroy his entire career. The dream that he’d risked everything for, that he’d given up everything for.

This is Christopher, your son.

Abuela’s words echo in his ears.

Sure, there had been a few phone calls beforehand, warning Eddie of the kid’s existence after Shannon had shown up at Abuela’s with the boy. That hadn’t prepared him for this moment at all.

What the fuck is he going to do?

The temptation to drop by the hole-in-the-wall bar downtown to take the edge off is there. Instead, he tells Abuela he has to take care of some things and he disappears. He just needs to drive around for a little bit to clear his head. He needs to figure out what he’s going to do.

A kid will ruin everything.

How could Shannon keep this kid to herself for years, not mention a word of his existence, and then just drop him off and leave like he’s somehow now Eddie’s responsibility?

Eddie unrolls the window, letting the evening air hit his face as his foot presses down more firmly on the gas pedal.

Take care of it. You only have a few months until the tour.

Fuck all of this.

These backroads are so familiar, and there’s something comforting in driving down them late at night, when the rest of the town is quiet. It reminds him of those late nights when he and Buck would—

Eddie stops his thoughts short, the ache in his chest just as familiar as these roads. Buck.

What are the chances that in a town of a few thousand people he won’t run into Evan Buckley? That’s even if he still lives here. Eddie shakes the notion from his head, refusing to allow himself to get nostalgic about the past. A past that revolved around Buck.

Right now, he needs to focus on how he’s going to fix his life—before it becomes a public relations disaster.

Pressing down on the gas harder, Eddie gets lost in the feeling of the cool night air hitting his face, saving him from his downward spiral and memories of Buck.

Unfortunately, the moment is short lived. Red and blue lights flash in his rearview mirror amidst the otherwise stark darkness of the night. With a sigh, he pulls over to the shoulder of the road.

*

Buck climbs out of the cruiser and closes the door, walking up to the driver’s side of the out-of-state car. “Do you know why I stopped you tonight?” He quickly scans the inside of the vehicle, assessing if there are any passengers that he needs to be aware of before settling his sight on the driver.

Of all the people he could’ve had the unfortunate task of pulling over tonight, somehow it’s Eddie Diaz. He studies Eddie’s face, tipping his head to the side as his identity registers with Eddie. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Buck.”

It’s like he took the words right out of Buck’s mouth, because really, what are the fucking chances? After nine years Eddie somehow still has the ability to make Buck’s heart thunder in his chest merely by saying his name. His jaw tightens as he looks at the country music star in front of him.

“It’s Deputy Buckley,” Buck tells Eddie, his voice tight. “Do you know why I pulled you over?”

“This has to be an actual nightmare,” Eddie mutters, though Buck’s sure at this point that he’s talking to himself.

“License and registration.”

“Evan—”

“I said, license and registration. Don’t make me ask again. I’m going to suggest that you actually listen this time if you don’t want to end up in jail for the night.”

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut at Buck’s words. “I’m gonna grab the registration from the glove compartment.” He opens the glove box and hands over the paperwork, along with his license.

“Yeah, didn’t think you’d want that news story,” Buck mutters as he takes the documents and inspects them. He obviously knows that it’s Eddie, and he already ran the plates and knows that it belongs to a rental in Houston. He hands the paperwork back to Eddie. “Watch your speed, because next time I’m not going to be this nice,” Buck warns.

“This is nice?” Eddie actually has the audacity to laugh at him. “Seems more like you’re Deputy Dick to me.”

Buck’s lips press together into a tight line. He’s used to not being well liked while on the job—but it feels harsher coming from Eddie. “You know, I could still take you in tonight, if that’s what you want.”

Eddie shrinks under the words, and what he says next sounds sincere. “You know that’s not what I want.”

The same words that Eddie had said to him all those years ago, at the end. Buck feels his chest fracture down the middle, a reprise of the heartbreak that Eddie left in his wake.

He forces himself to school his expression despite the way he’s feeling. “Have a good night, Eddie.”

He doesn’t wait for Eddie to respond, turning sharply on his heels and walking away from the man that’s had his heart all along.

*

“You know, I don’t really think that this qualifies as guys’ night,” Buck says as he looks across the card table at Chimney, taking a sip of the lemonade in front of him. 

 Chim raises his brow a little, glancing in the direction of the living room. “You’re my brother-in-law,” Chim says, “and I’m not sure how to say this delicately, so I’m just gonna say it. If there’s one Buckley I’m trying to make happy right now, it’s not you, Buck. I’m trying to get in her good graces after the bottle rocket incident.”

Josh snorts from where he’s sitting, bringing the beer up to his lips.

“I’m not going to be the one to tell my wife that she needs to leave so we can have a proper guys’ night,” Chim adds.

“You would never say something to Maddie, and not just about guys’ night,” Josh challenges, his brows shooting up.

“I’m sorry, was that a complaint I just heard? Because I’m pretty sure that the last time you hosted a card night your mom showed up,” Chim points out.

“And Buck’s place—”

“Has constant interruption. I know, I know.” Buck rolls his eyes dramatically. “Are you gonna deal us in, or what?”

“Mads, were you gonna join us?” Chim calls helpfully into the other room, and Buck glares at him.

Maddie lifts herself off of the couch and walks out to the dining room table where they’re all situated, grabbing the bowl of chips from the counter and pulling up an empty seat. “I don’t want to play, but I’d love to talk to you guys.”

They really need to start finding different circles of friends, at least for nights like tonight. It’s not as if Buck’s going to tell his pregnant sister to go away, so instead he smiles. “We’d love it if you talked to us, Mads.”

“Really?” She grins, and Chim looks at Buck gratefully. “So, I heard a rumor that Eddie’s back in town.”

“Pick a different subject.”

“He’s back in town and got pulled over by West River’s youngest and brightest the other night,” Chim says.

Just the mention of Eddie’s name is an unwanted reminder that he’s back in town, at least temporarily. The fact that this wasn’t a figment of Buck’s imagination sends his brain into overdrive. There’s been some speculation over the reason for his return, and Buck has done everything in his power to stay squarely on the outside of those conversations.

He’s made it clear to his family and friends since Eddie left town that there is one topic that he refuses to discuss: Eddie Diaz. A lot of the locals were around Eddie growing up, and having someone that’s famous from their small hometown is something to talk about—especially when there’s a new tour that’s announced, or when Eddie is working on a new album.

But his friends? They know that it’s a hard and fast rule, and bringing it up on guys’ night is a definite foul. 

“Guys,” Buck manages as evenly as he can muster. “Talk about something else.”

A tense silence falls over the room, and for a minute Buck refuses to look up, knowing the pity that crosses their faces any time that someone brings up Eddie. He’s tried to hide his heartbreak behind indifference, but he’s not naive enough to believe that any of them buy it. Most of them had front-row seats as they watched Buck’s hopes and dreams shatter to the ground around him, leaving a hollow shell behind.

Finally he looks up.

“Can we make an exception this one time, Ev?”

“Maddie. I don’t talk about— about this, and you know that.”

Maddie’s hand covers his, her touch light, her tone equally calm and even. “You know, this has a name.”

“Why are you bringing him up now? You know I moved on from him a long time ago.”

It’s as if Chim and Josh aren’t sitting awkwardly at the table, trying to avoid the line of fire. Even if Maddie is officially a Han now, nobody wants to get obliterated during a battle of the wills between the siblings.

“This is guys’ night,” Buck reminds her. “The one night of the week that I can unwind and relax. Instead you’re here and dredging up a past that died years ago.” He lets out an exasperated sigh. “I was a kid. Just a stupid kid. There’s nothing else to say. We were together and then we weren’t. He has his life now, and I have mine.”

“Maybe that’s true, but you never did move on, not really. He’s in town for who knows how long, so maybe it’d be a good chance for the two of you to talk?”

“No, it wouldn’t. And, uh, thanks for ruining tonight,” Buck mutters as he stands up from the table. This is the kind of interference he’d expect from their out-of-town parents, always assuming they know what’s best, but not from Maddie.

“Buck,” Chim warns, and Buck sighs again, shaking his head in frustration. Chim’s always been protective of Maddie, something that Buck’s always appreciated, especially after all that she endured with Doug, but tonight feels like the exception.

“I’m gonna head home.”

“Buck, you really don’t have to go,” Josh says helplessly.

He attempts a smile for what Josh is trying to do—slapping a bandage on the evening, trying to piece everything back together. Buck shakes his head. “I think it’s for the best if I go.”

Buck says his goodbyes and hops into his Jeep, driving home. He knows that Maddie has the best of intentions, and that she cares about him with her whole heart, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

When he arrives home he notices there are only a few lights left on in the house, and that the porch light is on for him. 

“You’re home awful early,” Carla says as soon as he makes his way inside, barely looking up from the little girl that’s propped against her side.

He shrugs a little, not wanting to get into all of the details of how the night quickly spiraled out of control in a way that was just too much for him to handle. “I couldn’t stand the time away from her.”

“Mhm,” Carla says in her knowing way, and Buck’s thankful that she doesn’t say more than that. She knows enough about his past with Eddie, but she’s always stayed out of that part of his life.

Buck toes off his shoes, crossing the room then and scooping Lucy up in his arms. “Hey baby,” he murmurs, placing a kiss on the crown of her head.

“She insisted I read her three stories out here and not in her bed because she was ‘not tired yet, Carla’.”

Buck chuckles at her words, feeling Lucy squirm in his arms before she settles again. She rests her head against his shoulder and he hoists her up higher so that she can curl into him. In a world where everything else is imperfect he’s able to come home and hold a little piece of perfection in his arms. Their lives have been far from easy, and there isn’t a day that Buck doesn’t wish he could be more for her.

He’s doing his best to make up for the huge piece missing from her life—the absence of her mother. Every day she helps him remember that there is more than heartbreak and loss, that sometimes there’s hope, too. He has to hold on to that.

“I’m gonna head out,” Carla says, kissing the back of Lucy’s head and giving Buck a sideways hug before leaving.

Buck walks down the hallway, glancing at Lucy’s bedroom door and then pivoting, walking across the hall to his own room and laying the sleeping girl down on the pillows, covering her with the sheet and comforter. He gets ready for bed and lies on top of the covers beside her. He knows he shouldn’t make a habit out of this and he won’t, but tonight he needs the physical proof.

He hasn’t lost everything, because he still has Lucy.

[gumnut-logic]

John Tracy hated taking public transport.

He hated the cramped seats, the invasion of his personal space, the fact the bus stopped every few minutes to pick up more passengers and the noise.

It was stressful, annoying and far too full of people.

But the astrolabs were too far from the dorm to hike it or bike it, so bus it was.

He mapped out the most direct route, left early to avoid the crowds and handled it the best he could. Earphones helped and he never travelled without his tablet and a network connection.

He made do.

He made do for over a year. Every morning and every night.

The work was fascinating and he thoroughly enjoyed it. He considered getting a car, but it wasn’t practical and parking was non-existent, so he stuck with the bus.

Despite the fact he hated it.

Every trip he buried himself in his own world whether it be his work, research, a good book or even a movie. He shut the world out and more importantly anyone who sat next to him.

Sometimes this was not possible.

Because sometimes they spoke to him.

John had been brought up polite. His grandmother would have slapped his wrist if she found out he was ignoring people. So, he always replied. Often concisely, but always watching his manners.

That often opened the floodgates. Because if there was anything common between big cities it was the people who were lost in them, desperately alone in a sea of faces.

John liked being alone to a certain extent, but he was blessed with a close and large family.

Some people had no one.

So, ever so reluctantly, he found himself answering their call for help.

The first was Mrs Bucklin. She was a tiny woman, well dressed, but slightly scented with mothballs as if her clothes hadn’t been out of the closet in a long time.

She sat right beside him and immediately enquired as to what he was doing.

At the time he was coding a new game and her sharp voice startled him enough for his fingers to slip and enter a chain of commands he had not intended. He would have sworn if he was alone, but the program righted itself and the new commands, instead of corrupting and crashing the function, actually appeared to improve it. He frowned and hastily input some bridging structures so the code wouldn’t fragment, idly wondering if the error would improve the game, ruin it, have him need to rewrite the whole section or be the spark that would initiate sentience.

Great, his tablet would rise up and eat him while he was distracted by a random bus passenger.

She did apologise and he did reassure her that it was all okay in the hope she would let him be.

She didn’t.

He learnt she had three cats, a niece in another country (he didn’t gather which because the woman’s pronunciation defied translation), that she had lost her son in the Global Conflict, she liked his hair (that was a first) and that he looked like an intelligent young man.

He acknowledged her quietly and politely as he eyed his code and the results of an initial compile test. How did it do that?

Her cats were named Scottie, Gordy and Allie.

He did blink at that, but didn’t comment.

Eventually, she said goodbye and got off the bus at her stop.

He would have forgotten about her, except she sat next to him the next day and the day after that.

Apparently, this was her route to work, and he was such a polite young man.

Three weeks later she admitted he made her feel safe just by being there. She had been mugged three times in her life and public transport was as much a bane for her as it was for him.

He actively kept an eye out for her after that.

Gus was a different matter.

Gus didn’t have a home and he often rode the bus just for the air conditioning and comfort.

He sat on the other side of the walkway to John. He didn’t say much and would likely have never said anything if it hadn’t been for the gang of boys who decided to throw verbal potshots at him one day.

John had had an all-nighter with exams coming up, so he was cranky. His latest project had stalled – the same game he had been tackling when Mrs Bucklin had startled him. The core of the program had become a little unpredictable and he couldn’t work out why.

So, when a group of teenagers crawled to the back of the bus and started needling a fellow passenger, it was not only a situation where the innocent man appeared to need a bit of a rescue, but it also pissed John off.

There were four of them. Teenagers flocked in groups apparently. He’d never been one for that formation himself, but he knew of them, had encountered them and Virgil had kicked a few of their asses for him.

John was in college now.

He could kick his own fair share of ass quite happily.

“Leave the man alone, or I will call the police.” He raised his voice, but not his head, transmitting all the body language of how beneath his notice they were and how he might respond if they didn’t comply.

“Mind your own business, kook!”

There was always a brave one amongst the group, usually the ringleader, the head dickhead.

At least they were only teenagers.

This time he did look up and put all that communication theory into the coldest stare possible. “Excuse me?”

All four of them froze. Hell, they couldn’t be older than fifteen, somewhere between Gordy and Alan. If either of his brothers acted like this, there were three older brothers who would quite firmly re-educate them on proper conduct.

Not that he thought either of his younger brothers would do such a thing.

In any case, all four of them stared at him wide-eyed. The eldest swore and climbed out of his seat just as the bus pulled up at the next stop. He snarled at John as he stalked past, spitting profanities. His cohorts followed and they climbed off the bus.

It was lovely and quiet after that and John went back to tackling his misbehaving program.

“Thank you, sir.”

John blinked up at the unkempt man who had been the centre of the teenagers’ torment.

A small smile. “You’re welcome.”

Was this variable being changed by the program itself? How the hell could it do that?

He didn’t fail to notice after that incident that Gus, as he introduced himself the next time they met, always sat near John on his rides, morning or evening.

John met other people. Mrs Magarey and her three young children always needed a hand with her pram. John sometimes took advantage of this and stuck the pram in the footwell of the seat next to him so no-one could sit there.

That made Mrs Bucklin sit behind him and whisper her stories in his ear.

He wasn’t sure if he was comfortable with that either.

Two other students from his faculty took the same bus as well. Ridley was in the year behind him and always had a friend on the phone. She chattered a lot and he learnt to tune her out.

Well, until the day he boarded the bus and found her crying into her tablet.

She had lost her entire thesis in a computer crash. He was polite. He enquired and she answered, staring up at him as if she had never seen him before. Which was entirely possible. John didn’t like to draw attention to himself.

He accompanied her off the bus that day and delved into her damaged computer. He dug up her thesis and she gushed all over him, even crying into his sweater.

He hugged her awkwardly and wished her all the best.

After that, she always said hello and had a smile for him.

John smiled back, but his program was still not behaving. It acted as if it had a mind of its own and it was very distracting.

Mrs Bucklin said it sounded like cat number two, Gordy. Never behaving, but always loveable.

John stared at her when she said that, and wondered if she knew more than she was letting on.

The day Virgil landed in the seat beside him on the way to the labs startled him enough to drop his tablet.

“Hey, Johnny.”

He fumbled between the seats for the device. “Don’t call me Johnny.”

“Sorry.” But he could tell Virgil was anything but.

His fingers touched the cool metal of his tablet and he scrabbled for it. “What are you doing here?”

“Can’t a brother drop in on his brother to see how he is doing?”

John eyed him. If it was Scott sitting next to him or Gordon, he might have been suspicious of any double meaning his brother might be communicating. But this was Virgil and although the engineer had a sense of humour that could cut when necessary, this wasn’t his style.

“I guess he can. But why the bus?”

Virgil shrugged. “Didn’t catch you early enough. Barely caught the bus behind you. I thought your classes didn’t start until later.”

“They don’t.”

“Then why are you up so early?”

It was John’s turn to shrug. “Just avoiding the crowds, I guess.”

Virgil eyed him with a slightly worried frown.

“And who is this lovely young man who has taken my seat?”

Oh god.

Virgil stared up at Mrs Bucklin as she bustled in to sit behind them.

An internal sigh. “Mrs Bucklin, this is my brother Virgil.”

“Your brother?” She eyed Virgil as if inspecting him for sale. “Doesn’t look like you at all. Where’s the red hair?”

Virgil arched a dark eyebrow.

“Nevertheless, Mrs Bucklin, Virgil is my older brother.”

“Then how come we haven’t met before? You’ve been travelling this route for a year now and we haven’t seen hide or hair of him.” She continued to glare at Virgil as if he was a threat.

Virgil was shifting in his seat, his expression decidedly wary.

“Virgil has been assisting my father on a project. He’s an engineer. I’m unsure what he is doing here right now.”

“Hmph, well, in my opinion, he should have been here earlier.” She addressed Virgil directly. “Did you know your sweet little brother has been a bastion of this bus route, defending and assisting all?”

What?

John’s head shot up. “Mrs Bucklin-“

“Don’t you go all humble pie on me, young man. I saw what you did to those teenagers and how you help young Mollie every week. That girl is going to work herself into an early grave. And poor Gus, you’ve given him a new reason to try. Did you know he has enrolled himself in a course? Got himself a grant from the government and everything. Got help from that employment assistance group. Not to mention that doe-eyed young student who stares at you with love hearts floating about her head. I don’t know what you did for her, but I have no doubt she would do anything for you if you asked.” She turned back to Virgil, accusation in her eyes. “Why haven’t you been looking after your brother?”

Virgil’s wide eyes darted between John and the older woman.

John had no idea what to say.

“Well?” Mrs Bucklin’s glare was determined.

“Ah-“

“Is this man harassing you?”

John looked up to see Gus looming over Virgil.

You know, the Virgil who lifted weights that weighed more than his brothers on a daily basis.

John frowned. Gus had a new coat on and was looking much healthier than the last time he paid attention. “No, Gus. This is my older brother Virgil.”

And Virgil was subjected to another staring glare. “Doesn’t look like your brother.”

What?!

“I can assure you that he is indeed my caring older brother and he is not neglecting me in any way.”

Gus grunted, still glaring at Virgil. He nodded in John’s direction. “Make sure he eats more. He’s too skinny.”

That started Mrs Bucklin off again. “My goodness, yes. John you do not eat enough. Have you tried any of those recipes I recommended?”

Gus was still eyeing Virgil.

Virgil appeared to be regretting several recent life choices.

“I’m fine, Mrs Bucklin.” He raised his hands. “And both of you, Virgil is not responsible for my wellbeing.”

His tablet beeped. A glance and he found a text message from Ridley. You okay over there?

He looked up and found her at the other end of the bus staring back at him worriedly.

A sigh.

A flick of his fingers. I’m fine.

He turned back to Virgil who was literally cornered, only for his tablet to chime again.

 You free tonight?

Oh, for the love of-

“Guys, Virgil is my big brother. He looks after me. He cares. I’m fine. He’s here for a visit. I don’t know why yet. Stop glaring at him.”

Gus grunted again and wandered off to his seat. He didn’t stop eyeing John’s brother for a second.

Mrs Bucklin let off a slightly miffed sound before leaning back in her seat. “He better. Or I have a mind to bring Scottie with me next time. Or maybe Gordy. To teach him a lesson.”

What the hell?

“No need, Mrs Bucklin. I assure you.”

Virgil was staring at John as if he wasn’t sure what planet he was on.

John sighed.

Yeah, he hated public transport.

It was stressful, annoying and far too full of people.

His tablet pinged again. This time it was the program he was working on. It was claiming it was dawn despite the fact the sun had risen an hour ago. He let out an exasperated hiss.

Virgil was still staring at him.

Damn public transport.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

Normal Love and Superheroes: One - the orange streak of lightning

Summary: Leena Duckett gets her bike stolen and meets friendly officer John Blake.  

Pairing: John Blake x OFC (Leena Duckett)

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: theft, general spookiness there for a second, i don’t know this is pretty pure

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

“Goodnight, Mr. Nooley.” Leena waved to the Gotham Community Center director as she stood in the threshold of the exit. 

“Goodnight, Leena, and be safe on your way home.” 

She smiled at the middle-aged, balding man one last time before finally exiting the building. It was late, as per usual when she left the community center after her days of volunteering. But Leena always thought that Gotham was far more beautiful at night. The skyscrapers towering miles above her, all of them aglow with the evidence of late-night workers or families safe inside their apartments. She tugged her baggy sweater tighter around her to ward off the chill that had taken over the air after the sun went down. Fall was nearly in full effect for Gotham. A time of year that Leena loved. 

With pinked cheeks and nose from the sudden cold, Leena headed west. A block away from the community center to where her bike was safely locked to the nearest available bike rack when she arrived that afternoon. Her stomach grumbled. She could already picture herself in the tiny kitchen of her shared studio apartment. A pasta dish was due on a night like this. Something that paired nice with white wine. Leena was already licking her lips in anticipation of it. 

When she got closer to the bike rack, however, she noticed a man standing in the lamplight. There were a few other bikes locked to the rack, so she moved to the curb a few feet away from the man and waited for him to be done with his own bike. 

The man, dressed in a coat maybe a farmer would wear and jeans, was taking a long time to lock up his bike. And, wanting to be nice — 

“Do you need some help?” she asked, taking a tentative step forward. 

He turned. And it wasn’t until then that she noticed it. His grubby, stubbled face. His severe frown. The bolt cutters in his hand, with the jaws around the lock attached to her bike. 

Leena’s eyebrows furrowed, the grip she had on her bag tightened. “Hey, wait a minute —  “ 

But it was too late. There was a distinct, metallic snap as the bolt cutters went through her lock. She moved forward to stop him, knowing in the back of her mind that she would never be able to take on a man that size. He quickly ripped the lock from the bike and hopped onto the seat.

“Stop! Stop!” she shouted. 

But he didn’t stop. He took off down the sidewalk at breakneck speed. She didn’t even bother to run after him. There was no way she would catch him.

“Did that really just happen?” she asked the empty street as she watched the thief and her bike disappear into the darkness. 

In shock, Leena sat down on the curb. What was she supposed to do now? That stupid bike was her only mode of transportation around the city. And her apartment was too far away to walk, she’d either freeze or get robbed, again. Especially in this city. She checked her wallet for money for the bus or the train. That was a no-go. Not even a sorry penny to her name at the moment. She refused to call her mom who lived outside the city proper. She’d never let her hear the end of it and force her by guilt alone to move back out there with her. So, instead, she pulled out her RAZR and called her roommate Jamie. It was only six o’clock, she was bound to be awake for a few more hours. 

It went straight to voicemail. 

She tried again. 

Voicemail. 

One last time for good luck. 

Voicemail. 

Leena groaned, head tilted towards the black night sky. What the heck was she supposed to do now? Even still, she wasn’t going to call her mom. It would be embarrassing and it would take her nearly an hour to get into the city. So, with one last grimace to the universe, Leena dialed 911. 

Her insides felt like they were being pulled down by an invisible string. What was that? Embarrassment? Shame? Anxiety? Maybe a bit of all three? Either way, she hated this. Her bike was gone. She was cold. And now she was calling 911 for the first time in her twenty years of life. 

The other line had barely even started ringing before a stern, feminine voice answered, “911, what is your emergency?” 

“Uh, yeah, I’d like to report a robbery — or — er — a theft? I guess?” 

“Ma’am are you in any immediate danger? Is the thief still present?” 

“No, no, I’m fine. He’s gone. He stole my bike.” 

“So this is not an active emergency.” 

“Correct.” Leena fiddled with the strap of her bag sitting in her lap. Her bottom was starting to get cold from the concrete. 

“Alright, ma’am, did you get a good look at the suspect?” Though it was slight, Leena could tell that the dispatcher was annoyed that this wasn’t an emergency that needed GCPD’s immediate attention. 

“Yes, I did. He was on 14th street headed west — on — on a bright orange bike.” She could feel her embarrassment, like a bubble, welling up inside her. Forcing unwanted tears to prick the backs of her eyes. She felt so stupid right now. 

“And are you alone?” 

Leena hated the tears that slipped from her eyes as she whispered, “Yes.” 

“Okay. We’ll send an officer to get your statement in the morning. What is your home address?” The dispatcher hadn’t seemed to notice Leena’s building up of emotion. 

“But — But…I have no way home.” The pathetic, childish words couldn’t be stopped before they escaped past her lips. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean — “ 

The dispatcher’s voice took on a warm tone. As if she finally understood. “It’s alright, hon.” For some reason, the term of endearment made Leena cry more. “Just sit tight. An officer is on their way now. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?” 

Leena wiped furiously at her wet cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater. “No. No. That’s okay. You probably have more important things to do.” 

“Alright, ma’am. Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight.” 

The line went dead and Leena stowed her phone away in her overstuffed bag. She then hugged her knees to her chest, put her head down, and waited. A few cars went by, but nobody was walking the streets. Especially not at night. Especially not after all that clown stuff with the mob went down a few months ago. She had heard from her roommate Jamie that some local ordinance was going through city council to get the rest of the criminals off the streets. But for now, most of them still ran free. Poisoning the streets of Gotham with murder, mob activity, and even petty bike theft. A shiver, like a finger of ice, ran down her spine, causing her to curl up into an even tighter ball. Maybe if she made herself as small as possible, no one would notice her sitting on the curb. 

A warm hand landed gently on her shoulder. She jumped. Her head snapped up, her body instantly moving away from the hand and whoever was attached to it. Just in case they were dangerous or, and she only thought this for a split second, the bike thief coming back to get rid of his only witness. 

But the hand was attached to neither of those things. In fact, the hand belonged to a police officer. Crouching beside her on the curb. His police cruiser parallel parked to their left. 

“Hey, it’s alright,” he said, his voice deep, intimidating, but not lacking in caring or softness, “I’m with GCPD, I’m here to help. Are you the one who called in about the stolen bike?” 

“Yeah — Yes. I am.” 

He was young. Maybe a few years older than her if she had to guess. He was probably a rookie cop they sent out on stupid cases like this. She could see from his name badge that his last name was Blake. Slightly tan skin, fit and lean, closely cropped dark hair. His ears kinda stuck out on either side of his head, but it only added to his boyish good looks that made Leena’s throat close up for a second. 

“Let’s take your statement in the cruiser, yeah? You must be freezing.” He cocked his head towards the parked police car, still running, beside them with a slight smile. 

His brown, deep-set eyes nearly disappeared when he did that. 

“Um — yeah. Yeah. That sounds good,” she said, nerves still dialed to 1,000 and hoping that once she was inside the police cruiser and relatively safe she would calm down. 

Officer Blake stood first and then offered her his hand. She picked up her bag and accepted it gladly. Her legs had nearly fallen asleep from sitting on the concrete for so long, and she couldn’t feel her bottom at all it was so cold. And once she was standing, she couldn’t help but take note of the fact that he was taller than her. But he wasn’t a giant — average height. Leena shook her head as she went around to the passenger side of the car. When did she ever take note of someone’s height? Of the way their eyes disappeared when they smiled? Of their boyish good looks? He was just the police officer who was going to take a statement about the theft of her bike and hopefully take her home. That was it. 

Leena, she told herself as she slid into the passenger seat, get a hold of yourself. 

Once Officer Blake was in the driver’s seat, he pulled a pad of paper and a pen from his belt. “So, can you tell me exactly what happened tonight? Start from the beginning.” 

“Well, I finished up over at the community center — “ 

“What do you do at the community center?” 

“Uh — I’m a volunteer. I teach art lessons to kids on Wednesdays and Fridays,” Leena answered as she stared into her lap. 

Officer Blake nodded. “So you finished up at the community center….” 

“Right. I left the building and walked the block west to that bike rack.” She pointed to the rack in question. 

“Why didn’t you use the bike rack in front of the community center?” he asked. 

“I like to leave room for more kids if they show up — plus it was full by the time I got there this afternoon, so.” She shrugged, wondering if he was just being thorough with his questioning or he was mocking her in some way. “But when I got to the bike rack there was already a guy standing there. He was wearing jeans, worker’s boots, and like a Carhartt-type jacket. I didn’t wanna be rude. I thought he was messing with his own bike — so I stayed back to give him some space. It looked like he was struggling or something so I asked if he needed help. He — uh — didn’t. Cause then he took off with my bike.” 

Officer Blake suppressed a laugh. 

“That’s not funny!” Leena was struggling to keep in her own laughter now. Now that she was telling the story, there was a bit more humor there than she thought. “Okay…Maybe it’s a little funny.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” He coughed to cover up the remainder of his badly disguised chuckles. “Did you get a good look at the guy?” 

“I did.” 

She could see him perfectly in her head. Square face, stubbled jaw, heavy brow. But she didn’t know what to say to give him a proper description. 

“Can I get a description? Just as many details — “ 

“Uh — can I see your notepad?” Leena asked as she pulled one of the many pens from her bag. 

“Um, sure.” He handed it over with a look of apprehension. 

For a moment, she looked at the things he had written down. His handwriting was terrible, small chicken scratch letters that looked closer to Chinese calligraphy than English handwriting, but she could make out some things. He had written down her own description. Brown hair, blue eyes, around 5’5”, rosy cheeks, pretty. She quickly flipped to a new page and began to sketch out the man she saw. Fighting down the sudden heat that was creeping up her neck. 

He thought she was pretty?

“This is easier than me trying to tell you,” she explained. 

“Right. Certainly saves the sketch artists some time,” he said. As her pen moved rapidly over the paper, she felt the car shift into gear. “Where do you live?” 

“Fashion District — Bayside Apartments.” 

“Nice area,” he commented as he pulled away from the curb. 

“It’s only nice for people you can afford to live at the Yards or the Ritz.” Leena scoffed. “Only live there cause my roommate’s a fashion designer — she's an assistant with one of those big-name brands that I can’t pronounce the name of. Bayside is an abandoned warehouse vaguely disguised as an apartment building.” 

She looked up from her sketch to see him smirking as he drove. She felt heat flooding her cheeks and neck, probably turning them a blotchy shade of red. “Sorry. You didn’t need to know that.” 

“It’s alright,” he answered, making her feel only slightly better. 

She finished up with the sketch and nodded in satisfaction. She reckoned that it looked enough like him for the police to use it. “There. Done.” 

He looked over at her finished product with raised brows. Then he smiled, his eyes disappearing for an instant. “Wow. Looks better than half the stuff our sketch artists come up with. Actually looks like a person.” 

“Thanks,” Leena chuckled. 

Her bag began to vibrate. It took her a moment to find her phone in the mess of sketch pads, paint supplies, and multicolored pens. But once she did, she saw that it was Jamie finally calling her back. Leena flipped open the phone in an angry huff. 

“I called you three times!” Leena hissed into the phone. 

“I know! Which is why I’m calling you back!” Jamie answered, not sounding bothered in the slightest. 

“Well, thanks to your inability to answer your damn phone — I’m now riding in a cop car!” She turned to Officer Blake and mouthed a sorry, but he brushed it off with a wave of his hand. 

“Wait — a cop car? Did you get arrested?” 

“No, I didn’t get arrested!” 

“Sounds like you to get arrested.” 

Leena looked over at Officer Blake to see if he heard that. If he had, he wasn’t giving it away. “No, it doesn’t. Look, he’s taking me home. I’ll be there in like…Two minutes. I’ll explain everything then.” 

“He? Is he cute? Did you check for a wedding ring?” 

“Goodbye, Jamie.” 

Leena hung up before her roommate could say anything else embarrassing.

“Your friend seems, uh — Interesting,” Officer Blake commented. 

“Yeah, she’s great. She’s great.” 

As secretly as she could though, she glanced over to see if she could catch a glimpse of his left hand. His arm was perched on the sill of the window while he drove with his right hand. No wedding ring. She quickly looked back to the front of the vehicle and took a deep breath. That didn’t mean he was single. No wedding ring meant nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just like that weird fluttering feeling she was getting in her stomach meant nothing. Just like the sly little grin she saw out of the corner of her eye meant nothing. 

Nope. Not a thing. 

The car pulled up to Bayside’s main entrance and Leena sighed. Even though the place was terrible, it was still home. Drafty walls, leaky sinks, fluctuating heat functionality and all. It was cheap, close to Jamie’s job, and not too far from the various places Leena went to keep herself busy. 

“Can I have my notepad back please?” Leena handed it back with an embarrassed little smile. “Thanks. Now, I do have a few more questions for you, if that’s okay?” 

“Oh — yeah. That’s fine.” 

“Can I get a description of the bike that was stolen?” 

“It’s uh — bicycle. Sorry I don’t know models or anything. It’s bright orange with a white basket and…um — and it has white tassels on the handle bars.” 

Leena had always debated about whether or not she should remove the childish tassels that came on the bike that she got for ten dollars at a garage sale. But she could never truly convince herself to part with them. She liked the way they blew in the strong breezes her riding made. They reminded her of simpler times, when she had less cares and she genuinely believed she could do anything. 

She caught the small smile he flashed when she mentioned the tassels though and it made her heart soar. 

“Okay.” He nodded his head then added quickly, “And  — uh — would you wanna go out on a date with me sometime?” 

A laugh burst from Leena’s chest before she could stop it. He looked nervous. Twiddling his pen between his fingers and biting down on his bottom lip. He was trying to control his expression, but his eyes held a kind of earnest hope that made her heart squeeze in her chest. 

“Sorry. Sorry. Are you even allowed to do that?” she asked. “Ya know - on the clock?” 

“Probably not.” He chuckled nervously. “But I think you’re really cute and ya know — I thought that, maybe — You thought — And that there was something — “ 

“I’ve got one condition,” she said, feeling a thrill in her chest. 

What the hell was she doing? 

He looked hopeful, excited even. “What’s that?” 

“You either have my bike when you come on this date,” she said, confused and excited by the words coming out of her own mouth, “Or you don’t show up at all.” 

For a moment, Leena was ecstatic. She had never done anything like this in her life. Challenge someone to something like this. Be so cheeky. But when she saw the exasperated look on his face, she wilted like a houseplant someone forgot to water. Oh no. Had she ruined everything before it even began? Just because she thought it would be fun to be mischievous for once? 

“I’m just — “ she started to say, but he cut her off. 

“You have yourself a deal.” 

Leena sprang back to life again. A wide smile enveloping her features. It nearly hurt her cheeks, she was smiling so hard. “My name’s Leena — by the way.” 

“John,” he replied with a soft smile, “I’m also gonna need your last name, phone number, date of birth, and address for the statement.” 

“That’s an odd way of asking for my — “ 

“Oh, no. I really need the information for the statement,” he said, tapping his pen on the notepad. 

Leena gave the rest of her information to Officer John Blake and then exited his vehicle with a sense of professionalism that barely disguised her excitement. Once she was inside the lobby she bolted to the industrial elevator and pressed the button for the fourth floor. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she could hardly contain herself. In fact, she had such a loose cap on her excitement that after a few moments of being alone in the elevator she squealed in delight. 

She had a date! Well…The potential for a date! 

As soon as she opened the door to the apartment, Jamie bounced up from the couch to greet her. Jamie could have been a model if she wanted. But she would much rather design the clothes than wear them on the runway. She was tall and well toned from her years of college basketball with Gotham University. She had short, dark hair and a regal, hawk-like nose. 

“Oh my, God! Lee, what the hell happened?” she asked. 

Leena hung her bag on the coat rack with a smile. Then, turning to the small kitchen, she noticed the box of pizza sitting on the counter. 

“Did you order pizza?” 

“Yeah — to make up for the fact that I’m a terrible friend.” Jamie went over the box and flipped open the lid. 

It was Leena’s favorite. Banana peppers, black olives, and italian sausage. There were only a few pieces missing. Leena gratefully went over to the counter and pulled a slice from the box. She was starving — it was nearly seven-thirty. She hummed happily as she ate, sitting down on a bar stool. 

“Okay, you can be in my good graces again,” Leena said, half of her pizza slice already gone by the time she spoke. 

“So, come on.” Jamie sat down on the stool beside her. “Tell me what happened!” 

Leena took another bite. “I got a date!” 

“You got a date? With the cop?” Jamie asked, laughter curling around every word she spoke, “You didn’t save him for me?” 

“Hell no!” Leena grabbed another slice. “I haven’t been on a date in a year — plus you’re seeing that guy…Aaron?” 

“Oh that was a one time thing.” Jamie rolled her eyes. “Never date a model. Trust me. But — okay, so like, how did you end up with the cop in the first place?” 

“Right! Well, first my bike got stolen.” 

“The Orange Streak of Lightning?” 

“Yes. The Orange Streak. Anyway, it got stolen. I had no money for the bus or the train. I called you to see if you’d come pick me up.” Leena pointed an accusing finger at her roommate who only gave her a sorry smile in reply. “So I was forced to call the police and get a ride from them.” 

“Hey, if I’d answered my phone you wouldn’t have a date with a cute cop right now,” Jamie pointed out as she grabbed her own slice of pizza. 

Leena winced. “Well, here’s the thing…” 

“Oh, no.” 

“There’s no specific day yet. Cause uh — I maybe told him that he either showed up with my bike or there wasn’t a date at all.” Leena cringed at her own words. 

Jamie stared at her a moment. “Why the hell would you say that?” 

“I don’t know!” Leena anxiously stood up from her stool and began to pace nearly the entire length of their studio apartment. “It just came out of me! It was like I was a different person! I never say things like that! Why did I say that? I’m such an — “ 

“Did he agree to do it?” Jamie asked as her green eyes followed Leena’s pacing. 

Leena brought her fingernails to her mouth and bit down hard. “Yeah.” 

“Holy shit. He must think you’re pretty damn hot,” Jamie laughed. “What’d you do that left such an impression?” 

“Nothing!” Leena quickly jumped to her own defense. Even though there really was nothing to defend. “I — I gave him my statement. I sketched out the guy who stole my bike in his notepad. That’s it!” 

“Lee.” Jamie’s eyes turned soft. “When are you gonna realize that you actually are pretty damn hot?” 

Lenna pulled a face and squatted down on the floor. Then finally sprawled out spread eagle on the wood flooring with the knit hat that had previously been on her head covering her face. Her insides felt like they were being pulled in every which direction. Up into her throat with excitement. Down to her feet with fear and embarrassment. Right after it had happened, it was all that she could think about. He was all that she could think about. Officer John Blake. With his boyish grin and hard brown eyes. But now she was back to reality. Back to her dingy apartment where her only personal space was her bed surrounded by curtains. Back to herself, someone who wasn’t adventurous, flirtatious, or cheeky. Back to someone who regretted giving him that stupid challenge of finding her bike because what if this was her only chance of finding someone? Of finding someone after….

“I was so excited before,” Leena groaned, her face pulled down in a perpetual frown beneath her hat. 

“Why aren’t you excited now?” Jamie asked. 

Leena could feel Jamie lay down on the floor beside her and take her hand. 

“Cause all I can think about is — “ She turned her voice down to a whisper, afraid of saying it too loudly in fear that it may manifest some darkness. “Jacob.” 

Though Leena had her eyes covered, the light coming through the red knit of her hat, she could simply feel the harsh, ice cold scowl that had taken over Jamie’s face. If looks could kill, that one would surely make anyone drop dead. And a part of Leena that she had locked away for a very long time was crushing her on the inside once more. 

Jacob Grayson. She remembered when they first met. Freshmen in high school, sitting next to each other at lunch because they didn’t know where else to go. He was perfect. He wore his blonde hair spiked up and had a shell necklace from his trip to the Bahamas that summer. They instantly clicked. And pretty soon, they were dating. Leena didn’t think they would ever stop dating. She pictured her entire life with Jacob. Graduating together. Going to college together at Gotham University. He would get a business degree while she pursued a degree in art. They would find good jobs in the city, get married, have kids. All of it. He was simply perfect. Funny, smart, handsome, the first person she ever kissed or loved. All of her formative years, she was with him. Molding her life around him and a fictional life she may have with him. They did graduate together. She did end up attending Gotham University for a few years but never graduated. Jacob chose to attend an out of state college with a better business program. Leena thought they could make long distance work. She still had high hopes for the life she had planned for them. 

But then he came to visit with the girl he had been cheating on Leena with. 

Jacob gave the excuse that he just forgot to break up with Leena. He thought nothing of it. But it was everything to Leena. And now she finally understood why someone could kill another person. Five years of her life — wasted. 

It took her a long time to get back on her feet. Months of laying around at her mom’s house. Then Jamie asked if she would move in with her. She got a job at the Sheridan Museum of Art as a personal tour guide. Leena slowly began to pick up the pieces of her life that a guy she thought she loved carelessly let fall to the floor. 

“Don’t talk about him,” Jamie said, “That’s your past. A past that is best left in the past.” 

“But — “ Leena ripped her hat from her face and rolled onto her side to look at Jamie. “What if — ?” 

“He won’t be like that, I’m sure.” Jamie rolled onto her side as well, tucking her hands beneath her head. “Jacob was a special kind of asshole. And if he happens to be of the same breed — let’s just say I’m not afraid to hit a cop, alright?” 

Leena flashed a wide grin that nearly instantly fell when her worries overcame her once more. “Do you really think I’m ready, Jay?” 

“I think you are more than ready, darling. Time to finally forget that son-of-a-bitch.”

[verai-marcel]

Do What I Dare (RDR2 Fanfic, Biker AU, Arthur x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You've been dating Arthur for about four months now, and if you hadn't seen that photo of his biker gang, you wouldn't have guessed that he was once an outlaw. He's so gentle, polite, and kind to you that you didn't believe he had a wild side. A picnic out in the hills proves you wrong. 

Author’s Notes: Many thanks to @reddeaddufus for this amazing idea! So timeline-wise, this is happening during that six months when Journalist!Reader is still living in her apartment but she and Charles are already together. Cosplay!Reader & Javier got together a couple of weeks before this. And of course, the title is an obscure lyric; try and guess the song!

Tags: outdoor sex, mild exhibitionism, rough sex, dirty talk, some name calling, medium honor Arthur 

Find the AO3 link here, sweetheart.

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

Arthur had stopped by as he did every morning before opening, and after hearing that you were opening alone, immediately began helping you set up chairs and tables. He really was a great guy.

Usually Charles was here earlier than you, but this morning his lady friend was feeling ill, so he had texted you to ask if you could open up without him. You hoped everything was okay. At this point, you had met both Charles’ and Javier’s girlfriends and they were both nice people, though their personalities couldn’t be farther apart. One was bold and unafraid while the other was shy and had a bit of social anxiety. They were both fun to hang out with whenever the boys got together to talk about marketing.

While Arthur was handing you the mugs and glasses from the dishwasher so you could put them away, he spoke.

“You free on Sunday?”

“Yup! What’re you planning?” you asked.

“Well, the weather’s s’pposed to be nice, so I thought maybe we’d go on a bike ride up the ridgeway.”

“That sounds awesome! Should we make it a picnic?”

“Sure.” He paused before looking at you a bit shyly. “Can ya make some of those cucumber sandwiches?” he asked quietly.

“Of course,” you said happily.

“Thank you.”

You smiled. Arthur had never stopped being polite to you, even after dating him for the past four months. Together, the two of you finished getting everything ready just in time. 

“Lookin’ forward to Sunday,” Arthur said as he grabbed his jacket. He gave you a quick kiss on the cheek as you wrapped your arms around him for a quick hug before he left for work. Watching him go, you smiled as you opened the cafe to the public. 

***

The Ridgeway was a scenic road that went north and south through the state, with the most beautiful part being, in your humble opinion,  the section nearby that weaved past the lake and through some of the forest east of town. There were several viewpoints along the path for tourists to stop and gawk at the view, but the locals knew that the best part was going off the Ridgeway onto random roads to find secluded dead ends that then led to even better views, untainted by signs and trash.

You were clinging onto Arthur as he wove his way on his Indian Scout motorcycle. Remembering the first time he had shown you his bike, you smiled. At that time, you had been dating for a month and had never seen him drive anything; he had always met you somewhere or you came to his place. When he had asked if you wanted to go on a bike ride, you assumed he had meant a bicycle. Boy, were you wrong. When he had rolled up to your apartment on his matte black motorcycle and handed you a helmet, you had been shocked to your core. And also turned on as all hell; he had been wearing a leather jacket and dark blue jeans, motorcycle boots, and fingerless gloves.

It was the same outfit he was wearing now as the two of you rode up the road, the sound of the motor muffled by the helmet over your head. After a few more twists and turns along the Ridgeway, he finally turned onto an unmarked road that led to a small picnic area. It was originally made by a historical preservation society decades ago, but fell into disuse after a rock slide made the road unusable by car.

A motorcycle, however, could easily wind around the rocks and get past.

Through the trees and the debris the two of you went, until you reached the small clearing at the top of the hill. A small picnic bench with one forgotten trash can and two parking spots were here, along with a gorgeous view of the hills and valleys. You popped your helmet off and practically leapt off the bike, running to the picnic table and clambering on top of it like a kid. Surveying the scenery, you eventually pulled out your phone and took a panoramic photo.

“This is so cool, I didn’t even know about this place!” you squealed with delight.

Arthur chuckled. “Glad you like it, darlin’.”

Hopping down from the table, you took the picnic case from Arthur’s hands and started to help him set up. Tossing the picnic blanket over the table, the two of you laid out your feast: cucumber sandwiches, two beers, summer sausage, a bit of bison jerky, and some grapes.

The two of you ate and chatted, the comfortable air between you two allowing for the occasional pause, the silence filled with contentment. Soon your line of questioning started to veer towards his past, something that he rarely mentioned.

“So, is this the same bike you had in that photo on your wall?”

“Yup.”

After a few moments without him adding anything else, you tried to get some more out of him. “Wow. Would you ever trade it in?”

“Never.”

You tilted your head at him; he was only giving you one word answers and not elaborating. “Should I not ask about your past?”

Arthur sighed. “There were some good times, but in the end, things fell apart and we chose to get out. I still feel… guilty, I guess. We weren’t good people.”

You reached for his hand and held it with both of yours. “But you’re a good man on the inside,” you said quietly. “And you’re doing good now.”

He gave you a crooked grin. “I must be, if you’re stickin’ around.”

You laughed. “I don’t know, maybe I have a thing for bad boys.”

Arthur’s eyebrow raised. “Oh?”

“Yeah, maybe I secretly want a guy who’ll fuck me out in the open, get all raw and wild.” You waggled your eyebrows.

Laughing, Arthur stood up. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy for you,” you said with a wink. You stood up as well and helped him clean up. Once everything was back in the picnic case, you took it from him and set it aside. Climbing across the table, you knelt before him and took his head between your hands. “Kiss me.”

Arthur smiled and pulled you off the table and into his lap, your legs straddling his as he tangled his fingers in your hair and pushed your head closer to him. He nibbled your lips lightly at first, delicately playing with you as his other hand reached under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your back. His kisses grew deeper as his touch became more insistent; the grip in your hair tightened as he pulled you closer to him, pressing you against his hard chest. 

He pulled away and gave you a naughty look before he took hold of the hem of your shirt. "Can I?" 

You obediently lifted your arms and let him pull the shirt over your head. He laid it down behind you before gently pushing you down on the table. Bending over to lay kisses along your collarbone, he pulled the cups of your bra down to expose your breasts to the cool air, your nipples hardening. Attracted to the sight, Arthur enveloped one in his mouth while he pinched and pulled gently on the other, making you moan and writhe underneath him. 

"Arthur," you sighed as he shifted, making sure both your nipples had equal attention from his talented tongue. Wrapping your legs around him, you pulled him closer to feel his cock straining in his jeans. 

He suddenly wrapped his arms around you and picked you up. "I got an idea, sweetheart."

Carrying you to his bike, he set you on your feet and turned you around. You understood what he wanted and felt a flush of heat as he started to undo the fly of your pants. He slowly slid them down your hips, just past the curve of your backside. 

"Bend over, darlin'," he crooned. You gladly did so, your tits hanging out over the side of his motorcycle seat. Sticking your ass out for him, you turned your head towards him and gave him a smirk.

“What would you do if I didn’t?” you taunted.

His dark smile made shivers go down your spine as anticipation and lust swirled into your body. Stepping forward, he grabbed your butt with both hands, his fingers digging into your flesh before slapping your ass.

“I’d teach you how to be a good girl,” he rumbled. He slapped the other cheek. “Make sure you learn how to listen.”

“Oh, yes, teach me Arthur,” you purred, wiggling your body. With one hand he pressed you down on the motorbike seat to keep you still as he undid his button fly. Out of the corner of your vision, you saw him standing behind you, pulling out his hard cock and stroking himself as he stepped closer. You could feel him nudging your slit, sliding it back and forth, coating himself in your wetness. 

“Goddamn sweetheart,” he murmured. “All this honey fer me?”

You moaned as he pressed forward, the head of his cock stretching you slowly. Grabbing your hips, he kept on entering you until he filled you to the hilt, letting out a soft, low moan of satisfaction. He leaned over and kissed the shell of your ear.

“Just think, someone might come out here and find you, bent over my bike, getting filled with my cock.”

Your pussy tightened around him as you felt a rush of adrenaline.

“Oh yeah, gettin’ excited by that, ain’tcha?”

“Fuck me Arthur,” you half-growled, trying to move your hips towards him.

He chuckled, his hold on you as strong as steel. “I’m in control here, darlin’.” His hips pulled back and snapped forward, his bike shifting ever so slightly from his movement. He reached for your hair, pulling your head back so your back arched beautifully for his pleasure. Moving slowly at first, he built up a steady rhythm, fucking you with just enough control to prevent toppling his bike with the strength of his thrusts.

“Yer a dirty girl, gettin’ so hot from being fucked in the open,” he crooned. 

You were surprised at how aroused you were from this. The risk of being caught like this shot adrenaline through your body, giving you an incredible high. The thought of someone catching you in such a compromising position while you were getting railed like a whore over the seat of a motorcycle by a real biker outlaw was sexy, like a porn fantasy come to life. Your tits were bouncing and your juices were dripping down your thighs as your cries of pleasure echoed in the forest. His hands wandered, grabbing your neck, gripping your hips and fondling your breasts. And through it all, his cock kept hammering into you, a steady reminder that you were completely at his mercy and you loved it.

Suddenly Arthur brought his hand down against your ass again, making you yelp.

“Fuck, I love it when you squeeze my cock whenever I spank ya.”

You turned towards him. “Now you’re just doing that for fun.”

“Have to keep you in line somehow.”

You grinned and pushed your ass back at him, causing him to stop moving.

“Arthur!” you whined.

“Fuck yerself on me if you want it so bad,” he said with a mocking grin.

You growled but did as he said, undulating your hips, grinding down on his shaft and slowing your pace, letting him feel every inch of your tight channel as you slid forward and back on him. You felt a thrill of victory when he finally grabbed your hips and thrust inside of you, taking control of the speed again.

“Yer drivin’ me crazy,” he grunted as he leaned forward, crushing you against the bike seat. He reached around, rubbing your clit with an expert touch. He had gotten intimately familiar with your body in the past few months and knew exactly how to push you to your peak. Each stroke made your heart race, made your breath come out in labored gasps as he made you feel a blinding pleasure with each stroke of his fingers.

“Come fer me, darlin’,” he murmured into your ear. “I’m goin’ to fill you when you do.”

“Oh fuck,” you gasped as you felt your climax hit you like a gust of wind, taking you higher and higher as you cried out, only to have Arthur wrap a hand around your mouth to stifle your screams. You kept moaning, your sounds muffled as he continued to fuck you, faster and faster, until your body was shaking from being kept on the brink for so long.

Arthur let out a low moan as he came inside of you, filling you as he promised. He let his weight crush you against the leather seat as he caught his breath, for he knew you enjoyed the heaviness of his body every once in a while. 

After a few moments, he stood up, his cum spilling out as he pulled himself out of you. “Darlin’, you alright?”

“I’m good. Better than good. That was so hot.”

He laughed. “Better keep that inside of ya,” he said, pulling a bandana from his jacket and wiping your mixed juices from your inner thigh. “Don’t wanna get my bike dirty,” he said with a wink.

You slapped his arm as you laughed and pulled your clothes back on. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

He could only laugh with you as he pulled you into his arms and kissed you gently. “It’s all I could think of. Forgive me if I ain’t able to think properly right now.”

“I forgive you," you said, tapping his nose playfully.  "Now should we go back? We probably should take a shower.”

“And then round two?” he asked with a hopeful look.

You giggled. “If you’re feeling… up to it.”

“With you? Always.”

The two of you rode back down the Ridgeway, content and happy. You snuggled into his warm back, your arms wrapped around his waist, and blissfully enjoyed the view.

When the two of you returned to your apartment, while he was helping you put away the picnic gear, he chuckled softly.

“What is it?” you asked, curious.

“Was jus’ thinkin’ we should go ridin’ more often, since it gets you all hot and bothered like this.”

You just laughed as you stripped off your clothes to give him round two.

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

End Notes: The fic title is a lyric from I Feel Like A Woman by Shania Twain! The scenery was very much inspired by my visit to Asheville, North Carolina a long time ago. The Blue Mountain Ridgeway was absolutely gorgeous, definitely worth a visit. Hope you enjoyed this hot little story! With this part, this series is over. Thank you for your support!

[friendlyneighborhoodspider-man]

Broken Promises (pt. 3)

A/N: 

If you haven’t already read parts 1 and 2, you can find them below. I definitely reccommend reading them prior to this because this probably won’t make much sense if you don’t. 

part 1 part 2

There were a lot of directions this could go. I had a lot of people ask me to write it different ways, but in the end, this is what I felt. I am debating continuing this storyline with drabbles between the reader, Jason, and Roy (and possibly Zatanna or Dick?) Please like, comment, and send me suggestions/asks!

Love, Z

~~~~~~

It wasn’t until a month later that you were able to go back to the apartment to clear out the rest of your things. The affair had completely derailed your life, but it was nothing compared to what Dick was going through. After the word got out to the press about his cheating scandal, his name was pretty much toast. The only person to reach out to you to apologize for the whole mess was Alfred, but you had a feeling that for the most part no one wanted to confront it.

Jason and Roy on either side, you stepped through the threshold, memories sweeping over you like a wave. The living room that the two of you had painted together in fits of giggles and kisses now felt cold. Memories of lazy Sunday mornings spent on the couch eating waffles and watching the news, and long nights spent wrapped in each other and a blanket watching Netflix were tainted by the afterimages still burned in your brain of him and your best friend consecrating the apartment in their own special way.

Zatanna had had the common sense to break things off with Dick after seeing how his good name was being dragged through the mud-- and she hadn’t spoken to you since the night of the Wayne Enterprises Gala. You knew that one day the time would come to hash out all that needed to be said between the two of you, but today wasn’t that day.

Roy flopped on the couch,  “Take all the time you need, sweetheart.” He covered his eyes with the hat he had been wearing and wrapped his arms around himself to doze off.

Jason’s hand touched your shoulder and you turned to look at him. “Do you want me to help, or--”

“Stay here.” You said, looking at the bedroom where you knew Dick was waiting. “I have some things I need to say.”

“Whatever you need, I’m here.” You left his side to pick up the boxes you had brought with you and brought them into the bedroom with you.

“Please look at me.” Dick spoke from the edge of the bed. You stared at him. 

“What.” You said harshly. 

“Can we--” he wiped tears off of his cheeks, his eyes red rimmed from what you were sure were hours of pity party tears-- “can we please, please, just try to talk this out.”

“Okay. Fine. Let’s talk.” You turned to the dresser and opened your drawers up. “You fucked my best friend. I asked you if there was anything going on with the two of you. You lied. You promised me that there was nothing and there would be nothing. I gave you four years of my life and you threw it away. I was going to marry you. I was going to have your children. You broke my trust and you broke my heart.” You spat at him as you threw the contents into an open box. Whirling around to face him, you started again. “I never asked you for anything other than your honesty, Dick Grayson. I resigned myself to a life knowing that I would always come second to the mask, a life where I would be nothing other than a choice. But I knew that at least if we were honest with each other, if we could always be each others number one confidant and best friend, we would be unstoppable.” 

You paused to wipe the tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. “You ended us. This isn’t my fault. If you want someone to blame, someone to question, someone to ask for forgiveness--” you pointed directly at him “--look in the mirror.”

He was staring at you, cheeks red and eyes blazen with something-- anger, disappointment, regret, you couldn’t tell. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else you want me to say.” His voice broke, and a part of your resolve broke too. You went and sat on the edge of the bed by him. 

“This is where we end.” You said softly. He choked back a sob.

“I-- I know I can’t take it back, and I know you deserve better-- just let me sh-show you--”

“No.” You took his hand from his face and took it in both of yours. “I loved you with everything I had, and you threw it away. A part of me will always love you, but I can’t do this anymore.” You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I hope you can forgive yourself.”

After grabbing your few items from your nightstand and keepsakes from the safe under the bed, you left the room.

“Y/N,” Dick called out after you. You stopped in the doorway, box on your hip, and thought.

“Y/N?” Jason called from the living room. 

And that was your answer. 

You went in to find he had collected your items from the rest of the apartment and packed them up for you already. “I didn’t want you to have to-- if there is anything missing I figured I can come back and get it for you, or I can make Dick bring it, but for now--”

“Thank you, Jay.” You whispered, overcome with emotion.

“Oh, Y/N, don’t cry. Shhhh…” He wrapped you in a hug, while Roy slept obliviously on the couch. “It’s okay.”

“I’m not crying because I’m sad, it’s just…” you cried harder into his chest while you tried to breathe “it’s just so much, you know?”

And he did. You had made a life here, prepared for a life here, and with Dick, for the past four years, and now you were leaving it all behind. It was overwhelming, and you needed someone to hold your hand through it all. While for a while you had thought that Zatanna would always be the one to be your rock, you knew now that it was the two men here with you that would always be there to catch you when you fall.

“Y/N, no matter what, you always have me. I promise.”

“Thank you, Jay. For everything.” You said into his chest and he buried his face in your hair. “Can we go?” You said after a moment, and he laughed.

“Yeah, of course.” He shook Roy awake. “Can you help Y/N carry these boxes out to the car? I have something to take care of before we go.”

“Of course.” Roy picked up the heavier of the three and you left one for Jason to take with him. You shot him a questioning look before you shut the door, and he turned to the bedroom and walked in.

“Here to gloat?” Dick glared through bloodshot eyes. “You always wanted her, admit it.”

“I never said I didn’t. But Y/N is not some prize to be won.” Jason leaned against the doorframe. “You threw it all away-- and for what? For a good lay? Jeez, man, I don’t even know that I want to call you a brother anymore. Not after what you did to her.”

“It was a mistake--”

“No, it wasn’t. A mistake is forgetting your keys in your car, or accidentally texting the wrong person. What you did was a conscious decision, one that took effort, and you did it multiple times. Then you tried to throw it all back in her face at the Gala, and for what? To prove a point? Point taken-- she deserves so much more than you and all you will ever be.” 

Jason walked up to Dick and pressed a finger into his chest. “And just so we are clear-- if Y/N ends up with me, it’s not because I poached her, or because I took advantage of her. It’s because she knows I’m the better man. It’s because she wants me. She is moving in with Roy and I and we never want to see or hear from you unless it is necessary. Got it?”

“Fine.” Dick stared directly at him. “You win. It’s not like Y/N wants me anyways. I don’t blame her. But if you think for a second she is going to stoop to the likes of a lowlife vigilante like you, you have another thing coming.” He chuckled harshly. “See you, bro. Now leave my place before I make you.”

Jason turned on his heel and picked up the box from the floor in the living room and met you in the car.

“I don’t want to know.” You said from the backseat, head in your hands. “Can we just go home?”

“Of course.” He turned around in his seat and gave your hand a squeeze. “Let’s go home.”

~~~~~

It was Thanksgiving when Jason pulled up to the Wayne Manor on his motorbike, you clinging to him like a spidermonkey. “I still don’t get why we couldn’t just take a car.” You grumbled as you got off, your leather jacket wrapped tightly around you as you looked around the place you had come to call home at one time. Now it seemed dark and cold, and you wondered if it had always been this way or if you had just been blinded by love to the point you didn’t notice before.

“You have to admit, babe,” Jason unclipped your helmet and smoothed down your hair, kissing the top of your head endearingly as he did, “the bike makes everything seem more rock and roll.”

“Got me there,” You joked, and linked your arm with his as you walked up the front steps. Alfred greeted you at the door, and nodded. 

“Miss Y/N, Master Jason, right this way.” 

“I’ve missed you Al,” You stopped him for a hug, which he of course returned. “We have to sit down and have tea sometime soon.”

“Of course.” He smiled. “We’ve missed you around the Manor...well, at least most of--”

“Y/N.” You heard Dick say before you saw him. It surprised you that you didn’t hurt seeing him as much as you had anticipated-- it was down to a dull ache as opposed to a burning fire. “Fancy seeing you here. I see you’ve shacked up with my brother.”

“Go to hell.” Jason said from behind you protectively. 

“After you,” Dick bowed at him condescendingly. 

“Both of you, back off.” You shouted. “Seriously. I just want to enjoy one fucking holiday without someone trying to kill someone or having to fight at the dinner table. Or both.” You glared between the two of them. “I’m sure Bruce would appreciate that as well, so if we can all just ignore each other for a few hours it will be fine.”

“Fine.” Dick snapped at you, and disappeared.

“The melodramatics in this family never cease to amaze me.” You sighed sarcastically. 

“If you want to go, we can just get takeout and watch a movie at home. I swear. I won’t be upset.” Jason whispered in your ear.

“Let’s give it an hour before we bail.” You whispered back, and laced your fingers through his. 

As you walked through the halls of Wayne Manor, you felt nostalgic. “Before we go see everyone, actually--” you stopped, and turned to the staircase-- “I want to go see your room.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Because, I just realized that in all the times I’ve been here, I’ve never seen the inside of your room.” 

“I literally haven’t been in there in months.” Jason deadpanned. 

“Humor me.” You laughed and started.

“Woman, you will be the death of me.” He followed.

“You love me.” You joked.

“Yeah, I do.” He said, and you were hit with the sense that he really meant it. Like truly, deeply, meant it. While it should have felt weird… it didn’t. You began to realize that maybe, just maybe, you and Jason were becoming something real. You used to think that you’d had that with Dick, but it had all been smoke and mirrors. Living with Roy and Jason showed you what things should have been like if he was really your number one-- never on the outside of plans, never keeping secrets, as open as a book could be. And sure, yeah, you were practically attached at the hip with Jason, but that was because you were becoming each others best friends-- right? 

If you were just ‘best friends’, then why did his hand fit so perfectly in yours, and his hand set perfectly on the small of your back when you were walking anywhere? Or why did you fit together like a puzzle when you fell asleep on the couch or in his bed together watching a movie?

You shook the thoughts aside and grabbed his hand in yours as you started up the rest of the stairs. Today was not the day to confront those feelings, you decided. 

He guided you to his door, right across the hall from Dicks, and pushed it open.

It was cleaner than you expected. You didn’t know why you expected it to look like a tornado had run through it, but it was actually very well kempt. The walls were navy and his bed was grey with white pillows. He had a black desk and black bookshelf with a white chair, and a grey sofa to the side. You walked around and touched everything, picking up the books on his shelf and the picture of the Titans team on his bedside table.

“This is me.” He shrugged, taking a seat on the sofa. “It’s not much-- I don’t stay here super often anymore.”

“It’s a lot different than your room at the apartment.” You joked.

“Yeah, well, living with Roy will do that to you.” He laughed. You went and sat by him, then noticed the picture sitting to the side of the couch on a table. 

“Who is this?”

“That’s my mom.” He said, and took the frame from your hands. “I don’t have a lot of pictures of her-- this is one of the only ones, really.” He traced the outline of her face and sighed. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if things had ended up differently. If she was still around.”

“I’m sorry, Jay.” You covered his hand with yours, and he took it, setting the picture down.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He ran his other hand through his hair. “Look-- I know you’ve been through a lot lately, and I know you’re still healing, but I need to know-- is this real?” He looked you in the eyes, and the feeling from earlier returned. “I have never felt like this before. And you have no idea how shitty it makes me feel, knowing that you were just with my brother, and that he hurt you, and that we are friends and I really am not trying to take advantage of you in any way, it’s just--”

“I feel it too.” You placed a hand on his cheek and looked into his eyes, searching for your words there. “I-- I have just been worried that I’m going to mess things up with you. Because I care about you so, so much Jay; not just as a friend, but as a partner, and as something more, and that scares me. I don’t know if I know what love really is anymore, and I just don’t want to screw everything up again.”

“Y/N,” he grabbed your face in both of his hands, and kissed you firmly. It was unexpected, and you opened your eyes before relaxing and closing them, deepening the kiss. Kissing Jason was like something you’d never experienced-- it wasn’t fireworks, but it was like finally feeling whole. He brought a hand around to your lower back and brought you closer to him, pressing your upper halves together. You fit like a puzzle, you and Jay, and you felt a warmth building inside of you right as you realized--

You pulled away abruptly. “I think I’m in love with you.” You told him.

“I know I’m in love with you, Y/N.” He grinned, and pushed a stray piece of hair out of your face. “I’ve been completely whipped ever since you kicked Dick’s ass in training at the Titans tower when you came for a visit.”

“That was, like, three years ago.” You said.

“Yeah, it was.” He laughed. 

“Promise me.” You said suddenly. 

“What? Anything.” He took your hand and pressed it to his heart. “I’ll give you the world, baby, just tell me what you need.”

“Promise me you won’t break my heart.” You whispered, and it felt stupid once it came out of your mouth and your cheeks went red. “Just-- please”

“I, Jason Todd, do solemnly swear that I will never break your heart, even should my life depend on it.” He said.

“Thank you.” You said, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Lets go eat.” He said and pulled you to stand with him. “I’m starving.”

“How long do you think it will take for your family to notice we are together?”

“I give them until Christmas.” He winked at you as you went down the stairs together.

“The end of dinner.” You argued.

“You’re on.” He grinned and the two of you headed to what you were sure would be the most eventful Thanksgiving yet.

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

Pretty Girl

A/n: A commission for my girl @jooheonbee​, I hope you like it, Biker Mechanic Sehun is somethin else. I might do like a smut sequel because I have ideas that just didn’t fit into the storyline, so....look out for that, too.

Summary: You go for the bad boys, every time. This time, you’re determined to run. Sehun has other ideas.

Warnings: some smut, dirty talk, mild choking, I guess? not actually written out smut though? I know, right, weird for me, but that’s just how it went, talk of some public stuff 

Word Count: 3150

"This is stupid," you mutter. "You're stupid."

You're talking to yourself at 3am in the worst part of town in a ratty apartment elevator and for what?

Because of the way his shoulders filled out that leather jacket? The scar on his eyebrow, the way it quirked up when he smiled at you?

"You gotta stop thinking with your pussy," your roommate had told you when you'd told her you'd given your number to this hot guy with slicked back hair and a weathered leather jacket.

"Because it's stupid?" You'd asked.

"No, dummy, because it's connected to your stupid heart."

She was right, you always did this, fucked these guys and then got attached because they cuddled you after or texted you some sweet shit when they were drunk and this guy has fuckboy written all over him.

Do you ring his doorbell anyway? Yes.

"Sehun?" You call when he doesn't answer.

"Hey, pretty girl," his voice right behind you makes you jump. 

Shit fuck Jesus Christ he looks good, in a pair of grey sweats, chest bare, feet bare, holding a basket of laundry.

His hair looks wet like he's just out of the shower and it's oddly domestic for someone who'd whispered about how he'd suck your clit between your teeth while kissing your throat after your shift three nights ago.

He raises that scarred eyebrow. "Wanna come in?"

You nod, throat dry, trying not to stare as he kicks open his door, banking on you to close it when you follow him in, apparently.

And you do, because you're an idiot, a sucker for bad boys who'd inevitably break your heart, and this one had already bent you over his motorcycle and pressed his dick against your ass, saying all the wrong things into your ear that made your panties flood.

Despite the domestic look, he sits down on this cracked leather couch and smirks at you, pats his thighs. "Have a seat, pretty girl."

He probably calls you that because he doesn't remember your fucking name but you didn't wear a skirt and no panties over here at 3am to help him fold his laundry.

Half an hour later he's got your skirt bunched around your hips and he's rocking you against him and your head is spinning because you'd expected him to at least have his fingers inside you by now.

"Sehun," you whine, and he chuckles against your throat.

"Needy baby," he croons, kissing more softly at the base of your throat, and then his hands clamp down on your ass, rocking you forward again.

He stiffens his hips so that his cock presses right against your cunt and the pressure is too much and not enough at once.

"Are you gonna fuck me or are we gonna keep dryhumping like teenagers for another week?" You snap, frustrated, but he just drags his teeth along your skin and pulls back, lips turned up at one corner.

"You liked it last time, yeah? Liked me pressing into your ass, my hand around your throat, telling you how pretty you'd look begging me for my cock?"

"Oh, fuck you," you say irritably, and he moves his hands to your hips, sitting back against the couch and watching you lazily as you writhe against him.

"Gonna beg me, pretty girl?"

"Never," you snap, and he laughs again.

You do beg, though, in these breathy little whimpers, on all fours on his bed which is just a mattress on the floor and your cunt so wet it's dripping juices down your thighs.

At least he didn't complain about the condom, you tell yourself as you do the walk of shame back to your apartment and your roommate gives you a wink.

"Don't fucking judge me," you mutter.

"Never, just don't fall in love," she shoots back.

"Please," you scoff.

But do you go and do that too? Of course you fucking do.

It's not the second time or the fourth or the sixth, you've lost count by the time you realize it.

He rolls over on his stupid mattress and smiles at you, eyes puffy from sleep and his hair mussed and your heart seems to fall out of your asshole.

"Wanna get breakfast?" He asks in that husky morning voice of his and you can't vault out of bed fast enough.

"Gotta go, stuff to do," you mutter and you can't find your panties so you just leave them there and bolt out the door while he's staring after you with that dumb cute confused puppy look he gets sometimes.

You ignore his texts for a week and then eventually when he starts calling, block his number.

You refuse to have a repeat of your last disaster relationship, another bad boy you'd just known you could turn good and who'd cheated on you with almost everyone you knew.

But hot guys in motorcycle jackets just keep showing up at your job, and you end up chatting with another one two weeks later. He's bigger and sweeter and he's got this laugh that shakes his whole body.

"I used to see a guy with a bike," you comment as you hand him another beer, and he grins. 

"You ever ride?"

You shake your head.

"I'll have to find my extra helmet." He leans across the bar, eyes sparkling and you can't help smiling back.

You don't let it get as far, though, trying to feel him out first without feeling him up and you leave with his name and number scrawled on his receipt.

"What the fuck?"

You hear a familiar, low voice behind you on your walk home and you freeze.

He looks sulky, bottom lip poking out, arms crossed over his chest, leaned up against the brick of the building.

"Are you drunk?" You ask, a smile threatening at the corner of your mouth. He's cute like this, all pouty.

"Kinda," he confesses. "You got a new boyfriend now?"

You roll your eyes. "Trying to tell me you're jealous, Sehunnie?" 

He frowns and stands up straighter. "What, you're saying I don't have a right to be?"

You blink at him. "Why the fuck would you have a right to be? You fucked me on your bare mattress twice a week."

"Sorry I wasn't fancy enough for you, princess," he drawls, but something like hurt flashes across his face.

"That's not-" you start, but he's already striding away and straddling his bike, revving the engine and your heart is in your throat.

The next time you see him he's got his hands on some blonde's ass and your skin is on fire and there's something acid in your mouth when he winks at you as you stalk by to take a pitcher of beer to a table of frat boys and you delete his number from your phone in a rage.

***

"Whatever happened to that girl?" Minseok asks and Sehun bumps his head on the engine in surprise, cursing.

Minseok laughs as he hands him the ratchet he was looking for, sitting on the bike like a fucking slug as usual while Sehun does all the work.

"Should worry about how hard you're riding this bike instead of girls," Sehun mutters.

"That what happened? You ride her too hard?"

"Maybe. What's it to you?"

"Just thought I saw her on the back of Junmyeon's hog, that's all." Minseok's voice is so casual that for a second it doesn't register and then Sehun cracks his head on the engine again.

"Fuck!" He slides out from under it and sits up, wiping grease on his jeans. "Junmyeon? Not Chanyeol?"

Minseok blinks. "Oh, is she a biker babe?"

"Don't you fucking start." It's just another word for biker slut and he fucking knows it and Sehun wants to push him off his shitty bike.

Minseok holds out his hands as if in defense. "Listen, no offense meant. They do the Lord's work." 

"That's not what she is." Sehun insists, but in the back of his mind he's seeing the way you smiled at Chanyeol.

Are you? You'd never even asked to ride his bike, he'd never even considered….

"She gonna run again or what?"

For a moment Sehun is so stuck in his head which is swirling with all these panicky thoughts about you that he thinks Minseok is asking if you'll run away from him again.

"Yeah, just needed an oil change," Sehun mumbles and goes inside to wash up. 

He bangs his head against the mirror, trying to clear his head.

It isn't as if he'd thought much past your curves and that sexy half smile the first night, or even the second or third.

You started ghosting him and he figured you were just busy, tells himself he doesn't care, it doesn't matter, but he finds himself lurking around the bar you work at, but even though he's been balls deep inside you on several occasions he can't bring himself to approach you when you make a beeline for your car.

At least not until he saw Park Chanyeol chatting you up across the bar, sees you smiling down at the receipt he left and Sehun couldn't stop himself from following you.

And of course, he fucked that up, being too jealous and stupid and half drunk to make any sense.

You were right, anyway, it wasn't like he'd ever taken you to dinner, just one half assed offer of breakfast and he doesn't know how to do this, anyway. He's never had anything approaching a real girlfriend, just one night stands on various road trips and a friend with benefits in high school. 

Is that what he even wanted? A girlfriend? When he thinks about your easy laugh not being directed at him, about what Minseok suggested about you being true, that maybe you're just using him...it makes his stomach sick.

He tells himself not to text you, not to call, but he does both because he doesn't have a shred of self control, and realizing you've blocked his number is like a punch in the throat.

Sehun doesn't even know where you live, has never asked you, and no wonder you're ghosting him. He groans, lying on his stupid bare mattress on the floor and he remembers the first time he'd seen you on it, as up and your thighs trembling.

He feels his cock twitch in his jeans and he sits up, frustrated. It's been three weeks since he'd last seen you and he hadn't been with anyone else, hadn't even thought about it.

Minseok had invited him out, a going away party of sorts since he's about to go on the road, and he figures fuck it, time to get back on the horse.

But of course they end up at your bar and all he can do is look for you, every shot making you more present in his head instead of further away. It's hours before you come in for your shift and it's busy, everyone he knows and several he doesn't there asking for your attention. You sling drinks and smile and laugh and he can't take his eyes off you.

Everything takes a turn for the worse around the fifth shot and he catches you leaned over the bar grinning at Junmyeon.

It's nothing, really, it's your job to flirt with customers but it's how you'd met and with Minseok telling him he'd seen you on his bike…

He fucking hates it, the way he feels, like there's suddenly no space in the bar, his chest tight, skin hot.

So he keeps drinking and when a blonde asks him to dance, tilts her head up to kiss him, he takes a dark pleasure in the flash of anger in your eyes when you stalk past.

It's all so fucking empty, later, when he fucks the blonde and she's nothing like you, all hard lines instead of soft curves, she even sounds wrong, too quiet and breathy.

She leaves and he's never felt so alone in his shitty apartment, keeps looking over at the counter where you'd hooked your legs around his waist the last time you were over and he feels tears prick at the backs of his eyes.

"Fuck," he mutters, and curls up on his mattress, staring at your contact name in his phone.

*

It takes another week before he can't take it anymore, not being able to talk to you, and catches you coming into work.

"God, what, are you stalking me now?" 

You unlock the bar and he feels small and stupid but he's full of all these things he has to say.

When you turn to look at him all angry dark eyes, it takes his breath and everything he wanted to say dies in his throat.

"Are you seeing someone?"

It isn't what he meant to say and it certainly doesn't help the anger in your eyes.

"So what if I am? It's none of your business."

"What if I want it to be my business?" He shoots back, and it's stupid but there's something clawing inside his stomach.

"Oh, fuck you, Sehun. The last time I saw you, you were a foot down some blonde's throat. I'm not doing this again."

"It's not…. she's not…" He can't get it out, whatever it is clawing up his throat.

"I blocked your number. What else do you want? Fuck off." 

You turn your back to him and he wants to hate you, wants to feel something more than this void in his chest.

He wants to tell you that everything feels shitty and empty without you but you're throwing bottles onto shelves and your shoulders are stiff.

When Minseok invites him on a week long ride, he says yes without a second thought, wanting to be anywhere else but in his apartment, where he saw you around every corner.

***

"Oh my God just call him," your roommate groans after you pile three pints of ice cream into the fridge.

"No. And don't fucking touch my ice cream." You slam the freezer shut and glare at her.

"Maybe he's just wilding out because you've ghosted him for like a month," she offers and you open the freezer again, taking out one pint of ice cream.

"Three weeks and four days," you correct.

She rolls her eyes. "Not that you're counting."

"Not that I'm counting," you agree. "Hand me a spoon."

She obliges. "He wasn't your boyfriend, right?"

"Hell no!" 

"So…. he's a free agent." 

"No!" You protest immediately, and then sigh. "I guess."

"You can't be mad at him for making out with randos in bars, then."

"Who says I'm mad?" You ask, mouth full of ice cream.

"Okay, clown, but he's probably at home moping over you." Your roommate stands and starts toward her room.

"He is not." Your heart skips a beat. "You really think so?"

"Call him!" She yells from her room, and you huff out a breath.

You are not going to call him.

You call him, you’ve memorized his number because you’re an idiot.

He doesn't answer and you wait a whole three minutes before texting him.

You home?

It feels like an hour before he texts you back even though it's only a few moments.

Yeah.

"That's it?" You grumble, but you head to his apartment anyway, waiting for the whining elevator and having flashbacks to the first time you'd come here.

When he opens the door in those same gray sweats, wet hair, just like the first night, words stick in your throat.

"Hey, pretty girl," he says, but it's softer somehow and it makes your chest ache.

Before he even steps back from the door you lean up to kiss him and he makes this little moan in the back of his throat that sends a spear of heat through your belly.

You've got your top off, straddling his hips on that stupid mattress of his, when he breaks apart from your mouth, breathing hard.

"Y/n," he says your name low and serious, and it doesn't help the way your skin is heating up.

"You do know my name," you tease, latching onto his neck instead, and he makes a sound almost like a growl, pushing you away gently.

"Of course I know your name. Y/n, wait. I want to talk to you."

"You want to talk? Now?" You say incredulously.

He huffs out a breath. "I wanted to talk when you walked in. I got distracted."

You can't help but laugh, and he's looking up at you with this half smile and something so soft on his face it makes you want to run again.

"I could distract you more." You rock your hips against you and he lifts you off him, planting you on the mattress and sitting up, staring into your eyes.

"Do you even like me?" He asks, tilting his head like a dumb puppy and your mouth drops open.

"I-"

"I mean, do you like me, like would you consider going on a date with me? Even though I live in a shitty apartment and don't have a bed frame…"

"Sehun-"

"You don't have to answer right away, I just wanted to ask you how you felt because I'm kind of losing it-"

"Sehun!" You yell, and he startles, his cheeks slightly flushed.

"Yeah, I like you. I'll go on a date with you or whatever."

"You will? Really?" He grins and you hide your face.

"Don't be stupid," you mutter, but he tackles you, almost knocking you off the mattress and you can't stop laughing until his teeth drag along your hipbone and then you're gasping instead.

After, you trace the scar on his eyebrow. "Did you get this in a knife fight or something."

He laughs. "Dropped a wrench on my head while fixing a bike."

"I take it all back, I can't date an idiot," you say solemnly.

"Too late," he shoots back, pulling you on top of him and kissing your nose.

"You gonna ever give me a ride on your bike or should I call someone else to do it?" You ask nonchalantly, and he bites your shoulder, making you squeal.

"I'm riding to Florida  tomorrow with some of the guys."

You choke on air. "Riding to where?"

He grins. "Come with me. I'll buy you a bikini."

"I am not riding 3,000 miles on a motorcycle with an idiot," you insist.

**

He buys you a red bikini and your thighs are so sore after the trip that you can barely move. You swear to never get back on a bike again but of course, you do, when he fixes up a small one with "pretty girl" emblazoned on the side.

You're definitely not crying, it's just that you have allergies, you insist, as he's kissing along the bridge of your nose and putting on your helmet.

[kpophours]

A Sky Full of Flames

➵ WOODZ: Seungyoun x fem. reader / one shot, festival AU / fluff

➵ warnings: slight cursing, mentions of drinking/alcohol

➵ playlist: Queen, Kiss, Stevie Wonder, Kansas

➵ word count: 4.4k

Heat.

Burning, dusty heat is the first thing you notice when you step outside the small airport. You almost choke on it, and squint against the blindingly bright midday sun standing high in the sky. “Oh my.”, Kat beside you says, groaning when she notices the heat, “I know it’s a desert but this heat still seems a bit excessive.” Kevin, her boyfriend, just chuckles and wraps one arm around her shoulders, pressing a soft kiss against her temple. “Well, we are in Nevada, babe.”, he says nonchalantly, and she rolls her eyes at him. “Duh, I know. I was the one buying our plane tickets, you idiot.” He just nods and grins at her, before placing his snapback on her head to shield her from the sun. “I know, you did so well! I’m such a lucky man.” You only grin at their antics, used to their playful banter as they’ve been your close friends for a long time now.

After years of pining after each other, they had finally accepted their feelings two years ago - maybe with a bit of help from you, but neither of them nor you would ever admit that out loud. Your eyes travel towards one of the cars waiting in front of the airport, scanning each one of them until you finally spot the bright yellow van you’re searching for. “THERE!”, you yell in excitement, making both Kat and Kevin jump at your sudden outburst. You almost sprint towards the car, leaving your two best friends behind. When you’ve reached the van, you quickly knock against the window, making the person sitting inside the car yelp and whip their head around. When Jacob recognizes you, his face splits into a breathtaking smile, and he quickly jumps out of the car, rounding it and embracing you lovingly. “You’re finally here!”, he yells happily, and you giggle at his excitement, returning his hug and nuzzling your face into his neck, inhaling his familiar comforting scent. “We are! I hope you didn’t miss us too much and felt too lonely?”, you ask cheekily, and Jacob playfully ruffles your hair, sliding on his pink, heart-shaped sunglasses. You eye them with great interest, deciding to steal them from him later to complete your outfit. They suit you much better anyway, you think.

“Oh please, I was too busy setting up camp, I didn’t even have time to miss you or the other two idiots.”, Jacob replies, and you snort, but before you can retort anything, Kevin and Kat have caught up to you, the latter one just quickly hugging Jacob while her boyfriend dramatically clings to his best friend. Kevin presses his cheek against Jacob’s, whining about having missed him terribly before making him promise to never ever be apart for two weeks ever again. “Okay, okay, we should leave before all the other cars do so, too.”, Jacob finally says, prying Kevin’s arms from around his neck and opening the back of the van. “Get in, you two. Y/N drives shotgun today.” After some grumbling, both Kat and Kevin do as they’re told, and you hop into the passenger’s seat, straightening the big straw head on top of your head and grinning at Jacob. “Can I pick the music?”, you ask, already knowing the answer. Your friend just gives you a stern look. “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cake hole.”, he says, and you begin to pout. “I should never have shown you Supernatural - I really hate when you quote that part, especially as my taste is much better than yours.”, you mumble, and Jacob laughs good-humoredly, before turning up the volume of the radio, blasting Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now before starting the motor. You roll down the window, and stick your head out to make a whooping noise - almost immediately, it gets echoed by many of the other people getting into their cars, most of them Burners like yourself. You laugh and close your eyes for a few seconds, enjoying the wind sweeping through the open window. Kevin and Kat lean over yours and Jacob’s seats to stare through the window shield and into the seemingly endless desert waiting in front of you. “Burning Man, here we come.”, Kat finally murmurs, shooting you a stunning smile. You grin at her and repeat “Burning Man, here we come!”

You can’t wait for the next nine amazing days to finally begin. 

The festival is … overwhelming, in the best kind of way.

The sounds, the people, the colors, the incredible art installations - you don’t even know where to look first. 

Random people greet you and your friends while you wander through the different camps, trying to see as much of the festival as possible. You laugh and smile at all of them, give out high fives and return hugs, make small talk with some and giggle at their stupid jokes. Everyone is in high spirits, some wearing beautiful elaborate costumes, while some are almost naked and others are wearing more casual clothes, like yourself. You try to look at everything and everyone at once, but fail miserably - just now, a woman wearing gigantic white angel wings and nothing else zooms past you on a neon-colored bike, blasting I Was Made for Loving You by Kiss from a speaker hanging around her neck. You exclaim in wonder, tugging at Jacob’s sleeve to make him follow your gaze, but she’s almost out of view again, just as quickly gone as she’s come. “This is amazing.”, you say in awe, and your friend laughs, wrapping one arm around your waist to pull you closer. “I know right?! And you haven’t even seen the half of it.”, he replies, and drags you with him over to a colorful tent where Kevin and Kat are just handed some sparkly drinks. They shimmer weirdly, almost looking like liquid silver. You raise both eyebrows, squinting suspiciously. “You’re sure that’s not real quicksilver?”, you ask, only half-joking, and Kat shrugs before taking a sip, her eyes immediately getting round with wonder. “Ohh, this is amazing! Here, taste it!”, she says, handing you her drink, and you sigh before following her request.

It tastes… kinda weird, but in a really good way - sweet and refreshing, and also almost a bit spicy. You have no idea what this drink is, but you want your own now. The guy behind the bar grins at you, straightening the crown resting upon his head, his light blue eyes underlined with sparkling silver eyeshadow, almost matching the unfamiliar drink. “Want some Ambrosia as well?”, he asks, voice raspy, and you immediately nod. After receiving your own cup, you offer him one of the many bracelets you’ve made over the last few weeks as payment, and he happily accepts it, letting you wrap it around his wrist. He bows towards you, crown almost tumbling from his head, before turning his attention to the next customer. With the drinks in hand, you and your friends continue to make your way through the festival. You eat some skewers from a young woman wearing a Princess Leia costume, repaying her kindness with a song Jacob plays on the acoustic guitar he’s carrying with him, Kevin singing softly along. 

Two hours later, the sun is about to set, painting everything around you in burning orange and soft golds. You are wearing a brand new leather vest, tassels and all, having exchanged your big straw hat for it, and your left arm is now painted in swirls of neon, an aspiring artist having asked all four of you to join his walking art project. You’ve also managed to steal the pink heart-shaped sunglasses from Jacob, happy to quite literally see everything through rose-colored lenses now. You’re walking through a camp that’s filled with multi-colored tents, every single one of them decorated with mirrors reflecting the evening sun, when a group just making fresh pizza in a gigantic brick oven asks you to join them for dinner. You and your friends happily agree, offering to share the drinks you’ve brought from another camp in return. When night begins to fall, you help one of them, a guy named Alex, set up a small bonfire to sit around, Jacob beginning to strum a soft song on his guitar. You snuggle against Kat’s shoulder and she kisses the top of your head, burying her nose into your soft hair. “This feels like a dream.”, you murmur softly, and she nods in agreement. “And yet we really are here.”, she replies, and you chuckle. “And yet we really are.” Her hand finds yours in the darkness, and she intertwines her fingers with yours. You close your eyes, listening to the music and basking in the warmth of the fire, knowing that every single moment is just fleeting and should always be enjoyed to the fullest. 

The next days pass in a blur - you visit the various camps and villages, admire different artists and their installations, enjoy foods and drinks from all around the world, meet many amazing people, and dance to all kinds of music until the early hours of the morning. One of the highlights is definitely when you go visit the platform in front of The Man himself for the first time - the view is so beautiful, it literally takes your breath away. You, Kat, Kevin and Jacob just stand there, arm in arm, for the longest time, taking in the view and enjoying each other’s company. No words are able to express what you’re feeling during that special moment. 

Even though you’re tired and dusty and sweaty, you’ve rarely been so happy and carefree. Burning Man is everything you’ve ever dreamed of, and more. You usually use the bikes Jacob has acquired before your arrival to travel to the different camps, as the festival is way bigger than you’ve ever imagined, making the distances almost impossible to travel on foot alone. The second day, some people ask if they can repaint your bikes, so now all four of them are brightly colored - orange, pink, green and blue -, and sprinkled with some fluorescent paint that actually glows in the dark. 

On the third evening, you and your friends decide to go visit a new village - there are brightly colored tents everywhere, thousands of fairy lights strung between them, and there’s a gigantic bonfire in the middle of it all. Various people are sitting on beanbags and old carpets, sharing different foods and drinks, laughing and talking to each other. The atmosphere is very laid-back and relaxed, underlined by the sound of multiple guitars and a harmonica. All four of you are being greeted by happy, bright smiles, hands reaching for you to pull you in the midst of them, shoving food and drinks into your arms. You thank them, and decide to join them for dinner tonight, having to introduce yourselves over and over again as everyone seems to be interested in getting to know you newcomers. Shortly after your arrival, there’s someone else joining the group - or rejoining, more likely, as everyone seems to know him, yelling his name in excitement and adoration. 

Seungyoun.

He’s handsome, with dark hair and eyes, and a stunningly bright smile. He greets everyone by name, shaking hands while balancing an acoustic guitar on his back, until he finally takes a seat not too far from where you and your friends are sitting, beginning to tune his guitar. You can’t help but stare at him for a few seconds, something about him making you feel drawn to him. He finally seems to notice your gaze, and lifts his head to lock eyes with you. A shiver runs down your spine when the intensity of his gaze hits you, and you quickly look away, seeing his lips pull into a slight smile out of the corner of your eye. A few minutes later, he begins to play a song - and you can’t help but smile and close your eyes when you recognize it: Isn’t She Lovely by Stevie Wonder, incidentally one of your favorite songs.

When he begins to sing, you open your eyes again, mouth slightly agape now. His voice is beautiful, higher than expected, and really unique. Goosebumps rise all over your arms and you quickly rub them with both hands. “Are you cold?”, Jacob asks worriedly, already taking off his light blue denim jacket to drape it over your shoulders. You just give him a small smile and murmur a soft “Thank you.” under your breath, before your eyes slide towards Seungyoun again. You almost jump when you see that he’s looking at you, but quickly return his smile, trying to ignore your fast beating heart. When he sings the chorus for the last time, he winks at you when he reaches the Isn’t She Lovely part. You press your lips together in an attempt to stifle your giddy smile, and quickly grab for your drink, just to have something to hold on to. Everyone claps when Seungyoun ends the song, but he just waves the compliments away, taking a sip of his beer.

“Come on, Jake, you should join him for a guitar session!”, Kevin suddenly says, making the man beside you purse his lips and shrug. “I mean… if you don’t mind?”, Jacob says, looking at Seungyoun with a questioning expression on his face, but the other man just breaks into a bright smile, showing off his dimples. “Oh, absolutely not! I’d love for us to play together.” And with that, Seungyoun gets up from his seat, walking over to where you and your friends are sitting, and sits down in front of Jacob - and you. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced yet.”, he says, reaching out one hand for you to take, “I’m Seungyoun.” You accept his handshake, trying to ignore the fire igniting in your lower belly when you touch his warm skin for the first time, and answer as nonchalantly as possible: “I’m Y/N, nice to meet you. You have a wonderful voice.” He gives you a happy smile, his dark, sparkling eyes forming little crescents. “Oh, thank you. I’m glad you think so!” He then introduces himself to your friends, before asking Jacob what song they should play together. They think for a few seconds, before Jacob suggests Dust in the Wind by Kansas - your absolute favorite song, which he also tells Seungyoun. The latter one nods immediately, and shoots you another grin. “Excellent taste! We’ll play it just for you then.” And with that, he and Jacob begin to play and sing.

Goosebumps rise all over your body, and you feel your throat close up, the song making you feel incredibly nostalgic all of the sudden. Seungyoun doesn’t break eye contact with you, seemingly observing your reaction to the song, a soft smile playing on his lips while he sings. You decide to join their singing during the chorus, a surprised yet pleased expression crossing Seungyoun’s face when he hears your soft voice. During the last few seconds of the song, you close your eyes to just enjoy the music. You clap almost frantically when the men end the song, thanking them for their beautiful play. Jacob just laughs at you, playfully ruffling your hair, while Seungyoun looks almost a big smug about your reaction. “That was beautiful.”, Kat says as well, and Seungyoun grins at her. “Thanks.” “Are you part of this village?”, she asks, leaning a bit closer towards him. He nods. “Yeah, I’m camping here with some of my pals. But Seungwoo is staying a few camps over tonight, and Hangyul is probably off somewhere disappointing Jesus.”, he explains, and you chuckle. “So they just left you all alone?”, you inquire, and he raises one eyebrow. “I mean, I guess you could say so - yet I find myself in much better company right now.”, he answers smoothly, and you blush at his words, giving him a soft smile. He grins at your reaction, obviously pleased with himself, and leans back on his arms, still gazing at you. “Where’s your camp?”, he then asks, and you quickly explain where your base is. 

The next hours pass in a blur. You and Seungyoun almost forget that you’re not alone at the bonfire, talking almost exclusively to each other. He tells you that he’s actually a full-time musician and producer, and that he’s been coming to Burning Man for over three years now. You in turn tell him about your job, and that you’ve never been to the festival before, making this so much more exciting for you. The conversation between you two flows easily and steadily, and you feel like you’ve known him for half an eternity already - he’s funny, and easy-going, switching back between making stupid jokes and having deep conversations without any problems. You quickly find yourself liking him - a lot.

“I think I’ll go take a little walk.”, Seungyoun finally says some time later, locking eyes with you again, “Care to join me?” Kat beside you immediately elbows you in the ribs, making you hiss at the slight pain and shoot her a dark look. She gives you an angelic smile and nods in Seungyoun���s direction. “Oh, she’d love to come.” To you, she whispers a “Have fun, be safe, and if you aren’t home by noon tomorrow, we’re going to organize a search party for you.” And with that, she pushes you towards him, making you topple over, only his quick reaction preventing you from face planting directly into his lap. He chuckles, and grabs one of your hands to help you up. “Thanks.”, you murmur, heat blazing on your cheeks while you try to ignore your friends’ cheeky laughter, “Let’s go.” 

Your walk is mostly filled with soft conversation and playful banter. Seungyoun and you also greet many of the other Burners coming your way, exchanging a few words with some of them, returning warm hugs and at one point, you both receive crowns made out of flowers. Seungyoun smiles at you while placing one of the crowns on top of your head, and tucks some of your hair behind one ear before reaching for your hand to intertwine his fingers with yours. He tugs you closer towards him then, cupping your cheek with his other hand and searching in your eyes for confirmation. When he finds it, he slowly leans down towards your face until finally, his lips are on yours - feeling incredibly soft and warm. You sigh against him, and let go of his hand to wrap your arms around his neck while he slides his around your waist, deepening the kiss while doing so. When you break apart again, you’re both breathing heavily. He gives you a bright smile, before nuzzling your nose. “Is it crazy when I say that I wanted to do this ever since first laying eyes on you this evening?”, he murmurs against your lips, and you shake your head, returning his smile. “I’ve felt the exact same way. I couldn’t look away from you, for some reason.” He smirks. “Yeah, I did notice that. I bet it was thanks to my devilishly handsome looks and flaming charisma.” You playfully roll your eyes at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “That must have been it, yes.”, you agree sarcastically, and he just laughs, before kissing you again. 

Seungyoun and you walk until you’ve reached another camp, this one full of bright lights, heavy bass and loud electronic music. He just grins at you, and pulls you with him into the dancing crowd. You laugh and follow him, quickly losing yourself to the rhythm of the music and the feeling of his hands on your body. You close your eyes, happy to just enjoy this seemingly endless night. 

In the early hours of the morning, Seungyoun pulls you towards his tent, and together, you tumble into bed. You’re both exhausted, bodies tired from dancing for hours on end. Still, neither of you wants to sleep yet - so he pulls you into his arms, hot breath tickling your neck when he nuzzles his face into it. You share endless kisses and loving touches, until the first rays of sunshine begin to creep into Seungyoun’s tent. Only then do you fall asleep, arms wrapped around each other, legs tangled, hands intertwined, and breaths mingling. 

Your sleep is deep and dreamless.

The next days pass way too quickly for your liking - Seungyoun and you spend many hours in each others’ company, and he also introduces you to his friends Hangyul and Seungwoo, both welcoming you with open arms and inviting smiles. You spend each night at Seungyoun’s tent, everything already feeling so real and just right with him, and no one questions your decision to do so - quite the contrary, especially Kat is more than supportive of you, seeing how smitten you already are with Seungyoun. He also shows you the few camps and villages you haven’t gotten around to see yet, introducing you to some friends he’s known from his past times attending the festival, and every evening he plays the guitar for you, before taking you to an art installation or going dancing with you. 

Before you know it, the last day has arrived. When you wake up, you feel dread wash over you. Seungyoun lays beside you, still asleep, his breathing soft and even. You smile, heart beating twice as fast when you take in his morning beauty - the slightly parted lips, messy bed hair, and rosy cheeks. You can’t help but leave a soft kiss against his forehead. He mumbles something unintelligible, before burying his face in one of the pillows. You chuckle to yourself, and carefully thread your fingers through his soft hair. He sighs under your gentle caresses, and turns his face towards you again, eyes slowly opening. He has the most stunning eyes, you think to yourself, a dark rich chocolate brown, almost black, always sparkling with warmth and some mischief. “Morning.”, you say softly, and his lips stretch into your favorite smile, almost blindingly bright in the morning. “Good morning, my love.”, he replies, and pulls you into his arms to hug you tightly. You giggle, trying to wiggle free from his strong grip. “Youn, I need air!”, you complain playfully, smacking his naked chest. He just chuckles, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. “All you need is love, don’t you know that, silly?”, he just replies, making you laugh. “Idiot.”, you murmur lovingly, and he finally lets go of you, grinning up at you. “Your idiot.”, he states and you just smile at him, before leaning in to kiss him.

You decide to spend the last day together with Jacob, Kevin and Kat, but Seungyoun doesn’t want to leave your side either. You both know that this is your last real day together - tonight, The Man will burn, and tomorrow you’ll all have to leave again. You haven’t talked about what’s going to happen then - about what’s going to happen to you two. For now, you pretend to be blissfully unaware of your impending separation, enjoying the last day of the festival by eating way too much food, sharing delicious drinks, and playing silly games in different camps.

When the evening sun is about to set, Hangyul and Seungwoo join your little group, and you all walk towards where The Man stands, ready to see him burn tonight. You find a place with a good view, and sit down on the blankets you’ve brought along, opening your drinks and silently toasting each other. There’s no need for words right now, the atmosphere speaking for itself. Seungyoun sits behind you, you between his legs with his arms around your waist, while his chin rests on your shoulder. From time to time, he presses a soft kiss against your neck or cheek, making you smile. Jacob, Kevin and Kat sit on your left side - the latter ones also wrapped in each other's arms - and on your right one sit Hangyul and Seungwoo. Being surrounded by your friends makes you feel content and happy beyond words.

“There, it’s about to start.”, Seungyoun suddenly whispers into your ear, and a delicious shiver runs down your spine when his hot breath tickles your ear. You lean against him and his grip around you tightens, thumb rubbing circles against the naked skin of your waist. 

Then, The Man gets set ablaze.

It doesn’t take as long as you’ve thought it would - in mere minutes, the big wooden statue gets eaten by the bright flames, and for a second, it looks like the night sky itself is filled with fire. Then, there’s music, and the sound of people cheering. Fireworks are erupting all around you and finally, the whole Man is on fire. That’s when you join the other people in their cheers, jumping up from your seats and running into the large crowd of Burners, dancing to the music and throwing your hands over your heads. You pull Kat into a hug, Kevin quickly joining you and wrapping his arms around you both, pulling Jacob into the cuddle huddle as well. “I LOVE YOU GUYS!”, you yell over all the noise and sounds, and they scream it back at you, hollering and whooping, the happiness and joy radiating from them making them even more beautiful than usual. And then, suddenly, Seungyoun is at your side again, pulling you into a tight hug and peppering kisses all over your face, nuzzling your nose. “I’m falling in love with you, Y/N.”, he whispers into your ear, and your heart skips a beat at his confession, before you smile up at him, whispering a “Me too.” back. You both laugh, full of love and happiness, and you take his face between your hands to kiss him properly. He smiles into the kiss, and wraps both arms around your waist to pull you even closer to his own body. 

And that’s when you realize it - this might be the end of the festival, but this is just the beginning for you and Seungyoun.

[masterlist] | [requests]

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Five) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual​

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing. Descriptions of murder and kidnapping. Being held hostage at gunpoint. All around mature content!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 5994

Timeline: Season 2 Episode 9. Day after part four.

In the morning, Hotch drove me, JJ, and Spencer to the precinct from the hotel. We were up bright and early, but we were still way behind Gideon and Morgan, who must have left hours before us. Granted, they were hunting a killer who preyed at night, whereas we were searching for one in the day. It made sense that they needed to collect themselves and their itinerary for the day long before us.

After spending the day in the field yesterday, Hotch and I planned on taking some time to look over the evidence for any patterns or discrepancies which would help us catch the Mill Creek Killer. No one was perfect, not even our Unsub. He had to have made a mistake somewhere. There had to be something pointing us to him past just waiting to catch him in the act of performing his ritual. Realistically, that was what we had to do. But it was weighing on me, the guilt of letting another woman be taken and killed just so we could catch one man.

We all immediately got to work at the office. JJ found Mr. Meyers, the reporter who had contact with the Hollow Man, waiting in the lobby for her. They went off to discuss the Hollow Man separately, while Hotch, Spencer, and I continued on towards the boardroom. Sheridan was waiting there for us. It looked like he hadn’t even gone home at all. His clothes were the same as the day before, and his eyes looked as though he hadn’t slept in days.

Hotch noticed right away. He patted Sheridan’s shoulder to gain his attention, then told him to go home for a few hours. Sheridan, surprisingly, didn’t argue. He must have been waiting for us to come in to start working so that he could go rest.

Spencer went digging into one of the boxes for a piece of paper he wanted to scan; meanwhile, Hotch and I sat down at the table to start reviewing everything the detective and his team had collected before calling us in for help. Hotch was reading while reclining in his chair and mindlessly playing with the stubble on his chin.

I leaned back in my seat and put my feet up on the table. He didn’t even look up when he told me to put my feet down. I stared at him, almost daring him to look at me, but he didn’t. I went back to the papers I was evaluating and it took him another minute or so before he told me to put my feet down again. But he still didn’t look at me.

JJ burst into the boardroom and hurried over to us. We looked up at her to see the panic plastered to her face. “We just got a call about another missing woman. Merideth Dale. 25.”

I slid my feet off the table and sat up straight. “Does she match the appearance type of the other victims?”

“Perfectly. She was supposed to meet her friend for a bike ride this morning, but disappeared after calling from the trail.”

“Mark Twain National Forest?”

JJ nodded while handing both Hotch and I new case files. We both accepted them and hastily began flipping through the pages. There was a picture of Meredith Dale attached, and JJ was entirely right. She matched the description perfectly. It had to be our guy.

I flipped to the next page to find a mini map of where Meredith’s phone was found. She had been traveling on her bike along a fairly popular path before stopping at a bench to call her friend. That was where her friend found her phone and decided to call the police.

Spencer came back and Hotch caught him up to speed. I spun around in my chair to face the bigger map of the forest that was pinned to the wall. When I realized that the path was near where the second victim was found, I stood from my chair and approached the map so as to get a better look.

“What do you see?” Hotch questioned.

I squinted and got real close to the map before pointing to something with my index finger. I glided the tip of my nail along the paper as I followed the path Meredith was last seen on, all the way down to where the second body was found. Then I traced it to where the first victim was taken then found. And so on.

Hotch realized that I was spotting something important. He grabbed a spool of string from the table and came over. As I continued to trace the path between all of the victims, Hotch followed my finger with the string, marking the spots of the kidnappings and murders with pins. When we had marked all of them, I dropped my finger from the map and took a step back to get a clearer view of our work.

The Unsub was rotating between sectors of the park, but only a few number of them that were close to the highway. The paths he was taking and the sectors he was staying in were all easy to access and easy to escape from quickly. The parking lot nearby was huge, which meant that his car would blend in easily, and he had direct paths to the park where Ellen Carroll was taken, the bike path where Meredith Dale was taken, and all of the woods where the bodies were found.

But why rotate like that? And how the fuck had we missed this?

I snapped behind me while still staring at the map. “Spencer, call Garcia. Ask her to check the park rangers’ forest search schedules.”

“What are you thinking about?” Hotch asked me quietly.

I broke my concentration with the map for a second to make eye contact with Hotch. It was the first time that he had looked at me since I asked him about having more kids yesterday. For a moment, I got lost in his eyes. I didn’t think that I could miss them so much… Yet, even just a day without them made me yearn for all of his love. I thought about how I never wanted him to look away. But not all wishes come true. He broke eye contact first to look back at the map before I began my explanation.

“He’s staying relatively in the same area with the abductions and murders. And depending on the day, he takes the bodies to a certain sector of the forest,” I said.

“Yeah, but the first one is way deeper into the forest. It would take nearly three hours to get there, while the rest of them take not even an hour. So why the change after the first one?”

“He was nervous. He wanted to be cautious to not get caught with the first body because he was unsure of how to go about hiding it at that point. But once he knew what he was doing, he got more confident, and decided to stay closer for convenience and easy escape. And he only takes them from the most populated sectors, but takes them to the more secluded ones.”

“So, then, he knows about how the forest rangers operate. He knows when the parks open, when people will be around, when officers will be on patrol, and where to put the bodies so that they won’t be found for a few days. But how could he be sure that those sectors are safe?”

I pointed back at Spencer, who immediately took the cue to repeat what Garcia was saying over the phone. “The forest is broken up into six districts, and each of them are patrolled every…” Spencer paused as a realization dawned on him after Penelope told him something. He started interrupting and thanking Garcia for her help before hanging up and running to the map. “These sections are patrolled every three to five days, officially, but with department cutbacks, they’ve had to spread out the searches even more. Now they’re only being checked every five to eight days.”

“Approximately how long it took to find the bodies,” Hotch said, the realization dawning on him, too. “That’s why he’s rotating. He's dumping the bodies in the sectors that have just been checked so that he has the longest period of time to spend time with the bodies without being distrubed.”

“So we know where he’s going to dump Meredith Dale.”

“If he hasn’t already,” I added.

“The question is, where in the sector is he dumping the body? He can’t do it anywhere near where the last body was found.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem for him. The sectors are hundreds of square miles large. He could leave the body even five miles away from the first one and we still wouldn’t be able to find her in time,” Hotch said.

I turned away from the map and slowly went to sit back down. My mind was racing for answers. The Mill Creek Killer had to know that we were looking for him. And he had to know that we were close. He wouldn’t have rushed to take another woman if he didn’t think that way. That was his first mistake, though. He rushed and it gave us time to find him.

The mini map on the desk was staring at me for some reason. There was something I was missing in that map. Something important about where the Mill Creek Killer would have taken Meredith Dale. Where could he have taken her? Supposedly her friend was just up the path, which meant that right after the call ended, he would have approached her, taken her, and run before being seen.

The hiking path.

Just across from the bench where Meredith was last reported to have been was a small hiking path that led straight into the woods. It wasn’t a popular path, and it wasn’t clearly marked. Locals and experienced hikers liked to take it, though. At least that was what the park ranger explained to us yesterday when talking to us about the forest.

“Spencer, where does the path across from the bench where Ms. Dale went missing lead to?”

“Uh…” He started to trace the map. “Saltgrass Cove.”

“That’s where we’ll find her.” I stood back up, grabbed the case file, and hurried towards the door with Hotch and Spencer following closely.

Hotch drove the undercover cop car with the lights and sirens on. We arrived at the scene first, Sheridan and his team right behind us once we called from the car. By the time we got out of the car, found the path, and ran deep into the woods, the K-9 unit had released their dogs in search of a body.

We knew where we needed to look, it was just a matter of pinpointing the exact location. The dogs would certainly help, but we couldn’t just stand around while they searched. The team and the group of officers following us tried to keep up with me as I stepped off the path and started racing through the woods.

Hotch called after me to slow down, and I tried, but when we heard one of the search dogs barking south of our location, I started sprinting again. The dog kept barking to call over the entire force until his handler commanded him to stop.

I stopped at the edge of the clearing around Saltgrass Cove when I saw what the dog had found. Hotch came speeding up behind me, taking a few extra steps past before stopping, too. Spencer and JJ stopped behind us.

We were too late.

Meredith Dale’s body was lying in the middle of the clearing, covered with leaves, just as Ellen Carroll had been found. Only this time, Dale’s face wasn’t exposed. It could have been because the last body was tampered with before we got to the scene, or maybe it was because the Mill Creek Killer hadn’t come back yet to prepare or defile the body.

Detective Sheridan approached the body and pushed the leaves covering the face to the side. He cursed under his breath then started pushing the rest of the leaves away. Hotch sprang into action, running over and telling the detective to stop immediately. Sheridan halted, but didn’t move away. He looked up and Hotch asked why they shouldn’t examine the body.

“We need to leave the body as it is. He hasn’t completed the ritual yet, which means that he has to come back. And when he does, we’ll be here, waiting for him.” Hotch turned to the rest of the officers standing around, “Search the nearby area, find spots to hide in the treeline. If we’re going to catch the Mill Creek Killer at any point, it’s going to be today. Please, do not touch anything that you might think is evidence. Leave it all as it is for now. Once we catch this bastard, we’ll start to proceed with crime scene protocol.”

Everyone threw their hands up and groaned or sighed. They didn’t understand like we did how important it was to not touch a single thing. If the Mill Creek Killer was as smart as we profiled him to be, he would know if anything was out of place. Perhaps he would even know if one leaf on Meredith’s body was out of place. But by the time he would be able to get close enough to notice, we would have him. So Hotch leaned down and started covering the body again.

Everyone dispersed except for our team. We waited for Hotch to come talk to us. When he was done resetting the body, he dusted his hands off and approached us. “He’ll be back soon. She looked like she hasn’t been dead more than an hour or so. The blood was still fresh and her skin was only just now starting to grow cold. He’s rushing the process now, so we’ll likely see him in the next hour or so.”

“Should we set up watch times?” JJ questioned.

Hotch shook his head, “No. We need all eyes on this guy. It’s easier to trick people when they aren’t in large groups. We have the upperhand if we all stay. JJ and Spencer, why don’t you guys take up the north side of the clearing, Y/N and I will take this side.”

“Sure,” JJ and Spencer answered almost in unison. They smiled at each other after realizing what happened. Then, they left together to walk across the clearing towards where Hotch wanted them to stay for the next hour while we would wait.

Hotch pointed to a fallen log hiding behind a patch of bushes. “Let’s go there.”

We strolled over around the bushes and sat on the log. I wiped off the dirt from the hem of my pants. While running through the forest, mud had collected there, which was less than ideal. And we had some time to spare with stupid things like that. Besides, it was nice to not think about the dead girl a few feet away from us.

“I’m sorry,” Hotch began hesitantly. I raised a brow, but continued picking at the mud. “About yesterday…” My brow fell. “I didn’t mean to snap.”

“It’s alright,” I responded, sitting upright. “You were right. I shouldn’t have asked about it and certainly not while we’re trying to focus on a case. It was out of line.”

We both knew that this job came first for us. We had worked too damn hard to get where we were in our careers, and even though we loved each other very much, we had to respect that our careers were just as important to us. When we first started dating, we made sure to be very clear with one another that the cases come first, not our relationship. That might sound odd to others, but it was what worked for us. It was what made sense for us. It was how we made our relationship work.

“It wasn’t that.” Hotch took my hand and flipped my palm over in order to clean the dirt off my fingertips. I stared at his jawline as he stared at my hands. “Truth is, I’m scared to have that conversation right now. Ever since Haley left, I haven’t been so confident about the idea of raising a family. I hardly ever get to see Jack as it is. I couldn’t imagine having another kid and not being able to see them just as often.”

“Aaron... You don’t have to be afraid of having a family. The right person should just… get it. Your job is important to you, but, of course, you’re going to make the time you have with your family special. You do it with Jack every time you have custody of him. I don’t think for a second that Jack hates you for doing your job. In fact, I think he admires you.”

“Yeah, but we’re both gone all the time. When would we ever make time for a kid—”

“There’s someone coming,” Sheridan whispered from the trees nearby.

Hotch and I pushed ourselves off the log we were sitting on and turned towards the clearing. The Unsub had come from the direction of the hiking trail. And he approached Meredith’s body with intent, not like a civilian who had just happened upon the pile of leaves and was curious to see what was underneath. This had to be our guy.

As the Unsub crouched and reached out to brush away the leaves, we made our move. JJ and Spencer jumped out of the treeline to the north with their guns raised, while Hotch, Sheridan, and I jumped out from the south. Once we revealed ourselves, the other cops came forward from their hiding spots, too.

“FBI! Put your hands on your head and step away from the body!” Hotch shouted.

The man hunched over the body immediately put his hands behind his head and stumbled back from the body. JJ holstered her weapon, pulled out her handcuffs, and grabbed the guy. She pushed him against the tree and turned him around to get a good look at the bastard's face. We all expected her to cuff the guy then and there, and we would call it a day, but she hesitated.

“Meyers?” she questioned. We all looked around to each other for answers, but none of us had any except for JJ. “This is the reporter who has been talking to the Hollow Man,” she told us. “You’re the Mill Creek Killer?”

“What? No!” he exclaimed defensively.

“Then how the hell did you find this place?” I asked.

“I got another letter from the Hollow Man. He told me that the Mill Creek Killer had struck again and where to go for the scoop. I showed up here thinking that I was going to meet the guy, get an exclusive or something.”

JJ’s grip on Meyers fell and she took a step back. “How did he tell you this?”

“He sent me a letter. Here, take a look at it yourself.” Meyers pulled out a piece of paper from his back pocket, and while shaking harder than a chihuahua, handed it to JJ. “I swear, I didn’t do this.”

JJ looked over the letter as the sound of a helicopter flying overhead buzzed through the trees. We all looked up to see a news helicopter hovering over the crime scene. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. That was our one chance of catching the Mill Creek Killer, and the Hollow Man ruined it. Fuck.

Hotch grabbed my arm and turned me around so that we could talk privately for a moment. “We can arrest him for interfering in a police investigation, question him back at the precinct, but I don’t know how much help it’ll be.”

“If you thought we were rushing before…” I began, thinking long and hard about what was going to happen next with the Mill Creek Killer. With the news hovering overhead, he was surely going to see it and we wouldn’t be able to set up another sting. “He didn’t finish the ritual. He was already in a hurry to find a new victim because we were close to finding him, but now that he hasn’t completed the one thing that gives him relief, he’ll be desperate for another. He won’t wait anymore than a day. We have to find this guy now.”

“I just don’t get it. If these guys are friends of some sort, why would the Hollow Man lead the press to the Mill Creek Killer’s crime scene?”

I considered his question. Like Hotch said, if they were friends, they wouldn’t have betrayed the other like this. Even if they were a master and apprentice duo, too, it wouldn’t unfold like this. If the Hollow Man wanted the Mill Creek Killer to be caught, he would have contacted us directly. But he didn’t. He wanted the media to connect him to the Mill Creek Killer’s cases. By doing so, he has injected himself into another part of the situation. He wasn’t getting the attention he wanted for killing those prostitutes, so he resorted to diverting the attention on the Mill Creek Killer to himself.

“They’re not friends. They’re competitors. They both want the media attention, but neither of them want to turn in the other because they are fascinated by the other murders. The Mill Creek Killer has to know that the Hollow Man did this to take his attention away. So not only was the ritual ruined, but the media high afterwards. That means he’s not going to be thinking when it comes to his next victim. He doesn’t care about being careful now. He only cares about the attention.”

“He’s going to start taking them off the streets.”

“Or from their homes, their jobs, restaurants. Anywhere.”

“Hotch,” Spencer said, nearing us, “I just got a call from the precinct. A woman called 911, said that a guy just tried to kidnap her off the street.”

“So we were right,” I told Hotch.

He scratched his temple. “Alright, Reid, we’ll drop you and JJ off at the precinct. Sort out this Hollow Man mess while we go to interview the woman to see if it’s connected.”

A crowd had gathered around the caution tape surrounding the scene. Cops were standing around in the middle of the street, trying to redirect traffic and deal with the worried bystanders. One cop, specifically, was standing at the border of the scene, likely under orders to only let us in since they were waiting for us to show up and question the victim. When Hotch and I showed our badges, the cop smiled lightly and lifted the tape up for us. We ducked ever so slightly under before heading over to where the victim was standing with two officers.

We flashed our badges again to the woman and dismissed the officers so that we could talk to her alone. She had obviously been through this process of questioning a few times already, so she was already keen to tell her story again before we could even ask her to. A sign that she was still anxious about what had just transpired— and rightfully so, too.

She began to give us a detailed account of the man who approached her, what he said to her, and then how he tried to take her. Just as we had profiled him to appear, she explained that he was very handsome— which was why she had stopped to talk to him in the first place. He had approached her and asked if she had a phone that he could borrow since his car wasn’t starting and his phone was dead. When she couldn’t find her phone and he offered her the chance to come look at the car with him, that was when she declined; and when she did, he tried to forcefully take her.

“I’d been watching the news, and saw that they were looking for a guy who has been taking women during the day. I didn’t know what to do besides scream.”

We thanked her for telling us what happened, then Hotch asked if she would be willing to sit with a sketch artist in order to give us a visual of what her attacker looked like. She was more than happy to do so, and we immediately sent her along with another officer who would take her to the precinct to meet with the artist.

As we headed back to the car, Hotch got a call from Gideon. I leaned against the side of the car while he answered. From Hotch’s side of the call, I was beginning to get the gist of what was going on. Spencer, Gideon, and Morgan had finally found the way that the Hollow Man and the Mill Creek Killer were saying connected: the classifieds in the newspaper. That was how the Hollow Man was able to tell Jim Meyers where Meredith Dale’s body was.

I pushed myself off of the car and turned to Hotch. He raised a brow while still on the phone, letting me know that he was aware I had something important to say. If they were communicating via the classifieds, then that was how we were going to lure the Mill Creek Killer into our next sting operation.

It was getting late in the day, we would likely only have another hour or so to put another message into the classifieds for the morning paper. And Spencer was perhaps the only one who knew their speech patterns well enough to write a convincing coded message. But it was our only shot— it was our last shot, really.

So I told Hotch the plan I had pieced together in my head over the last few seconds, and he relayed the information to Spencer and the team over the phone. Spencer would have to write a message to the Mill Creek Killer from the Hollow Man, telling him that he was sorry for ruining his plans with Meredith Dale, so he wanted to make it up to him by giving him the gift of another victim. The location would be hidden in the message, and in the morning, we would take an agent out there who matched the descriptions of his usual victims to play dead in order to lure him in. Since he was desperate to complete the ritual, he was sure to come. I had no doubts. He wouldn’t be thinking straight, so he would fall for the trap easily. But we had to hurry.

Hotch hung up the phone with the team so that they could start working on the message. We headed back to the precinct and managed to catch the tail end of them working on it. By that point, though, Spencer was rushing as the deadline was only twenty or so minutes away. Meanwhile, JJ was talking to Meyers about controlling the Hollow Man in the media for the next day or so to keep him distracted from the Mill Creek Killer sting, and Detective Sheridan was asking around for a female detective that was willing to sit in as our cadaver for the sting. Most of the women were understandably not too keen on the idea, but there were two girls who offered and were brought to me and Hotch for consideration.

We walked them both through the plan and what the Mill Creek Killer would likely do— but it would be in a controlled space and we wouldn’t let him get too far. We just couldn’t afford to have another mess up like with Meyers. We needed to make sure we got the right guy this time. And by the time we ran through it all with both of the women, one decided they weren’t brave enough to take on the task anymore, but the other didn’t budge and insisted that she was ready.

Everyone slept at the office that night. There was no reason to go to the hotel when there was still so much work left to be done. I hadn’t even intended to fall asleep at all. Morgan and Gideon were discussing their case with us since they were struggling to connect more clues with the Hollow Man. The last thing I remembered before falling asleep at the table was looking at the pictures from the most recent crime scene. The Hollow Man had killed a sixteen year old girl prostitute behind a dumpster and her friend was the one to find her. And there were still no leads.

When Hotch woke me up in the morning, I was laying down on the couch in the break room, which had practically been turned into a second board room for our team to work in. I figured that Hotch must have moved me at some point, because he was sitting in a chair that he placed right beside me, reading through another file while tracing light figure eights on my shoulder.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he smiled at me as I sat up.

I stretched and yawned away my exhaustion. “What time is it?”

“8:30. We’re leaving in about thirty minutes.”

“Did you guys make any progress with the Hollow Man?”

He shook his head and I shrugged disappointedly. It wasn’t a shock, but it was still upsetting that we weren’t any closer. Granted, if we were going to catch the Mill Creek Killer later, he was sure to give up his competitor after some interrogation, so maybe it didn’t really matter in the end what they did or didn’t find while I was asleep.

I stood up and stretched again for extra measure, acutely aware that Hotch was staring at me out of the corner of his eye. After a moment of waking myself up, I strolled over to the coffee pot and poured myself a cup before offering Hotch one, too. He accepted the offer and I poured another cup full, then walked back over to the couch. I handed him his drink as I sat down. I leaned forward and propped both of my elbows up on his knee closest to me and kept the warm rim of the cup pressed against my lips so that I could smell the coffee while also warming up my nose from the steam.

“What are you looking at?”

“We got the sketch back from yesterday’s victim,” he answered, holding the drawing up for me to see.

He was almost exactly how I imagined him. He was definitely attractive, if you could get past the fact that he was a total sociopath. His face was square. His eyes were light, bright, and wide. His lips were perk, perfect for kissing— which was always an unconscious factor people tended to put into consideration when it came to potential partners. And most noticeable about his appearance was his hair. He was clean shaven, and his hair was short and nicely cut. He didn’t match any physical features one would expect from a textbook sociopath. But that was definitely a reason why we hadn’t found him yet and why these women were so interested in going with him somewhere private. He didn’t look at all scary. That was what made him dangerous.

“Well, at least we’ll know if we get the right guy this time,” I laughed.

Hotch chuckled slightly but bit it back when he realized that he had let it escape him. My smile faded and I stared at his cheek for a second before feeling the urge to look at his eyes again. I let go of the coffee cup with one hand and went to hold his face in my palm. His skin was so cold compared to my warm hand, and he noticed it, too, right away. I dragged my thumb down his jawline, applying slight pressure towards his chin to make him look at me. He leaned into my touch, his eyes falling shut as he relaxed.

“We’re going to get this guy,” I reassured him. “And then we get to go home and see Jack.” He smiled at the thought. “We’re going to be okay.”

He opened his eyes and leaned towards me before kissing me. “We’re going to be okay,” he whispered against my lips. I kissed him again eagerly.

The door to the break room opened. Hotch and I immediately pulled away and looked over. “Hotch, Y/N—” JJ had come in hurriedly, but was slowly realizing that she had interrupted and regretted not knocking. “Sorry… Uh. We’re getting ready to head out. You guys should gear up.”

“Thanks, JJ,” I said. She smiled politely and backed out of the room much faster than she had come in. I started laughing once the door closed behind her. Hotch looked me up and down and started laughing, too. “Well…” I shrugged before kissing him again.

At the sting operation site, a makeup artist sat with the detective who was going to lay down as the body so as to make her look convingly dead. While JJ and Spencer were covering her body in leaves, Hotch and I reviewed the plan with her one more time. It was very possible that the Mill Creek Killer would come up to her and touch her, but we wouldn’t let him get much further than that. She just had to stay still until we decided to reveal ourselves. She would be okay, we promised that much.

When she was ready, we helped her lay down without rustling any of the leaves, then covered her face. Afterwards, when she looked as the other victims had, we all retreated into the forest to hide until the Mill Creek Killer would show up. I checked my watch to see that we had only five minutes until he was supposed to show up— at least according to the note we put in the classifieds. He could possibly have been too scared to show up on time, so we had to expect that he could perhaps show up late.

Hotch and I didn’t sit down or talk this time around. The stakes were too high to think about anything other than catching this asshole once and for all. I wouldn’t let him get away again. I couldn’t. And I was sure that the rest of the team felt the same way. In fact, I knew it. JJ looked as nervous as I did, Hotch’s silence told me that he was focusing on not jumping out too soon, and Spencer was searching the treeline frantically for any sign of movement.

Nearly five more minutes after the Unsub was supposed to arrive, we heard rustling in the forest coming from across where we stood. As a man walked into the clearing, he kept his head low, focusing only on the girl covered by leaves laying before him. He chuckled to himself and giddy approached the detective. He crouched down, tore off his jacket, and pulled out a tube of lipstick from one of the pockets. 

Once we saw the lipstick, we knew we finally had the Mill Creek Killer. The lipstick was his signature. He wouldn’t complete the ritual without it.

“Go,” I ordered quietly. Simultaneously, we all jumped out of the bushes and into the clearing with our weapons raised. Hotch ran at the Unsub and tackled him before he could put a finger on the detective. She sat up, her weapon pointed at him as Hotch put his knee on the Mill Creek Killer’s lower back and started handcuffing him. I turned to the detective, “You alright?” She nodded. “Good.” I held out a hand, she took it, then I pulled her up to her feet.

We did it. We won. We got the son of a bitch.

criminal minds family: @peggy1999​  @gorgeousdarkangel​ @marvelismylifffe​  @alex--awesome--22​