#but yeah. gonna wrap my car around a lamp post

[seokmattchuus]

The way I have like. Slim to none chances of getting the classes I need for summer and fall oooohhhhh imma kill myself

[muniimyg]

7: the yes or no // series m.list

note: most patient reader award goes to u !!! 🥹 literally from my car accident to my month long trip to these past adjustments weeks ,, it’s been an absolute pleasure for me to write and conclude this couple (they have 1 drabble left before full completion) otherwise thank u all for ur love n support w this fic ,, mwah 🤍

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @defzcl @maryy1300 @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo

//

"J-Jungkook? Wha—”

“Sorry,” Hobi rushes from his car to Jungkook’s side, steadying his poor balance and looking at you with pleading eyes. “I texted and called you, but you didn’t answer—I had no choice.”

“It’s 2AM,” you point out, opening your arms for Jungkook, who crashes into you quickly. You wrap your arms around him as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. His cheeks are warm against your skin. He breathes you in, completely immersed in your scent. He murmurs your name, and you hush him, “I’m here. You okay, Jungkook?”

Jungkook hums in response.

In disbelief, you feel a bit stressed with this whole situation. Here you are: standing outside your apartment in pajamas and bunny slippers, holding a very drunk Jungkook. It’s a starless night, with only the lamp posts and your bedroom window light on. Despite the dim light, you see Jungkook as if he were daylight.

Before you can get more context, Jungkook suddenly coughs. You pat his back to ease it. When his coughing fit settles, you turn to Hobi. “What happened?”

Hobi gives you an ‘are-you-kidding-me’ look. Hurriedly, he takes out his keys and locks his car, turning back to you with a rather pissed-off expression. “Hmmm… I’m not too sure… Let’s ask your boyfriend-not-boyfriend, shall we?”

“Hobi…”

“He was trying to leave,” Hobi sighs, running a hand through his hair. He recalls what happened perfectly, having sobered up a while ago. “I told him to stay, but he wanted to go home and sleep so he could come over first thing in the morning. He said you two were going to work things out and end the yes-or-no bullshit. So, we celebrated, and… he was really happy, ___. I didn’t want to ruin that for him. I mean, how could I?”

“Yeah, okay... But Hobi, he can barely stand up—”

“What was I supposed to do?” Hobi cries, frustrated. “He refused to go home unless we came to you first. Trust me, I drove him home and did three rounds around your neighbourhood to get him to fall asleep or throw up—he didn’t care. The minute he saw your apartment, he got out of the car. He wants you, and he’s so stubborn—seriously, ___… What was I supposed to do?”

“Okay, okay. I'm sorry,” you apologize gently. Hobi takes it as a sign to take a breath. He does so, and you watch his expression relax. “It’s been a long night for you. You did everything just fine; this wasn’t in your control. I’m sorry you got roped into this.”

Hobi shakes his head. “N-no, sorry about that. I just… God, he’s so in love with you it pisses me off. He’s already just as annoying as they come, but now it’s like triple when he’s lovesick like this… And you… You’re one of my favourites in this life. I wasn’t stuck in the middle or anything, but I also hate watching things fall apart between you two—”

“Nothing is falling apart,” you console him. “Only felt like it ‘cause he’s dramatic.”

For the first time throughout this stressful night, Hobi cracks a smile and lets out a tired laugh.

“You two are gonna end up together, right?”

His question catches you off guard.

As you hold Jungkook, you search for words but are at a loss. There aren’t enough words to make an excuse. There aren’t enough words to confess either. So, you stand there and hold Jungkook tighter. Hobi notices and smiles softly.

“Good.” … Is all he says.

It’s all he has to say.

This time, a light laugh escapes your lips as you realize how ridiculous all of this is at 2AM. Hobi doesn’t know why, but he joins your laughter.

With that, a moment passes, and it feels light between you two. Not that it was ever heavy or tense, but it finally felt okay. Over the past few days of you avoiding Jungkook, Hobi tried to understand you and Jungkook’s lifeless mannerisms. It confused Hobi. You’re a great person—one of the best—but he had never seen love captivate Jungkook like this. Ultimately, Hobi was torn… But he did his best and supported you both.

At the end of the day, he wasn’t responsible for your relationship with Jungkook. He wanted you two to be together (which is why he brought up the fact that he had a crush on you in the first place), but he wanted it to happen naturally. He roots for you two, and despite all the shenanigans, he was glad to be here.

“You okay with that parking spot?"

Hobi nods, snapping out of his thoughts. “Yeah. I mean, maybe we should get going… It’s late, and he got what he wanted. We’ll head home—”

“Sleep here,” you command. There’s no way you’re letting Hobi drive tipsy and emotionally exhausted. He genuinely looks like he’s been through it, and Jungkook is in no state to walk more than the last three steps he took towards you. “I’ll set up a bed for you and Jungkook in the living room.”

Hobi accepts, surrendering to his exhaustion.

“Can you—”

“Yeah, I got it,” Hobi reaches out as you pull away from Jungkook. Thankfully, Jungkook doesn’t stumble or put up a fight. As you part from his body, you take a good look at him. His cheeks are flushed, and his eyes flutter closed. They’re a little puffy, making you wonder if he cried along the way. You hate that he probably did. Then, you notice his slumpy posture. He can’t even stand up straight, and something about him practically collapsing into your arms tugs at your heartstrings more than you could have ever imagined.

Hobi remembers he has extra clothes in his car. He usually keeps them there for party nights when he doesn’t make it home. Quickly excusing himself, he leaves Jungkook to fall asleep on your couch. When he comes back up, he asks if he can use your shower and changes.

As Hobi does that, you rush to set up his bed on the floor. When you finish, you lift Jungkook’s head to place a pillow underneath. As he stirs in his sleep, you adjust his body so he lies on his side in case he throws up. His body follows but feels a little too warm for your liking.

“Jungkook?” you attempt to wake him up. “Can you lift your arms? You’re sweating too much.”

“Hmmm?” he coos. “___?”

You push his hair back and watch as his eyes flicker open. “Y-yeah. It’s me. Come on, bebu. Let’s take your shirt off—”

Jungkook giggles.

“Ohh,” he smirks sleepily, “you want me so bad, huh?”

You gulp. “Mhmm.. Come on, bebu. Lift your arms for me—”

“Say it first.”

You freeze.

Jungkook groans, hating the pause. “I t-thought we were done fighting? Come on, bebu. Say it. Say it, please. Say—”

“Want you so bad, Jungkook,” you interrupt him. “I want you.”

Jungkook chuckles, unable to hide how his heart skips a beat.

“So bad?”

“So bad.”

With that, he happily obliges. He lifts his arms (lazily) and you take off his shirt. His chest is exposed, and his skin glows. For some reason, your throat goes dry and—what the fuck.

Your eyes trail to his bare arm. Written and smudged, it reads; if piss drunk please return to ___ (my girlfriend) <3

You stare in disbelief. Your head feels light and for some odd reason, you’re embarrassed. He walked around the party like this? He’s literally such a weirdo.

“Disgusting,” Hobi whines, standing with wet hair and a towel around his neck. You turn to him, gulping at the state he caught you and Jungkook in. “Do I have to stay with him? Like what if you two have morning sex? Aren’t you a virgin? Pretty sure he has condoms in his wallet like a pathetic high schooler—”

“Oh my god!” you throw a pillow at him. He dodges it and laughs at you. Completely ignoring his claims, he rolls his eyes at you.

“Can’t I just sleep in your room—”

You huff, “Fine. Go! You did your part anyway.”

Hobi waves his hand, mumbling goodnight to you two. He mutters some other things you can’t make out but it doesn’t matter.

Turning back to Jungkook, you realize he’s asleep again. You pick up from where you left off. Reaching for the blanket, you tuck him in and set his shirt aside. Then, you get up, lock your door, and turn off the lights. As you make your way back to the floor, you take a deep breath and try to process everything.

It’s been a hectic hour or so… You fear the morning might be worse.

How is everything going to unfold? Should you talk things over breakfast? Do you pretend like nothing happened and see what he initiates? You have no idea.

Truth be told, the ‘break’ was unintentional. The avoiding wasn’t meant to be this big of a deal… It’s only been a few days too! But then again… Maybe you simply underestimated Jungkook’s feelings for you. He’s always been confident and sly, so you never thought he’d be this sensitive and clingy over you. It’s surprising in a nice way… It feels like you know him better.

That’s what you’ve been wanting from him anyway… Honesty. Yet, with this state… Exactly how much more of it could you bear? Him as this mess is the reality of how much you impact his life. It’s crazy, isn’t it? Like, wasn’t this… Just a crush? Wasn’t this just a simple nonchalant confession? How did we get here? How did love bloom amid something so childlike and lighthearted?

Is that what it is?

The feeling of your stomach turning and twisting at the sight of him? The feeling of frustration and embarrassment when it feels like you want more of him and you’re too shy to ask for it? And it’s stupid, isn’t it? Because if we’re being honest; he would give you anything.

As you make yourself comfortable, you’re taken by surprise as Jungkook shuffles and gets off the couch. He joins you on the floor, wrapping his arms and legs around your body. Just like earlier, he buries himself in the crook of your neck. Although you’re taken aback, you don’t hesitate to hold him.

Your fingers find their way to his hair while your other hand rubs circles on his bare back. Jungkook can’t help but feel electricity run throughout his body with every touch.

“Sorry I drank so much,” he croaks, trying his best to get his words out. “Sorry I smell like shit.”

“It’s okay,” you comfort him. “Do you want me to get you some water—”

“Don’t move,” he cries. “Please...”

“Okay,” You relax your body. He does the same. “I’m here.”

A moment passes.

“I’m sorry I kept bothering you. Texting and calling… Coming over like this…”

“Jungkook—”

Sniffing, he mumbles, “and sorry I took your spot and kissed you.”

“Seriously, don’t—”

Yet, ever so clearly he apologizes: “Sorry almond pocky is better than strawberry.”

His apology earns a soft laugh from you. It escapes your lips and Jungkook swears he hears angels singing.

“The only time strawberry was better than almond was when I kissed you. You tasted like strawberries. I liked it. Best kiss of my fucking—”

“Oh my god!” You pull away and cover his mouth with your hand. “I know. You told Mingyu the same thing, right?”

He stays still, boba eyes focused on you.

When you take your hand off his mouth, he blinks at you. “Fuck Mingyu.”

“Shhh,” you hush him.

Then, he continues. “Sorry for lying and tricking you before.”

You shrug. “Hey, it worked. I caught feelings for you.”

“Real ones?”

“Real ones.”

“... Like you want me so bad?”

“Mhmm,” you play along. “Like super real bad.”

Then, Jungkook’s goofy grin twitches.

“Sorry I’m so stupid about all of this.”

“Me too,” you hurry to say. “I’ve been stupid about it too. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jungkook mumbles, acting like it’s no big deal. “Hot chicks are never wrong.”

“Jungkook!” you laugh, hitting his chest. He catches your hand and holds it still. Then, he intertwines your fingers together.

“I’m so drunk,” he confesses with a tired tone. “… ___? Are you gonna break up with me in the morning?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Should I? Did you flirt with a pretty girl at the party?”

“Fuck no.”

You giggle at his harshness. Poking his cheek, you prop up on your elbows. “That’s a relief… But did you really have to make things so hard for Hobi?”

Jungkook huffs.

“I’m not stubborn,” he claims. “I j-just… I miss y-you, ___.”

Your heart sinks.

“I miss you too.”

“Good.”

“Good…” you yawn, “... Night. Go to sleep, bebu. We can talk more in the morning—”

Jungkook cups your jaw and kisses you. It’s not needy, but it’s gentle and deep. He means it. He kisses you and you kiss him back. How could you not? Being so close to him again makes your heart flutter. Just as he’s about to get carried away, he pulls away.

“Sorry for kissing you.”

You touch your lips. “It’s okay.”

“Don’t break up with me tomorrow, o-okay?”

You snicker at him as he wraps himself around you again.

“Okay,” you fold. “I won’t.”

When you wake up, Hobi is cooking pancakes. 

“Good morning,” he yawns, dancing a little as he flips the pancakes.

Half awake, you ask, “Where’s Jungkook?”

You can only assume he left to get ready and be more presentable before your talk. That or he’s running away from you… But you doubt that. 

Hobi glares at you, frying pan in hand and all. 

“I’m literally cooking you breakfast and you’re asking where your boyfriend-not-boyfriend is?”

You stretch and get up. Folding and tidying the makeshift bed up, you casually ask if Jungkook ate before he left.

Hobi sighs, flipping pancakes. “You’re literally obsessed with him…”

Sneaking up behind him, you poke his sides. He flinches and scolds you not to do that while he’s cooking. You laugh and steal a pancake from the pile. 

“He’s said you’d know where he is. Meet him there at 12PM.” Hobi then passes you a plate with another pancake but this time there’s cut up fruit and syrup on top. Happily, you grab the plate and take a sit at your table to eat. Hobi turns the stove off and joins you. 

Hobi takes a bite and lets his curiosity get the best of him. “Any idea of what he’s talking about?”

“I can only really think of one place.”

Jungkook struggled immensely during those few days when you two weren’t talking. Every text he sent you was met with a cold seenzone, and every call went unanswered. If he was lucky, they were declined. He made intentional visits to the library and your spot under that stupid tree daily, hoping to see you. Yet, the only time he did, you avoided him, and his heart sank lower than any ship.

If he were crazier, he would’ve confronted you and closed the space between you two as early as possible. But he wasn’t here to play; he was here to win. He was in it for the long run and thought to himself that if there was ever a time to prove he could wait and respect your boundaries—it would be now. However, it proved difficult, and although Jungkook is a strong man, his knees always go weak at the mention of your name.

He was done for.

In the waiting, he repeatedly convinced himself to love fully and pour every ounce of faith into dreams of a life with you. He couldn’t deny this felt strange. Of course, it was difficult! Being out of sync with you felt absolutely painful. All he did was toss and turn at night. When he ate, he wondered if you were eating too and who you were eating with. He hoped you were eating well.

God, he was dramatic.

He felt like he was falling apart. Why couldn’t he just figure this out? Was he supposed to apologize? For what? What happened between you two was a mere conversation. Suddenly, after you got your little confession off your chest, you hurried Jungkook out of your place and turned off your phone. He stood outside, confused and completely smitten.

You truly were the most surprising thing to have ever happened to him.

On the other hand, you couldn’t believe how much of your heart you had laid out to him. You’d never admitted any of those things out loud, and to do so for the first time—in front of him—oh my god. You had lost your mind.

You were done for.

Yet, maybe that’s what it takes to find love. To get so lost in it and then to suddenly find it in his presence—it’s indescribable.

When the clock struck 12, the library doors opened, and Jungkook held his breath.

He heard your footsteps getting closer and closer, and his heart raced faster and faster. He had showered for 30 minutes to make sure he was the exact opposite of last night… Yet at this rate, his sweaty palms made him think he needed another 30 minutes… But this couldn’t wait. This was happening now.

Finally.

When you walk in, Jungkook’s gaze softens.

His heart lightens and feels so much relief. You look like an absolute angel walking towards him. He’s in heaven, isn’t he?

Or maybe you are.

The table is covered in sunset colour schemed flowers, each in different vases and spread out. There are twinkling fairy lights in between the spaces. It’s beautiful and romantic—you might cry. Not to mention, he’s also holding a bouquet for you.

It’s perfect.

He’s perfect.

Your hair is perfectly curled, and you’re wearing a white corset dress that made him feel things he shouldn’t focus on. Truth be told, he looks just as good. He’s wearing a linen white button-up short sleeve and slacks that looked so good on him. His hair was even freshly cut (God bless)! Maybe it was your delusion, but you swear you see butterflies flying around him.

“W-wow,” he stutters, taking a step towards you. He looks at you in awe. Your lips curve into a smile, and Jungkook put his hand on top of his heart. “__, I have no words. You’re divine.”

“You got a haircut?” you tease him, extending your hand to ruffle his hair. “Handsome as always.”

He smiles shyly, putting the bouquet down. “Had to. Gotta look irresistible so you don’t dump me.”

You laugh, suddenly feeling nervous about everything. This was all so real… What were you even supposed to do? You couldn’t even differentiate if it felt awkward or if this was just new.

“H-hey,” you clear your throat. “Why is the library empty?”

He gulps. “I kinda… Told everyone at the party I was gonna make this grand gesture here… Pulled some strings with some people and was able to reserve the library privately for us. I mean, at least for an hour—”

“Y-you did what?”

“It’s not that big of a deal—d-don’t think about it too much. Here,” Jungkook offers you his hand. “Come here. I wanna show you something.”

You take his hand and follow him. He walks you two to the corner of the table and kneels. You did the same. He smiles and pats the edge of the table.

“What is this?” you ask.

Jungkook sighs, pretending to be disappointed in you. “You don’t remember?”

You shake your head. “Am I supposed to?”

Jungkook holds your hands and squeezes them. “This was our first moment.”

Your eyebrows furrow together, not knowing what he meant by that. Then, he smiles and explains it to you.

“You dropped your phone because you were surprised at how close I was to you. You bumped your head first, and it was the first time I looked at you the way I do now. I know it because it was the first time I felt what I feel for you now. Then, I bumped my head, and you rubbed my head, leaned in towards me, and that was it.”

“Oh,” you say softly, trying to recall that day. Your eyes lit up when you did. “Oh yeah! Wow, that was ages ago.”

“It was…”

A silence falls upon you two. It wasn’t heavy or awkward. It set the tone. It was perfect.

“Have you liked me for that long?” You ask him rather shy.

“Yeah,” Jungkook answers confidently. “___?”

“Yes?”

He then leans forward and tilts his head. “I’ve been ruining myself… Thinking of ways to give you the grand gesture you deserve. Something good enough to sum up how life-changing and utterly perfect you are to me… How to make you feel like you’re my whole world and for you to—I d-don’t know… I can’t—I can’t think straight. I’ve written drafts for this and I’ve rehearsed every possible line. I couldn’t get anything right, and it took me so long to realize something… To give you what you deserve is to give you my heart. To let you have it and be the man that’s good enough for you to want it… I think I did it, right? I’ve given it to you. Over and over again, and I’d do it over and over again because I can’t fathom that you’ve accepted it. Like you’ve fallen for me like I wished for you to… All you wanted was honesty, and so I need you to know that beneath all the deceit and this confidence is my heart, waiting and loving you this entire time. It’s been honest even when I’m not… And I… I’m changing. I’m an honest man, ___… And as an honest man, I need to confess one thing…”

“Jungkook—”

A beat.

“I am honestly so in love with you.”

You hold your breath.

“So, please don’t dump me,” he chuckles. “Can I please be your boyfriend? I want more time with you. I want you to love me too—”

“I already do,” you can’t help but to interrupt him. “I know I haven’t done everything perfectly either and as much as I appreciate you wanting to do better—I also need to do better. So count me in, bebu. Let’s get it right… Let’s fall in love so deeply I have no choice but to fight for it, to be brave for it, and to accept it… For you, I will.”

Jungkook leans in and cups your cheeks. He kisses you for the first time as your boyfriend. You kiss him just as sweet and deep—nothing is better than this.

epilogue

Though there were still things you two continue to work on and discuss over time, that moment was perfect. It aches, really. To remember how young and confusing love is… But to also laugh with the love of your life and feel butterflies for the first time is something you wish for everyone.

Now these 7 moments are mere fleeting memories. Yet, they still feel so warm and familiar to you. They bring you so much joy and nostalgia. They remind you of the goodness of each other’s company and hearts are (which was important and useful for every couch-sleeping fight that came your way).

It’s so special to see how it all unfolded… How oblivious love can be sometimes. How it gets cold and caught in lies just to please.. How truth reveals itself and has layers of jealousy and forgiveness that await to be embraced. How beautiful love blooms in the midst of friendship, how being with the right person changes you, and lastly; how much more life there is to live when you love all at once.

[0who-cares0]

Favorite Pretzel Boy

Relationships : Fezco X Fem!Reader and Ashtray X Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Description : While hanging out with Maddy at the fair Y/N decided to go mess with Ashtray.

Warnings : Cussing and smoking

I walked around Fez's apartment trying to get ready for the fair, I was supposed to be getting picked up by Maddy in 30 minutes, and I was trying to find a cute dress to wear. Fez and Ashtray where already at the fair opening the pretzel stand, I decided on a dress that fit my body well but not to tight, so I wouldn't get uncomfortable.

I heard my phone go off, I picked it up and saw it was Maddy telling me she was here. I slipped on my black and white Air Jorden's, I grabbed my purse and ran out the door and locked it before heading to Maddy's car. “Hey babes!” she said and pulled me into a side hug “you look fucking beautiful,” she added as she looked at my outfit. “Thank you! You look so hot,” I said, and she pulled out of the parking space and headed to the fair, I was looking out the window till I felt my phone go off that was sitting in my lap. Fez was asking where I was I told him I was close, and he just read it, Maddy pulled into a parking spot, and we hopped out of the car “hey Nate wants to talk to me, want me to meet you somewhere?” she said, and I nodded my head “yeah, I have to meet Fez,” I said walking off the where Fez had told me to meet him.

I smiled when I saw my boyfriend, He was leaned up against a lamp post smoking a blunt looking around. I walked up to him with a smile “hey ma,” he smiled pulling me into a hug “hey baby,” I said and kissed his cheek. He pulled back and looked me up and down “damn mama's, them new shoes I got you look good as fuck, and that dress,” he said and placed his lips onto mine. “God I'm so lucky to have you,” he said putting his hand on my waist, “hey I'm gonna go bother Ash, I love you,” I said kissing his cheek and walked away heading to the pretzel stand.

When I got to the stand I smiled, Ashtray saw me and jokingly rolled his eyes “fuck you want?” he asked, and I walked around the back and into the stand. I sat on the couch that was in the back “bored, and I wanted to see my favorite pretzel boy,” I said with a giggle, he threw a chunk of his pretzel at me “yo fuck yo self,” he said and leaned on the counter. “Why aren't you with Fez?” he asked and looked back to make sure no one was there “don't know am I not allowed to come see you?” I asked, and I could tell he was trying not to smile. I know Ash had this tough guy attitude, but he was one of the biggest softies I know, one day when he was sick I stayed at the apartment with him while Fez went to run the store. While we were laying on the couch he had told me how much I mean to him and Fez, he also told me about how he felt like I was a mother figure to him, but he didn't want me to be uncomfortable. Of course, I wasn't mad, I thought it was cute it also made my day.

After a while of helping Ash with the stand I helped him pack up, I was closing the front when Fez came up to us. “Hey ma! You help Ash with the stand?” he asked wrapping his arms around my waist “yeah, Maddy went off with Nate, it was nice to hang out with him for the rest of the night,” I said and turned around hugging him properly. Ash walked around from the back and smiled at us, I pulled away and stared walking to the car. I had my arm around Ash's shoulder and the other one around Fez's waist, I was so happy with my life right now I had my boys and that's all I needed.

// haven't posted in a while, but I'm back. Send requests plz:)))

[sckyie]

word count: 2.1k

genre + warnings: slight angst + family fluff; slight arguments between bo & gf, dad!bokuto, mom!reader, sharing a bed w/family

pronouns used: she/her

a/n: im not even gonna apologize im like so bad at posting on time

It was a hard break up between the two of you. Although it was mutual, the after effects was worse. You found out you were pregnant, postpartum depression, constant court battles, and struggling with just to put food on the table. In the end, with Keigo at now three years old, you two had shared custody of him.

You had finished cleaning up Keigo's room from it being empty the past week. You had just built him a new bed from him outgrowing the last. After putting away your cleaning supplies, you walked to your bedroom to crawl into your sheets. You slowly drifted to sleep thinking about how empty the house felt when your son was gone.

Even if you grew used to the lonesome halls, you didn't like the quiet halls all to yourself. You missed having someone to come home to but since the break up and since Keigo, you hadn't thought about a relationship for a while. All the while your ex had fully moved on.

Bokuto had a new girlfriend, new house, and had moved on in his career. To him, you were nothing more than his kid's mother, or so you thought. There were times where he missed having you around and he sees pieces of you through his son. But, nonetheless he moved on and finds himself with struggling now.

"You can't just say that about Keigo!" Bokuto argued. "My son comes before everything, before you, before my career-"

"Before me? I'm your girlfriend! Why should that bastard child come before me?" Yui yelled. "He shouldn't even come before his mom. I don't understand why she even matters so much to you anymore!"

"She's my son's mother of course she matters!" Bokuto was fuming hearing these words coming out of her mouth. "Don't ever call Keigo a bastard child! Get out of my house!"

"Like hell I'll leave! I'm not moving! You either pick me or that little monster." She yelled. Bokuto raised his eyebrows and scoffed. Without speaking, he picked up his keys and wallet. "Where are you going?"

"Taking my son away from you," He glances back.

"Oh yeah? And where would you even go?" Yui says.

"Like hell I'd tell you," He says. "When I get back though, all your things better be gone. If anything of mine is missing, I'm suing you. We're done."

Bokuto continued on to his son's room and the anger boiling in him diminished after seeing his sleeping figure. He slept just like his father, his body sprawled all over, his toy lamb in one hand and drool down the side of his face.

"Keigo, hey buddy," Bokuto carefully woke his son up.

"Mm? Is morning Papa?" Keigo stirred.

"No, bud, we're going to Mama's," Bokuto says. Keigo instantly perked up. Just like his dad, his immediate amount of energy got him ready to see his mom. "We're gonna stay at Mama's for a while so only take your bag and your lamb for you to sleep-"

"Are you sleeping at Mama's?" Keigo rubs his eyes, holding his stuffed sheep close to his side. Bokuto nods, putting some of his son's necessities in his bag. "Why?"

"Yui and I are...not being nice to each other right now. Papa just needs to stay somewhere else," He says.

Bokuto carried his sleepy son to the car passed Yui to avoid any questions from him. Though, he did as more and more questions throughout the car ride. "Papa look Lamb-Lamb is driving like you," He shows off his toy. "Wait Papa? I thought Mama and Papa don't like each otver."

"It's not that we don't like each other baby, Mama and Papa used to love each other so much, that's how you were born..." Bokuto paused. "It's just Papa hadn't showed Mama he loved her enough that we chose to spend time apart. It's okay baby, I just hope Mama will let us sleep over."

Pulling into the driveway, Bokuto looks at the clock and sees how late it is. Letting out a big sigh, he goes to help Keigo out of his car seat. His little hand wraps around his dad's finger as they walk the path up to your front door. Keigo plays with his shoes as Bokuto nervously fiddles with his keys.

The door rang as you stirred in your sleep. You pulled off your comforter and turned to your alarm clock to see that it was past midnight. Knowing you had work tomorrow, you were irritated to check the door. Who could possibly be here at this hour?

You threw on a cardigan to cover your pajamas and walked into your cold living room. You peeked into the peephole and saw a familiar tall figure with a little boy clinging onto him. You quickly open the door, confused to see the two.

"Mama!" Keigo practically jumps into your arms.

"Hi Bubbas, what are you doing here so late?" You ask.

"Yui and I got into an argument and she said some...choice words about Keigo. I told her to leave and she gave me an ultimatum. So we left and now we're here," Bokuto scratches the back of his neck.

"Can we stay wif you Mama?" He says into your neck. "Papa and I don't wanna stay with Yui."

"Of course you can stay," You say putting Keigo down, letting him hug your leg as you turned to Bokuto.

It was awkward to say the least. Spending the night with your ex-fiancé can't be that bad right? "Kotaro you don't mind sleeping in the living room right?"

"No! Papa and Mama sleep in the same room!" Keigo tugged at your shirt. "I wan Papa to sleep next to you because Mama's and Papa's always sleep next to each otver. Like how Yui sleeps next to Papa!"

"You're so smart, Bub," You gritted your teeth. "But Papa isn't with me remember? He loves Yui, so he can't sleep next to Mama." You took a look at Bokuto but could tell he was uncomfortable at the sound of his now ex-girlfriend's voice.

"Please?" Keigo's eyes began to water, hinting that he wasn't just tired but he wanted his way too. "I wanna snuggle in Mama's bed with Papa."

You looked at Bokuto, both of you felt guilty if you had turned your son down. It was just for one night, right? You guided the two boys to the room and flicked on the lights for Keigo to find his way. "Papa look at Mama's big bed!" He runs and jumps into the center of the king size bed. "It can fit all of us!"

Bokuto chuckles at your guys' son and sits on the left side of the bed. Keigo notices and began to whine and push his dad off the bed. "Woah bud, I thought you wanted me to sleep with you guys, why are you pushing me off?" He asks.

"Mama sleeps on that side," He points out.

"Ko, can you turn on the lamp?" You ask, shrugging off your cardigan. You flick off the light, leaving the dim light beside your bed. Your ex-fiancé and his mini-me both yawn in sync as they adjust the sheets. "Let get some snuggles bubbas."

"I love you Mama," Keigo kisses your nose once you laid in bed beside him. He flips over and kisses Bokuto's noses and whispers, "I love you Papa."

The three of you slowly drift off into sleep. It was a peaceful thing. The three of you asleep together like a family for the first time. Bokuto had shifted in his sleep to hold onto both you and Keigo. Both your legs intertwined and your bodies encompassed each other's warmth.

Bokuto was the first to wake up. He woke up to the blinds letting sunlight hit his eyes. He slowly looked around the orange tinted view and spotted you directly in front of him. Keigo had snuggled close to your chest like he always did whenever he was sleeping in bed with you. Bokuto smiled when he saw you like this. Though he didn't say it, he knew.

He was still in love.

You were his first love, his first true love that he could show off to people. The type that made people feel jealous that you were even a couple. It wasn't anything bad between you two when you broke up. Just time, Bokuto couldn't manage any of it. He wasn't showing you he loved you like he did. He didn't make time for you. He didn't know when to show up for you. It wasn't enough and so you broke up.

You slowly woke up with your body regularly waking up to the early morning. Your fuzzy vision locks onto Bokuto's figure and you smiled slightly. You rubbed your eyes to focus your sight and saw him smiling back at you. "You still snore," You pinch his nose and carefully shift out of bed not moving Keigo. "I have to get ready for work. There's coffee in the kitchen and food in the fridge. Keigo's not going to wake up until around nine, so you can make breakfast if you want."

"What are you going to do?" He asks as he moves a piece of hair out of your face.

"Shower, now shoo," You say. You walked into the bathroom locking the door behind you. Your cheeks were bright pink while Bokuto threw up his hands hiding his face.

Once out of the shower, blow dried your hair and got dressed. Just in time to hear Bokuto calling you that he made you coffee. "Here, just how you like it," He serves. You accept the cup sipping on the beverage, trying to ignore the tension between you two. "You can go to work early, I can take Keigo out today since I have the day off."

"Maybe I should take a day off for a family day," You laughed.

"Keigo'd like that," Bokuto suggested.

"I know he would but...I'm just...y'know," You hesitate.

"I know," Bokuto responds. "But, I'd rather spend one family day with you than anymore with Yui."

"Is that true?" You ask, fiddling with your mug. Bokuto hummed in response. He took a step forward to lean beside you on the counter. It was a strange feeling. "Ko...Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, something bothering you?" He sipped is coffee.

"Do you...still...think about me?" Why were you asking this? It's not right to be asking this but you wonder if you're still on his mind. At some point in time you were there the love of his life, so could there be a chance?

"Everytime I look at Keigo," Bokuto says without hesitation. That's when you felt it. A flutter in your heart told you there was still hope for the two of you. The glow on your cheeks spread as you go to message your boss about your day off. You looked up to see Bokuto gleaming as you finished typing. "Thank you Y/n," He says. You smile back but something in the air shifts between you two.

Your eyes meet. The wholesome smile fades and the nostalgic feeling of your past relationship is brought back with a single look. Before you knew it, you both found yourselves leaning over the counters. Your breath just grazed over his lips before placing it on his. It was almost like putting the last piece in a puzzle. Both your lips moved together as if you two had never broken up.

What were you doing? You knew kissing your ex-fiancé was wrong but you weren't stopping yourself. Bokuto's hand rested on your cheek as you deepened the kiss. He hummed as you two felt one another's lips after so long. Only until you heard the bedroom door open, you pulled away slowly. "Mama? Papa?" Keigo asks sleepily. He drags Lamb-Lamb on the floor as he enters the kitchen looking for his parents. Bokuto smiles at your rosy cheeks before kissing your nose and walking to pick up his son.

"Good morning buddy," He kisses Keigo's cheeks.

"G'morning," He says groggily.

"Good morning my Bubbas," You smiled walking over to greet your half awake son. You peck his cheek as he rubs both his hands along your warm face. "You wanna spend the day with Papa and I?" His eyes light up and nodded excitedly.

"Can we go to the beach, Papa? I wanna show Mama how I spike!" He asks very excitedly. The three of you continued to discuss your day plans with thoughts of breakfast, volleyball, and lots of giggles. Little did you know, that this was the first of many of your family days. That old nostalgic love was blooming once again from this single morning.

taglist: @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme @just-a-siiimp @d0llpie @elianetsantana

[myfeetkeepdancing]

Saint and Sinner  |  Arvin Russell x Male!Reader

Summary: This continues where the movie ends. You pick up Arvin as you are on your way to Cincinnati. But he’s awfully quiet, haunted by his past. Not the ideal companion for a long journey, but you make most of it. 

Warnings: Smoking, drinking and smut

Words: 7814

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The orange glow of his cigarette illuminated the features underneath the cap for a brief moment. The cindering bud scattered across the tarmac as it parted with an almost spent cigarette. A puff of smoke blew from his lips. Carried away by the wind, into the forest beside him. Another car drove past him. A visible sigh racked his frame as he dragged his feet back into action. You spot the man from miles away. His appearance became more apparent the closer you got.

His intentions didn't change; you see his hand signal coming into view again. With his cigarette almost burned up, you leave your foot off the gas, and you let the car roll to a standstill a few yards after him. His jeans were dirty, torn, and worn long last past its intended lifetime. Just like the loose shirt hanging around his frame, the collar broad and wide. Blown by the wind. Spots of grime, sweat, and soil soaked in. A few locks of brown hair protruded from beneath his cap. Worn and colors fading. His expression was tired, and features that were gaunt like. Roadworkers were common in the area. And he sure looked the part.

"Hey there, where you be headin'?" You ask as he walks up to your window.

"I… haven't figured that out yet." He said in a beaten-down tone. "I was thinking somewhere north."

"I'm heading towards Cincinnati. You can travel along that way."

You could see him pondering, looking back down the road the way you came. If something was keeping him here. Reminding him of something. Before looking back at you. "I've been meaning to get up there."

"Well, hop on in." Leaning over to unlock the door. "I'm (Y/N)."

"Thank you...." Taking the last pull of his cigarette before tossing the smoldering remains on the floor. Closing the door behind him. "I didn't think anybody was gonna pick me up." Cradling the knapsack in his lap. And sharing a glance at you, forcing a small smile. Tightening his arms around his bag. His voice is dark and heavy. Carrying a sense of grim. "I'm Arvin."

"Rough day?"

"Hmmhm." He confirmed, avoiding any further eye contact. "Yeah…" Mumbling under his voice. Locked in a cold stare, reserved and absent.

There wasn't much to talk about. He sat there beside you, staring into the distance. You put the car into gear and steer back onto the road—a two-way road dissecting the large looming forest. Tall pine trees scattered up and beyond the horizon. As far as the eye can see. In the distance, a single-car drove ahead of you. A loaded truck passed by, and that was it. And as you pick up speed, a cool breeze of air began circulating through the open rolled windows. Following into the bending road, you spot the lay of the land ahead of you. A long stretch of road, rolling over the hills and valleys of the countryside. The branched off dirt roads dotted here and there all connected to a long stretch of road—a single lane connecting the smaller settlements to the cities. The road was uneven like most of them. The journey was going to be long. With the nob on the radio, you turn the volume down, the local radio broadcasting nothing noteworthy other then news and music replayed over and over again. Trying your best to keep your eyes on the road, you can't help but notice the boy's head bobbing. He must be the same age as you. Maybe a bit younger. His features were young, yet his expression was grave. He'd been through something. The way his eye pierced through the windshield. Roughed up by the countryside.

"You can sleep if you want, I'll wake you up once we hit town."

He just shook his head, fighting to stay awake. Arvin didn't want to fall asleep beside a stranger. Things were keeping him awake. His head heavy with sleep, burdened by his thoughts and deeds, bobbing on his neck. Swaying to the bounces and rockings of the car. His mind occupied elsewhere. Taking him back to times that were.

You weren't entirely sure if he was awake or not. He breathed somewhat heavily, and his head jerked back once in a while. "You… joining me?" You ask, motioning to the diner opposite the car. You hear a few grumbles, the sleepyhead still fighting to stay awake. His eyes small and narrow. With your coat hanging on your lap, ready to go, you give him some more time. He had been dozing off for little moments during the ride. But something was keeping him away, he'd jerk back into life, awake again and again. As if his nightmares were pushing him from his sleep. You slip open the pack of cigarettes and offer him one before taking one yourself. Something he didn't decline.

"I'll wait." He grumbled, voice hoarse and dry. "I'm not hungry."

"Hmm…" You watch him with interest, slowly awakening himself from the small naps. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, you notice the long brown locks of hair as he readjusted his cap, racking his fingers through as he coughed a little. Both still seated in the car, you quietly offer him a light. He leans over to you, catching the flame with his cigarette. "Something troubling you?" The question got out before you knew it.

The small flame of the lighter gave his appearance a somber look. He looked at you briefly through his lashes before seating back up. "It's nothin', just a… busy day." Pulling a big one from his cigarette. You remain seated like that for a while. Smoking a cigarette in peace and quiet. The parking lot at the dinner was almost empty, two cars and a lorry. From the car, you both watch the few customers dine and the young server walking up and down the diner. The sun was setting on the horizon, darkness slowly creeping into the surrounding woods.

"Here." Tossing the pack of cigarettes his way. "Just make sure no one gets into the car." You say and step outside, putting on your coat as the cold breeze crept upon you. "I'll be back in a bit."

"Don't worry about me." Sinking back into the chair. Taking another cigarette between his lips as he watches you enter the diner. Drawing a long pull and releasing a plume of smoke together with a long sorrowful sigh. Arvin was all alone in this world. Sitting in a strangers car, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. He couldn't help but feel pity for himself. More and more questions began flooding his mind. Where should he go? What should he do? Would they be looking for him? And most importantly, did he do right? He rolled up the windows more to block out the cold wind blowing in. Arvin was alone once again. He wanted to. It's what he choose. Trust was hard to come by. Especially after all that had happened. He couldn't trust anyone. He sank deeper into his seat. His gaze stuck in nothing but mindless thoughts.

"Shit!" Arvin cursed, jumping in his seat. His instinct kicked in, holding a charged fist at whoever tried to get to him. But as he looked better, he could see a familiar face beside the car.

"Sorry, didn't mean to." You apologize while opening his door. "But I was wondering if you brought your jacket? Didn't see it on you, and you know, since you won't join me, you better get dressed. Gets pretty cold outside."

"Have my denim jacket with me." He said. Looking a bit puzzled by your concerns. "I'll be fine."

"Here." Slipping off your coat and handing it to him. "That denim jacket won't keep you warm. You sure you're not coming with me?"

He shrugged it off without even looking at you. You also let if go, and continue inwards. Like a typical diner, seating benches row after row. There was space for no more than fifteen to twenty people. At the end of the path cutting across the diner sat a jukebox. A nifty apparatus that was popping up everywhere. Even in small places like this. Behind the small bar with stools in flashy red and white accents all over stood the young server. She gave you a kind smile. Through a small gap in the wall, you could see the kitchen. The smell of bacon and fries welcome you—a sure pleasant one since you were in need of a good meal after such a long drive. A few seating away from the door sat an older couple, behind them, the lorry driver—just a quiet evening in the diner. You take a seat further up, close to the window to keep an eye on your car. And most importantly, your passenger. At first, he sat in the car, smoking one after the other, before finally dressing himself in your coat. Cold must be creeping into the metal.

In your mind, you couldn't understand nor figure out why he'd stay outside. He stretched his legs outside the car several times but regretted it moments later. The weather is getting a grip on him soon enough. Surprisingly enough, sleep didn't bother him anymore. Dinner alone didn't take long. The meal was good, a nice piece of tender meat with fries and a coke—a real classic. When you dine alone, you tend to finish quickly. Some small talk with the server might drag it out. But not tonight.

During your meal, you browse through the local paper. Read in upon the local and national news. Check the adverts and job offers. Ponder about work, family, and other matters. But somehow, your thoughts keep getting pulled away—more than once. And when you look up from your meal, your eyes automatically divert to your car. Catching his eye. The distance wasn't that far. But the contact was there. And feel caught nonetheless. He wasn't staring at you. But you keep catching each other's gaze—more than once. Your meal was interesting, but outside was something more worth your attention.

The red neon lights illuminated the entranceway and part of the parking lot. You were flooded by it once you stepped outside. In the small cluster of buildings on this side of the road, this one stood out the most. A local watering hole further up was the only other noteworthy building. The rest was wrapped in darkness. Two lamp posts illuminated the main street. Furthermore, no light. Just quiet and darkness. All in all, the small place was a sad display; most buildings were dilapidated, poorly maintained, and without much charm. Life went one elsewhere, but here, somehow, time seemed to stand still. A chill ran up your spine to tell you it was time for another stretch on the road.

The windows were rolled up all the way, except the one on his side—a small opening near the top, big enough to rid excess ash from his cigarette. You take a seat behind the wheel again, placing the paper bag beside him. A look of surprise shoots across his face; the smell must have caught on. "It's for you." You say while starting the car. The headlights illuminate the parking, and it's silent metal habitants.

"You didn't have to." Coughing his smoker's breath away, peaking into the bag. "But 't smells good."

"Dig in, my friend." Pushing the bag further towards him. "Can't imagine you're not hungry." A thin, forced smile softened his otherwise tired and lackluster expression. "It'll do you good."

"Thank you." He says while looking up at you. You feel the words carry their message across. The way he looks at you, straight into your eyes. "That's... real kind of you." Taking the contents from the bag. He carefully begins to unfold the wrap from the steaming hot burger on his lap. A sip from the cold milkshake seems to make him whole again. So did the first bite into the burger, leaning back as he slowly lets the flavors overwhelm him. "That's real good." He nods. "Yeah..."

"Good to hear…" Giving him a smile as you bring the car into action. The road ahead was dark and still so many miles to make. "Still got plenty of miles to go."

With the headlights of your car being the only source of light in the vicinity, driving became a tiresome experience. Staring ahead of you. No proper focal point. Just the road, two beams of light, and a pitch-black horizon. The sound coming from the radio was nothing special, pretty much the same as the jukebox from earlier. Your back began to feel sore and worn, annoying you. Small talk had been minimal. Arvin wasn't much of a talker. Not a storyteller. He kept his answers short. Therefore the whole chatter didn't have any deep subjects. Just plain chit chat about work and life. The work he did. The news. Yet, not mentioning his family. He avoided it. For a reason, you guess.

"What's there for you in Cincinnati?" He asked. For once, you were taken aback by his interest. Managing to speak a whole sentence. You chuckle to yourself lightly. Arvin noticed but didn't react.

"Home." You said, giving him a smile as he looks at you. "Been on a family visit for a couple of days."

"Hmmm…" He shifts his gaze from you back to the road. "Parents?"

"Yeah, I... used to live there. Farm life wasn't for me." You said. "Have you figured out where you're going?"

"Not yet." He sighed, sinking back further down in his seat. "Thank you for the coat. Glad the heater is back on again." Warming his hands in front of the vent. "It's cold."

"The least I can do."

The drive from the diner to the motel was a mere four-hour drive. Again in full darkness, only with a few more cars here and there. You knew the route for a certain bit. Arvin didn't pay attention to the road numbers when you tried to recall the last one. Arvin just raised his shoulder questionably. He didn't know. And it wasn't his fault, but you were trying to involve him in the process nonetheless. At least try to make the best of your company. When you stopped, he did join you looking on the map. Decked out onto the hood of the car, finding your way across the spiderweb of roads. He did look. But didn't say much. Smoking a cigarette, nothing more. In the last miles fifty or so miles, you made a stop to refuel, bought another pack of cigarettes, some small snacks, and went on for the final stretch. Arvin was said very little. Like before.

"Alright... so." You said, waiting for Arvin to catch up. "I've booked a room for the night here, perh-"

"I better go." He nodded, with a notion of defeat in posture. Adjusting his cap over his long curls again. With his gaze to the floor, he throws the knapsack over his shoulder.

"That's not what I meant." You chuckle out laughter, scratching yourself behind your ear. His eyes widen as he looks up, you see the grip on the strap tighten. "It's not that late." You say. "How about a beer? I know a bar further up. On me."

His pursed lips and a downcast glance told you enough. One hand on the strap of his bag, he tucked the other away in his pocket. A sigh followed that was louder than even he expected. The shadow created underneath his cap by the lamppost was enough to be unable to read in expression. Or see his eyes.

From what you have seen from this man, this Arvin. The words he spoke were few. Very few. But the eyes didn't. Once you looked into those eyes, they didn't deceive. They tell you more than his words could make out. He removed the last cigarette from the package you gave him. "Got a light?" He asked with a heavy voice. From your pocket, you flip open your lighter. Before giving you one more look. "Thank you (Y/N)." And with that, he starts walking away from you.

"Arvin." His steps slowed down before glancing back in your direction. Not at you. "Take good care of yourself."

He simply nodded, blew the smoke from his lips, and walked away. You try to shake it off and continue to check-in. The small room was furnished like any other. A small room centered around the bed, a tiny bathroom in the back, a wardrobe to one side, a chair to the other. Colors were near the same throughout the rooms. This was simple, dark, and drab greens. An old model of a television stood on a wooden counter near the wall. You seat yourself into the chair and tune into the first channel of only six. There wasn't much time that went by as sleep began to creep in. Eyelids heavy with sleep. Thoughts turned to none. Gazing mindlessly at the black and white images dancing on the screen.

You veer up in your seat, completely awake—two knocks on your door, loud and powerful, resonated through the room. You didn't have a bad conscience, as some would suggest. But this was far from expected. With your eyes wide open, heart beating in your chest, you approach the little spyhole in the door. Focusing one eye on…

"Arvin?" You pull open the door with a more than a surprised look. "How' d-... W-...?"

He'd clearly been beaten up by the weather. His breath fanned out before him like a small cloud, the cold from outside, riding up against you. Bringing your senses back to life again. It must have been more than an hour since you last saw him. Outside was cold, like before, windy and above all dark as the night could be. He reeled from the cold. Shaking to his very core. "Can I come back on that offer?"

"Of course." Taking a step back and holding the door open to him. "C'mon in."

"Thank you." He said, rubbing his hands together feverishly. "Tis damn cold outside." Standing uncomfortably in the room. Rocking on his heels, trying to warm himself up.

"It is…" Closing the door behind him, you don't know what to expect. But a sense of relief did surface for a brief moment. Something about him made your heart flutter. "So... what happened?"

Arvin didn't look pleased with himself. Sighing deeply, forcing his gaze to the floor if he was about to confess something. "Nothin' happened. That's the problem. I..." He shook his head, as if conflicted by his train of thought. Embarrassed to admit something.

"I'm just curious, Arvin. No more."

"I... didn't know where else to go..." He confessed, shoulders sinking, head hanging low.

"It's ok." Feeling pity for the man. What you didn't know was that Arvin had been standing there, in the darkness, for a long time. He'd walked the streets alone. Trains weren't there. Money he didn't have. Nor any family. Lost in his thoughts. Alone and cold. Without anything but a knapsack filled with old belongings. What was he going to do? He was a lost cause either way.

What he needed was hope. A light at the end of the tunnel. So he returned, standing in the distance, shivering from the cold in some alleyway. Catching the last glimpse of you as you unloaded your suitcase. Arvin had wondered for how long he should stay there. Was ten minutes long enough? Half an hour, maybe? He troubled himself with all sorts of thoughts, as he observed the small window which a little bit of light shone through.

"You mind if I...?" Pointing at the glass and bottle of liquor beside the chair—another reason for you why sleep began to set in earlier than usual.

"No, not at all." He handed you the glass with your remaining bit, downing it in one go. "It helps me sleep from time to time." Releasing a small hiss as is burned down your throat. Watching Arvin putting his lips to the bottle. Downing a few good swigs. "Might help you as well."

"Hmmm... I sure could use it." He looked at you with dreary eyes. "Sure could use it..." Wiping the drool from his lips with the back of his hand. His whole body was still shaking and shuddering on his legs. The glass trembling in his hand. You could see the pale white skin of his fingers gripping the glass. They were whiter than his grime stained shirt.

"So, what's your plan?" You ask, taking a comfortable position leaning against the wall.

Arvin had thought about the question beforehand. If he was going to escape the former life, he needed to go far away. Somewhere where he couldn't be found easily. The city was a good start. "Could I… travel with you… to Cincinnati?" He asked with a slight hint of hesitation in his voice. "If you don't I…"

"No problem." You said, cutting him off. He might not have been the perfect companion from the start. But you have to start somewhere. Not everyone earns their trust as quickly. "If all goes well, we'll hit Cincinnati tomorrow around noon. You can figure out what to do next on our way down there."

"I appreciate that." He smiled thinly. "Thank you, mister."

"Alright, alright." You nod and head for your suitcase. "And it's (Y/N). No more mister." You warn him with a raised finger and a smile. "I think we might be of the same age."

"Twenty-two."

"See." Confirming your suspicions. From there, you sort some clothing out. A clean white shirt, pair of jeans, and a sweater. You walk over to the door and take your coat from the hanger. "Go take a bath, freshen up. And those are yours." Pointing to the fresh pair of clothes on the foot end of the bed. You slip on your coat and pull a cigarette from the pack in your pocket. "I know what you're thinking. I'll wait outside."

Arvin looked at you with suspicious eyes, as if you had a whole different intention. He stared at you while you unlocked the door and took the keys. "Are you gonna call the cops?" His entire body stiffened as he asked the question. Terrified of the answer.

"What?" You chuckle into laughter. "No. What makes you think that?"

"Then why are you doing this?!" He shot back. "Why do all of this?! Why give me clothes?"

"You came back for a reason, Arvin." You didn't need to think about it long. One of two things was possible. Either good or bad. And soon you would find out which. “I'm just trying to help. But feel free to leave..." Taking a step aside, holding the door open for him. Letting the cold wind wash in. "You may have trust issues. But I don't." Revealing your wallet from your back pocket. "I know exactly what's in here." Tossing it on the bedsheets. "If you change your mind, or have a suspicion..." Nudging towards the wallet. "Have a go, might survive a couple days on it. Figure things out."

"I won't." He said resolutely. Taking a stance.

"I know." You nodded. "But I'm trying to make a point here. I'm not bad, either. And I know you're a good lad."

He stared at you with troubled eyes. "You don't know that." Shaking his head, his jaw locked, and lips pursed thin. "I have done things." His voice was dark, and spoke with a sense of guilt. "I have sinned." He spoke it like some warning.

"We all have." You preached wisely. "And you don't need faith to do it."

"What did you just say?!"

"You have no faith, Arvin. At least, not anymore. You either lost it or… something happened." The tension was thick. The way he looked at you. A sight that made you shudder. If he might turn hostile at any moment. Yet the more you look into his eyes. The more lost you feel yourself. Something was amiss with him. "You don't thank the Lord for your food. Nor mention him in every third sentence like those folk down in the countryside." Arvin's nostrils flared as he listened and let the words sink in. "I've seen it without my own family. Everyone there puts their trust in faith. But it only gives false hope."

"You don't know." Averting his gaze. "I'm not like one of them."

"That's my point."

"What about all this?" Throwing hands at the clothes. "Won't they miss these at home?"

"My wallet would be worse." You shake your head while suppressing laughter. "There's also a lock on the door in the bathroom. If you don't trust me, that is." Taking the cigarette in between your lips. "Which is up to you." And step outside. The howling wind welcoming you as you struggle to catch the flame. Turning your back to the wind, facing Arvin again. "Also, I live alone. They… don't give a damn for giving away a pair of clothes." Shooting him a smile. "I'll be back in thirty." Closing the door behind you.

Forty minutes had passed when you returned. With caution, you unlocked the door, careful not to scare or walk into him. Not to your surprise, Arvin appeared in a better-suited attire than earlier. Standing beside the bed with his denim jacket on. His hair freshly combed, and the dirt and stains removed from his face and neck. In his hand, he held a cigarette, the other tucked into this pocket. He looked so much better. Cleaner, fresher and more man than before. You both locked eyes on each other. Still not sure whether the tension had cleared from earlier.

But the cold had done enough on you, your nose was running, and the wind had found every little inch of exposed skin. Freezing you to your very bone. "Good God…." Cursing something more while sniffing your nose. "I'm freezing." And close the door behind you. Warming your hands together while looking at Arvin. "You look much better." Reaching for the bottle for a swig. "Hope it did you good." Sneezing your nose after in your handkerchief.

An adorable smile cracked his features as he flipped away the half-smoked cigarette onto the street. Chuckling to himself as he closed the door, stepping into the room. His smile brightened the room. "It did." He said with a terribly precious smile. "Thank you (Y/N)."

"You're welcome." Planting yourself on the edge of the bed, rubbing the sleepers from your eyes. The room had warmed up adequately since you turned up the radiators before you left for a cigarette outside. The warmth wrapping around you like a blanket. Feeling your ears glow like never before.

"I was about to come look for ya."

"Oh..." Releasing a long stretched yawn. "Well, I'm here." You rub your face wrecked with sleep.

"This is yours." Handing back your wallet.

"Thank you. What'd you do with it?"

"Nothing. Like you said."

"I knew you would." Flashing him a smile. In that short moment of eye contact, you notice a small shimmer in his eyes. It was brief. Something had happened.

"Thank you (Y/N). And my apologies."

"I'm just glad you're still here."

"I owe you that beer." He said, nudging towards the door. "Should we?"

"We'll figure that out later. I'm feeling tired." You knew full well Arvin had changed for the occasion. You detected a hint of disappointment in his reaction—the snort of air through his nose. But sleep had set in. With the cold crept into your bones, you longed for the warm sheets of a bed. Not a cold, stale beer in some backwater bar. "I've been to the reception… and uh... there's another room available. But…-"

"I don't want you to go through that much trouble for me." He raised his voice.

"I only wanted to say, I just... don't have that kind of money to spare right now. And-"

"I don't expect you to. You've already done enough." He smiled thankfully, but unexpected. "It's my own fault. I'll sleep in the car, or on the flo-..."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous." You cut him short. "Is that the alcohol talkin'?"

 "There's only one bed for the two of us." He said, his thin smile more of a joking kind than anything else. "It has the space, but…"

"As long as you don't elbow me. I'm fine with it." You yawn out loud, stretching your limbs. "I just need some rest. I'll take this side-" Patting the cushion beside you. "-you the other."

"Fine." He snorted and sat on the other side. "Fine…" With the switch on your side of the bed, you dim most of the lights. Turning up the heat slightly on the thermostat, you make sure neither one gets cold in case someone pulls the cover from one another. The sheets were big enough, but just in case. You thought about sleeping in the chair, or the car. But neither of those were good options. As far as you know, a cheaper motel was miles ahead. Not that you had the money to spend on another room. But…

"G'night." Arvin mumbled while pulling his socks off. You glance back as his comment pulled you from your thoughts. A shudder of some sort short up through your spine. Followed by a growing glow of warmth. Boiling your insides slowly. Churning your stomach. In that instance, that moment you glanced back, Arvin sat at the edge of the bed. Just like you, but without a shirt. His broad shoulder and masculine back did something to you, you couldn't describe. The air stocked in your throat. Your eyes meet, sudden and short, as he turned his head slightly, his gaze locking into yours momentarily as he glanced back over his shoulder. The brown locks of hair dangling in front of him.

"Goodnight." Stripping yourself of the remaining pieces of clothing. Feeling the motion of Arvin shifting on the mattress, slipping himself under the covers. You turn the lights off with the switch beside your bed. Letting your eyes adjust to the darkness, and slide under the covers on the opposite side. Arvin lay on his back, gaze to the ceiling. And join him in doing so. Leaving a small space in-between. Like a neutral zone. It was mutually agreed without exchanging a single word about it. One arm propped under your cushion, the other resting on your stomach. Yet your heart hammered in your chest. You were glowing, cheeks burning. Not from the alcohol. Not from the cold. You were far more awake than you ever have been that day. Eyes wide open. Swallowing the lump down your throat. You just keep your gaze to the ceiling, but you wanted to… to look beside you.

"At what time do you want to leave tomorrow morning?" He said quietly, feeling his gaze shift towards you. Every bit of movement on the mattress made your heart pump harder. Laying on your back, the bed wasn't small. You made yourself small, close to the edge, a bit of cover draped over you. Yet he felt so close by. The sound of him breathing alone made you…

"I… I... d-don't know… We'll see…" You clear your throat, keeping your eyes in afront. "We'll see." The everlasting silence returning again. The night turned dark and quiet. No cars driving past. No birds singing. No music from across the street. There was nothing, just silence. You don't know how long you've been laying there, staring at the ceiling. The tension building up. Listening to his breathing. You can't help it; you're too focused on it. Only the howling wind outside, the rustling of branches outside, brought a change of sound—every lick of lips, movement of his tongue in his mouth. You could hear it.

"(Y/N)?" He asked, rolling his head on the cushion, meeting your gaze for a second as you looked over. The cushions touched each other, that wasn't the problem. They were big enough, but the space between the two of you. That wasn't. The touch of arms was enough for you to jump a little.

"Yes… I'm awake." You sighed and continue to spit out a lie blatantly. "It's the weather. I always have trouble falling asleep when it's windy." You glance at him. "And you?"

"I don't know..." He said, bringing the conversation to a dead stop. You swing yourself onto the edge of the bed and lift yourself onto your legs. Making your way to the bathroom and lower yourself on the throne. Relieving yourself of the necessary. Before rounding the corner of the room, you halted for a moment. Standing there, several meters away from the bed. Even in the dark, you could see Arvin lying on his back. The outlines of his body, masculine shapes draped under the covers. You wish he didn't see you standing there. But you could feel his eyes shifting towards your direction. You shuffle back towards the bed and crawl back under. A sigh escaped you, trying to focus your mind on something else. The rustling leaves of the trees outside. The ticking radiator. The rumbling clouds. Time crept by slowly. Your eyelids felt heavy, yet sleep didn't seem to set in. "I can feel the sheets… shaking. You ok?"

"Oh, yeah...I' m-... I'm fine." You said with a sigh. Scratching the back of your head. "It's cold." Tugging the sheets in and around you. "That's all."

Everything beneath you moved and swayed. You expect he must have rolled onto his side, perhaps facing your way. The thought alone made you… warm. His breathing again remaining the only sound you could focus on. Added to that, the increasing warmth radiating from his side of the bed. You could still feel your toes being cold, hands numb, and ears glowing. Yet the heat was creeping into you. As if the radiator had crept under the covers. Was it Arvin…? Was he closer? The thought alone was tantalizing. Sending the hairs rising on your harm. You notice your breath becoming irregular, shuddering even.

"I should-...You tried to say, turning towards him by rolling onto your back. But you let out a small gasp in a semi terrified, panicking state. It all went so fast. You bumped up against him. Body against body. Warm and inviting. Yet in your reflex, you try to roll back on your side.

But his hand… His hand held in your place, resting on your hip. "You're freezing..." He breathed heavily, fanning along the skin of your neck. Shivers rushed across your spine as his hand lowered. Feeling your cold body with his hands. Shaking lightly as he touched upon your frame. Trailing up and down with his fingers. Your senses were in complete overdrive. Every point of contact was intensified by your mind. Slow and careful. You were numbed on the spot. Feeling your shoulder resting against his chest. Strong and masculine, like you glimpsed upon earlier.

"Y-Yes… Ar-... Arvin…" The words came out stuttering. You couldn't help it. Your hands shook, and your body was heating up quicker than ever before. "M-Maybe I… I should g-g-get a b...b-ath."

"You could have..." He said as his breath fanned against your neck. Sending shivers down your spine. The mattress moved again, Arvin began closing the distance between the two of you. If you had a chance to stop him now, it was right here. His hand moved from side to your stomach, his arm wrapping around your waist. Behind you, you feel the heat literally rising. His entire body came in contact with yours. Torso flat against your back, legs cupped by his. "But there's a reason you didn't..." He whispered into your ear. "It's the same why I came back." Before you had a chance to react, let alone sigh of relief. His lips followed, nose trailing along the back of your neck. You could feel the sloppy kiss burning on the skin of your neck. “Isn’t it, (Y/N)”? 

It made everything different. All this strange tension that had circulated for the past hours had manifested in this one kiss. It burned barriers, tore down walls, and fulfilled your wildest thoughts. You let out a groaning moan as your body stiffened as he moved closer onto you. Sliding his hand further across your stomach, pulling you in closer. Feeling the warmth and curves of his body, pressed against you. 

You try to regain your senses, not resisting his hold on you, but instead, turn towards him. And he let you, his hand that pulled you in, now slid along your frame, fingers roaming from your stomach to your back. Finally coming even with him. Even in the dark, this up close, you see the stunning outlines of his features. The dimples on his cheeks and freckles dotting his skin. Leaning into his lips, the kiss was everything you wanted. Soft and warm, but a particular ferocity to it. A gasp escaped your lips as you parted, cupping the back of his head with your hand. "Say it…(Y/N)" He said with a slightly shaking voice. The very mention of your name, in that harsh tone, made you shudder in excitement. "-tell me I'm right..." Pulling your lips back onto his. Arvin was the moving force in this; he could play you like anything else. And you would let him. "Say it… (Y/N)...You wanted this to happen..."

He still continued to advance on you. "I've been through enough…" His one hand touched on your inner thigh. Moving up every so slowly. "I've seen so much darkness." He said, pressing a kiss to your chest. Looking up at you as you groaned. "I don't want to anymore." Pushing himself further onto you. Shifting his weight towards you. And you let it happen, rolling onto your back. His lips take the skin of your shoulder for granted. Leaving behind hickeys. "I want it to change." He muttered in between the kisses, moving further along with the lines of your body, from the shoulder to your collarbone and chest. Forcing the wind from your lungs as his body followed along, resting on top of you.

"Shit, A...A-Arvin." You freeze on the spot, feeling his member pressed against you. Long rigid and firm, poking wantingly into you. The nerves in your system get the better of you. "I...I...I... can… help…and…a-and... I want to..." Every word took an effort to speak as he grinded against you slowly. Searching for friction, taking every ounce of concentration to utter a word. "But… B-But there a-are... other w-w-ways?!"

"No... The way you look at me." At the same time, his hand found its way to your pelvis. You had felt yourself growing in mere seconds. Blood racing your system. And now, those outlines, throbbing in your shorts, were traced by his fingers. "You make me feel like… like... I've never felt... in years." He groaned.

"Please A-Arvin... Don't mistake my kindness... f-for love. I… I-..." The touch of your cold hands on his warm, nurturing skin was everything you could ask for. His touch rocking your very being. The feeling of his naked body on yours. Your mind is almost blank. Captivated by his motions. Wanting more.

"Say it… (Y/N)..." He growled while kissing you hard. Your lips trembled upon his, shaking from pure ecstasy racing through your system. You can't help but kiss back. You wanted more. But you didn't have the courage. Thank God he did. “Tell me I’m right.” 

"Y-Yes…A-Arvin…" You confirmed wholeheartedly, with a full-fledged groan of excitement. “Yes!” But were silenced in the moment again by his lips. Cradling your cheeks in his hands. Your heart fluttered, leaving you absolutely breathless. A smile grew on your face. And you could feel his growing against your lips. "Arvin... P-P-Please..."

"You either stop me if you want me to...." Hooking his finger on the band of your shorts. Adding finger by finger, until his entire hand slid in. He looked at you with small eyes, a flicker of innocence shining through. “Or you help me...” He growled. "But… what I'm about to do... I do because I want to." A smile showed on his otherwise troubled face. A smile you had never seen before. So soft, so kind. So loving. It showed a side of Arvin, you didn't expect to see. "Not because I have to… I… want to." Smacking his lips on yours. His hand palming your boner. Your breath stoked in your throat, feeling unable to respond. His fingers sliding along the pulsating flesh of your cock. Initiating the first strokes as he forced away your shorts. The covers were no longer there, and your eyes had accustomed to the darkness. The little light that the moon shone into the room was more than enough. His body resting against yours, feeling the heaving of his chest and the moving of his body. Every heartbeat, every breath he took. You felt it.

He stroked rough, with an intensity you couldn't match as your shaking hand reached for his. Even in the darkness, it stood out. The stiffness poking into your side, reminding you. His groaned breaths said enough as you brought them together. More than a handful for him. It's thrilling and highly intoxicating, invigorating, flesh against flesh. There was nothing else but his member on yours. His cockhead rubbing against yours. His shaft rock hard and wet. The veins and ridges of his, pulsating and desperate. Craving for more. A sensation you wish would never end.

The position was awkward at first. Arvin laying half on top of you. Cocks brushing in the middle. But as the heat rises, the momentum picks up. It all fell in place. With his one hand, he stroked, long and hard. The other arm, wrapped around your neck. Holding onto you.

His moans were short but charismatic. Your eyes get drawn to his every growl. Massaging your erections together in a lustful vigor. Everything was intensified. The veins on his arm showed. The muscles rippled in motion. The pressure of his worked masculine chest forcing into you. His glances helped you work together to a common goal. A shuddering touch of your fingers along his frame forced out more sounds than you could bear. Droplets of wetness shimmer in the moonlight. Holding them together in perfect pairs.

The shaking intensified, for both of you. Groaning to each other's touches. Senses rising beyond the unthinkable. As Arvin came first. His motions became sloppy, irregular, and twitching. His grip faltered as he came. His body trembled on yours, groaning as he held onto you for dear life. It's quick and messy. As you take over his grip. Struggling with the wetness and hard sensations in your hand. But it's helping you reach your high even faster. The reality of your hand holding them both together is hypnotizing. Even more when you feel him reaching his climax. He held you, with his strong arms, tight against his body. Groaning your name as all looked up at you. Locks of brown hair, tangled and messy, hanging before his eyes. His eyes widened, big and full of emotion. Gasping for air as you stroked harder. You bring your lips onto his, closing his gasping mouth. He moaned and shook through and through. The fierce kiss interrupted by his climax, he parted with a shuddering gasp as you both glanced down in between you. These boys did look at explosions.

And it sure was mesmerizing. His pulsating and jolting climax spilled over the pair. From the slit, a string of cum streamed from his cock. The first shots went airborne, splattering your pelvis and stomach. Each stroke of your hand initiates another wave. It began to cover your hand and both lengths. It's slippery, wet, and extremely satisfying to force out of someone else then yourself. Especially when he took over once again. You didn't need much more. The firm grip of his hand returned once again. He was strong. And his grip was more than satisfying. Heavenly. Regaining his breath on your chest. Focused on one thing. You suck the air into your lungs, almost if you need that to force your load out. The pressure builds up fast enough. And Arvin went for it. Stroking every last drop from you. Turning everything in a panting mess of growled, exhilarated lovemaking and passion. You both heaved for air in silence. Arvin still on top of you. In turn, stealing kisses from each other.

"I… have…" You muttered through your heavy breathing. "so... many questions..." You caught a glimpse of a smile on Arvin's face as he moved off the bed. Returning moments later with a towel. Hunched on his knees beside you, he cleaned every drop from you. With a careful finger, he inspected your areas to see if there was any left. His touch is slow and somewhat sensual. Dragging his finger over your, now, glowing skin. "Arvin?"

"Hmmm." He hummed softly, pulling the covers towards himself and began to cuddle up to you. Arvin completely naked, slowly cradling onto you. You can still feel his member rubbing into your skin. "Your warm again." He said while looking at you. His eyes had more life to it. Slowly putting an arm around your neck. Cuddling himself up on your chest. Pulling the cover along with him. Resting his head on your chest. You can't resist the temptation to twirl your fingers through those brown curls. Long and beautiful.

"What happened to you?"

He sighed and sank deep into your embrace. Folding himself around you. Embracing you. "I have sinned… and lost my faith." He said peacefully. "You were right." Pressing a small kiss to your chest. "Parts of me have died… and more. But here… today... I found a piece of me… I didn't know I lost."

You didn't expect those kinds of words from him. For a man with as few as his, this had emotion. For once you didn't have to read his eyes, or his expression to know what he meant what he said. A slight snore shook you from your thoughts as you trailed your fingers through his hair, adjusting yourself into a comfortable position. Arvin didn't move. He snored softly in your embrace. He looked peaceful. At ease. Curled up to you like that. You didn't track time, but you had a feeling, deep down inside of him, something was healing. He was sleeping, without being awoken by his nightmares. At least not yet.

Only the name remained, muttered softly from his lips.

A girl?

[softlyjiminie]

yes, officer jeon! | j.j.k

⇢ pairing(s): police officer!jeon jungkook x thief!reader.

⇢ word count: 2.1K.

⇢ rating: 18+, mature.

⇢ genre: smut, police!au, thief!au, hints of gotham city!au.

⇢ summary: as an officer of the law, its jeon jungkook’s rightful duty to put you in your place, whichever way that might be...

⇢ warning(s): please read! heavy smut, pwp, dom!jungkook, sub!reader, oral sex (female receiving.), fingering, light!exhibitionism,  daddy kink, heavy!degrading, overstimulation, handcuffs, light!choking, spanking, cumplay, creampie, unprotected sex - please wear protection!

⇢ author’s note(s): ahhhh !! hello hello everyone its been such a long time since a last posted :(( i've been trying to find the motivation to write along side my exams while planning my upcoming series ooooo. i haven't written for kook in a while so i hope this suffices until my other projects are done. enjoy my loves <3.

jungkook knew you liked doing it on purpose, riling him up on his late night steak outs— testing his patience as you rattled your cuffs against cell bars. you’d always escape, he knew that too...but something about you slipping from right between his fingers always made him all hot and bothered. always flustered with a red hue, the vein on his neck popping as his treacle eyes steeled and scowl pressed prominently at the swell of his lips. you liked to piss him off. it turned you on. it turned him on. 

a sleek little thief like you, taking things that you couldn’t have. devilish eyes glinting like the diamonds that went missing without a trace and a figure with curves snatched away like any prize you could get your hands on. you were bad, you were cunning, smart and tricky. you take things you know jungkook is on the hunt for, the detective always the first on the scene. you like the chase of cat and mouse, of course you play the feline in his game. 

but tonight, you wanted a change of plans, a new game where you were the mouse. the young officer could see it in your eyes, the way you longed for him as his partner lost your tracks in the dark alley. you knew he’d be back to look for you later, he wouldn’t rat you out. not tonight. because he wanted something from you too. 

“oh... now you’ve gone and fucking done it baby.” jungkook snarled, pressing your body against the cool, smooth hood of his police car, he’d parked it somewhere he knew you’d find him after driving his partner home. your trailing blaze a lost cause for kim seokjin. chuckling under your breath, you preened into his grip— he hated the cockiness that ran though your veins even as he manhandled you underneath him. he would break you tonight, as he had done before. make you submit to him.  jeongguk’s calloused and practiced hands trail down to your ass, gropping the peachy flesh through the mesh of your little get up— before delivering a harsh spank to your right cheek, pain blooming just beneath your skin. “such a bad bad girl, sweetheart, why do you love pissing me off?” jungkook delivered one last blow to your ass before he ripped his hands from you, making you whine at the loss of his burning heat that only fuelled your desire. but the officer was back in an instant, grabbing the silver cuffs from his belt and locking your hands behind your back. “do i have to teach you a lesson? put you in your place again?” 

a strong hand yanks your head up by your sleek pony tail, sweaty skin peeling off of the frosty vehicle— large fingers curling around your throat in a way that made you whimper. “jeonggukie—“ you smiled through all his hasty movements, only igniting the anger in jungkook’s chest. he hated the way you basked in this, how wet you got just from pissing him off. he could smell the slick that gathered in your panties, that dribbled down your thighs which only made him growl harshly. hands reached down to smack your clothed cunt, causing you to lurch forward on the hood of his car and for more of your nectar to gush from your warmth— cuffs cutting deliciously into your skin. “mnn, j-jungkook!” 

another smack and a cruel smirk from him. “what’s my fucking name, little girl?” 

“o-officer j-jungkook,” you managed through a broken moan as he tore through your black pants and exposed your red-hot pussy to the cold night air. your arousal glistened under the false light of street lamps near by, he loved how prettily your cunt shined just for him but he knew you’d like better under the bright of the moon— a sole finger curiously trails down to your wet folds, jungkook smirking as you writhed beneath him, craving more than just a feather light touch. he could see your cock resolve fading into the night, cute lil pussy begging to be touched your dribbling hole clenched around nothing. 

“please? so now you’re using manners, slut? so cute but officer jungkook can’t help you if you don’t tell him what you want, little love...” his tone is teasing as he drops to his knees to blow cool air on your pathetically dripping cunt. wiggling, you tried your best to push your ass back onto his face, yearning for jungkook’s lips to wrap round your swelling nub— only to earn a push to your hips and cruel smack to your bare skin. “tell me what you fucking want, or i’ll leave you here...high and dry for other cops to come find, baby.” the officer pinches your clit when you remain silent, smiling as you crumble beneath his touch. “would you like that? if they found you here, all open and exposed?” he continued, smoothing his rough palms over the backs of your thighs, still avoiding where you needed him most. you spasmed at his words, desperately trying to rut your hips into something, anything, for friction. “of course you would, you little minx, go on and answer me— tell me that i’m wrong.”

“i do!” you cry out, finally letting jungkook’s words break you while he moulds you into obedience. “i-i want them t-to find us...with your fingers buried deep in my needy pussy, please,” you finish with a strangled moan, letting out a sharp curse when the officer presses a wet kiss to your pulsing clit before he pushes his tongue between your folds. jungkook’s  laps at your sticky slit, fingers coming up to spread your lips and spit into your hole. you scream into the night air, pushing your forehead into the cool hood of the car, hoping to ease the burn of your skin.

jungkook chuckles darkly, watching as you desperately try to soothe yourself from the stimulation he gives to you. “you’re bein’ so fuckin’ good baby, taste so good for daddy,” he draws back a bit, letting your juices drip down his chin. watching closes, jungkook smiles as your needy little hole sucks in two of digits right away— sliding in with the help of your hot slick. you whine at the full feeling, his two digits stretching you perfectly before, he whispers again. “you love this, little girl, the thrill of getting caught...why don’t you fuck yourself on daddy’s fingers, hm? maybe then i’ll give you my cock.” 

a deep groan settles in the back of his  throat as you begun to grind yourself down on his fingers, his tongue dipping in again to suckle on your clit. you’re soaking wet, sweet nectar pooling onto jungkook’s car as you work yourself to orgasm. the officer could feel you clenching around his digits, quickly deciding to pump them within your hot walls, fucking your hole faster and faster until you came close to your high.

the coil in your stomach snaps, as white light flashes behind your eyes— making them roll back in your head. “officer, oh mnn—jungkook ‘m gonna...” you weep, still moving your hips as you finally cum,  juices squirting out onto his fingers. the dark haired man didn’t stop there, his tongue slurping at the rest of you, working you harder as you calmed down from your orgasm. 

“love it when you squirt for me princess, gimme one more and you’ll get my cock yeah? be good for officer jeon. he breathes against your core, still sucking at your clit—  you can only nod breathlessly as he moved faster, wanting you to cum again. a second orgasm hits you in seconds, jungkook moaning at the taste of your release gathering on his tongue. you could barely blink as he pulled away from your dripping cunt, lifting one of your legs to the car’s hood. the hairs on your skin rose on end as the sounds of officer jeon’s belt unbuckling filled the empty alley way— twisting with the sounds of your lost breath. “officer jeon’s gonna fuck you now baby, and you’re gonna take every inch of him alright?” 

“p-please—“

relieved tears stream down your cheeks as he finally slides his thick, hardened length up and down your slick folds,  soon enough bottoming out inside of you until he was balls deep in your pussy and so far up that you could feel him in sitting heavily in your womb. jeongguk lets out a  broken moan from above you, his hands slamming either side of your head as sweat drips from his hairline— relieved to finally be nestled within your warmth. jungkook was still for a moment, his head dropping to your shoulders to leave bright blooms of red, purple and blue hickies that would be hard to cover in the morning, of course while you adjusted to his length. 

“f-fuck, little one, you’re so tight n wet,” he gasps, drawing his cock almost all the way out of your crying hole before slamming back in— tip catching on the ridges of your red hot walls. your cheek  presses against the car, skin growing sticky with perspiration as he fucks into you hard, abusing your little hole. the dark haired male’s balls slap against the curve of your ass, the head of his dick prodding at your g-spot. 

the cuffs that bind your wrists rattle at every push of his hips into yours, jungkook switching between hard, deep thrusts and shallow fast ones. saliva gathers in your mouth, seeping out of the corners as you allow him to take you, use you for his own pleasure. his pants were heavy above you, mingling with your loud, wanton moans while forced his cock deeper into your heat. “j-jungkook, i can’t,” you sniffed, tears mixing with the shine of sweat and saliva that painted your skin. your core is still sensitive from your last two orgasms and the lewd sounds of your squelching cunt are only making you needier. “too much...”

“shit—you can and you will, dumb little girl....” jungkook growls back, his voice dropping an octave as he watches you cream against his girth, his precum spilling into you and intertwining with your gushing juices. spit gathers in his mouth and he parts his lips, letting it drool into where his lengthy cock stretches open your abused, sopping hole. “now shut the fuck up and cum when i tell you to, good toys don’t fucking talk.” 

your pussy clenches involuntarily around his girth as he feeds it to your greedy hole, his dirty words driving you up a wall. jungkook grabs your cuffs, using them to pull you back onto his length as your hips naturally begin to fall into synch with his thrusts, fleshy ass bouncing every time your hips meet. “look so fucking dumb and worthless on my cock...” jungkook goads, freehand snaking up to your jaw and pinching your cheeks to muffle your moans. “sucking in my dick, dripping all over it. such a needy little thief. so needy for an officer. “should i lock you up just for taking my cock like this, huh?” each word that tumbles from the officer’s pink lips have you crying, moaning, whimpering harder for release— squeezing around him in a silent plea for his load to stuff you full. “my dirty little bitch, fuck baby, wanna breed this dirty, thieving pussy.”  jungkook’s thrusts were beginning to grow sloppier and sloppier, your arousals gushing down your thighs and painting his abdomen with a glittering sheen, he didn’t let up on his pace, knowing that you were both teetering on the edge of orgasm. letting go of your restraints, jungkook forced you flat on your face, gripping at your ass again and landing a few stinging spanks to your marked flesh. a high pitched squeal escaped you as sounds of your wet cunt mixing with the sound of skin on skin driving you right into the arms of your high, the slight touch of jungkook’s fingers against your clit pushing you over. 

“f-fuck! officer!” you cum with a loud shout, creaming on his cock as you squeeze around him— milking jungkook for every last drop of his hot seed as he speeds up his thrusts and paints your cunt with white. jungkook collapses on top of you with a pant in your ear, letting your cum mix as he finally drops he pace of his thrusts into slow grinds.

you barely have time to recover before jungkook is pulling out of you, you’re so full that you can here the mix of your releases falling to the floor. the darker haired officer pulls you up with him by your cuffs and forces you onto your knees,   giving you a view of his bright red, hardened cock. you look up at him with tear stained cheeks and galaxy eyes, as he prods his tip against your lips.

“open up baby girl, maybe if i feed you my cock, you’ll finally learn to shut your mouth and not piss me off.“

[zmediaoutlet]

fic: there will be better days

I’m so glad about the ending of Supernatural. It found its way, in the end. This fic is me drawing out that sensation as long as I could. I hope y’all like it, but it was written in a small way for a special group in a special discord, because I’m so glad we got to experience this dumb happy thing together. <3

title: there will be better days pairing: Sam/Dean rating: E length: 9500 words tags: Post-Season/Series 15, Spoilers for Episode: s15e20 Carry On, Heaven, First Time, Pining Dean Winchester

summary: Sam and Dean settle into their heaven.

(read on AO3)

They stand on the bridge, in quiet, for…

How long? It doesn't matter. Dean keeps his hand on Sam's back and Sam's shoulder tucks against his side, Sam being kind enough to slump down against the railing so that the position works, at all. The view's beautiful. Some woods, a river. A place Dean doesn't recognize but that hums with steady life. What a miracle, that death can bring them something new.

He's splitting his attention, though. The trees, the flowing water, the late-summer feel where the bright gold of everything burnishes down toward fall, it's a sweet goad toward peace, but. Dean's eyes drag away, every few minutes, and it's just—Sam. His eyes steady on the rush of the receding water, and his hair tucked behind his ear, and his back, steadily rising and falling under Dean's hand. Not pulling away. Not fidgeting, or impatient. Like he'd be content with this, exactly this, as long as eternity stretches out in front of them.

A bird flits by, blue-and-white against the green of the trees. Sam's eyes follow it and he smiles, just barely, a pull of lips that makes Dean's heart thump sorely against the inside of his ribs. His body keeps thrilling, reminding him, over and over: Sam. Sam. He slides his hand up to Sam's shoulder and squeezes, and Sam's eyes slide to his face. "Ready?" he says.

Sam doesn't ask for what. "Yeah," he says, soft and easy, and Dean drops his head, laughs. Something that had been knotted in his chest, for years and years, loose now—everything in him, free.

He steps back, and Sam turns to keep him in sight. Dean spins the keys to the car in his palm, grinning. "You want to drive?" he says, tipping his head at the car.

Sam blinks. Shakes his head, and swallows, and when he speaks his voice is thick. "No," he says, and clears his throat, and shakes his head again. "No, I want you to drive."

*

On the road Dean gives Sam a version of the same explanation that Bobby gave him. "We can go see him," Dean says, glancing across the seat, and Sam smiles and says, "We will," but he says, "Later," and Dean's—yeah, he's good with that. Later. They have forever, to do anything they want.

It's hard to wrap his head around. He doesn't know how long he waited, for Sam. A lifetime. The length of a drive. It felt—feels—like infinity, like every second is stretched and slow and exactly as long as it needs to be. The roads out here are gorgeous, empty, room for the Impala to stretch her legs, and Dean knows in a strange and centered way that if he wanted he could drive forever, and at the same time if he parks it'll have been ten minutes, as far as his mind's concerned, and he won't have missed a thing.

The radio's playing Zeppelin, quietly. Has been since Sam got into the car. Tangerine, right now—does she still remember times like these?—and Dean looks over to find Sam looking right at him. Dean's not sure Sam's turned his head, the whole time. He could make a crack—it rises to his lips, take a picture or what, got something on my face?—but it feels distant. He gets the impulse. Sam smiles, his back against the passenger door, and Dean smiles back sort of helplessly before he turns it back out on the road, and leans back in his seat, and settles into the drive.

*

Anything they want. Anything they could need, or dream of. There doesn't seem to be any real requirement to sleep, or to eat, or to do—anything. Time, slipping strange, and a stasis of a kind if they want it. That isn't what Dean wants, but he's not totally sure, about Sam.

The world changes around curves. Massive trees obscure the turns and it feels like a new road with every switchback. A short way past and there's—a house. Not a house Dean's seen, but he rolls slower, and Sam finally looks out the window at something that's not Dean, so—a house. Okay, Dean thinks. He can deal with a house.

Two stories, and a basement, and an attic full of dust. Dean goes into a sneezing fit when he opens up the hatch and Sam sniggers at him. It's not perfect, by any means. There's a sagging porch, and the sink in the first floor bathroom doesn't work, and there's some seriously fugly wallpaper that's peeling, and a stained carpet in the rear bedroom that, yikes, did something die on it? Would that even be possible? But Sam says, "This'll work," with content in his voice, and Dean looks around and tongues the inside of his cheek and thinks, well, yeah. This'll work fine.

There's food in the fridge, when Dean opens it. "I'll fix something," Sam says, and Dean looks at him in total surprise. A lifted shoulder, like Sam's been able to make anything other than eggs and bacon and bad, bad pasta his whole life. "What? I learned."

He did. They have chicken, roasted broccoli that Dean admit doesn't taste entirely like farts, these crispy potatoes that are—well, goddamn. There's not a dining table and so they sit out on the porch, a six pack of cold beer between them, watching the night settle in. It's cool but not cold. The lamp on the porch flickers, and Dean smiles, because he's damn sure that's not a ghost and instead that he's gonna have to rip out the wiring and start fresh.

Sam leaves his empty plate on the step behind them. He leans his elbows on his knees, and looks out at the darkening sky. The treetops are shadows against deep purple and Dean wants, very badly, to put his hand in Sam's hair, to feel his neck, his back. To settle himself against the fact of Sam's spine, his ribs and lungs, all of him here. Breathing, and here. "You learned to cook, huh," he says, instead of doing anything else, and gets to watch Sam turn his head, just a little. He's still wearing the same clothes he showed up in. Strange things, that tug a little at something Dean feels like he used to know. Sam turns his head but he doesn't look at Dean; Dean just gets his three-quarter profile, and the shape of his mouth turned a little solemn, and his eyes as they flick over the view of the dark, surrounding trees.

"Yeah, I did," Sam says, after too long. "I…"

That's all, for a few minutes. Dean puts his plate down, too (mostly clean, other than some broccoli he's not gonna be forced to eat), and shifts down one more step so they're sat right next to each other, and presses his knee against Sam's. Sam looks at their knees instead of at him.

"I wanna hear everything," Dean says. He reaches and gets Sam's hand, and squeezes it, and Sam's eyes close. Shit he wouldn't have done before, but hell—he's dead, he gets to. "Everything. Okay? Every—dumbass repair you screwed up on the car, and if you took Chinese lessons at a community college, and who won the World Series, okay, because I remember, we had a bet, and I need to know if I owe you or you owe me."

Sam swallows. "Jesus," he says, under his breath, and then laughs, a little. "Jesus, we did have a bet. That was—uh, that year it was the Dodgers." He swallows again, and when he opens his eyes they're wet, and a tear rolls down very slowly, against the crease of his nose, and his mouth hitches up at the side in a piled-up dimpling fold, and his chin creases, and Dean squeezes his hand very tightly. "Dodgers. But I can't remember which way you bet."

God, Sam. Dean knocks their shoulders together and lies: "Damn, I bet they were gonna lose. How's that figure, huh? I go down and my team does all in the same year? Shitty luck." Sam shudders out another laugh, wet, and nods, looking down at their clasped hands. "Guess I owe you, Sammy. Whatever you want, okay? Figure, we got time up here. I can figure it out."

Sam's chin is still shaking. A tear falls onto the back of Dean's hand, shockingly hot. Sam takes a deep breath. "I'll think of something," he says, when he can get his teeth out of his lip. Their knees grind together, close enough that Dean might get a bruise, if there's still such a thing as bruising. Sam sniffs, hard. He always was a sloppy crier. He looks at Dean a little sidelong, and smiles kind of embarrassed. Like Dean isn't an inch from losing it himself. "I kinda—I watched a lot of soccer."

Dean rolls his eyes, theatrical, and releases Sam's hand. "Of course you did," he says, layering on the disgust, and it's enough that Sam snorts and dashes his hand over his face, and when Dean gathers up their plates Sam's enough together that he can repeat his old dumb argument that there's a lot of strategy to find interesting in soccer, and anyway over the years the U.S. got better so it wasn't even really like rooting for foreign teams. Dean brushes it off, like he always did, and the argument's dumb but it feels—right. Something locking in, something solid. He washes the plates by hand in the sink and Sam dries them, and stacks them in the rickety cupboard Dean's definitely going to build a replacement for, and then he braces his hands on the countertop and closes his eyes again and breathes, slow. Calm, now, but still something built up inside that Dean doesn't know.

It doesn't bug him, like it might have, before. Dean chews his lip, and drains the sink, and tosses the dishrag over the faucet to dry, and says, neutral, "Hey." Sam makes a small noise, so he's not in some other universe. "Just—one thing. How long?" Sam turns his head, looks at Dean, and Dean lifts a shoulder. "It's—with how the time works, up here, I got no idea. How long was it, for you?"

He looks the same, is the thing. The same as he did when Dean was standing there, in the dark, with that strange numbness everywhere south of his spine and a stillness creeping up in his heart. The terror of that moment has already faded but the rest of the feeling is right there—looking at Sam and loving every single part of him. Pinning him into memory, exactly as he was, with his goddamn stupid haircut and his wide mouth. A few greys, at his temples. His body, lean-but-muscled, trim from running. His eyes, beautiful, even as panicked as they were, even as he told Dean that it was okay.

It wasn't. Dean knows that, now. Sam's cheek sucks in, on one side. "I was 68," he says. Dean feels the air go out of himself, a little. That's—jesus. Sam doesn't look sad about it. Not exactly. He slides his hands into his jacket pockets, tipping his head. "I was—I was in bed. It wasn't bad."

Dean bites the corner of his mouth. "Guess that makes you the older brother, then, huh?"

Sam smiles, just a little. "No," he says, and doesn't elaborate more than that.

*

There are two bedrooms, upstairs. That first night they sleep in the living room, watching old movies on an old TV, Dean in a recliner that's ridiculously comfortable when he kicks the footrest out and Sam on the couch. He wakes up at dawn to Sam still sleeping, his arms folded around a pillow like he always used to do, still in that old jacket, that hooded sweater bunched up and twisted around his waist. Dean recognizes it, now. He dreamed it. His heart feels like it can hardly take knowing, but there it is, anyway. His face is soft, sleeping, and Dean gets up with his back aching just a little—turns out that there are still aches—and he crouches down, and he settles his hand on Sam's jaw, and runs his thumb over the sharp-angled turn of his cheekbone. Sam opens his eyes, slow but not like he was even really asleep, and he looks at Dean looking at him, and Dean just—it's enough. If it was just this, for eternity and past it, that would be—that'd be good.

There's a library, in the house. A small office kind of room, off the kitchen, but Sam says the books change, when he goes in and out, so it stays fresh. The fridge always seems to have something in it. There's always gas, in the car, although sometimes little things need fixing, and in the garage there are things that Dean can use to fix it, so he gets to spend afternoons contented under the big black bulk, while Sam hands him things from the toolbox, and is distracted half the time from reading so that he hands Dean the 3/8s wrench instead of the 5/8s wrench, but that gives Dean an opportunity rag on him so it works out, either way.

"Mom and Dad are here," Dean says, one day. He's doing the wiring, on the porch. As good a place to start as any. Sam's helping, kind of—actual electric work apparently wasn't one of the things he learned, over the years. "They've got a house, Bobby said."

"That's great," Sam says, and when Dean looks down he looks like he means it, soft smile and all, but Sam doesn't suggest they visit, and Dean thinks—well, later's still always on the table. They haven't gone anywhere, really, except for drives sometimes through the mountain roads, and Sam's gone for his runs in the early dawn before Dean wakes up, and Dean's found on a path through the trees a good creek, where he's fished with Sam mostly ignoring him, reading again in a lawnchair with his bare feet kicked out into the soft grass, but still paying just enough attention to smirk behind his book when Dean doesn't catch anything.

They don't really stay apart for more than the time it takes to leave a room and come back. Even with those runs, Dean only knows they happened because as he's waking up Sam comes back with sweat in his hair, and Dean gets to make fun of him for stinking up the place before Sam rolls his eyes and clatters into the bathroom to turn on the creaking ancient shower, and he leaves the door open when he does so Dean can hear the water running, and the splashing, and how Sam's apparently started to hum. He doesn't sing, but Dean recognizes the tunes anyway. When Sam comes out Dean has breakfast ready—they take turns on dinner, but for some reason Sam doesn't like to make breakfast, anymore—and they eat, and then there's some project to do or a movie to watch or a book to finish, and—Sam's right there, solidly content. Like he's making up for lost time, and taking his sweet time in doing so.

Whisky, one night. In the cupboard. It's good—some Scottish blend Crowley had left in the bunker, once, sharp and sweet and rolling smoke down the throat—and they're out on the porch again, on the new bench this time, watching the sunset come down. Sam's mostly holding his glass, rather than drinking, but he looks okay. Head leaned back against the wall, and his shoulders relaxed, broad and strong. He doesn't seem to mind that Dean watches him as much as he does the sky, but he's looking thoughtful, and finally Dean says, "Tell me." Sam rolls his head against the wall, and meets Dean's eyes. "It's been on your mind, all day. Spit it out, man."

The corner of Sam's mouth lifts. "You would've made a good therapist, you know that?" he says. Dean raises his eyebrows. "I've been… I had a son."

Dean's jaw drops. "That's—" he starts, and his brain doesn't supply anything else. Shock—bewilderment—joy, and it's the joy that wins out, and he punches Sam in the shoulder and says, "Frickin' mazel tov, dude! That's—what was his name?"

"Ow," Sam says, half-laughing, clutching his arm. "What do you think? I named him after you."

"Great choice, pick the handsome brother," Dean says, nearly automatic, and Sam rolls his eyes like he's supposed to, but Dean's still spinning through it, taking it in. Sam—with a little boy—and Dean wants to know everything, everything, but Sam's gone from content to content-but-pensive, and Dean makes fun of him for going emo a lot, but this is… "He a good kid? Doing the name proud?"

"Yeah, he is," Sam says. He huffs, after a second, like he's remembering something—some memory that Dean doesn't share. There's been a lot of that, really, although Dean's not sure Sam notices when it happens. "You'd hate his taste in music, though. And he drives an electric car."

"Heathen," Dean says, and Sam raises his hands in surrender, and then leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Dean looks at his back, broad in the grey t-shirt. He sips at his scotch. "We could—probably see him. I'd like to meet him. And you must…" Miss him, is what he wants to say, except that his heart seems to catch up to what it means, what Sam's saying. That he had a boy, a kid, and he was old enough to drive and have shitty taste in music, and it was a whole life—that the kid had a mother, and Sam had a world separate to this one, and of course Dean knew that and Dean always wanted that for him, and that was true, that wasn't ever a lie no matter what else Dean felt, deep inside where he never, ever intended for it to matter, but. Dean misses Jack, sometimes, in a soft sore way—misses Ben, even, when that pain's far-distant and not even truly his to feel—but what Sam's going through, that's different, and Dean doesn't know how to touch it.

Sam shakes his head, though. "I do," he says, answering what Dean couldn't say out loud. "But I—no, I don't want to see him. Not yet. He's living, and I think—I hope he's doing the best he can. I was kind of an old dad. Old-fashioned maybe, too, but I taught him right, I think, and he'll be okay. I want to just—let him live. In my head. You know? And later, when he's finally—god, he'd better be really old—then. I'd want to see him then."

Dean gets it, and doesn't. He's not sure he could've waited another minute for Sam, if he'd been forced to. He picks up Sam's glass, abandoned on the bench between them, and holds it forward. Sam takes it, and accepts Dean's clink when it's offered. "To Dean," he says, and Sam huffs and gives him a slanted look back over his shoulder, but he nods, and repeats it, and they finish the bottle between them that night.

*

Funny, that they ended up in the mountains. Kansas was all flat prairie and farmland and endless horizons, and Dad used to joke sometimes when they'd drive across the country's flat middle that you could roll a marble all the way from Abilene to Lincoln and the only way it'd stop is if someone picked it up. Up here it feels—different. With the hills, and the trees. Like they could be hemmed in, if they were feeling bad about it, but instead it just feels like shelter. A place of their own. A place to make their own.

Sam left the bunker, he says, one day. A fishing day, when Dean's got his cooler full of cheap beer and Sam's working on yet another friggin' book, though this time he's at least enjoying the cool air, watching the birds and the river more than he's got his nose in some old dude's ancient wisdom. "Couldn't stay," he says, and Dean—yeah. That makes sense.

Little revelations, now and then. Sam doesn't seem to be in a hurry to tell them, but he doesn't seem to feel bad about them, either. Like they're sorrows mostly dealt with, or details that don't matter in the grand scheme. Dean never had a place, when Sam was gone from him, but even the car—he couldn't drive it, when Sam wasn't there in the passenger seat beside him. He gets how the bunker could've been less a shelter than a prison, when the halls were empty, and the silence got too thick. "I left it to him," Sam says, after a little while. He tucks his bookmark into his spot, tucks the book under his arms. Dean's just holding onto the fishing pole at this point, barely paying attention to the line, but Sam's watching it for the both of them. "I didn't—take him there, ever, but I told him about hunting, about the job, and I left a letter. Explaining it all, with the key and everything. It's there if he wants it."

"Good," Dean says. Sam glances at him. "Someone should use it. He's a legacy, too."

"Yeah, he is," Sam says, and it's quiet for some reason, and then he nods down at the creek. "You're getting a bite, dude—" and oh damn it, see, this is why Sam's a distraction on fishing trips, and Dean fumbles the rod and cusses at his brother and Sam just laughs, and the afternoon's easy, and Dean finally does get a damn fish and brings it home and considers leaving the guts under Sam's pillow, but instead he fries it up with dill and cornmeal and Sam makes nearly orgasmic noises, eating out on the porch because Dean still hasn't built them a table, and Dean says, "Jeez, dude, get a room," and his ears are pink but—he's happy. Sam's happy. That's been the only goal, this whole damn time. A falling-down house in the mountains, with the two of them totally alone, turns out to be as good a place to be happy as any. Go figure, Dean thinks, watching Sam suck his fingers and then turn his eyes hopefully toward the kitchen for more.

*

A drive. There's a road that snakes up high, ending in an empty lookout point, and Sam convinces Dean to come further—a hike, up to the very top of the mountain, where the trees start to thin and there's a view like—

"Holy shit," Dean says, when he heaves himself up over that last friggin' boulder, and Sam says, "Right?"

A vastness. The forest is thick and the sky's this clear, depthless blue, and the valleys and hills spread out in front of them untouched. Like they're really the only people in all of heaven, nothing but them and the trees and the house. Sam stands with his hands on his hips, looking out, looking like a damn model for that weird orange hiking jacket he's wearing, and Dean sits down on a handy flat rock and feels the sun on his back, takes it in. "You know, I thought the memory thing would've been okay, honestly," Dean says. Sam glances back at him. Instantly knows what Dean means, from the way he's furrowing his massive forehead in disbelief. "I mean, maybe it would've gotten boring, I don't know. Stuck on our hamster wheels forever. But there was good stuff, in there, and we—I mean. We would've been together. Right?"

It had been brutally painful, at the time, but in later years Dean had thought about it. Approached it cautious, like something that would break if he touched it. Soulmates, he thinks, now, deliberate inside his own head, and Sam smiles, like somehow he heard it. "Yeah, I guess so," he says. He tips his head. "Could've watched that memory of you turfing it into the pasture on that wraith hunt about a hundred times, I think."

Dean raises his eyebrows, says, "Ha," while Sam grins at him, but then Sam looks back out at the view. "Would've been some choice ones of you, too, you know," he says, but then shakes his head, even if Sam's not looking anymore. "This is—better, though. Glad Jack did it like this."

"And Cas," Sam says, and, yeah. Cas.

Dean takes a deep breath. He hasn't gone there, in his head, really. Castiel, free of the death he'd cursed himself to, free of darkness. Dean drags his hand over his stubble, remembering. The dark, reaching out. He looks out at the clear, bright day. "He was in love with me," he says.

Sam turns his head, but Dean's focused on the trees—past them—through to that day. All the time after, Dean never said anything about it, out loud or even in his head. They hadn't had a body to burn, and Sam hadn't asked questions, careful and kind in that way Sam had learned to be once he was older, and it had been an old bruise, unhealed, that Dean didn't like to press on because what was the point? It doesn't hurt now, but it's…

"He told you?" Sam says, and Dean nods. A pause, again, and Sam comes and sits down on the rock, too. His hands are clasped between his knees and Dean looks at them instead of the trees. Broad and tan, and big, and calm like everything in Sam is calm, now. "And you didn't know?"

Dean looks up, sharply. "Did you?"

Sam's mouth tilts. "I wondered," he says, and Dean huffs, leans back on his hands, looks up at the clear sky. A breeze, just chilly enough that he's glad of his jacket. Sam shifts, beside him. "Did you want to see him?"

It's asked—a little careful. Like Sam doesn't want to influence him either way. Dean imagines it—praying, and saying—what? He doesn't answer, and Sam doesn't press him, and they sit there for a while, in quiet, with the breeze bringing the smell of the trees.

"I didn't marry her," Sam says, after a while. Dean lifts his head—another revelation. Sam's slowly rubbing his thumbs back and forth, a dry chafing, looking out at something Dean can't see. "She was a really good person. Good mother. I wore a ring so people wouldn't ask questions, but I—I think she would've said yes, if I'd asked, but I didn't ask. She moved across town, when Dean was ten. We got along fine—hooked up a few times, even, after we split, but it just…"

"Never came together?" Dean offers, when the pause has gone too long, and Sam lifts a shoulder, his mouth curling wry as he looks at Dean. "I know the feeling."

Maybe it was some cruelty of Chuck's. To make it impossible for anything else to feel true. Dean tips his leg out so it touches Sam's, and Sam huffs, and touches Dean's knee, and the heat of him sinks right through the denim before he pushes to his feet, and offers a hand to help Dean up, too. They walk back down the trail, back to where Dean parked the car, and they drive down the winding roads with sunset spilling through the valleys behind them, and when Dean parks in front of the house the porch light's on like they left it, and Sam's getting out and saying something about maybe burgers, for dinner, and he'll make potato salad if Dean'll take care of the cooking, and Dean has to pause, with his heart suddenly thick and full in his chest, and thinks—well, if it was intended to be a punishment, then shit if Chuck didn't get it wrong.

They have burgers, and potato salad. Sam doesn't put in enough mayo and Dean tells him so. They watch The Right Stuff, and Sam listens mostly patiently to Dean filling in all the extra details about the astronauts before he tells Dean that he's a nerd, and Dean says, "Oh, if anyone's the nerd—" and they bicker, and wash the dishes, and Sam's beautiful, is the thing. Beautiful. Whole and healthy and content, in the lamplight in the house they're building. Beautiful his whole life, from when he was a little kid and Dean was wiping his snot-nose with the edge of his t-shirt to when he was a bitchy asshole of a teenager to when he was a high-handed and distant adult to when he was just—Dean's brother, paying him half-attention in the mornings, getting all his jokes, being bossy and being kind and being himself, and himself is all Dean ever wanted him to be.

Sam picks up one of the endless books that he's left on the kitchen counter. "You going to keep watching old nerd movies?" he says, a dimple tucked into his cheek.

Dean's chest feels somehow tight and full of molten gold, all at once. "Sammy," he says, and Sam hears the change in his voice, and blinks at him. Dean knows what Cas had meant, those years ago. How it could feel so entirely perfect, just to hold it like this, under your heart. To acknowledge it and know it for true. "You're it, for me. You know that, right?"

A slight tightening, around his eyes. He searches Dean's face but Dean—he doesn't know what expression he's wearing. It hardly matters.

"Our whole lives. I never—there wasn't ever really an option, for something else, but I don't think I ever even really wanted something else. Ever since I was little. It was you and me in my head, no matter how I thought about the future. I wanted you to have more but I never pictured anything else for me, not really. Even when I got the chance. Never came together, you know? But I don't think I wanted it to. All I wanted was you." Sam's lips have parted. Confusion there, but concern too, and Dean smiles at him. "I guess this sounds—this isn't like a goodbye or anything, or a… I don't know. I just… wanted you to know. In case you hadn't guessed."

Sam lays his hand on the counter, like he's looking for something steady. "Dean," he says, and then doesn't seem to know how to follow it up.

Dean shakes his head. "Didn't mean to drop a bomb on you," he says, and it's that loose knot again, an untangled free thing. Easy, when this had never, ever been easy. When he'd died for it, and lived through way worse than dying. Here, looking at Sam's expression—shock but also not quite shock—his other hand still clutched around his book—it feels like nothing but right. He smiles, looking at Sam's eyes. "After the life we had, man, this is the cherry on top. I don't need anything more than this."

He goes to bed. Sam's still standing there, in the kitchen, when he does.

*

Time moves more because they expect it to than because of any rules. Sam's been studying it, sort of, out of curiosity more than anything else, and he says he thinks that if they wanted it to be it could be about two pm in a warm July forever. Dean's noticed, even if he doesn't much care. How long have they been here, and still it's those last days of summer creeping into autumn, where it's cool in the shade and the sun's warm, and it doesn't snow, and if it rains it's just for long enough to make the house feel cozy and right, and then when the sun comes out again the world's washed-new, and he doesn't have to dig his car out of the mud.

It's raining the next morning, and Dean lays in bed with the covers pulled up around his shoulders and enjoys it, knowing there's nowhere to go. His room is his room only because it's the bed he picked, with the north-facing window and the view of the car, if he wants to glance down and see it; they leave their doors open, almost all the time, and they hardly have possessions that need keeping anywhere. He lifts up on an elbow after a while, and looks over the foot of the bed down the hall, and on the opposite end by the stairs Sam's door is open and he's a solid lump, in his bed, still snoozing through the rain, and Dean's heart folds up in his chest, looking. It tends to do that.

He goes through some morning things. Making the coffee, and sipping at a cup while he eats a slice of toast. He goes into the library and picks something off the shelf, and carries it back upstairs, and then it's the solitary, strange contentment of a morning crap (the door closes for that at least, and he'd wondered why that was something that stuck around in heaven until he experienced the weird peace of an unhurried morning), and then a coffee refill, and then it's still raining and he thinks—yeah, back to bed, crawling in with his coffee and his book, his back to the headboard, the house warm, the sifting rain outside nothing but soothing.

"Hey," he hears, and looks up.

Sam—oh. In his flannel pants and one of those v-neck sleeping shirts, black this time, his hair rumpled, leaning in his doorway. He closes his book and lets it fall down by his leg. Sam's eyes follow it, with a small frown.

"You really went for the beauty sleep, huh?" Dean says, as though the clock means anything. Even in heaven, he feels weird when Sam catches him reading. In that time in the bunker—after Jack disappeared—he'd started again, like he used to when he was in his twenties. Dumb stuff, nothing like what Sam would pick, but he liked the stories. Sam's never made fun of him for it, but he still—well, still.

Sam's still looking at the book but the silence has stretched, with the patter of the rain filling the space between. "I stayed awake for a long time, last night," he says, finally. "Thinking about stuff. What you said. Other things, too."

He seems okay. Not bitter, or angry, or even particularly stressed about it. Still, "Sorry," Dean says.

Sam shakes his head, and looks up at Dean's face. "Don't be sorry." He pushes a hand through his hair, sort-of smiles. "Figures, you wouldn't say anything until you knew I was a sure thing."

Dean snorts. He moves the book over to his bedside table, leaves it with his empty coffee mug. He pulls his knees up under the blanket, making room, and Sam comes and sits at the foot of the bed, one knee pulled up onto the mattress, looking at Dean steady and—and okay. They're okay.

"I had a dream last night," Sam says, finally. Dean nods—the dreams come pretty steadily, up here. Never nightmares, just invention, and memory recontextualized. "It was about… when Azazel had Dad. You remember that? Forever ago. All I wanted was to kill him. All you wanted was for us to be together. Remember?"

Of course, Dean remembers. The way he'd dragged Sam away from another fire. Sam looking at him with almost-pity, when he'd finally admitted what he wanted.

There's not a trace of pity in him, now. He pulls his knee up against his chest, comfortable. "You know, I thought about it," Sam says. "After you were gone. How everything felt—incomplete. Half-a-loaf. Even…" He shakes his head, and Dean wonders what goes there. He'll find out someday. "We were always breaking the world for each other. Normal siblings don't really do that. I don't know if you realized."

"I bet Mary-Kate and Ashley would give it a shot," Dean says, and Sam smiles at him, but rolls his eyes, too. "Sam—"

"I wondered," Sam interrupts. He lifts his eyebrows, a little, and Dean hears it as the echo it's meant to be. Despite everything he can feel his cheeks going pink. "If it wasn't just that we couldn't find something that was better, but that we never would. If you'd…"

He trails off. Dean picks at the blue yarn-ties on his blanket, watching Sam's face. Turned now, toward the rain outside, lit beautiful with morning. "I wouldn't have said anything," he says. Sure, somehow. "Even if we'd had—hell. Another decade, just you and me. When I said this was enough, I meant it."

"I know you did," Sam says. "And I know you wouldn't have. Because you wouldn't have wanted to ruin anything for me, right? If I had some outside shot—some kind of normal I might've dug up?" Dean nods. Sam nods, too, and then reaches out and flicks his knee through the blanket, hard it enough that it nearly stings. Dean claps his hand over the spot and smacks Sam's hand away, but Sam's already retreating, hands up, smiling. "Truce, truce. Just saying. I wouldn't have tried for anything, if you'd been there. It would've just been me and you and the dog."

The dog. "Did he—" Dean says, distracted, and Sam says, "Old and kinda fat, and happy as he could be."

Sam's just looking at him, along the length of the bed. "Sammy," Dean says, and chews his cheek for a minute. Sam's patient. "I know it wasn't easy, that I was gone. But I'm still glad you got that shot. Glad I didn't ruin it."

"You didn't—" Sam starts, and then closes his mouth. He smiles at Dean with his lips closed, and then breathes out slow through his nose. "I'm glad you're glad," he says, instead, and maybe that's all the compromise they'll ever get, on the subject. Dean's not sure Sam gets it, smart as he is. That Dean would've always wondered. That there would've been some horizon, distant and gold, that Sam might've always looked to, and imagined something different.

The rain's slacking, outside. Sam looks out the window again, at how the sun's drawing out, the light changing. "Do you want to try to figure out the cabinets today?" he says.

God, Dean loves him. "You can work the band saw," Dean promises, and Sam rolls his eyes again, and stands up, and says, "Let me shower first, before all the excitement," and Dean watches him step into the hall and then into the bathroom and hears the shower come on, through the open door, and he thinks it'll be a good day. Inevitable argument over what color to stain the cabinet doors notwithstanding.

*

It sits between them. Dean didn't feel tense about it but saying it aloud nevertheless makes him feel almost weightless. He knows that Sam's thinking about the conversation—going over past conversations, and things they've done, and choices they've made, over and over, because Sam's an egghead who had to puzzle things out forever before he can come to some kind of peace with them—but that's okay. They're still together and nothing's ruined, and the house comes along. They work on the kitchen for a while, Sam pulling down the horrible wallpaper while Dean does the woodwork, and there's a week nearly where they build a fire outside every night and dinner's what they can rig up over the flames—hotdogs, and kebabs, and mac and cheese even that gets a weird smoky flavor to it, and honestly it's about the best version Dean's ever had.

When Sam starts talking he comes at it obliquely. They're watching a movie—Moonraker, just as dumb and wonderful as Dean remembered it—and right over the top of the scene where Jaws is whaling on the guards, Sam says, "I didn't sleep with anyone for almost fifteen years."

"Makes sense, your game is terrible," Dean says, and grins when Sam sighs. "What do you mean? After the breakup with—"

Sam still hasn't said her name. "It just didn't…" Sam shrugs. "It wasn't important somehow."

"Plus you would've thrown your back out," Dean says.

"Yeah," Sam says, dry. "Plus that." A pause, while they both watch the end of the fight. Roger Moore was a way better Bond than people gave him credit for, Dean's always thought. "How long for you?" Dean makes a sound. "Before… You used to brag about it, you know? But you didn't come home bragging for a long time."

"You trying to get me to say just looking at your goofy mug every morning was enough?" Dean tips his head on the couch to find Sam raising his eyebrows, actually surprised. "Hah. Well, it was."

"Seriously?" Sam says.

Dean shrugs, not sure why it's coming as a shock. He doesn't actually remember himself, even though it's closer in memory for him, when he last had that urge—to just go for a hookup, to let off nervous energy. On the screen, Bond's punching someone, and Holly Goodhead's in trouble. "No need to try to fix what ain't broke, as they say," Dean says, and he can tell Sam watches his face for a while before Sam turns his attention back to the movie.

Later: Dean's peeled back the scary carpet and it turns out there's good wood flooring underneath. Go figure. He's trying to decide whether he wants to cut it out in pieces or roll the whole thing up and see if he can get Sam to carry it. Sam brings him a cup of coffee, while he's standing in the doorway to the bedroom and frowning, and then says, "I never thought about being with a guy."

Dean slops the coffee, a little. Good thing he's tearing out the carpet either way. "Uh, okay."

The corner of Sam's mouth tugs up. "It just never occurred to me," he says. "Not really."

Dean takes a sip from his mug. Even in heaven Sam manages to screw it up, somehow—this time, way too strong like he used three times the amount of grounds needed—but it's Sam's coffee, and Dean's so damn gone for him that he's fond of the sludge, too.

Apparently he's been silent too long. Sam tips his head, leaning against the doorframe, opens his mouth and closes it again.

"Do you really want to know?" Dean says, after a minute. He'd answer, he thinks. If Sam asked. What would be the point of keeping it secret, after all, with what they both already know?

"I think you just told me," Sam says, quiet, but shakes his head, and then jerks his chin at the carpet. "If you think I'm carrying that whole thing downstairs you're insane."

"Worth a shot," Dean says, and they put it away, for another day.

Later: they're painting, in the hall between the kitchen and the living room, and it was a long bickering session to come up with the color but Dean thinks that Sam was really arguing just to argue and not because he cared, at all. It smells like paint, which in theory is unpleasant but which really Dean's always kind of enjoyed—because it means there's a project being done, and progress being made, and that always settles something, in his bones—and Sam's got a full on handprint of slate blue on his ass that Dean thinks somehow he still hasn't noticed, and which should cause some entertainment when he does—and Sam says, standing back and squinting at his edging work, "How did you know?" Dean grunts, not following for once. His brush needs to be cleaned. Sam reaches up and fixes a line, carefully swiping blue away from the ceiling, and says, "About us. When did you know?"

Dean pauses, fingers all tangled with the brush in the murky water. Sam's frowning up at the ceiling, patiently doing his part. That's a question he never really asked himself, and he doesn't know the answer. Too easy to say always, even if sometimes that feels like the truth. November 1983 is another answer, but of course that's wrong, too. From the first time Sam smiled at him. From the first time he guided Sam's hands around a gun and helped him pull the trigger, and they nailed that empty Coke can like it was a vamp, at thirty paces. From the day Sam left, at that shitty house in Utah, and Dean stood in the dark street with his heart bleeding out 'til it was empty. From the night Sam died, and Dean knelt in the dirt with him and understood how it felt to die, too, and yet still be forced to stand up and keep living, and to have his whole body reject it, everything in him knowing: no.

Sam crouches down by him, and nudges Dean out of the way, so he can clean his own brush. "I didn't get it, I don't think," Sam says, when Dean hasn't responded. He riffles his fingers through the bristles, blue blooming up so that Dean can't see his skin. "Not for… Man, I don't know. It might've been when I thought we were going to lose you to Amara. Maybe earlier." He draws his brush out of the water and squeezes the wet out, and Dean watches his hands, like he does so much of the time. Capable and square-palmed and long-fingered. Blue paint stuck under his fingernails. He rests his brush on the side of their paint tray and his hands lace loosely between his knees, where he's still right there, inches from Dean. "Wish it hadn't took me so long."

Dean looks at him. Sam's looking back, not really smiling but with his face soft. He stands up, after a few seconds, and from Dean's crouching vantage Sam looks impossibly tall. "C'mon," he says, easy. "Let's finish this up. I want to watch you fail at fishing at some point today."

Later—

*

There's no real time, and therefore it's no particular day. Days have passed and yet the days are still gold, and beautiful. Sam goes for a run, and comes back, and they have breakfast, and they shower, and it rains briefly midday and so Sam reads in the armchair while Dean watches a movie—Godfather II, and he tells Sam he's a barbarian for reading through it, but Sam calmly ignores him like he always does—and then the rain stops, and Dean thinks, maybe a drive, and so they go for a drive, with the late afternoon sun pouring down. They park, in front of the house, and Dean gets out, and he's thinking about dinner—Sam's turn to cook, but Dean wants steak and Sam's never actually gotten the hang of steak—and Sam says, "Hey," and so Dean turns, and there with the driver door still open on the car, Sam steps up close to him, and takes Dean's face in his hands.

Dean's heart thuds slow, in the base of his throat. Sam's been this close before but he hasn't had quite that look in his eye. He stands still, waiting, and Sam's mouth twitches into a quick smile, like he's had some funny thought that he'll share with Dean, later—and Sam leans down, and when their mouths press together it's...

Sam pulls back, after not long enough. "Is that okay?" he says.

Really asking. Dean's holding Sam's forearms, his lips warm. "You're supposed to be the smart one," he says, and his voice comes out raw. "You figure it out."

His eyes are closed. Sam laughs, softly, and Dean takes a breath, and then there's Sam's mouth, again, soft but insistent, just the right amount of pressure. Sam's very good at this. Who knew. Dean's hand slides to Sam's chest and he parts his lips, and Sam takes the invitation as it's given, licking just barely inside. They're both unshaven but the scratch of Sam's chin feels good. Sam's nose brushes his. Dean pulls back, and tilts so their foreheads are touching, and there's an infinite universe of time around them and he could just stay—here. Right here, with Sam's breath mingling with his, and Sam's hand on his face.

Once they've started, though, Sam doesn't seem to feel the need to stop. "Bed?" he says, quiet, and Dean nods, and then—Sam's room, with the sun coming in the window and the thick blue blanket soft under Dean's hand. Sam sits beside him and leans in and they kiss—again—for ages, Dean's arm around Sam's neck and no sound but their lips meeting and parting, and the breeze soughing against the house.

Sam's—happy. That's the only thing Dean can think, over and over, his heart thrilling for it. "Is it weird?" Dean says, at one point, and Sam touches his cheek with two fingers, and drags them soft along Dean's stubble to his jaw, to his chin, and shakes his head and then laughs and says, "Yeah, but who cares about weird," and Dean says, fervently, "Not me," and Sam laughs again and presses him down to the bed and kisses him, again, and again.

Clothes go away, slowly. Boots, and jackets, and Dean pushes Sam a little upright and unbuttons his shirt, careful, while Sam watches his face. "Do you know what you want?" Dean says, not pushing either way. When the shirt's open he spreads his hands on Sam's chest—god, even through the undershirt, it's—but Sam's shaking his head, and Dean tries to focus, even if focus seems a billion miles from here. "And you never…"

But no, because Sam told him. Sam lays his palm on Dean's stomach, warm. "What did you want?" Sam says. Gentle almost. "The first time you—when you thought about it. What did you picture?"

"Who says I pictured anything?" Dean says, and Sam just smiles at him, and, yeah, okay. So Sam knows him better than anyone. So what.

Naked, Sam is… It's not like Dean never saw it before, but he never let himself look, like he's looking now. Never with the sense of right, that he feels now. Sam's looking right back, which somehow comes a surprise. Dean lets Sam tug off his jeans, his boxers, and he's left on his back on the bed, and Sam stands there and his eyes go all over—from Dean's chest to his dick to his feet, for some reason—and Dean feels himself flushing, but it's more because—

"I didn't think it'd be like this," Sam says, and yeah. Yeah, that's it. Sam's flushed, too, a little red come into the hollows of his cheeks. His dick's half-hard, swinging heavy against his thigh, and Dean wants it. Wants Sam. It should be complicated but it isn't. He spreads his legs, and Sam kneels on the bed and then fits himself there, so Dean's thighs can slide against Sam's, and there's the warm glance of his belly, and his chest against Dean's, and how his nose brushes Dean's cheek and how his hair falls forward, and the dense familiar physicality of him. How he's Dean's brother and how he's—everything, everything else that ever mattered.

They rub together, kissing. Sam's fingers find his nipple and play with it, slow and insistent. Sam's hard, thick, pressing into the crease of Dean's thigh, and Dean nudges under Sam's jaw, kisses his throat, drags his thumb down between Sam's pecs. "Do you want to," he says, against Sam's skin, and Sam's hand cups over the back of his head and he doesn't have to say anything for Dean to know.

There's lube, in Sam's bedside table. Dean laughs, while Sam blinks surprise at it. This perfect house. He pulls Sam in close again, and he doesn't think it'll take much—hell, they might not even have to bother—but he wants it, like this is a first time they might have had, some perfect day that never existed on earth. He drizzles the lube over Sam's fingers and Sam knows what to do, reaching below, and Dean spreads his legs wide and sinks into the pillow, into how it feels. "Do you like it?" Sam says, curious and a little pleased, and Dean hooks his arm around Sam's neck and drags him down for a kiss so Sam won't ask such dumb friggin questions. The slow drag and stretch of Sam's knuckles inside—and he's not going far enough or deep enough, because he's done this to women maybe but never to a guy, but it feels good, anyway.

They don't move from that position. Dean reaches down and tugs at Sam's wrist, and gets a slick dragging hand on his hip, instead. Sam kisses his cheekbone, shifts his weight, and the press inside—ah—thick, and just that first bright sting that makes it count for something, but it doesn't hurt beyond that, and it's just the slow parting drag of Sam, inside him, until he's as far as he can go and stops with his hips pressed right up close. Dean holds him there, feeling. Sam's breath against his cheek, and his weight held tense on one elbow, and their chests rising and falling together. Dean's dick presses against Sam's belly but it doesn't feel important, right now—it's more that they're—finally, they're—

"Please say I can move," Sam says, breathless, and Dean gasps in and then laughs, dizzy, says, "Jesus, you've been waiting on me? Get the lead out, come on—go—"

It lasts—

For the time it takes Dean to curl his hips up and feel how Sam jolts, hard inside. For the time it takes Sam to lift up higher, getting enough space between them that he can see Dean's face, and for him to fit his hand around Dean's jaw and press his thumb against Dean's lower lip and look him in the eyes, startled, like even after everything he's learned something new. For the time it takes Dean to wrap his thighs around Sam's waist and arch, and for Sam to bury his head down into the curve of Dean's throat, and for Dean to hold Sam's shoulders, and for it to be…

Perfect, Dean thinks, after.

They're on their sides. Dean's leg is still caught around Sam's hip. Their heads are on the same pillow and Dean's got his hand on Sam's chest, and Sam keeps tracing some nonsense shape into the skin over Dean's ribs, and the sun's still out, and the breeze is still gentle, and it feels in a way like no time has passed, at all. Like this is still their first day in heaven. That first moment, when Sam appeared on the bridge, and Dean's heart thumped into place, like it was beating again, at last.

Sam's hand settles flat on Dean's side. Dean looks up from Sam's chest, and Sam's waiting there, to meet his eyes. A smile, small. "Good job, tiger," Dean says, and Sam's smile goes deeper, and Dean rolls his eyes, and tugs Sam's chest hair in retaliation. Sam mimes pain but all he does is pull Dean an inch closer, and sigh.

"Do you think we could've made it work?" he says, eventually. Dean hmms, asking. "Before, I mean. When we were alive. It feels like…" He shakes his head, a small movement against the pillow. "I don't know. Like we wasted time."

"Maybe," Dean says. He shifts, stretching out his legs, and lifts up on one elbow. Sam tips his head back to keep looking at Dean's face. Dean looks back, unhurried. The straight line of his eyebrows, and his tip-tilted eyes. His mouth, relaxed in contentment, and the slope of his nose, and that mole that Dean feels the weirdest fondness for. He touches it, and Sam blinks, and Dean smiles at him. "It worked out, though. Don't you think?"

Sam's mouth tips, a dimple peeking up in his cheek. He looks as glad as Dean's ever seen him. "Yeah," he says, finding Dean's hand. Their fingers tangle together, caught warm against Sam's chest. "Yeah, it worked out okay."

[laurensprentiss]

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 5:

Warnings: Mentions of guns, lil’ bitta tension, lotta angst. Mentions of Haley. 

Word Count: 2,262

------

“I don’t know what’s worse: to not know what you are and be happy, or to become what you’ve always wanted to be, and feel alone.” - Daniel Keyes

------

“Aaron would you just listen to me?!” The frustration seeps out of her pores, her hands running through her blonde hair. 

They’ve been going around in circles for months now, ever since he took on your case, the irregular hours and time away taking its toll. It seems like a never ending cycle, she argues, he goes to work anyway, brings her back some flowers or gifts, they make up. Rinse and repeat. And she’s at the end of her tether. 

He holds his hands up in defeat, setting his phone against the kitchen counter. “Haley! What would you have me do? I have a job, this is my career.” He says, almost condescendingly.

She slams the cupboard as her voice goes up a few octaves. “What is that supposed to mean? Don’t do that. Don’t you dare try to make me out to be the bad guy! Don’t you dare, Aaron.” Her eyes narrow and she’s seething, her face red and tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “You asked me to move in with you because you wanted to be with me. You wanted a future with me.” 

“-I do.”

“Don’t interrupt me.” She hisses. “We moved from Seattle to DC so you could chase your dreams. I left my parents, my family, my friends to be with you. Because I believed you when you said you wanted a future with me.” Her tears spill over as she wipes at them frantically. 

“Haley.” 

“No. Aaron. I can’t. I understand you want to follow your dreams, I know this is your job, that this is who you are. But you need to seriously reconsider what’s important to you, because I can’t keep doing this.” Her voice cracks.

The sentence hits him like a freight train as he swallows the lump in his throat. “Keep doing what?” He asks hesitantly. He’s not sure if he even wants to know the answer. She’s all he knows. 

“Going to bed alone.” She whispers. “I can’t keep living like this, I can’t keep being the only person all in for this relationship.” 

His heart sinks. He crosses the small kitchen to hold her hands in his, a split second taking him back to when he held yours in the car that day. He shakes the thought from his head and seeks out her eyes. He doesn’t really know what to say, can’t quite find the words. 

“I’m sorry.” He says defeatedly. He cups his hand around her cheeks and wipes the tears from her eyes as she leans into his touch, bringing her forehead to his. 

It hurts him to know that she feels like this, but it devastates him even more to know that he can’t promise her he’ll do better. He wants to. More than almost anything, to give her what she wants, but his commitment to his job is almost hardwired into him, his need to uphold his oath. And the strange pull he feels towards you makes him feel like there’s too many parts of him being pulled this way and that, being spread too thin. 

He feels torn. 

She leans into his touch, both of them sharing a quiet moment after their blow up, their eyes closed, a glimmer of hope emerging in her chest. 

But then his phone rings. He can almost see the disappointment rise in Haley’s shoulders as his eyes tear open at the sound, but Haley squeezes her eyes shut even more, knowing the answer. She already knows the outcome. 

She knows who wins in this situation. 

“Just go.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. 

Panic rises in Hotch’s chest, the magnetic pull of his phone and his job tearing him away from his childhood sweetheart. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. Can we talk tonight?” He pleads.

She doesn’t respond, just keeps her eyes shut as he places a chaste kiss against her lips. 

“I’m sorry.” And with that he leaves. 

———-

“Oh, so big bad Hotch’s gonna teach me how to shoot, huh?” You huff out a laugh as you hand him your bag to load into the trunk. 

“Yep.” 

You squint at him, puzzled by his sudden change in demeanour, a knot forming in your stomach. You step into the SUV, securing your seatbelt, your anxiety taking over, suddenly. 

You’ve noticed he’s been tense the past couple of days, but today especially. His eyebrows are pulled into a frown, he seems distant and unfocused and his jaw is set into a hard line, which ordinarily would get you into trouble with yourself, but today, it’s a sign for concern. 

He checks his phone for the fifth time in almost as many minutes, rubbing a hand over his beard, inhaling sharply. His jaw ticks as he rolls open the window before putting the car into drive. 

The car ride is literally and figuratively chilly, the spring air permeating the awkward atmosphere. Hotch doesn’t attempt to make any conversation with you, doesn’t even look at you, his nostrils flared and his mind elsewhere. 

You feel awkward, uncomfortable and there’s a creeping sensation up your neck, a sharp contrast to a couple days ago when he had held your hand in his, reassured you that he’d do whatever he could to catch this guy. Now, the butterflies are an unwelcome sensation. 

You continue on your wordless journey, pulling up to the shooting range. You take a beat and wait for Hotch as he unbuckles his belt and steps out of the car without even so much as acknowledging you. You swallow thickly, feeling an almost misplaced guilt towards his actions. 

Was it you? Did you do something wrong?

———

“Okay, you’re gonna start with this one here.” Hotch explains, holding the Glock 42 flat in his palm, weighing it in his hands. “You’re gonna start with the smallest, get used to the trigger and the weight before we can move up.” His voice is monotone, unwavering. No hint of levity. You move up to the shelf, taking the gun from his hands. 

Damn. What is with this guy today?

You clear your head.

Okay. Check the magazine, load, safety. 

Done.

Stance, aim, push, pull and squeeze. 

The smoke from the round wafts into your nose as you open your eyes to check the paper target in front of you, completely untouched. 

Shit. 

Hotch pinches his nose, the vein in his temple throbbing. “No, c’mon! How many times-“ 

He winces and stops abruptly. Stops before he says something he doesn’t mean, before he does something he knows he’ll regret. This isn’t him. And it isn’t your fault. He knows this, but he can’t help but feel that the misplaced frustration he has towards you is because of his guilty conscience, it’s compensation for the way he feels so torn. Still he pushes it down further. 

He clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I-. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-“ 

You just follow his movements, watch him collect himself. He takes a breath and huffs out a dry laugh. “Alright. C’mere.” 

You shoot him a puzzled look, the swift change in his mood taking you aback. Part of you wants to rip him a new one for treating you like this, but it wouldn’t do any good. Strange attraction aside, he was fast becoming your friend, one of the only people you could rely on, and knowing he wasn’t in the right headspace but not having the answer for him was frustrating. 

He chuckles. “Come on. Come here.” He beckons you toward him. You plant yourself in front of him, as he moves in close, his body solid behind you. He grips your wrists from behind as your hands wrap around the glock, taking stance, his breath on your neck. 

His voice is low in your ear. “Remember to follow through, okay?” You don't dare turn your head, he’s so close. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye to find him watching you, his eyes flirting to your lips for a brief second and you feel that familiar heat creep up your neck. 

He moves back only slightly, giving him enough room to grip your hips, positioning your right foot back, angling your body at a slight diagonal. His hands are solid on your body, moving you with ease. You try your best to concentrate on the target in front of you and to hold the glock level, but Hotch’s presence so close is less than ideal when you need to focus. 

He positions your arms once again, touch feather light this time, brushing your shoulders as he does. He nods for you to try again. 

You keep your eyes on the target this time, trained on the marker body in front of you after you shoot and you can’t quite believe you hit it. You squeal with excitement and turn to face Hotch who looks proud but drops down quickly, seeing the Glock still in your hands. 

“Yeah, lesson number 2. Never-“ He nods at you to punctuate his point, taking the gun from you. “-Never. Point a gun at someone without aiming.” 

———

It’s dark when Hotch pulls up outside your building, the mood decidedly lighter than before but the unspoken heaviness still lingers in the air, carries all the way up to your apartment. You key the door open, switching on a lamp on your way in, Hotch making quick work of a window sweep.

“Two MPD officers are posted right outside, and there are two unmarked cars outside, too. Just in case.”  

You nod as you walk into your kitchen, a sudden surge of bravery taking over. “Hey, Hotch?” 

He doesn’t look up from his phone when he answers. “Yeah?” 

“Hotch.”

He looks up this time, sheepish expression on his face when he realises you’re staring at his phone, too, cursing himself for not minding his manners. 

“Sorry. What is it?” 

“Are you okay?” You ask, earnestly. 

He pretends to be oblivious, as you walk out of your kitchen and plant yourself on your couch, water in hand. He sits on the ottoman you use as a footrest opposite your couch, but says nothing. Just watches you, but you wait for him. 

He runs his hands through his hair. It’s endearing, you think. 

“That obvious?” He says with a dry chuckle. 

You wait for him to go on. 

“I know I’ve been ‘off’ the last couple of days. I’m sorry. It’s just- I don’t know. Stuff in my personal life, I guess - I let it affect my job. Won’t happen again.” 

“That’s not what I mean. Screw the job. I mean are you actually okay?” You feel a strange pull in your chest, the vulnerability is written on his face. But you don’t want to push him. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“It’s- just this job, y’know. My girlfriend-“

“-Haley.” You’re thinking out loud but he looks surprised as to how you could know her name. “I think I heard you talking to her a couple times.” You shake it off. 

“Yeah. Well. She’s struggling to cope with all of this, I guess. The job. It’s not like it’s a regular 9-5, and I don’t suppose it’s much fun going to sleep in an empty house most nights.” 

I go to bed alone. 

She goes to bed alone. 

He curses himself for his lack of tact. “I mean I know where she’s coming from, I wish I could be around more but it’s hard trying to get the right balance y’know? And I don’t know, I have the feeling she might not want to stick around much longer - and I wouldn’t blame her.” 

He whispers the last part, like he doesn’t trust his voice to betray him. He’s surprised he’s even opened up to you this much, this quickly and he realises his mouth has already betrayed him before his brain had even had a chance to catch up. He feels lighter though, maybe even optimistic. 

But you feel your heart sinking. The naive little girl in you had thought maybe Hotch could have felt attracted to you, maybe even had some feelings for you. The realisation that he has a foundation, a home, a long-term relationship - even if it was on the rocks - makes your chest heavy. Makes it hard to breathe.

You don’t want to give him advice. Don’t even want to really think about him and Haley at all. But the sadness in his eyes and the worry in his voice speaks louder than the little voice in your head. 

“You love her?”

He takes a beat, but nods.

“Then you know what you have to do, Hotch. Give her what she wants. Give her what she needs to stay.” You feel a misplaced, profound kind of sadness deep within you, and you can’t tell whether it’s because you feel utterly alone and like nobody would ever want to fight for you - or whether it’s because you know that person wouldn’t be the man sitting in front of you. 

Still, you inhale deeply and stand. “Well, listen - I don’t wanna keep you.” You walk him to your door. “I hope it all works out.” You tell him as you watch him leave. And you only half mean it. 

———

“Haley?” Hotch shouts through the door. He shrugs off his blazer and loosens his tie as he turns on the lights in their dark home, blinking as his eyes adjust. There’s no answer. 

“Haley?” 

Nothing.

He searches the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, a sinking feeling taking over. Still, he calls out her name, to no avail. He turns on the light in their bedroom, the wardrobes open and hangers laying on a neat pile in the corner. He sighs defeatedly. 

His eyes fall to a piece of folded yellow paper on the centre of their perfectly made bed. He picks it up and lets his body fall onto the mattress, unfolding the note.

Haley’s elegant, slanted writing reads: 

‘I’m sorry too. - HB’ 

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———

Tags: Let me know if you would like to be tagged!

@oreogutz @andromedasstarship @galacticnerd-78 @izzyl13 @private-backrooms @crying-river @purpledragonturtles @gabbysblogthingy @euphoricmidoriya @archiveofadragon @yoshigguk @swiftingday @jeor

[hizashis-lil-bunbun]

Like a Moth to a Flame Pt. 3

Back at it again and this chapter was fun! Next one we’ll be getting into some more juicy bits but I needed a setup for the scene. So enjoy my friendly little deviants!

Mild TW: mentions of blood, violence, attempted assault, and (very) minor character death

As always, I thank/blame @miscellaneous-bnha for the inspo

Part 1 Part 2

•••••

You feel numb walking down the darkened sidewalk towards home, shock and frustration making it difficult to put one foot in front of the other. It had been several weeks since you last saw Mirio, and there hadn’t been any reports of strange, paranormal activity in any other part of town. At least, not according to the papers. Even after the landlord had coughed up the money to replace the ruined fire escape, you’d yet to catch another glimpse of the golden mothman. Night after night you’d put out bowls of sugar water, stayed up late, even pulled a few strings of old Christmas lights out of storage to decorate your portion of the new railing. But come morning, you always found the bait untouched and it left you feeling drained and disappointed. You knew your nightly routine was starting to feel unhealthy, obsessive really, and that your performance at work had been gradually slipping as a result. But it wasn’t until today, when your boss called you in after your shift ended and handed you that soul-crushing pink slip, that you realized just how far it had fallen. And on top of all that, you’d missed the last bus home, forcing you to take a literal walk of shame back to your apartment.

“What am I gonna do?” You breathe into the crisp night air, unconsciously reaching into the pocket of your coat to fish out your phone. Without even looking at the screen, you unlock the device and open your camera roll, tapping on a folder marked “Moth” before finally looking down. There was only one picture on file, but you’d seen it so many times it was practically burned into your retinas. The image was grainy and blurred (not to mention overexposed beyond the point of recognition due to the flash), but you couldn’t give a damn about any of that. The only clear part of the image, the only part you cared about, was the pair of bright blue eyes staring back at you. For some unknown reason, the camera hadn’t distorted them, perfectly capturing their glassy, sapphire hue and wide-eyed expression of curiosity.

And you had spent countless hours poring over it.

In the beginning, you’d convinced yourself it was nothing more than a piece of evidence, proof of your sanity and a confirmation of his existence. But as the days passed, you’d come to take comfort in it, more often than not allowing your mind to wander freely back to the memory of his voice in your ear and the warm weight of his head on your shoulder. You hadn’t even posted it to any of the online forums, jealously hoarding it the same way a dragon protects its treasure.

“Mirio.” You exhale softly, thumb absentmindedly brushing over the cracked surface of your phone screen. “I wish I could fly away from my problems like you. Must be nice having wings…”

“Hey there, baby!”

A gruff, slurring voice abruptly snaps you back to reality, head whipping up to see a trio of men leaning against a rundown building across the street. Their faces are indistinguishable, partially obscured by shadows thrown from a lone street lamp shining over their heads. But you can clearly make out the brown paper bags they have clutched in their fists, the material crumpled and molded into the tell-tale shape of liquor bottles as they continue to heckle you.

“Why dontcha come over here and hang out with us?” The biggest brute calls out, beckons you closer with a crook of his finger. “We’ll show ya a good time.”

“Yeah, a real good time.” The man to his left cackles. His lewd remark earns him a few snickers from his seedy friends while a wave of revulsion courses down your spine. Catcalling wasn’t exactly foreign to you; in this part of town, it was practically expected. But their drunken words and leering eyes make you acutely aware of just how empty the streets are right now, devoid of other people or passing cars to offer protection (or witnesses) should they decide to take things too far. Still, you straighten your spine and snap your eyes forward, long-since trained to know it’s best to ignore their booze-fueled jeers and keep walking.

“Awww, don’t be like that, baby!” You hear one of them call from your right, “We just wanna have some fun!”

You keep your gaze trained on the looming silhouette of your apartment complex, soles of your shoes clicking against the cold pavement as you grip the phone in your hand even more tightly. You’re close enough to see some of the lights are still on your neighbors windows, probably cleaning up from dinner or settling in for a smoke and a drink. With the promise of safety so close at hand, you cast a quick glance over your shoulder….

And feel your blood run cold as you see the men casually strolling across the empty street to fall in line behind you. They’re whispering amongst themselves as they take a few more swigs from their bottles, their shuffling gait and longer legs quickly closing the gap between you. You pick up your own pace in turn, walking much more briskly now and earning a reproachful growl from the men behind you.

“Hey! I’m talkin’ to you!” One of them snarls, “Didn’t your mama ever teach you it’s rude to ignore people?”

You don’t respond to his jab, too afraid to speak regardless, and set off at a jog, determined to put as much distance between yourself and these morons as possible. But that action proves itself to be a grave mistake, as you hear the footsteps behind you pick up in speed. Before you can fully register what’s happening, one of the men appears over your right shoulder, laughing maniacally as he gives you a rough shove and sends you careening off course and into an adjacent alleyway. The unexpected move knocks you off balance, sending you sprawling to the ground and knocking your head into the concrete with enough force to set your teeth rattling. Even worse, you lose your grip on your phone, hearing it skitter off into the darkness as the men crowd into the alley after you.

“I think she could use a lesson in manners! Ain’t that right, boys?” Their leader asks mockingly, seconds before he grabs you by the hair and roughly hauls you back onto your feet.

“Please!” You yelp, both from fear and the pain shooting throughout your scalp, “I-I have money. You can take whatever you want!”

“Whatever we want, huh?” He says with a sneer, his face close enough you can smell the sour aroma of cheap bourbon and old cigarettes on his breath.

“Then gimme a kiss, sweetheart.”

His mouth is on yours in an instant, his free arm wrapping itself around your waist to keep you in place as he tries to force his tongue past your sealed lips and down your throat. Your screams for help are muffled by the kiss, and it’s all you can do to push against his chest and thrash wildly in his hold. His companions stand faithfully behind him, egging him on with bouts of derisive laughter intermingled with hoots to “hurry up and get on with it” so they can have their turn. After a few moments he pulls away for air, arm leaving your waist and clapping the hand that was tangled in your hair over your mouth. Meanwhile, his buddies move to either side of you to grab you by the shoulders and force down on your knees.

“Since you didn’t feel like talkin’…” He growls dangerously, free hand toying with the buckle of his belt. “Let’s see if that pretty little mouth is good for somethin’ else.”

Your eyes widen as his belt comes undone with a soft clink, tears pricking at the corners as he leers down at you. Instinct takes over as he attempts to undo his fly, and before he can move his hand you jerk your head back to partially free your mouth. Then you bite down. Hard.

“Fuck!”

He hastily wrenches his hand from your mouth before you can do any more damage while you take in a desperate lungful of fresh air. A quick glance at his hand shows you’d successfully broken the skin, leaving a perfect, crescent-shaped indent that was quickly beading up with fresh blood.

“Help! Somebody help! Rape! RA-!”

You’re abruptly silenced by a quick blow to your right cheek, delivered by one of the men still holding you down. Throbbing pain radiates out from the point of impact, making your vision white out and earning a cruel laugh from your captors.

“You little bitch!” The injured man spits at you, “Think you’re so tough, huh?”

A small click forces your eyes to open, only to be met with a glint of metal in the light of the full moon: a switchblade.

“Let’s see how tough you are when I slice up that pretty face of yours. Starting with that fuckin’ mouth.”

With a twirl of the blade, he advances towards you, relishing in your helpless state as greedy eyes roam the plane of your terrified face. You’re too scared to scream anymore, eyes squeezing shut as you brace yourself for the first cut. But instead of searing pain, there’s an odd rustling noise, followed by a colossal thump that seems to shake the very earth beneath you. The men holding your shoulders abruptly release you, backing away amidst a slew of bewildered curses. Slowly, you crack one eye open to find a new, dark figure standing in front of you, blotting out the moon itself and effectively shielding you from your would-be rapist.

“M-Mirio?” You gasp, voice wavering from disbelief and shock. The golden cryptid looks over his shoulder at you, only giving a chittering cry at the sound of your voice.

“What the fuck!?” The man behind him screeches, “The fuck is that thing?!”

Mirio’s head snaps around to face the terrified thug, wings slowly raising in a show of strength and dominance as he lets out a low, menacing growl.

“Y/N…” He snarls, taking a short step forward and shifting into a crouch. “Mine.”

“S-stay back!” The man stammers, jabbing the switchblade into the empty air in front of him like a puny saber. “I’m warning you!”

Mirio gives a low hiss in response, wings fully extended as he lowers himself to place one hand on the ground. You’re frozen on the spot, hardly daring to breathe as you sense the slightest movement could set him off. For a moment, everything is still. And then, spurred on by loyalty, liquid courage or a combination of the two, the other thugs charge Mirio from behind. Moving faster than you could comprehend, Mirio whips around with a high-pitched shriek, landing a powerful swipe to the center of one man’s chest and sending him crashing to the pavement beside you. The other one was luckier, successfully jumping onto the monster’s back and causing Mirio to rear up on his back legs once more. The attacker then attempts to wrap his arms around Mirio’s neck, perhaps hoping to cut off his air supply or at least distract him long enough for the third man to join the fray.

But Mirio was obviously stronger and smarter than he was expecting.

Clawed hands scratch at the attacker’s face and shoulders before the winged behemoth suddenly flops onto his back, bringing his full weight down on the foolhardy attacker with a sickening crunch. Rolling back onto all fours, the man is left gasping for air on the ground, possibly with a punctured lung or (at the very least) a few broken ribs. Undeterred by his pitiful cries for mercy, Mirio looses an unearthly roar before grabbing the man by the front of his sweat-soaked shirt, rising to his full height, and tossing him towards the empty street like he weighed no more than a ragdoll.

“MINE!” He bellows, “MIIIIIIINE!”

“Fuck you!” The remaining man screams in return, rushing towards the towering beast with his switchblade held aloft. “Die, you fuckin’ freak!”

Mirio shifts back into a fighting stance, his back to you as he lets out another spine-chilling howl and rushes forward to greet the oncoming attack. At the same time, the moon moves behind a cloud, throwing the alleyway into inky darkness as you shriek and cover your head with your hands. With your eyes screwed shut, all you can hear is the man’s incensed grunts and yells, overshadowed by Mirio’s own enraged roars and the scratch of his nails on the dirty concrete. After a few seconds of struggle, Mirio gives a piercing cry, followed by the wet sound of tearing flesh and a strangled, gurgling noise. The fight ends as suddenly as it started, the only sounds now coming from your own terrified whimpers and the clatter of the switchblade falling to the ground.

Peeking out from between your fingers, you find the sky has started to lighten once more, the moon reappearing from behind the clouds and washing the bizarre scene in an unsettling, ethereal hue. The scrawniest attacker is still sprawled out next to you, unconscious but mercifully alive given the force of his impact. Mirio stands facing towards you, breathing heavily as the wings on his back shiver and shake. And at his feet, eyes wide and lifeless, is the leader’s body, his face covered in deep claw marks and a puddle of blood seeping out from underneath him like an oil slick.

“You… you killed him.” You breathe, “Mirio, h-he’s dead.”

Mirio doesn’t make any move to acknowledge your words, simply sinking to his knees with a rumbling groan. He seems almost sad, remorseful even, with the way he hangs his head and curls his bloodied hands into fists atop his knees. In this new light, you also notice something on the mothman’s left forearm: a clean, shallow gash. That must have been the cause for his shrieking earlier.

Slowly you stand once more, swallowing the lump in your throat to take a few tentative steps toward the creature.

“Are you… hurt?” You ask softly, noting the way he jolts and then shrinks away from you. You’re only a few feet away now, close enough to make out the faint stripes and eye-spot pattern on his wings. You nervously crouch down, balancing on the balls of your feet but keeping a safe distance should he turn aggressive. A chilly breeze blows through the alley, pushing against your back and making the creature raise his head up slightly, sniffing the air. His gaze locks on your face, glassy eyes wide as he slowly puts his palms on the ground and gets back on all fours. He moves one clawed hand closer to you and you start for a second, taking a quick step back before catching sight of the streaks of blood dripping from his forearm once more.

“Hurt?” You say again, pointing a shaky finger at the wound. His eyes follow to where you’re pointing and he lets out a chittering mewl, lifting up his injured arm. His long, slithering tongue snakes out from his mouth and he begins to lap at the blood, wincing at the taste. You’re unsure if this is real or an act. On the one hand, it’s hard to believe a creature so obviously powerful as him would be so concerned over little more than a scratch. Then again, you feel certain Mirio is too much of a gentle soul at heart to fake the whole “kicked-puppy” routine.

“No. Don’t do that.” You chide gently, tone forcing the monster to stop licking at himself and look up at you. Moving slowly so as to not startle him, you reach into the pocket of your coat and fish around until your fingers close around a crumpled, but thankfully unused, piece of tissue. When you pull it out of your pocket, Mirio’s eyes narrow into slits and he bares his teeth to let out a small, warning hiss.

“Easy, boy.” You say soothingly, “It can’t hurt you. See?”

You extend your free hand and pat the tissue against your own palm, demonstrating it’s benign nature. Mirio’s face gradually relaxes as he watches your display, eventually crawling over the corpse on the ground to get closer to you. You’re now practically nose-to-nose with the mothman, dropping your empty hand by your side and using the tissue to gesture at the cut on his arm.

“Let me help.”

Mirio gives a short blink before shifting into a squatting position similar to your own, carefully extending his injured arm towards you. Doing your best to not cause him any pain, you carefully start to dab at the areas around the cut, mopping up the spilled blood as the monster watches you work.

“Y/N.” He says softly, his voice causing you to look up from your task. Mirio raises his other hand to touch the right-hand side of your face, sending a bolt of prickly pain shooting through your skull and making you wince. You’d been so caught up in the chaos and adrenaline-fueled high that you’d forgotten about your own injuries. No doubt you’ve got a sizable bruise forming from where that thug had punched you earlier. Mirio’s stiffens up at the your response, brow furrowing in concern as he quickly pulls his hand away.

“H-hurt?”

“A little…” You mumble in response, “But I’ll be alright.”

He stills for a moment and you offer him a small, pained smile, hoping to reassure him. And the next thing you know he’s moving, clutching you to his chest in a protective embrace and nuzzling his face into your neck. You squeak a little at the unexpected move, body going rigid in fear of being attacked. But soon his sweet scent and warmth fully envelop your senses, causing you to relax in his hold.

“Hurt.” He whimpers in your ear, “Y/N hurt. My fault.”

You can feel your heart clench at his words. He sounds so guilty. Helpless even. Like a child crying to their mother for comfort. Before you can think better of it, you wrap your arms around him in return, worming your hands underneath his wings to rest on his well-defined shoulder blades.

“Oh, Mirio no! It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything to hurt me.”

His body begins to shake, his breathing turning into ragged gasps as he squeezes you even more tightly. One hand leaves your back to cradle your head, the sheer size of his fingers tangling in your hair making you feel like doll-like. The two of you stay locked together like this for a few minutes, holding onto each other in the moonlight as Mirio continues to tremble beneath your touch.

“Mirio. I-” You softly breathe, causing him to raise his golden head and look you in the eye. You have so many questions for him, so many things you like to say. But all that comes out is a quiet, “Thank you.”

He cocks his handsome head to one side before a smile begins to tug at the corners of his mouth, pearly teeth reappearing as he gives a short nod of understanding.

“Mirio… keep Y/N safe.”

“Yes. Yes, you did.” You say with a weak chuckle, reaching up one hand to brush an errant strand of blonde hair away from his face. “I’m safe now.”

Mirio coos as he presses his cheek into your palm, the same way he’d done outside your apartment complex all those weeks ago. His eyes close contentedly and you can’t help but smile at his blissful expression.

“Y/N. Mine.” He purrs.

You freeze at the bold statement, pulling your hand away and earning a disappointed mewl from Mirio.

“You said that before. Mirio, what do you mean–?”

“You there! Freeze!”

A familiar voice cuts off your question nanoseconds before a powerful flashlight is aimed directly at Mirio’s back. Even though you can’t see around his massive frame, you can tell it’s the same officer who caught you the last time Mirio visited you.

Only now, the cornered cryptid hadn’t had the chance to fly away.

“Hands where I can see them!” The officer demands, flashlight in one hand and a pistol in the other. Mirio makes no such move. Instead, he rises to his feet, hooking one arm under your thighs and taking you up with him.

“Wait! Mirio, don’t!” You shriek, desperately grabbing at his chest and mane as he turns to face the officer. It’s a terrifying sight for the poor man: three bodies strewn across a bloody alley, a blue-eyed beast, and a helpless civilian seemingly taken captive.

“D-drop the hostage!” He stammers out. “Do it, or I’ll shoot!”

You can tell from the way the light wavers that he’s shaking and you suspect the only reason he hasn’t fired his weapon yet is because he doesn’t want to risk hitting you. Your eyes flit wildly between his and Mirio’s face, finding his fangs are bared as he lets out a warning hiss.

“Y/N.” Mirio snarls, wings slowly unfurling behind him as he bends his knees and tightens his grip on you. “Mine!”

With that final declaration, Mirio gives his wings a powerful flap and kicks off from the ground. You scream as you take flight, tiny fingers digging into the solid muscle of Mirio’s chest and neck for safety. Between the sound of rushing wind and your own heartbeat jackhammering in your ears, you can barely make out the officer’s voice telling him to stop, followed by a rogue gunshot. And then there’s nothing. Nothing save for the wind in your hair and Mirio’s howl of victory as he carries you ever higher into the starry night sky.

“Stop!” You shriek, cold air stinging your battered face and forcing your eyes closed. “Put me down! Mirio, let go!”

Mirio doesn’t respond to your demands, either unable or unwilling to hear you as he sets off over the rooftops. After a few minutes of careful flying, he abruptly changes course, veering off westward and heading for the woods that ring the city limits.

“Keep Y/N safe.” Mirio says resolvedly, his voice rumbling through his chest and directly in your ear.

“Y/N… mine.”

•••••

Tags: @middevil465 @delightfully-anonymous

[3pirouette]

Fic: The Honey Trap (7/?)

Title: The Honey Trap By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Disclaimer: They're not mine. Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :) 

Story Summary: Peggy’d lost count. She wasn’t sure if she was a double or triple agent at this point, and in the end, it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting out of this alive.

A/N: Sorry that this chapter seems shorter, but that’s where the natural break was. I’m going to work on getting back onto a regular posting schedule, and may even try to get some mid-week posts in as I now have several WIPs thanks to Steggy Week *facepalm*

Fun fact: This afternoon I totally scrapped the ending I had originally planned because I think it fits much better with one of my other WIPs. So… now we’re all gonna find out where this goes together!

Chapter 7: Turning the Tables

January 3, 1945

Wallace stared at her, eyes cold and dead. “You could have jeopardized everything.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Peggy nearly laughed, lounging back on his bed. They faked a fight from the moment she showed up at the door, Wallace playing the jealous boyfriend to Peggy’s unbothered tone, but the fake fight died down the moment they stepped into the un-bugged bedroom. That didn’t mean Wallace was fully on board with her pretending to have an affair behind his back.

Though Peggy was now 100% sure that his bedroom was bugged, too. She was going to check the next time he stepped out to the loo.

Peggy stood and started to pace. “He’s Steve Rogers. Captain America.” She laughed and looked  at Wallace, but just rolled her eyes when he stayed stoic. “Our cover story is that they were caught and separated. Not that one of us broke up with the other, or cheated, or any horrible thing. We were wretched apart by the military.” She sighed heavily, sitting back on the bed. “Of course, we’d get back together, Richard.”

Wallace crossed his arms like an angry toddler. “So how does this help us?” He pushed away from where he’d been leaning against the wall and stepped into her space. “How does this give us more advantage?”

“It means we’re not passing notes like school girls,” Peggy said sharply, stepping back and reclaiming her own space. “Steve and I can talk, face to face, and strategize.”

“We’re already getting plenty of information. If Hydra starts to think I’m not competent or that you’ve turned back…”

“They won’t.” She could barely keep from smiling. “I can get more details now, like that they haven’t quite had the time to take the base over six clicks down on the French border.”

“The—”

Peggy felt a pang of victory at the way he had to hide his surprise. “Why, surely you know if it? The one Phillips plans to use as a base?”

“Of course!” he covered quickly, nodding and walking away to try to hide his concern. She saw the moment he came the conclusion she wanted him to, and the way his eyes brightened when he thought he had her cornered.

Oh, she thought, if only the little rat knew…

~*~ January 9, 1945

The Pub was busy, but she found Steve quickly in the back corner. Peggy didn’t waste a moment, but slipped into the chair across from him quickly, taking his hand in hers. “Darling,” she whispered, a smile on her face.

Steve, likewise, didn’t waste a second. He stood, pulling her right back up with him and out the back door. He stopped, kissed her fiercely and quickly, then looked her up and down. “Are you ok?”

She nodded, still surprised. “Yes, but, Steve—”

‘Wire?’  he asked with only the slightest hint of volume to his voice.

“No,” Peggy replied, loud and clear. “No surveillance on me that I’m aware except the man at the bar.”

“Good.” He pulled her farther past the trash cans to a bike hidden behind the next store over’s dumpster, and he swiftly settled her behind him before pulling out into the alley. After a complicated series of turns he slowed, and drove them up the back ramp of a parked delivery truck.

Peggy tightened her hold against him as the evening darkness turned to pitch black in the back of the truck. She heard the grunts as the ramp was pulled back into the truck and the back hatch was closed. She knew she had nothing to be afraid of, but the situation made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, anyway.

She heard the sizzle of a match as the truck lurched forward, and quickly two lamps were lit.

She’d never been happier to be in the back of a truck as the light touched the faces of Stark and Barnes. Steve set the stand on the bike and stood, helping her off. “Hope you don’t mind, we needed to get our heads together.”

Peggy looked at Barnes and Stark and Steve, all bouncing in the back of the truck along with her, and smiled. “It’s a risk, but for friendly faces? I’d say it’s worth it.”

The truck ride lasted all of five minutes, just enough time for Howard to arm her with a pen camera, a bug detector disguised as a lipstick, a compact that hid a new encryption key behind the mirror, a cigarette case that was actually a wireless telegraph, and a perfume bottle whose lid was actually an emergency beacon. As little was said as possible, and time was of the essence. Before she knew it, they’d parked again and Steve was lifting the motorcycle and turning it to face the ramp again.

Steve slid them back off the ramp of the truck and onto the streets of London smoothly, the gadgets safely in her purse and the short meeting enough to buoy her spirits. Holding tight to him as they weaved in and out of traffic, she couldn’t deny there was still fear simmering in her that this wouldn’t work, that they’d be outed, but it had been significantly quieted by the feeling of having a team with her.

Steve stopped them in the alley just across the street from Hydra’s favorite pub and French Bistro, in full view of the little apartment full of surveillance equipment. He gunned the engine once before shutting it down, making just enough ruckus that the curtains moved on her least favorite apartment.

They were being watched, and it was perfect.

Peggy slid off the bike and slipped around the front, settling herself in his lap. While the thought of kissing Steve for show wasn’t exactly enticing, they’d both done far worse things and the feel of his lips on hers, the way his hands gripped at her hips, made her heart beat faster.

“You think Wallace knows?” he asked, kissing his way down her neck.

“He knows I saw you once,” she said, struggling to make the words louder than a whisper. “He was quite sore at that.” They were barely close enough to be in range of the listening devices Hydra could use from the apartment, and she didn’t want them to miss a word. “But that I’m meeting you again? No.”

“Keep it that way,” he demanded, taking her lips again.

He slipped a hand up her thigh and she moaned, trying to climb higher into his lap. She lost herself in him for a while, relishing in the feel of his body under hers, the scent of the soap from the base that permeated his skin, the bulk of him wrapped around her. Even with Hydra only feet away, watching, she’d never felt safer. If there was going to be one good thing about this godforsaken assignment, this was going to be it.

She pulled away, breathless, and used her thumb to wipe the lipstick off his lip. “I’d usually make you buy me dinner first, soldier.”

He laughed, brushing the hair from her face. “Most places are closed by now, but we could try if you like.”

She smirked, running her finger over his cheek. “I should make you take me home, then.”

He turned and kissed the tip of her finger, then took her hand in his. “Worried about your virtue?”  

She didn’t even have to try to hide the hunger for him in her eyes. “Worried about yours.”

Steve licked his lips, his voice low and hoarse. “Don’t tempt me.” He looked away to collect himself, then pulled a letter out of his pocket and slipped it down the front of her dress. “For later.”

Peggy couldn’t tell which she was more impressed by: the fact that he’d found a way to slip her a letter in such a way that was so conspicuous that there was no way the Hydra agents didn’t see it, or that the same man she’d met in the back of that car who could barely stutter a response to a woman was being so suave with her. She bit her lip as his fingers hovered at the edge of her cleavage, very carefully not touching skin. She knew he could see every idea in her eyes of what she’d like to do if they weren’t being watched. “I should go,” she whispered, knowing full well it was what neither of them wanted.

“I could take you…” The offer was both play and real, the fear starting to show in his eyes now that he had to let her out of his sight.

“I’m just a few blocks over, wouldn’t want to get anyone suspicious.” She gently untangled herself from him, Steve helping to balance her as she shifted off the bike. She leaned over and kissed him softly one last time. “Same time next week?”

He nodded, one hand coming up to cup her cheek gently. “Yeah. Same place, ok?”

Peggy hated walking away from him. She felt his eyes on her every step it took to get to the small apartment building she called her own, and being on her own suddenly made her feel a little less sure about the whole thing.

But things were on her terms now, and they were going to bring Hydra down.

[a-bang-for-your-bucky]

Playin' With Fire: The Morning After

Summary: Santiago and Dani deal with the fallout of their actions the night before. Dani starts preparations to leave for South America with Santiago. We get to dive more into Dani and Santi’s relationship, and Santi learns something about Dani’s past.

Warnings: 18+, Implications of smut, suggestive language, explicit language, ANGST, mentions of a car wreck and death (no descriptions), Dani does experience some anxiety and self-consciousness.

Word Count: 5,851

A/N: This whole series is a wild ride of emotions, and as I proof-read for posting, I find myself wanting to go in a whole different direction than originally planned. After this part, we start getting into the events of the movie, which is separated into three chapters. There are cameos in this chapter from another favorite show of mine. I know it’s unlikely that these characters would ever meet, but fuck it, it’s fan-fiction.

Dani’s alarm went off at 5:00am. Groaning, she reached over to press snooze. The light of her phone made her squint. She twisted the switch on the bedside table lamp, emitting a small glow across her room. “Shit,” She cursed, her body deliciously sore from the events of the night before.

She was never good at dealing with “the morning after’. She almost hoped that Santiago had snuck out while she was sleeping, but the warmth of the space beside her told her he was still there. What did I do? She thought. Guilt washed over her as she rolled over to face the man in her bed. She studied the features of his face, memories of the night before flooded her mind. Just the thoughts made heat pool in the pit of her stomach.

“Staring is rude, sweetheart.” Santiago’s words startled her, making her gasp. “Sorry, Teq.” He chuckled, his eyes still closed. How did he even know? Right, trained soldier.

“You’re still here?” She asked him, surprise thick in her voice. His eyes snapped open to look at her.

“Why wouldn’t I be? You know you were more than a one night stand.” He explained, bringing a hand up to brush a stray strand of hair out of her face. “In fact, I really wouldn’t mind if last night happened again.” He suggested with a smirk.

Dani was speechless, staring at his sexy, sleepy, face. “I, uh, um, I have to shower. My shift starts at seven.” She stuttered over her words, trying not to let him see the effect he was having on her. She moved to get up, only stopping because she remembered she was naked. “Could you, um, not look when I get up?” She blushed nervously, pulling the sheet tighter around her.

“Really Teq? Yeah, I won’t look.” He promised, then added, “Even though I already know you have a little birthmark that looks like a heart on your ass.” he teased her, and she smacked him with a pillow. Santiago shut his eyes and squeezed them tight.

Once she was sure he wasn’t peaking, she rushed up and over to the chair in the corner of her room, wrapping herself in her fuzzy robe. “Okay, you can open them.”

He slowly opened his eyes, taking in the sight of her. Her dirty blonde hair was a mess of loose curls. If this was how she looked every morning, he wouldn’t mind waking up with her. He knew he should feel bad. If, when Frankie finds out that he slept with her, that he is taking her to South America, he’s gonna be pissed. It might just ruin their friendship, but in this moment, looking at Dani, he didn’t care.

Dani felt self-conscious under Santiago’s gaze. She pulled the robe tighter around her body, trying to cover herself more. He noticed immediately, and all but jumped off the bed toward her. “Dani, you are absolutely beautiful. You don’t have to hide from me.” He complimented her and he meant every word. He embraced her face with his hands, his thumbs, lovingly brushing over her cheeks. Slowly, Santiago lowered his lips to hers. Gently, he coaxed her lips apart with his own, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue past them.

The kiss wasn’t hurried like the previous night. He took his time, tracing the contour of her mouth, memorizing the feeling of her lips on his. The kiss gradually grew more fervent, needy. It was almost as if they separated, they would fall to pieces. Santiago released her face, moving his hands to the tie of her robe. Dani groaned as she pulled away, his hands falling to her hips, to keep her close. “I have to shower.” She said, reminding herself more than Santiago.

“I’ll join you.” He countered, fiddling with the tie again. She shook her head.

“Santi, I have to go to work. And you do, too.” She pointed out, grabbing his hands away. Their fingers laced together as he moved to place methodical kisses to her neck.

She whimpered as he nibbled her ear and he whispered, “I’ll make it quick. Let me make you feel good, querida.” How could she say no to that?

Forty-five minutes later, they exited Dani’s room and walked into the kitchen. Benny was already up, pouring a cup of coffee. “Morning,” He greeted them with a raised brow.

“Morning, Benny!” Santi beamed with a huge smile, all but telling Benny what had transpired between them. Benny tossed a knowing look at Dani.

“Don’t say anything, Benjamin.” Dani warned him with a pointed finger, “I have fifteen minutes to get to work.” She added, as she poured the liquid energy into her travel cup. Santiago handed her the creamer with a wink.

“Oh, Danika Kate, we are so talking about this later.” Benny teased, as she flew by him, grabbing her bag and keys. Santi threw Benny a ‘bye’ over his shoulder as he quickly followed behind her.

He walked her to her white Camry, opening the door for her to slide in. She started the car, rolling down the window, and closed the door.

“Can I at least get a goodbye kiss?” He pouted. All Dani could think about was biting that bottom lip. She acquiesced to his request, nodded her head ‘yes’.

He leaned into the window, giving her a sweet peck. Dani felt her stomach flutter. She knew she was in trouble. “I’ll call you later. Maybe we can grab a late dinner and talk about Colombia, yeah?” He hoped, not really wanting her to leave.

“Yeah, I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.” She smiled, taking a quick glance at her watch. “Shit, I really have to go.” Santiago gave her one more quick kiss before telling her bye, and she drove away. The two of them were too caught up in each other to see Frankie’s truck stopped in the road, where he saw everything.

Dani had gotten to the hospital right on time. She barely made it through the ER doors before she was being called, “Dr. Reid.” She spotted the head nurse waving her over to the nurse’s station.

“Hey, Rebecca. How was your night?” Dani asked with a smile, sitting her stethoscope down on the counter to toss her messy hair into a bun, and then threw it back around her neck.

“It was hectic. We got slammed with a four car pile up after you left.” Rebecca sighed, handing her a tablet. “Bed four is ready to be seen. He came in with a complaint of ‘his worst headache ever’. BP is 185/100 with a long history of hypertension.” She presented to Dani as she looked over his chart.

Dani thanked her and moved toward the occupied bed. “Mr. Turner, this is your third time here this month. I thought we talked about this?” Dani chided, checking over his vital signs machine.

Mr. Turner shifted in the bed, “I know, Dr. Reid, but those meds made me feel so bad. I can’t take ‘em. Can’t you just give me something for the headache?” The patient requested.

Dani shook her head. “What good will it do you if we don’t treat the cause? Mr. Turner, your blood pressure is severely uncontrolled.” Dani paused, pinching the bridge of her nose, “If you don’t get this under control, you can die or have a stroke.” She explained to him, but could tell she was getting nowhere.

She pulled the rolling stool over to his bedside, taking a seat. “Here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna treat your blood pressure first. Once we get that down, if the headache doesn’t go away, I’ll treat it. Deal?” She bargained with him. Mr. Turner grumbled an ‘okay’ knowing he wasn’t going to win. “Perfect. Rebecca or Nicole will be back with your medicine.” She patted him on the shoulder, flashing him a sweet smile.

Walking back over to the nurse’s station, she gave Nicole the medication orders. Dani made sure to tell Nicole to get her if the patient gave her any trouble. Dani liked working mornings in the ER. Usually, it was pretty slow.

She sat behind her computer, working on chart notes, when she heard a commotion in the ER lobby. “I’m looking for Dr. Reid. I’m her so-called best friend.” She knew that voice. Dani rose from her seat so fast she knocked it to the ground as she ran out of her office. She rushed around the corner to see Frankie being held by two security guards. “Fuck,” She mumbled, stomping toward him.

“Tequila!” Frankie boomed, trying to move past the guards. “Come on, Teq. Tell ‘em to let me go.” He told her as they continued their hold.

She shook her head, “Frankie, stop. Let’s go talk somewhere that isn’t in the middle of my ER” She looked around at the growing crowd as she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward her office. She closed the door behind them. Dani walked around her wooden desk, picking up the knocked over computer chair. “What the hell are you doing, Frankie?” She questioned him, taking a seat.

Frankie scoffed, “I could ask you the same damn thing.” Frankie sat in one of the other chairs, crossing his arms.

“I’m trying to fucking work, Fish.” She hissed at him. His nostrils flared, a quick sign that he was mad.

“I saw you and Pope.” He confessed, and Dani’s heart dropped. Thoughts raced through her mind. She wasn’t sure how to explain it. Then again, after everything Frankie has done in the last twenty-four hours, did she care?

“That’s none of your business.” She replied calmly, sitting forward in her seat. “You have no right to be upset.”

Frankie rolled his eyes, “You fucked my best friend, I think I do.” The words flew from his mouth before he could stop them. Dani’s eyes widened and she stood up.

“Get out. This conversation is over.” She demanded, pointing toward the door. Frankie didn’t move. “Get the fuck out, Morales, before I call security.” Frankie conceded, standing up, opening the door, and walked out.

Once she was sure he was gone, she let out a shaky breath, falling back into her seat. She cradled her head, thinking about how everything had gotten so messed up. Frankie had no right to be mad at her, right?

A knock at the door drew her out of her thoughts, and she lifted her head. “Shit, you okay Reid?” The doctor in the doorway asked.

She wiped the stray tears that had fallen and sniffled, “Yeah, I’m good, Karev. Have you seen the Chief? I need to talk to her.”

Dr. Karev studied her face for a second before answering, “Last I saw her, she was in her office. Are you sure you’re good?” He asked again, concerned. She nodded, and he went on his way.

Dani left her office, walking toward the Chief of Surgery’s. She stopped outside of the door, the sign read ‘Dr. Meredith Grey, Chief of Surgery.’ She took a deep breath to center herself before knocking on the door. A muffled ‘come in’ filtered through the wood. She opened the door and stepped inside. “Ah, Dr. Reid, just who I needed to see.” Dr. Grey welcomed, gesturing for her to have a seat, which she quickly took. This wasn’t good.

“I heard there was an incident in the ER lobby this morning. What happened?” She questioned her. Dani gulped, unsure of how to answer.

“I’m so sorry, Mere. It was my friend, Frankie.” Dani sighed. She wasn’t going to need to put in a leave, because she was going to get fired.

“Frankie, like the best friend with the coke addiction, Frankie? Why would he be screaming in the lobby?” Meredith wanted to know. Dani had talked to her some about what he had been going through, trying to get advice on how to help him.

“It’s a really long story. The short version is: He did something stupid, really stupid. And then I did something that may or may not have as equally stupid. He found out, and threw a tantrum about it.” Dani explained, realizing that maybe that wasn’t the short version. Meredith cocked an eyebrow at her, shaking her head.

“I swear, you residents are going to be the death of me. Keep your drama at home, Reid.” Meredith groused and rubbed her temples. Dani didn’t want to mention South America now, but she had to; A month would go by faster than she could blink.

“Um, there was actually something I needed to talk to you about. A friend of mine got me connected with a hospital in Colombia, South America. They offered me a position, and I really wanna take it.” Nervousness was radiating off of Dani as she finally spoke these words out loud. Meredith was the first person she had told that she was going. If she couldn’t tell her, how was she going to tell Benny and Will? How was she going to tell Frankie?

“That’s, that’s great, Dani. You should go. I will work on getting the paperwork you will need. And you will always have a spot here at Memorial.” Meredith promised her. Those words lifted a weight off of her. She quickly thanked her, and got up to leave. “Hey, why don’t you take the day off? You’ve been working a lot lately. You can’t save lives if you’re tired.” Meredith added.

“Thank you, Chief.” Dani said sincerely

before walking back to her office to gather her things. She quickly typed a text to Santiago. Hey, Grey is letting me off for the day. We need to talk, Frankie showed up at the hospital. She pressed send and exhaled sharply.

Santiago responded when she was getting into her car. Fuck, is everything okay? Do I need to come to you?

No. Just meet me at the house.

Santiago was sure he broke a hundred laws getting to the Miller house. He didn’t know what Frankie had done, but if Dani had left early from work, it couldn’t be good. She was already home when he pulled into the driveway. He was inside the house and in her room before he recognized he even got out of his truck. “Teq?” She was sitting on her bed, staring at the doorway.

“Frankie knows, Santi.” Was all she responded. Santiago cursed under his breath, moving to take a seat next to her. “He showed up at the hospital, caused a scene.” Dani continued to tell him everything.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Santiago groaned. This wasn’t how he wanted Frankie to find out. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. He turned to look at her. Her face was void of any emotion. “Are you okay?” He asked. She nodded and it wasn’t entirely a lie.

The events of the day showed her that she needed to go. That she wasn’t doing anyone any good here. She knew that if she stayed, she’d destroy herself trying to save Frankie. It wasn’t her responsibility to save someone who didn’t want to save themselves. It would break her heart, but broken hearts are easier healed than broken spirits.

“So, you’re really going with me?” Santiago’s cedar eyes bright with happiness as the words rolled off his tongue. He slung an arm around her shoulder. Pulling her into him, so she could rest her head against him.

“I’m going, Pope.” She sighed, content with her decision. “Meredith is already working on my travel papers. I”m gonna finish my shifts for the next two weeks, that way I’ll have plenty of time to pack.”

“Pack?” Will’s voice made their heads whip toward the door. “What do you mean ‘pack’?” Will asked again, widening his stance, arms crossing over his chest.

“We’re going to have to tell’em eventually, Cariño.” Santiago said, placing a kiss to her head.

Dani sat there staring at Will. He had been her rock for years. The entire Miller family had taken her in after the accident. When Will joined the army, it was her he wrote letters to. When Benny joined, it was the same way. The two men quickly took over the role of ‘older brother’ teaching her how to defend herself; Their father taught her basic car maintenance; Their mother taught her to cook.

“Okay. Someone tell me what the fuck is going on.” Will cured, “When did this happen?” He gestured between Dani and Santiago.

“You have missed a lot in the last twenty-four hours, hermano.” Santiago told him as he removed his arm from around her. Dani shifted, creating some space between her and the man beside her. Will moved further into the room, taking a seat in her corner chair.

Dani fiddled with her fingers, not even sure where to begin. Santiago noticed her nerves, offering her his hand for comfort. She accepted, lacing her fingers with his. The warmth from him flowed through her, causing her to shiver. Feeling like she could face anything holding Santiago’s hand, she took a deep breath before telling Will what happened with Frankie. By the end of the story, Will’s face had his emotions written all over it.

He was pissed. How could Frankie do that to her? How could she run away with Pope? “So, you’re just gonna leave?” He asked, voice low and gravely. “You think that’s the answer?”

She shook her head, “No, I don’t. But I’m not thinking about me. I’m thinking about the good I can do there. I’m thinking about the people I can save.” Dani put emphasis on ‘can’ to try and get her point across.

Will nodded, understanding where she was coming from. They had a similar conversation when he left for the army. “If this is truly what you want, then I support you, one hundred percent.” Will gave her his blessing. Dani launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his middle.

“Thank you, Will.” She chirped as he squeezed her tightly. She released him, straightening herself up.

“Don’t thank me yet, sweetheart. You still have to tell Benny.” Dani’s eyes widened. Benny was going to be crushed.

After the conversation, Will had left Dani and Santiago, but not before threatening that he’d hunt Santi down if Dani didn’t make it back. Santiago promised he’d protect her as if his life depended on it, which it did.

Not long after, Santiago left. His lunch break was long over and his boss was blowing up his phone. Dani used the time to herself to sit and think about everything. The more she thought about it, the more she knew she was making the right choice. She contemplated on how she was going to tell Benny. She decided to make his favorite dinner; His mom’s famous chicken pot pie. Thankfully, she had everything she needed.

Benny entered the house right as Dani pulled the meal out of the oven. “Holy shit. Tell me that’s what I think it is.” Benny grinned as he dropped his keys to the counter.

“Yep! Momma Miller’s chicken pot pie!” Dani answered him, putting the piping hot dish on the counter. “Why don’t you go clean up while it cools?”

Benny walked around the island to hug her. “You’re the best, Tequila. What did I do to deserve a best friend like you?” He questioned out loud before walking back through the house. Dani’s stomach dropped. She wasn’t ready for this.

Benny came back into the kitchen about fifteen minutes later. Dani had the table set for just the two of them. “What about Will?” Benny asked at the sight of the two plates.

“Date. Probably won’t be back tonight.” Dani replied, grabbing a beer out of the fridge. She handed it to the blonde man in front of her, gesturing for him to sit.

“Alright. What’s up, Teq? I know you well enough to know when something’s wrong.” Benny called her out. The two of them have never had secrets. Will always joked that they were more like siblings than he and Benny were.

Dani told Benny all about Frankie while they ate. She explained everything that happened between her and Santiago. “Santi, he, uh. He’s asked me to go to South America with him. And I said yes.” She whispered, and Benny almost choked.

“You can’t go to South America.” Benny said in between coughs. He cleared his throat. “Teq, you can’t go. I feel like I just got you back.”

Tears welled in her eyes, “Oh, Ben. You never lost me. You are always going to be the pain in the ass brother I always wanted.” She reached across the table to him. “I’ll text and call whenever I can. I'm not gonna be gone forever.” She promised him.

Benny stood up, his chair scraping against the tile. He pulled Dani to her feet, embracing her in his arms. The hug told Dani everything she needed to know. He was silently giving her his approval. They sat back down and finished eating, Benny asking the occasional question about what she would be doing there. She honestly didn’t know, but she was excited to see where this path would take her. When they were done, Benny helped her clean up, loading the dishwasher while she put away the leftovers.

The two of them dropped to the couch, turning on a movie. Benny hit pause and turned to her. “I gotta know. Is the sex that good, that you’d follow him to another country?” He jested, his voice playful.

Dani rolled her eyes, “Wouldn’t you like to know. Looking for tips, Miller?” She chuckled, throwing him a wink. Benny huffed a laugh, sticking his tongue out at her before he un-paused the movie.

Week by week, the days seemed to pass by a little faster. As their departure date grew closer, Dani grew more nervous. Not nervous, like she was regretting her decision, but nervous like she couldn’t wait to see what the future held for her.

Although they completely supported their friend, Will and Benny tried to get her to stay. They hated that she was leaving. They even tried to get their mom to convince her to stay. Boy, did that backfire. Momma Miller was nothing but excited for her, telling Dani to take complete advantage of the wondrous opportunity.

Dani laid in her bed, sparing a glance at her phone. 6:30am. Santiago would be there soon, coming to take her to get her stuff from the hospital. She finished her last shift days ago, but put off getting her things. A piece of her wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Carolina Memorial had been her home. She experienced all of her ‘real doctor’ firsts there.

Pulling herself together, she slithered out of bed. Throwing on her robe, she tip-toed to the kitchen trying not to wake Benny. She started a pot of coffee. As if on cue, Benny shuffled into the room as the liquid began to drip. His blonde hair a mess, sleep still heavy in his eyes. “Good morning, Benjamin.” She said sweetly. He grumbled a response that she only assumed meant ‘Good morning’. Dani never understood why Benny still got up so early, even though he was not a morning person.

Luckily for Benny, Dani knew just how to perk him up. “Coffee, black, no sugar.” She said as she handed him a cup. Benny hummed in appreciation, taking the drink. Dani poured her own coffee, gazing out the kitchen window.

In true North Carolina fashion, the weather changed almost instantly. The day before had been beautiful, but today rain moved in, fog blocking out the sunshine. Dani hated days like this. Benny, who had drained his coffee, noticed Dani staring out the Window. He knew what was going through her head; He was the one who picked her up after.

“Hey.” Benny called out to her, and she turned to look at him. He didn’t need to say anything else, he just opened his arms.

“I’m gonna miss you, Benny-boy.” She spoke into his chest, and Benny chuckled at the nickname. He hadn’t been called that in years. Benny squeezed her tighter, only pulling away when loud bangs resounded through the house.

“Must be Pope.” Dani shrugged, pouring Benny another cup of coffee. Benny took it, going to open the door for him.

“Reid, I know you’re up. ¡Vamos!” Santiago yelled through the wood.

He jumped when the door swung open to reveal a very annoyed looking Benny. “What the fuck, man?” He groaned, taking a swig of his coffee.

Santiago smiled, “Sorry, Benny. I’m here to take Tequila to get her shit from the hospital.” He apologized. Benny mumbled something under his breath, moving to the side to let his friend in.

“She’s in the kitchen.” Benny said, gesturing toward it. Santiago slapped his shoulder as he passed by him, hastily making his way to her.

Santiago knew something was wrong when Dani hesitantly climbed into the cab of his red Ford. He recognized the look on her face, the anxiety. He’d worn that look many times. He didn’t press for information though. He just gave her hand a squeeze, reminding her that he was there.

As they drove along, something had dawned on Santiago. “So, we’ve known each other for what two years now?” Santiago asked Dani. She nodded in response, keeping her eyes on the road. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

She nodded again, “Santi, you’ve seen me naked. I think we are past ‘personal’.” She replied, fingers doing air quotes around personal.

Santiago bit his lip at the memory. It was only one night, but it was one of the best nights of his life. “You’ve met all of our families, right? Why haven’t we met yours?” He wondered, never recalling her even mentioning her family. Dani sucked in a breath at the question. She knew this day would come. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to tell him, it just wasn’t a pleasant memory.

“You guys are my family.” She whispered. “Well, the only family I have left. My parents died when I was seventeen, right before I was supposed to graduate. The Millers took me in, basically adopting me.” Dani paused, feeling Santi reach over to grab her hand. “I’m an only child, so Will and Benny are the big brothers I never had. No aunts, uncles, or cousins either.” She told him. The look on his face was the reason why she never told people, the look of pity.

“I’m sorry, Teq. How? If you-” He apologized, but she cut him off.

“It’s okay. They, uh, they wrecked their car. On a morning just like this. It was horrific. The hospital that they were transported to wasn’t a trauma center. They did their best to stabilize them for transfer, but it was too late.” She felt a tear drop as she sniffled.

Santiago wanted nothing more than to pull the truck over and take her in his arms. “I’m so sorry, Dani. Is that, is that why you became a trauma surgeon?” His words faltered, not wanting to push for too much information. She nodded; All she ever wanted was to do her best to prevent anyone from going through what she did.

The two gathered Dani’s belongings from her office rather quickly. Dani didn’t want to make a big deal about it. Meredith had stopped by, warning Santiago that he better take care of Dani or else and gave him the glare. Once they left, he told Dani that Meredith reminded him of Medusa, icy stare and all. She laughed so hard her stomach hurt, telling him that’s what the interns called her.

Dani remembered the night she first met Santiago Garcia. She had just graduated med school, completed her internship and was looking for a hospital to complete her residency. She reached out to the Miller brothers, who she grew up with, and stayed very close to. They welcomed her into their North Carolina home with open arms.

It was her first week there and the boys mentioned that they were having a friend coming in for a visit. “Pope is a good guy, one of the best, but will flirt with anything that has a pussy.” Ben warned her. She laughed at her friend’s crudness.

“Benny, you know I can handle myself. There is a reason y’all call me Tequila.” She reminded him, and Benny just nodded. “Besides, that is the last thing I need. I have a residency to focus on.”

Friday quickly approached. Benny went to meet Santiago at the airport while Dani and Will stayed to prepare for his arrival. Dani was helping Will cook dinner, when he came in from the back yard. “So, uh, I burnt the steaks.” Will confessed, rubbing the back of his neck. Dani threw a kitchen towel at him.

“Will! I marinated those steaks all day! How did you burn them?” She asked him, laying her head on the counter. “What are we going to feed your friend now?” The words were mumbled into the granite, but Will still heard her. He walked around, rubbing her shoulders.

“Santi will be fine with burgers from Luanne’s. You don’t need to impress him.” Will assured her and she groaned, standing up straight.

“Yes, I do. Aside from me, he’s one of your oldest friends. I want to make a good impression.” Dani knew she sounded whiny, but she really did want to impress Santiago. Will just gave her a look. “Fine, I’ll go ahead and call in an order. You think Benny will want his usual?” She asked, reaching for her cell. Will nodded and asked for his usual too. Dani quickly ordered their dinner, telling Will it was on him because he fucked up the steaks. Will laughed, tossing her his card and keys.

“Go get our food, Tequila.” He said teasingly. She shot him a quick middle finger before grabbing her bag and walking out the door.

Luanne’s was packed that night, so Dani ended up waiting a lot longer than she thought she would. Will had sent her a text saying that Benny was back and Santiago was asking where the mysterious Tequila was. She replied promptly, letting him know that she was leaving the diner now and that Luanne threw in a few slices of her apple pie for the wait.

Dani pulled Will’s jeep into the driveway. She slid out of the driver’s side, walking around to get the bag of food. She walked into the house, yelling that she was back. It was like a stampede through the Miller household. Benny rounded the corner first, followed by Will. Santiago came around last, calling Benny a “fucking cheater”.

“Guys, slow down.” Dani chuckled, walking the rest of the way into the kitchen. “What are you cheating at now, Benjamin?”

“Fucker thought he could pull a quick one. That was my fucking mushroom and you know it, Benny.” Santi explained, flashing a bright smile in Dani’s direction. “So, Tequila, I presume?” He stretched out a hand, introducing himself.

“Nice to finally meet you, Santiago. I’ve heard so many things about you.” She replied, shaking his hand. She pulled her hand back, and Santi shamelessly let his eyes roam over her.

“All good things, I hope? And Please, you can call me Santi.” He flirted, tongue swiping out to wet his lips, before sucking his bottom one back between his teeth. Dani scoffed and shook her head.

“Well boys, you were right. He didn’t even last five minutes.” Dani snorted, handing out the to-go boxes.

“Let’s eat. Then I can go back to kicking your asses at MarioKart.” Benny joked, before ripping into the container and taking a bite of his burger. “God, I swear Luanne makes the best burgers.” He groaned. The four of them ate, chit-chatting comfortably. Dani was surprised at how easy she fell in with Santi. It was like they had known each other forever.

Dani smiled fondly at the memory. Her and Santi stayed in touch after that weekend. She never imagined she’d find herself here, moving to another country with the man.

Even now though, when Santi had taken up so much of her time, she found her thoughts drifting back to Frankie. She was leaving in less than 24 hours and she still hadn’t told him. Dani picked up her phone, thumb hovering over the call symbol in Frankie’s contact. Before she could talk herself out of it, she pressed it. The line rang once, before going straight to voicemail. You’ve reached Frankie Morales. Leave a message. “Fuck.” Dani sighed out, tossing the phone to the bed.

Maybe it's better this way, maybe I should just go. Dani knew it would be hard, not saying goodbye. So she wrote him a letter. A letter telling him she was leaving, that she was sorry, and she would see him again.

Dani and Santiago opted for a midnight flight; The airport was almost empty. "You can still stay, you know? I won't hold it against you." Santi whispered to her. He could see the hurt in her eyes. He knew leaving would be hard on her, especially after everything with Frankie.

"You're stuck with me, Pope. My name is already on the apartment lease." She smiled at him. She was more than ready to go. Ready to make peace with her past and embrace her future.

Frankie woke up and started his normal morning routine. Vanessa was already in the kitchen making coffee. "Hey, this was stuck to the door." She told him, handing him an envelope. His name in her hand writing. He ripped it open, pulling the paper out. His eyes roamed the page, reading every word.

"No. No. No." Frankie mumbled, "fuck, I have to go." Frankie grabbed his keys and rushed over to her house.

He banged on the door, not relenting until Will opened it. "Tell me she isn't gone. Tell me Dani didn't leave." Frankie cried, still gripping the letter in his hand.

Will shook his head. " I'm sorry, Fish. They flew out last night."

Frankie's heart stalled in his chest. He dropped to the concrete of Will's porch. She was gone. He never got to apologize for anything. She was gone.

Catfish,

I hope this finds you well. I tried, Frankie. I tried to call. I tried to come see you. After everything that’s happened, I figured that this way was for the best. I’m leaving , Fish. I’m going to South America with Santi. By the time you get this, I’ll already be 35,000 feet in the air.

I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I’m so fucking sorry. I wanted so bad to help you, to be what you needed, but I wasn’t. And that’s okay.

Frankie, when we meet again, I hope things are better. I hope you are better. I want nothing but happiness for you. You will always be my best friend.

Love always,

Tequila.

TAGS: @danniburgh @speakerforthedead0 @221bshrlocked

Translations:

Querida- dear, lover

Vamos- Let’s go

Hermano- Brother

[rueren]

3 𝓪𝓶 ~ 𝓡.𝓣𝓪𝓷𝓪𝓴𝓪

warnings : #none #this shits cute  #swearing #sneaking out(?)

content: prev. established relationship. basically he misses you and you guys go out at 3 am.

word count : 2513

pairings : Tanaka Ryūnosuke x reader

Finally.  Sleep at last.  It took so long to go to bed; the anime you had been waiting for for so long had finally dropped its first season at 6 pm, and you binged your way through the whole thing.  So by the time your head hit the pillow it was …. 1 am?  Not too bad, you thought to yourself as your head finally hit the pillow. 

Tap.  Tap.  Tap.  Your brows furrowed, still groggy from sleep.  That stupid tree branch.  You knew you should've told someone that it's gotten dangerously close to your window.  First thing in the morning, then. 

Tap.  Tap.  Tap tap tap.  It became more insistent.  Your blood rushed to your ears.  It's just the tree branch... Right?  Remnants of sleep leaving your system, your nerves were on end.  Slowly, your head peeked out from under your covers, twisting towards your window, without your body moving an inch.  There seemed to be no shadow of anything, so you stood up slowly, and grabbed the bat you left under your bed.  

You slid across the wall and made your way over to the window.  Still, nothing could be seen from outside.  Your ears filled with the sound of your pulse, you forced your hand to the latch that unlocks the window, and threw it open, and at the same time swung the bat out the opening.  

“What the fuck, babe” a voice cried from the other side of the window followed by scuffling.  Your ears picked up at the sound, and you threw your curtains to the side. 

“Ryu?” You said exasperated, breathing heavy from the adrenaline.  “What the hell are you doing here, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Answer your phone once in your life, and you won't get scared,” He heaved, hand over his chest, “I almost died, you know.  Your damn bat literally grazed my lashes.” 

“My phone…what are you talking about?”, you stomped your way over to your phone, “You never called me, what are you talking about…” 4 missed calls and 12 messages.  

You turned around, sporting a guilty smile, to see your boyfriend staring at you, eyes sharp, and lips curled in a sly smirk.  “Gonna say something?” 

“You gonna come in or you want me to come out?” You avoided the question, rubbing your eye and pulling down your shirt over your pajama pants.  

“Come sit out here with me, it's pretty,” he smiled, pulling his hood off.  You crawled out your window onto the  small sliver of roof, ducking under the branch that pressed up against your window.  He held out his hand for you to stabilize yourself as you sat down beside him, tucked into his side.  

You tilted your head back to look up at his face.  It’s amazing how often it would slip your mind how good looking he actually was. His face had a tinge of pink to it from the crisp fall night air, his nose red from being nipped by the cold.  Sharp eyes with stars dancing in them as he watched the night sky, his jaw just as sharp.  With his chaotic personality, it was almost impossible  to forget just how serene moments like this with him are.  

He noticed you looking up at him, and hummed in response, squeezing his arm around you before running his knuckles along the bare skin of your arm. “Whatchu lookin at, huh,”  his smirk replaced the calmer expression he previously had on, and you rolled your eyes and poked his ribs.

“So why are you here?”  You quirked up a brow, “It’s the middle of the night, shouldn't you be home?��

“Yeah, but Saeko’s got friends over and they're so freakin’ loud I can’t even hear my own thoughts” He grumbled, his head gets thrown back and it thunps against the bricks of your house. 

“Don’t act like you were even sleeping, you liar,” You laughed.  “And aren’t you used to this by now?  She's always got people over.  You sleep like a log, anyway.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Okay fine.  But do I really need a reason to wanna come over?” 

“At 2 am, yeah.” Your hand cupped his face and his cheeks squished together.  Even under the darkness, you could see his face go red, and not just from the cold.  His eyes wandered everywhere but to yours.  

It was cute, you always thought. How even after dating for so long, he’d still get bashful and turn into a blushing mess over the smallest things.  Things you’ve done multiple times, he would randomly get flustered over.  Hugs, kisses, small intimate moments.  You fell for him more each passing day, if it was even possible to fall for someone that hard.

“Well, too bad.  I don’t have a reason.  I came to see you just because I can,” He puffed out his chest, and your hand slipped.  He smiled,  “I’m just that nice of a boyfriend.”

“You came here with no reason?  Then what are we gonna do, stare at each other?”

“If you let me, yeah.” He said.  Now your own face flushed. It didn’t even make sense how the same boy who would randomly get flustered over a hug coils say things like that with such ease.  He didn’t even realize what they did to you, which made them affect you that much more.

“Oh my god, shut up,” You mumbled, shoving your face into your hands and falling into his chest. His laugh rang through you, shaking in chest, and his arms wrapped around you again, pulling you close out of the cold.  

“You’re freezing, oh my god I’m so stupid,” He panics, and nudges you to move for a minute. “Here, take this.” He pulls off the puffer jacket he’s got on and draped it over you, leaving him in his olive green hoodie.

“You’re not cold?” You ask, pulling the collar closer to your chin.  He shook his head, “I’m good. Got a shirt under this,” he motioned to the hoodie.

“Weirdo, who wears shirts under their sweaters,” you stuck your tongue out at him, and he flicks your forehead. He pulled your legs over his own, and tucked you back into his side.

A stray cat wandered underneath the lamp post across the street, no cars in sight.  The silence was welcomed, both just enjoying each other's presence for a while.  Your schedules had gotten really hectic, with his team going to nationals in a few weeks.  You honestly couldn't have been any more proud of him. 

“Just missed you, you know” He muttered.  His temple rested against the crown of your head, tugging your legs even further across his own, hand on your thigh.  “Missed you so much. Practice is a lot.  I love it, you know that.  The guys are all great, amazing.  They all work so hard, so I can't just .. not work as hard as them, you know.” He kissed your head, and you look back up at him, your hand going to hold his.

“You’re doing so great,” a chaste kiss is pressed to the back of his hand. “You work so hard,” another kiss to his other.  “I know everyone's so proud of you,” a kiss to his forehead. “And you have no idea,” to his cheek, “How proud you make me,” his other cheek.  “Never wanna imagine my life without you,” and finally to his lips. 

His hands seemed frozen in place for a minute, before going to the small of your back, pulling you in further.  Your hands find purchase on the sides of his face, thumbs caressing his cheek bones.

You missed him. It's been over a week since you guys hung out outside of school, and even then it was cut short sometimes by practice.  Not that you would ever hold it against him.  He tries his best, he really does.  His team relies on him. He relies on them.  The way he is on the court - it's like he’s a different person.  It’s all the best qualities of him brought to the surface.  Determined, stubborn, loyal, reliable, uplifting.  Everything you loved about him.  

What felt like hours later you pulled apart, and rested your foreheads against one another.  He smiled before pecking your lips one last time.  

“Okay, I know what we're doing.” He smiled proudly.  Your eyes followed him as he made his way to stand up on the small sliver of your roof on your side of the house.  

“Going to sleep?” you said, as he held out a hand to get you up. 

His head shook, “Nope, corner store.”

“What?” 

“Corner store.  You know, that place that sells buns and drinks and snacks and shit,” once you're on your feet, he hops over onto the tree by your room.  You watch him, mouth still open in confusion as you watch him climb down.  When he’s down on the ground, he looks back up at you, and beckons you down to him.  “C'mon babe, come down.”

“Are you crazy, I can't climb down that thing.”

“Sure you can,”  he says, grinning.  “You do it all the time.”

“Not in this dark!”

“I’ll catch you, don't worry.” 

Mulling it over in your head, you eventually rolled your eyes and gave in.  “Gimme a sec.”

“Hurry up, baby.”

“Shh, not so loud!”

“Woops, sorry.” He smiled, a toothy grin flashing up at you, swinging back and forth on his heels.  He whisper-yelled, “Hurry up!”

You ducked back into your house to check if your parents were still asleep.  When you saw them snoring away in their rooms, you crept back downstairs to grab a random pair of shoes. Back in your room, you picked up the first hoodie you could find - Tanaka’s old one, all black with a red pocket on the front  - and your phone and wallet.  You scoot your way out the window, pulling it down without locking it.

Climbing down the tree was so much harder than he made it look.  He stuck his arms out to you on the last branch, and you half jumped half kicked off the tree trunk.  He caught you with little problem, and the two of you ran down the street light lit road, stumbling over your own two feet.  

***

The fluorescent lights flickered.  You grabbed the bag of chips from the corner and tossed it into the corner of the cart by your foot.  Tanaka grabed another bag you pointed to that was out of your reach and dropped it on your head.  You cover your head too late, and tilt your head all the way back to glare at him.  In one swift motion he's grabbing your chin and leaning down to kiss you, tongue sweeping over your bottom lip once before pulling away. 

Your eyes stay closed for a second longer than his ego should witness.  Once they open, you can literally see his eyes shining and that stupid grin plastered right across his face.  

“Push this damn cart, Ryu.” you laugh and turn around in the cart, so that you're facing him with your back at the opposite end of it.  “I want candy.”

“Of course, what am I a heathen?” He shoves the cart and lets you glide for a while, your eyes widening in a plea for him to not let you knock into anything.  “It’s not a 3 am snack run without candy, duh.”  He catches up to the cart and stopped it before you rolled into a stack of toilet paper.  He avoided the glare you sent him, and turned you guys into the next aisle.  

You pulled out your phone to take a video of him studying the candy aisle, talking to himself.  The second the video starts, you’re instantly reminded of the fact that you had to put your flash on earlier, and bright light shines into his face abruptly, ruining your plan.  He covers his eyes before grabbing the camera and turning it to the two of you and a squeal leaves your lips.  Cupping your chin again, he’s tilting your lips up towards him and right before smashing them to yours, the question leaves his mouth. 

“This okay?” You nod, your stomach doing flips. He stays there smiling down at you, too long for your liking, and you take the initiative, grabbing the drawstrings of his hoodie in your hands and using it to tug him down to meet you.

You don’t see it but his eyes widen from the abruptness of it all.  He may seem smooth, but whenever you one up him he’s flustered all over again. He recovered though, tongue sweeping over your lips, gaining access and then sweeping over your own tongue.  He’s hovering over you, bent so far over due to his height. He’s got a hand holding the railing of the cart, so he doesn't fall over, the other’s got the phone still pointed towards you, and you can feel the light of the flash on the back of your eyelids.  

You don’t pull apart until you hear shuffling from behind you, and you pull back long enough to see some dude trying to get by.  You immediately push Tanaka back, who’s eyes flutter open, and see the dude glaring at you both.  A meek “sorry man” slips his mouth and he turns to grab the cart and move you both out of the aisle.  

Once you've both left the aisle you look at each other and muffle your laughs into your hands.  Tanaka’s got the camera pointed at you, as you laugh in that sleepy state you're both in.  He smiles as you cover your face with your hand stretched outwards to block it from the camera.  He motions for you to come closer, and the metal bars of the cart digging into your knees as you lean over closer to him.  Another kiss presses to your lips, this time less intense.  Softer, loving, more meaning.  He pulls away and looks at your eyes, your own mind still reeling from all of his straight forwardness today.

He pushed you both to the front to pay for your items, the cashier half asleep himself when he’s scanning your items.  The walk back, he’s got his arm around your shoulder and holding your plastic bag with the chips and candy in it.   You’ve got your own arm slung around his waist and you walk together, passing one of the drinks you bought between you two, laughing and talking about anything and nothing.  

You’re talking about something that happened in your class yesterday, and he’s watching you, listening to you.  But somewhere in your story, he doesn't hear you anymore.  All he hears is his heartbeat in his ears.  All he sees is the stars in your eyes, the way the light dances across your skin, the way your head tilts back as you laugh at whatever you were remembering.  

You look up at him and your lips tilt up to the side, “Are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah, of course.  That dude said something to Noya and he said something back and ... yeah,” He grabbed you down in a headlock, laughing.  When you came back up you rip his beanie off his head and place it on your own.  You stick your tongue out at him, before saying “Ugh now I gotta start over.”

“If it means I get to listen to your voice some more, I should just pretend I don’t hear you every time.” 

“Lover boy,” You scrunch up your face and kiss his cheek, and he makes a mental note to not take back the beanie when he drops you off at home “Anyways, basically what happened was...” 

And its this moment, at 3 am, on a deserted street, with you in his old hoodie and his hat, when he realizes that the only thing that matters any more is you.  That he doesn’t do anything to fuck up what you two have.  He can’t afford to do anything to fuck it up, because he knows this is it for him.  You’re it for him.  Always will be.  

[hanaasbananas]

100 Ways to say I Love You Chapter 14

I need you (Ladynoir)

AO3

Chat Noir groaned, leveraging himself up into a sitting position against the wall he'd been thrown into. After what seemed like an eternity, he heard Ladybug’s triumphant cry “Miraculous ladybug!”

Through cracked eyelids, he watched as the pink light of the miraculous cure washed over the city, the healing ladybugs healing his bruises, knitting the ribs he was pretty sure he’d fractured earlier back together.

Standing, he grinned across at Ladybug, but she didn’t return his smile. Instead she gave him a cursory once over, an unreadable emotion swimming in the depths of her blue eyes as they lingered in the places that he’d been injured, making sure that he was well. Chat gave her a thumbs up, but she stiffened at the gesture and turned away, throwing her yo-yo and swinging up onto the rooftops.

Before he could follow, the reporters who had been waiting on the fringes of the fight descended upon the scene, blocking his path and asking him questions, requesting soundbites for whatever channel they worked for. By the time he’d answered most of their questions and made his way up onto the roof, Ladybug was long gone.

***

Ladybug ignored him on their next patrol. And the next, though Chat had no idea why. She’d wait for him, her back turned away from him, pausing only long enough to tersely tell him which areas to patrol, and then taking off without waiting for a response.

He’d tried brainstorming ideas with Plagg about what he could have done wrong, but his kwami had proved to be utterly useless. So instead, Chat simply did nothing, hoping that soon, she’d find a reason to talk to him again.

***

It was on the third week that he got some inkling of what he might have done wrong. Sitting at his desk, he was going over his notes from the last lesson when Alya and Marinette entered the classroom, the former gesticulating wildly as she spoke. “-she’s totally giving him the cold shoulder!”

“Mhm,” Marinette sounded disinterested, but Alya didn’t seem to notice, speaking over her friend.

“Seriously, I haven’t seen those two goofing off on patrol in weeks . Something’s up, and I am gonna get the scoop!” Alya nudged Marinette as they sat down “what’s your theory?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Marinette hummed. “She’s probably trying to get him to stop making those god awful puns.”

Alya snorted. “Good one. But seriously, c’mon, gimme your best theory.”

“I guess...” Marinette murmured “I guess...maybe she’s mad he keeps putting himself in danger. Did you see that last akuma battle?”

“Yeah,” Alya sighed, “that was a big one. I couldn’t even get close enough to record my own footage; it was so bad.”

“Exactly. Maybe Ladybug is just upset about it.”

Adrien turned around in his seat, resting his forearms on Marinette’s desk. “Yeah, but Chat Noir is supposed to protect Ladybug, that’s his whole thing.”

“No it’s not!” Marinette scowled. “It’s an equal partnership. How many times has she said that herself?” She fixed him with a fierce glare and Adrien noted with surprise that she wasn't stumbling over her words to him. At that moment, their teacher came in, and their discussion was cut short, but as he settled back in his seat, he heard Alya hiss across at Marinette “what was that?”

***

“Jeez, Hawkmoth may have slowed down with how many akuma’s he sends out but these last few have been some real bastards.” Chat whistled lowly as they followed the trail of destruction the akuma calling himself The Cannon had left in its wake.

“Focus, Chat Noir!” Ladybug called tersely and he almost tripped over his own feet, staring at her in disbelief.

“So you’ve finally decided to talk to me, huh?”

“Now is not the time-” her eyes widened “watch out!” Chat ducked, just as a large cannonball sailed past where his head had been only seconds before.

“Huh,” he stared at where it had landed in the car park below them, flattening two cars like it was nothing. “Somehow that looks less deadly in Tom & Jerry. That could have been nasty-” he turned to see Ladybug’s reaction, but she was already far in the distance. “Of course,” Chat sighed. “Who has time for jokes anyway?”

By the time he caught up to Ladybug, she was on the ground, circling around warily and spinning her yo-yo in anticipation for attack. Chat frowned. From the craters that had been left in the roads, The Cannon couldn’t have gotten far, and yet the trail just stopped , giving no indication as to where he’d gone.

Something glinted in the corner of his eye on the rooftop beside him and it took Chat a second to register what it was. Or rather, who.

The akuma stared down at Ladybug on the street, a manic grin on his face as he raised his arms, preparing to jump down and flatten her on impact.

So Chat did the only thing he could.

Just as The Cannon threw himself off the roof, Chat leapt sideways from his perch onto his back, wrapping his arms tightly around the akumas neck, clinging on like a monkey and throwing him off course. The Cannon roared, thrashing around to try and get him off, but Chat held on tight, keeping an eye out for Ladybug who had wisely gotten out of the way unharmed.

Chat couldn’t say the same for himself.

As The Cannon flailed, he finally threw out his arms, sending Chat flying backwards to slam- hard- against a lamp post. Ladybug watched the two of them with wide eyes, her head swivelling back and forth between the two of them, indecision warring over her features, unable to decide if she should run to him, or engage The Cannon in attack.

Remembering what he’d seen when he’d leapt onto the akuma’s back, Chat tried to sit up. Grabbing his abdomen, he gritted his teeth and yelled. “It’s on his wrist! The watch!”

He must have blacked out for a few minutes, because the next thing he knew, the road was smooth again and he could stand up straight without pain shooting through his body.

And Ladybug had taken off again. But this time, Chat didn’t wait, using his baton to vault after her. She hadn’t gotten far, so it didn’t take long to catch up to her. “Oh, so you’re just gonna go back to ignoring me, huh? What, you used up your ‘talk to Chat’ quota for the next three weeks?”

Ladybug didn’t stop, or even acknowledge his presence beside her and he faltered, “What the hell is your problem?” he shouted, a white hot burst of anger erupting in his chest, and blazing through his veins. It was as though all the loneliness and confusion, and sadness he’d felt over the last weeks had gone up in flames, leaving behind nothing but the bitter taste of ash on his tongue.

He would not leave without an answer. Not today.

“My problem?” Ladybug whirled around, a warning in her eyes “don’t even go there.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” he threw his hands up in the air “why shouldn’t I try to find out why you won’t talk to me anymore? Why you’re avoiding me.”

“Because I need you!” she shrieked, her voice echoing around them, freezing Chat in place. “With your stupid puns, and jokes, and, and...I need you” she repeated softly. “And everytime you do something reckless or stupid during a fight, I get so scared that that will be the day I can’t save you, or bring you back, and you-” she stepped forward, jabbing her finger into his chest “you keep doing it!”

Chat opened his mouth to speak, to reassure her, but Ladybug shook her head sadly, tears glistening in her eyes. “I don’t need that much protection, Chaton. Not when you risk yourself to give it.”

He didn’t stop her when she left, staring after her in a daze, her words ringing in his ears over and over, and over again.

***

Chat arrived early to their next patrol, pacing back and forth as he waited for the telltale thud of her arrival. Turning to face her, he said: “we have to talk about this.”

For a long moment, she didn’t move, and he was worried she might shake her head, tell him to stop wasting time and start patrol, but instead she exhaled shakily, her shoulders drooping, and nodded.

They sat together in silence, legs dangling over the edge of the roof, until Ladybug rested her head on his shoulder, tugging at his arm until he put it around her. “Do you remember,” she began haltingly, “do you remember that year when we first started out, and I jumped into that T-rex’s mouth without telling you my plan?”

Even with her in his arms, safe and well, Chat’s heart seized at the memory, remembering the overpowering wave of terror and grief that had washed over him, paralysing him even as he felt the ground crumble beneath him. Instinctively, he tightened his arm around Ladybugs shoulders and she laughed weakly. “Yeah, that’s how...that’s how I feel, everytime you-”

“Everytime I put myself in danger for you.” Chat finished her sentence “oh god, my lady , I had no idea.”

“It’s okay,” she said, voice small “it’s not like I told you or anything.” Moving out from under his arm, she turned to face him, sitting on her knees. “I meant what I said before though. “I need you . We have the other temporary holders, but you’re my partner , and I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you.” She sniffed “I don’t ever want to find out either.”

“And you won’t have to,” Chat said, “because I’m not going anywhere.” He cupped her cheek “I’ll be more careful from now on, alright?”

Ladybug smiled tremblingly up at him, the relief evident in her large eyes and she leaned into his touch, her eyes slipping shut. “Promise?”

Chat pressed a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering for a long moment. “I promise.”

[the-dead-skwad]

Together Part 1 X Tig Trager X Reader

I can’t get enough of sons at the moment, sorry. Some of this doesn’t quite fit into the time line but ahh well. 

No warnings.

Summary: Something is off but Tig isn’t telling you what. 

Opening your eyes the aching in your legs made you smile. You rolled over to see him looking at you, his icy blue eyes as beautiful as always. "Morning baby."  

"Hey gorgeous." He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you in for a hug. "Can we stay like this all day?" 

"After last night I don't think I can actually walk." You chuckled.

"That good huh?" 

"Look around, the canvas has fallen off the wall and we broke a lamp. We haven't been like that since we first got married." 

A smile spread across his face "I can promise you there's more where that came from." 

"Sure Casanova.. I have work." You kissed him before rolling out of bed, the hard wood floor was cold on your feet. You stretched before stepping to the bathroom. "Jesus my legs are like jelly." 

"What time's your first booking?" He called down the hall. 

"One! Do you want me to give you a lift to the club?" Ever since Tig had sent the police on a wild chase he had lost his licence, you became chauffeur. 

"Thanks doll!" 

Just before you grabbed you bag to leave Tig spun you around into his arms. "You know I love you right?" 

"Of course..." You looked at him funny "Why what did you break?" 

"Nothing, some days I just can't believe how lucky I am that you're my wife. You know I'd do anything to keep you happy and safe."

"I know baby, I love you too." 

He pulled you into a deep passionate kiss, as he pulled back he looked a little sad "More than anything." 

It wasn't weird for him to be romantic but he was usually drunk when he did it. Maybe it was going to be a tough day at the club. You really didn't pay it much mind though, you knew you had a difficult client this afternoon. -- Pulling into the parking lot you noticed a lot more people standing around compared to normal. Gemma and Tara stood to the side and you gave them a small wave. Turning to Tig you smiled "Have a good day, I'll ring you when I'm finished." 

"Okay baby, I love you." He kissed you again with loads of passion. 

"I'm only going to work." You laughed "I love you too." 

He stepped out and walked to the rest of the boys. You waved before going to pull out when all of a sudden you were cut off by five vehicles all bursting through the gates. "Hey!" You shouted out the open widow. The doors flew open and ATF flooded the parking lot. "No." You stopped the car and swung the door open.

Running as fast as you could, you reached Tig as they had him on his knees handcuffing him. "No, no. Not again." You cupped his face as tears streamed down it "Baby, not again."

A man came from behind you and pulled you away with some force. "Hey get off her!" you could hear Gemma behind you. The man threw you in her direction. Your face hit the dirt. 

Gemma pulled you to your feet "You okay baby?" 

Trying to hard to stop the tear pouring out "Yeah, I'm good." Stahl stood in front of the boys as the AFT loaded them into the van one by one. "Look at that smug bitch. The only reason she got them was because they didn't turn up for the hearing." 

Before you even knew what you were doing you found yourself stood behind her "Hey! Fucking bitch." As she turned you punched her square in the jaw. Three AFT guys rans to you and grabbed your arms. One of them slammed you against the hood of a car, the heat burnt your cheek. 

You could see Tig getting shoved into the van, he laughed loudly "Yeah! That's my girl!" He yelled before the door slammed. 

--

"You got one hell of a swing on you." Her voice snapped you out of your day dream. 

You swung your legs off the hard bed and walked up to the bars "What do you want? I'm not gonna apologies." 

"You assaulted a federal agent Miss Trager." 

"Mrs actually.. It was self defense. I have the marks to prove I was thrown to the ground and far more witnesses on my side." 

"Most are felons, locked away in a cell much nastier than this. How long do you think your beloved will last before he's stabbed to death?" She smirked at you.  

"I can go round two if you wish officer." You spat on the floor in front of her. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Unser approached your cell. He pushed passed Stahl "Your bails been posted sweetheart. And you" He turned to Stall "Get the hall away from my cells." 

As he unlocked the door you gave him a hug "Thanks chief."

"I know what happened sugar, now it'll be tough him being in there but please don't get be getting into fights. I don't want to see you on the other side of those bars again." He walked you to the doors "One of the officers will get your things, Gemma's waiting for you." 

You sighed as you approached her, she pulled you into a hug "Come on baby, us ol ladies need to get drunk tonight." 

"Ughhh yes please." You both walked out the station with your arms round each other. 

--

The club was empty. No men shouting or laughing, no croweaters waving their tits around, even the prospects had gone home. 

You sighed for the fiftieth time that day. "They're gonna be alright aren't they?" 

"Of course they are." Tara passed you a nice strong glass of whiskey. 

"What ever Stall said to you it was only because you smacked her." 

"I know, I just hate this." 

All three of you stood together looking at their mug shots up on the wall. "You know," Gemma started "I bet they're saying the same thing about us right now." 

"The house is going to be so cold and empty without him." You took a big sip of your whiskey. 

"You can stay with me and Abel." 

Turning to Tara a tear fell down your cheek "Are you sure?" 

"I'll need an extra pair of hands and he loves having you around." 

Gemma wrapped her arms around both of you. "No matter what, we will get through this together. I promise."

[neo-culture-mafia]

IV. Sorry, My Dear

⚠️⚠️TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️⚠️

The following story contains themes of suicidal thoughts and addiction. Please do not read if you find these themes triggering in any way. Read this post before reading this piece of FICTION

Have you heard the story of the guy,

Who decided not to die?

"Another day at the office...another day in hell." Jae mumbled to himself. The black lettering seemed never ending as he moved page after page.

Everyone was long gone and he was left with his thoughts that reflected the current state of his desk: scattered and full on unwanted words.

"Come on, Jae. Let's go get drinks with Boss." Jae had mimicked the voices of the other associates that worked in the office today. "No. I'm good. Got to finish this work. Beep-boop-boop." He moved his arms in a robot-like fashion.

"Look at me. Working me life away. Jaehyun. That's my name." He moved the papers in random places. This would be Jae's 4th breakdown this week where he needed to tell himself to hold on until tomorrow.

Johnnny looked on in concern from behind the entrance wall. "No good, Jaehyun. Don't wear it out." Jae's hands waves over his head in a dramatic fashion as he pushed himself around in his wheeled office chair.

It wasn't until Johnny saw Jae's hands form into a gun shape that he intervened in the middle of his best friend's scary emotional outburst.

"Jae! There you are!" He rushed over and punched his friend's arm. The look in Jaehyun's eyes made Johnny uneasy. It looked like he had been caught which made him break more. "You almost finished? I wanted to catch a movie with you and maybe have a hangout night," Jae was taken aback by the energy outburst at 2 am.

He could only look at Johnny's excited face from where he sat in his chair, strands of hair obstructing only pieces of his vision. "I got the new Call of Duty and PubG for the console." Johnny's hands rummaged in his pockets till he pulled out his phone, his eyebrows wiggling fiercely. "It's only...2:17. We got all the time in the world."

Johnny picked up Jae's suit jacket that was thrown over the cubicle wall and the younger boy's heavy bag. "I'll drive." Johnny pulled Jae up and turned off his lamp.

They were in the darkness of the office and Jae was still shocked that he was caught before he got worse.

"What do you wanna eat? Steak? McDonald's? Junk food?" Johnny's rambling was tuned out of Jae's mind. He followed the taller man willingly down and out of the office building and to his familiar car.

"Uh...doesn't matter." Was the first thing that came out of Jaehyun's mouth. "Then we'll get everything." Johnny's laugh made Jae's heart swell with hope for the first time in weeks.

'Maybe next time,' he thought, 'I'll hang out with Johnny one last time.'

The car ride was filled with laughter and being in the cold air surrounding the both of them.

Johnny still wonders to this day what would've happened if he didn't walk in the time he did. He had been called to pick up the paperwork from Jae's desk but was met with a sad reality.

Jaehyun wanted to escape reality.

Just kill me in my sleep,

Smother me with pillows and kindness, in which I have never seen

This was it...this was the day. He's written the letters and found a place to go calmly. He was in a euphoric sense that nothing really mattered anymore.

He had been on cloud 9 all week as he's happily been overworked and no one ever asked how he had been doing.

Right now, he was just driving. Driving to take in his home city one last time.

The sun was setting when he came to Han River Park. The clusters of happy people congregated in small bursts of happiness and 'its okay' and 'everything will be alright's.

He parked and stood at the grass's edge. He took deep breaths as the air swept across his body calmly. "Everything is so beautiful." He whispered to himself as he watched the birds dance across the water with such grace.

The lump in his throat that made it home was beginning to ache. Yet, he swallowed his pride and continued looking over the people who would continue their own story's even after his had reached the end. The credits would roll and everyone would walk away from the theater without a second thought.

"I mean. I get that's it's pretty. But I haven't seen someone cry at the scenery since my last romance movie." He was snapped out of reality to see a girl standing next to him.

"Excuse me?" Was all he could manage to get out.

You chuckled, sticking your hand out. "Y/n." You introduced yourself and he was trying to not shake your hand, look the other way, and leave without another word being exchanged.

"Jaehyun." His actions spoke for him as he reached his hand out to meet yours. Your hand was soft and warm in his. A warmness and calm he hasn't felt in a while.

"I'm gonna go get some ice cream. Wanna come?" You barely knew him and we're asking him to accompany you to a sweet treat. "You don't know me." Jae got defensive, his arms crossing over his chest.

"I could be a murderer and you invited me for ice cream?" His questions had your face turn up. "Well I'm sure that murderers like ice cream too. So let's go." You grabbed his arm and pulled him down the long stretch of concrete. You walked and tried to match your steps with his long strides. Your arm cutely wrapped around his as you walked.

"So tell me about yourself, Mr. Jaehyun."

He figured living was just easier than falling really high

"We need to clean." You whined while rolling around in the vast bed full of messed up sheets and a relaxing Jaehyun. "Not now. I just wanna cuddle." He grabbed your body and held you close.

"No. We've been cuddling all day. We need to clean." You got up and pulling at his hands. "You can clean the closet and I can clean the rest of the room. Then cuddles." You reasoned and he groaned as he got up, giving into your wishes.

"Fine." He automatically sat on the ground and opened your shared closet doors.

"I'll be tidying up around here." You ruffled his hair and kissed the top of his head sweetly. "If you need anything just shout." He called as you exited the room to probably start on the kitchen.

Box after box of paperwork and more paperwork from the last 10 years of working in his like of work.

Your singing could be heard through your house as you comedically sang some of the greatest hits. His laughter broke through the apartment when your own voice shook with laughs.

He came upon some photo books with Polaroids of you and him. The last 2 years had been lived in a heaven like state. He hadn't touched alcohol and drugs like he was earlier in his life...before you changed him.

His physical and mental growth were apparent in the pictures as he flipped through the pages. Your hand drawn hearts and small journal entries under some photos had his heart beating rapidly with joy.

He put the book next to his side to look at later with you. His hand came across an unmarked cardboard photo box that had a thin layer of dust on it.

He jiggled the lid off and was met with envelopes. The letters. His notes to his bosses and his friends apologizing for what he was about to do.

Apologizing for the mess they were going to have to clean up in his apartment and in the office where his files would never be filed. Apologizing for giving up so easily and not serving out the rest of his life like he had sworn. Apologizing for not being strong enough to ask for help when he really tried to make it obvious. Apologizing to whoever had to find him after it was all said and done.

Apologizing for not saying goodbye.

"Hey. Do we have any tile cle- oooo letters. Who are they to?" Your voice had made Jae jump like when Johnny caught him that dark night in the office. Like he was caught doing and thinking stuff he shouldn't be.

"No one. Me. In 50 years. Y'know," he shrugged, tossing them back in the box and throwing them in the closet and standing up quickly, "time capsule thing me and the guys did." He shrugged it off and you could only nod.

"Well that's cool. Can't wait to see how you've grown." Your smile had his own lips mimicking in want. Wanting to have your blissful ignorance of what those letters really were.

"Oh yeah. Do we have any more tile cleaner?" You asked and he lead you out to the closet where he scowered the top shelves in search for the cleaning supply.

"You can have it. For a kiss." He held it above his head. You waste no time in kissing his cheek and pulling on his arm till you grabbed the cleaner and ran. His laughs chased your own as you both wrestled for a while.

Both of you laid on the living room carpet, just enjoying the close presence.

His heart was at peace.

I'm okay,

I'm okay,

I feel a little bit sick

You had began to notice how Jae had been getting more dull. A year had passed since the night you pointed out the letters. It began to go all down hill from there.

He gave you the same love and affection he usually did, but his eyes held no emotion to big events outside. Alcohol had started to replace meals and sleep.

"Jae you need to eat." You laid a hand on his shoulder softly. "I'm actually going to go grab a drink with some of the boys." And like that. He was out of the apartment. Yet, everytime he came stumbling in the front door with a stench that could repel nuclear waste, you nurses him into bed. Setting an aspirin and water next to his head. Most nights didn't wrap up until 4 am when you knew he was home safe.

You slept with your arms wrapped strongly around his body, afraid he would try to get up and leave to drink again without you noticing.

Mornings would be a rough time as you awoke to a sick Jaehyun who couldn't tell left from right. You were there were comforting words and endless services if bet only asked.

His guilt ate at his chest till there was a free falling feeling that would cease when he took his first shot.

He knew he was getting bad again. He knew he needed to get help but everytime he woke up to face an aspirin and a cool glass of water, the guilt made him drink even more the next night.

He sometimes wished you would leave him to make this easier on you. He wished you would fall out of love and go to bed before he got home.

He wished you didn't introduce yourself in the first place.

But have you heard,

The story of the guy who decided not to die?

Jaehyun got clean again. He started being more present in reality and eventually returned to normal. Sometimes he did get carried away with the alcohol but you were there to help him put down the bottle.

He started openly hanging out with his friends in large gatherings where he didn't mind starting the conversation. He got addicted on life again.

You were all out on a big dinner. You and the other women of the mafia men gathered in the social room while Jae and his closest friends talked and joked around in the parlor.

"Want another drink?" Mark asked as he nudged Jae's elbow. "No I'm okay. I hit my limit for the night."

His friends were the most supportive people that he originally thought wouldn't be. Once be reached his limit, they all switched to fruity drinks followed by water. "So I need your guys' help with something." Jae smiled, taking the blue chalk and rubbing it on the worn end of the billiard's stick.

"What's up, dude?" Johnny asked and all the boys tuned into Jaehyun and his request. "I want to propose to y/n." He said and the room automatically erupted in shouts and cheers. "Sssshhhh." He tried to shush everyone. They remembered the presence of the women in the building and quickly shut up.

"Y/n said she wanted a wedding in the flower fields about.." Jae recalled the previous conversation he had with you. "2 hours from here?" He said and Hyuck automatically knew which ones he was talking about. "It's going to have to be a spring wedding!" He said excitedly and grabbing a pad of paper and a pen from his pocket.

"Alright, lover boy, spill." He said knocking all of the pool balls out of the way, "hey we were playing!" Doyoung protested and Hyuck could only write down the location of the fields, "I'm helping our brother get a wife. Go play with your balls somewhere else." He back handed which caused the room to erupt in laughter.

"Okay. Now. I'm going to need time to get the catering. I'm thinking pork," Hyuck rambled writing down the possible ideas, "or is she more of a chicken person?" he continued which caused some of the boys to chuckle at the wedding-excited nature no one knew Hyuck possessed in himself.

"Also I need to find a cake. I would make it myself but we all know that these beautiful hands would be wrinkly by the time I'm done icing cake for 500 people-" "500?!" Jae said loudly which caused Johnny to slap a hand over his younger friends mouth. "Well duh. That's a minimum." Donghyuck shook his head, drawing a picture of what the cake needed to look like. "amateur."

"I need to get the ring first." Jae said quietly and Taeyong piped in. "Don't even worry about it. I'll take you in the morning to the jewler's to pick out the bands and diamonds. Maybe you could get an engagement ring with her birth stone then the real ring with yours and your wedding band could have hers." Taeyong started rambling ideas, Hyuck writing lightning speed on the pad of paper.

"I call doing the gifts!" Mark and Jungwoo said at the same time. "I'm nominating myself as the planner." Hyuck said writing the roles down. "I'll get the tuxes for us." Taeil nominated himself for the job with a smile. "We need to get Yuta and the rest of the boys up here!" Doyoung brought up a good point.

"Yuta will just bring baby supplies. We're not telling him until a day before the ceremony." Hyuck pointed at the boys but was met with a hit upside the head from Johnny.

"I have to find out the color palette. I'll go to Renjun and then I'll go to Jaemin for the fireworks- Jisung will be the flower girl." Donghyuck kept rattling off things he needed to get done.

"Thank you for giving me this job. I won't let you down." He finally said, laying a hand on Jaehyun's shoulder.

"Better not. It need to be perfect for her. Perfection deserves perfection." Jae said and some gagged while other coo'd at his unwithering love you for you.

The chatty hustle didn't cease as Johnny patted on Jaehyun's shoulder. "You okay?" Johnny asked with a smile on his face. Jaehyun couldn't keep the smile off of his own face. "Never better. On cloud 9." He said and Johnny's heart eased from the constant fear of Jae not being here the next day. But he didn't need to worry anymore.

"I actually need to ask you." Jae said finally putting the polished stick down on the table. "Will you be my best man?" Johnny's eyes lit up like fireworks as he brought Jae in for a manly yet friendly hug.

"I'm so proud of you, Jaehyun."

I'm enamored with the thought of seeing angels in the sky singing,

Singing, "Everything's alright."

Jaehyun proposed the next week. You both went out to an amazing and fancy moonlit dinner where you both danced and decided to start this new journey together.

Then two days after the proposal, he relapsed the worst he has ever had. Johnny found him in your guys' apartment and immediately called you and everyone who he thought he could help.

It's now present day and you can only look at Jaehyun with guilt in your eyes.

The funeral was held in the flower fields you both planned to get married in. The day was cold and dark but he had never looked so happy in his final resting place. "I'm sorry I couldn't give you the happiness you craved." You kissed his cheek before the lid was finally closed.

Now the marble had been set in place and you were alone again.

"I'm not mad. I'm jus-just so...so sorry." You wept, reaching out for him.

"I read the letter and can only ask. Why?"

The only things he had left was a damn note with the words, 'Sorry, My Dear' signing off the page as if he deemed it enough. As if his love had a capacity limit.

"I'm sorry you-you thought I was going to leave you if you told me you were so un-unhappy with life." Your stuttering didn't come to a stop as you could only imagine tears streaming down his own cheeks wherever he was in the universe. The feeling of being ashamed sent you reeling down where you had to support yourself on your knees.

The silent sobs hurt your chest as you had this free falling feeling in your chest getting more deeper. It was as if someone was pounding your chest with a drum mallot. Your heart was breaking as you felt a hand on your shoulder. Yet, you knew no one was there.

"You promised me forever." Your voice was shaky as you brushed the stray pieces of grass away from the marble in the ground.

'Jaehyun. Found happiness in where ours couldn't reach.'

"And I promise, Jae. I will love you...forever."

"And I'm so proud of you for making it this far." You whispered, fingers tracing his name on the polished marble for what felt like the millionth time.

You laid on the ground next to his resting place and looked into the vast blue sky where you imagined him reaching down to you; his soft voice that he used to sing you to sleep with carrying you with him to where you both could live happily ever after. You lifted your hands up as the tears came down.

"You did well."

[random-mha-thoughts]

Night Drives (Shinsou x Reader)

Pairing: Shinsou x Reader 

Genre: Fluff/Comfort, College!AU

Summary: You’re having a rough and stressful week, and Shinsou helps by taking you out for a late night trip.

Word count: 1,814

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ @bunnythepipsqueak​

a/n: I know I promised angst, but I really wanted to write this little comfort/fluff piece for anyone who might be facing a mid-semester funk/depression like me.  I was inspired because I went out to pick my cousin up from the airport late last night and I never realized how therapeutic night driving can be.

I also wasn’t really sure which character I wanted to write for this (bc they would all fit one way or another), but I chose Shinsou bc I haven’t written for him in a hot minute and he deserves some more love.

I hope you guys enjoy it, and I hope it helped some of you and maybe helped cheer you up 😊

I sit at my desk, hands carding through my messy hair.  Pouring over my notes is the most stressful thing I could be doing this weekend, I'd rather be sleeping or doing something more relaxing.  Weekends before exams are always the hardest because it's when I get my biggest chunk of studying done, so I'm usually holed up in my room the entire day.

It's also times like this when the dark thoughts roll in.  I've always been a smart kid, but being in college really makes me question it.  Getting low B's and high C's on exams in my major classes don't mean the end of the world, but I rethink who I think I am because of it.  I still get A's in my other bullshit classes, so why am I struggling in the classes that are supposed to teach me the skills I need for my future career?  Should I rethink my future?  Do I even want to go into my chosen field anymore?  Am I making a huge mistake being here?  I'm wasting my entire scholarship money if I decide to start over from scratch.  My fingers close in on my scalp.

"Kitty?"

The warmth in his voice jolts my head up.  "Oh, hey."  I straighten my back, not even realizing how hunched over my back was.

Shinsou's eyebrows are furrowed at me.  "Are you okay?"  His large thumb brushes over the wetness clinging at the corners of my eyes.  "You're crying."

I tug at the sleeves of my hoodie.  "Yeah, I'm fine."

He studies my face carefully, his own dark circles standing out against his pale skin.  He knows how I get when I'm in this mode, staying respectful of my study habits.  Since I don't come out of my room, he'll let himself in and stay in my bed, reading, sleeping, doing his own studying, or watching something on his laptop until I'm finished.  Just a few moments ago when I peaked over my shoulder to see what he was doing, he'd fallen asleep with his headphones on, lightly snoring.  He doesn't bother me.  It's something I appreciate about him.

Shinsou crosses his arms over his chest.  "When was the last time you ate?"

My stomach admittedly feels empty.  I've only been snacking when I felt hungry.  Looking at the clock, it's almost midnight.  "Since breakfast," I answer feebly.

A sigh escapes his lips.  "Are you finished now?  You've been like this all day."

I cast a dreadful look over the pages of notes.  There's still a few chapters I need to look over, but my brain feels that it might explode if I try to cram anymore information in.  The worst part is I don't even feel like I've retained anything I've read in the past few hours.  I start closing my books.  "Yeah, I'm done."  And utterly defeated.

Shinsou gently takes my hand in his, calling my attention to him.  "Come on, go wash your face and change.  We're gonna go eat."

He leaves me to go to his room and fetch his wallet.  Trudging into the bathroom and following his instructions, I wash my face to wake myself up, change into some jeans, and pull on a hoodie that's more presentable for going out into the world.

Shinsou returns, changed into a pair of jeans, hoodie, and denim jacket, and we head out of our dorm building.  The air isn't as cold as I thought, but it was just as deserted.  The scattered lamp posts across the pavement are the only illuminations in the parking lot.  I walk with my hands in my pockets and my hood up.

How the hell am I gonna learn everything by Tuesday? I despair.  I hate how I always end up thinking about work even when I don't want to.

Shinsou closes the distance between us and snakes his arm around my torso.  "Have you ever considered getting a hoodie with cat ears on them?" he asked casually.

I'm thrown off by his random question, but I have to laugh.  "Uh, no?  Why would I wear it?"

"So I can pull at the ears, duh."

"You and your cat addiction needs to chill."  I want to shove him away, but his warmth feels great to touch.  "Where are we going?"

"Noodles?" he offers.  "It's been getting pretty cold."

"Is it wrong that I want something...filling right now.  And no, get your mind out of the gutter!" I shove Shinsou before he can say anything.

"I wasn't even thinking it, who actually has the dirty mind, hm?"  He pokes the side of my head.

After I'm done pouting at him, I suggest, "Do you think there's a tempura place open around here?  Actually, I just really want fries and something else."

"Anything else, your royal highness?" he smirks and unlocks his car.

"Mmm," I hum as I settle into his passenger seat.  "A pet dragon would be nice too.  Or full payment on my college education."

Shinsou chuckles at my sarcasm.  "Anything for you, kitty."  Holding my hand, he kisses my palm before starting the engine.

As he drives down the abandoned road, I lean my head against the window, staring out the windshield.  The sky's already black, but there's too much light and the car's moving too fast to count the stars.  Something about the emptiness of everything at night calms me down.  It almost feels like Shinsou and I are the only 2 people in the world at this hour.  Even the parking lot of the fast food joint down the block is deserted.

"I'll get it to go so we can eat in here, what do you want?" my purple haired prince asks me sweetly, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"10 piece nuggets and medium fries.  And a diet soda, I'm watching my calories."  I whisper the last part.

"Coming right up."

.

"Are you sure it's okay to eat in your car?" I ask, tentatively opening the paper bag of food goodness.  I didn't realize how hungry I was until the smell of high calorie fast food wafts in front of my nose.

Shinsou's eyes are on the road as he drives down the roadway.  "Yeah I don't care, it's not like my car's new or anything."

I dip into the bag and grab my box of nuggets.  A smile graces my face when I notice he remembered the sweet and sour sauce.  "Why are you so good to me?"

"Because you're my kitty and I love you," he answers without missing a beat, his large hand messing up my hair.

A familiar fuzzy warmth fills me as I lean into his touch.  Digging into my nuggets, I end up completely demolishing them, the hole in my stomach finally filling  at the process meat.  I don't care how old I get, I will always have chicken nuggets at fast food restaurants.  Every once in a while, Shinsou would ask for one of my fries, and  I'd happily feed him.

I have no idea where we're going; for some reason, we're on the highway.  I just quietly finish my meal and sip my drink.

Shinou's eyes glint with mischief.  "Since we're alone on the highway..."

My eyes widen.  "Babe, no-!"

The engine revs to life under my boyfriend's lead foot and the car jolts forward.  I clutch my fries and almost choke on my soda as we speed down the highway.  The biggest grin spreads across his face.

"Hitoshi, I'm not ready to die!"

He takes his foot off the gas and the car relaxes, as does my heart.  But he knows how much I secretly love it when he does that.  "At least wait until I'm not about to choke before you do that!"

Laughing at me, he passes me his phone. "Play whatever you want, kitty."

Oh, it's over now.

I select a playlist of hype songs we both love, belting out the lyrics from the top of our lungs as Shinsou speeds down the highway. A mess of screams, laughter, loud music, and singing fill the entire space as we zip past all the lights on the highway.  It reminds of what it might feel like rocketing through space. The pit of my stomach feels weightless from the excitement and the speeding car.

Are we crazy?  Maybe.  Did I savor every second of it?  Absolutely.

Shinsou finally slows down and exits down a beach.  Pulling into an empty space, he parks the car and gets out, waving for me to follow him.  We end up sitting on the hood of his car, eating our food under a blanket he keeps in his car.  A nearby streetlight dimly illuminates our dark space.

I snuggle Shinsou's left arm and look out into the dark expanse.  I can finally count the stars, between stealing bites from Shinsou's burger.  Clutching my end of the blanket over me, I lay my head on his shoulder.  "It's so strange sitting on the hood of a car."

"Guess you've never done it before," he replies quietly, balling up his empty wrapper and placing it back in the bag.  Both arms wrap around me, resting his head on top of mine.  "I used to come here when I wanted to clear my mind.  There's just a whole lot of nothing and silence."

I can't agree more.  The darkness - the absence of light - makes everything seem quiet and empty.  Something about it feels liberating, letting all my emotions flow out in front of me freely and let me just be.  A breathe in and let it rattle out of me.  The endless void surrounds us, isolates us, encloses us so our thoughts can't bother us.

Shinsou brings me closer, letting me sit halfway on his lap, placing a gentle kiss on my temple.  "Are you feeling better, kitty?  I know you're pretty stressed, more so than your usual anxious self.  I figured bringing you out here would help somewhat."

My heart swells with warmth.  I hug him tighter and close my eyes, leaning my head to his chest.  "Thank you, Hitoshi.  You've done a lot for me, I really appreciate it.  You really went out of your way  for me."

"Nothing's out of my way for you."  His large hand rubs my scalp.  "You work so hard, you deserve this."

I snuggle deeper into his chest, my eyes slowly closing as the rhythm  of his heartbeat calms me.  "What did I do to deserve you?" I mumble.

"Well, maybe you saved an entire country," he jokes, pressing another kiss into the top of my head and running his fingers lightly on the back of my head, "But I think you just being perfect deserves all the happiness I can give you."

"You're too sweet."  I drift off to a light sleep in his arms, surrounded by his warmth, choosing to think about life some other time.