#his best fit and i will hear NO rebuttal

[userarmand]

Il ne nous faut pas d’autorisation. Elle est à nous, la propriété.

[mysicklove]

cw: sub! gojo, gn! reader, heavy feminization, lingerie, gojo wears panties, mentions of gojo having a pussy? highkey cringe writing :(

wc: 0.9k

lingerie inspo

The color matches his eyes. It's a pretty shade of blue that compliments his hair and his porcelain skin well. He was in a maid outfit, or at least the beginnings of one — it showed too much skin to be really considered an outfit.

The bottoms are a short skirt with a white and blue pattern and some white ruffles. The light blue top fits to cover just his chest, disappointingly hiding his nipples from you. And, of course, you put him in the loveliest, white lacy pantyhose and pretty white choker to match.

Gojo, bluntly, looks adorable and a different type of provocative than what you are used to.

Gojo, on the other hand, was pouting at you from across the room. His body is halfway covered by the wall, and he seems to be trying to hide away from you. The man pulls at the bottoms nervously and shakes his head at your grin. "This has got to be the most humiliating thing I have ever done," He complains, a dramatic whine in his voice.

"Hmmm, you think so? I don't know…Satoru, you have done some…Pathetic things. Don't you think, sweet thing?" You put up two fingers, beckoning him over to you. He frowns at you, ignoring the burning of the tips of his ears. "Come here, pretty. There is no need to hide," You coax when he pauses momentarily.

Gojo nods, trying his best to ignore the ridiculous pet name. He then strides over to you, and your eyes travel to the cutesy stalking that climbs up his leg and ends on his upper thigh.

You stand up to meet him halfway there, padding over to him with a teasing grin on your face. His hands go awardly to his sides, and he peers at you through his lashes. "My, my, I don't think I have ever seen the notorious Satoru Gojo embarrassed?"

"Im not—Just…Shut up, would you?" He half-heartedly mumbles, "Never been in girl's clothing before. You're the weird one here for buying this, ya hear me? N-Not me!"

"Such a shame, too." You muse, ignoring the second part of his sentence. "Think you may look better in it than in boy's clothing." He bites back a whine, another pout on his face. But you ignore him as you run your fingers over the fabric and walk around his lengthy body, twirling over every lace and ribbon. He doesn't move while you do the inspection; instead, he just looks at the floor awkwardly.

You press kisses along any surface you can, and Gojo sighs with every trace of your lips. You make your way to behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and traveling your hands along his chest and stomach. Your lips linger on his lower shoulder blades as you crane your head around to see the front of him. "The real question is," You mumble and pause, coaxing him.

"Hmm?" He prompts, eyes widening when he feels your fingers drag along the bottom of his skirt. He knows what is going to come, and he fumes a shade of red before bringing his hands up to cover his face.

You chuckle at him. "Tell me, did my pretty girl wear everything she was given?"

He shouldn't have put them on. He knew you were going to tease him about it, but still, he did it. To be good and listen to you in the moment sounded nice, but now, he could feel like he could die from humiliation.

"No," he tries to deny, but his voice is breathless, and he swears that you can hear how hard his heart is pounding. You nibble at the open flesh on his back, and he jumps.

"Aw, do I have a little liar?" You coo, and Satoru has the nerve to flip you off. You can't help but laugh at that. "And a brat too, huh?

He shakes his head and lowers his finger defeatedly. He wasn't smiling like you were; in fact, his mouth was dry, and he tries not to fidget. "Can you just do it already?"

"Excited, aren't we?" You prompt, but before he can rebuttal, you flip up the skirt to see the light blue sheer panties you picked out days prior.

"There she is," You tease, and his cock seems to twitch to life at the attention. "I knew you would wear them."

"Yeah, yeah…..Whatever, they just looked comfortable, that's all," He complains, biting his lip and not daring to look at the panties. It embarrassed him too much. You don't feel the need to deny his statements because it was an obvious fact that he was lying through his teeth.

Another glob of precum stains the silk, and you sigh dreamily. "Oh, Satoru, you are so wet; look, it's almost like you are meant to have a pussy!"

He lets out a breathless laugh and then cranes his head to look at you. Gojo, for the first time tonight, is grinning, and you are immediately intrigued. He then leans into your chest and whispers, "Dont need a pussy for you to fuck me."

A shiver runs down your spine, and your mouth goes dry. He always did these sorts of things. Made you question your authority for a moment with his cocky and smooth demeanor. But you didn't mind because it only made things more fun.

You are quick to recover like usual, and a feline-like smile spreads over your features. "That's my girl."

Gojo's eyes seem to light up.

[imtheiliad]

CAN I GO WHERE YOU GO? 920 words | bucktommy | 7x06 coda a/n: look it me! i wrote something :P just a soft little thing that i couldn't stop thinking about <3 idek how long it has been since i published something episode related lol so be kind and gentle if you please<3 title is kinda just what fit best lol, enjoy!

Buck twirls his niece around as music plays quietly over a speaker, barely loud enough to hear over the quiet chatter. He swings her up and deposits her next to her newly-wed parents, and they look perfect. Buck remembers the reception of her first wedding, his cheeks didn’t hurt from smiling then, they do now, and by the looks of it so do Maddie’s. 

“You might want to–” she points toward the chair in the corner that holds his beast of a boyfriend, a bottled water coming dangerously close to slipping from his exhaustion-induced slack grip. 

“I should get him home, the adrenaline has worn off. I love you both so much, and you,” he ruffles Jee’s hair and leans in for a group hug, placing a kiss in his sister's hair. If he thinks too hard about everything he might cry, so he leaves unsaid and squeezes her tight hoping she understands. 

He takes the water bottle from Tommy’s hands and stands between his legs, gently cupping his cheek, “Hey, you are exhausted, let’s get you home. I’ll drive you.” 

And Tommy looks up at him through his eyelashes– how had Buck not noticed those before now? 

“You don’t have to– you should stay here. I’m sure Maddie–” 

“What she wants is for me to get you home safely, and visiting hours are almost over anyway.”

He can see Tommy trying to come up with a rebuttal, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to say something and then gives up.

Buck grabs Tommy’s turnout coat from the back of the chair, folding it over his arm and taking Tommy’s hand in his. 

“Congratulations again you two,” Tommy says as enthusiastically as he can before they turn toward the door.

—

Buck is awkwardly sitting at a table in the common area of Harbor. It feels weird to be in another station without his reason for being there within sight. Tommy had assured him that it was okay for him to sit, and if anyone gave him trouble to tell them that he was there with him. 

“Buckley! What are you doing here?” a familiar voice nearly makes him jump out of his seat. 

“Lu-Lucy! Hi.” 

She stands behind the chair across from him, leaning on her elbows on the top of the chair. And she actually waits for him to answer. 

“I-I’m waiting for Tommy. Had to swing by to drop off his turnouts and get his bag.”

Her brow crinkles a little and she cocks her head, “his shift ended hours ago?” 

“He uhhh, he came to Maddie and Chimney’s wedding. He’s pretty exhausted so I’m driving him home.” 

“He went to a wedding after that fire? In his turnouts?”

“It was at the hospital, wild story really. And I asked him to be there, so he was.” he blushes a little as he watches her do a little math. 

“Donato! Are you bullying Evan?” Buck can hear the smile on Tommy’s lips as he feels his hand land on his shoulder. He looks up at his boyfriend, and Tommy leans down, giving him a light kiss on his cheek. He looks a little brighter after rinsing off in the station showers and changing back into his Henley. 

“I was wondering why you had table privileges,” she smiles. “So, Chim finally got hitched huh, tell him and Maddie congrats for me.”

“Will do,” Buck smiles at her, and she walks away toward what he assumes is the snack cabinet. “Let’s get out of here and you into bed huh?” 

“You read my mind.” 

—

There’s a stillness in the car as they sit in Tommy’s driveway. 

“Evan, come inside. You’ve had a long stressful day too.” 

It’s like Tommy is inside his head, he doesn’t want to be alone tonight, not when he didn’t have to be. 

“And if the texts you sent me last night are any indication, you also did it all while hungover which I’m sure wasn’t all that pleasant. And, besides, you still owe me at least one dance.” 

“You are practically falling asleep sitting up and you want to dance?” 

“It’s what I was promised.” 

TOmmy reaches over the console between them, turning Buck’s face toward him, leans in and kisses him in earnest. Not quite as intense as their greeting earlier and not as gentle as their first. “Just come inside please,” he says just above a whisper against his lips. 

“Okay.” 

—

Buck takes in Tommy’s little house, it’s cozy with some of its years showing. 

“You can move past the entryway Evan. Just take your shoes off.” 

“Oh,” he replies softly, barely having noticed that he was slightly frozen. He toes off his shoes.

“C’mere,” Tommy holds out his hand, a song that Buck doesn’t know the name of softly drifting from the speakers. He lands in his boyfriend’s arms and it feels like it’s exactly where he is supposed to be. One hand on his neck, the other clasped together in Tommy’s, his other hand resting on his waist. It’s mostly quiet as they sway in the middle of the small living room. 

“You know, I never really got the whole hot firefighter thing until I saw you walk through those doors?” 

“You really are adorable.” Tommy smiles.

“Thank you for today. It means a lot that you did really try your damndest and succeeded.” He says earnestly. 

“Of course. It was important to you.” 

And Buck can’t help but kiss him for that, and he does, because he can. 

[chukys-mouthguard]

Ugly Sweater Weather

day 5 of the 2024 NHL advent calendar 🎄

1.2k words

genre -> fluff, suggested smut: minor sexual themes or ideas

featuring-> matthew knies x female reader

summary -> matthew drunkenly spills a drink all over your sweater at the leafs holiday party, forcing you to head to the nearest restroom to clean it

“This sweater is so fucking itchy, why did I let you convince me to wear this one?”

Matthew pulled at the neckline of his ugly Christmas sweater, a smirk in your face as you shook your head approaching the front door of Mitch’s house.

“Let’s see, because your other two options were not appropriate for the occasion?”

Raising an eyebrow you stopped on the porch as you rang the doorbell while Matthew laughed to himself as he thought of the two sweaters that were both decorated with horrible sexual Christmas puns.

“Hey! Look at you two! Thanks for following the theme, come on in!”

Mitch invited you inside, him and his wife wearing matching sweaters of their own that were so ugly they were cute. Their home was decorated to the nines as the Leafs and their significant others filled every room, enough ugly sweaters you were sure two people could start a fire if they rubbed arms for too long.

“Damn Kniesy…that sweater is something.”

Joseph Woll took his time poking fun at how uncomfortable Matthew looked in his sweater, only making him grow more irritated than the fabric was managing to make him. It didn’t help that Matthew was jacked and the sweater was possibly a size too small, but you refused to go to the party with him wearing one that said I have a big package for you while Santa was posed sexually across the front.

“Hey, just relax okay? Get a few drinks in your system, you’ll forget the sweater is even there okay?”

You ran a hand over his chest, doing your best to comfort him before stealing a kiss, then heading into the other room to greet some of the girls.

“Y/n, how in the world did you get Matthew to fit in that sweater?”

“It was definitely a two person job. But he was planning on wearing one that had an awful sexual joke and I vetoed that real fast.”

You accepted a glass from Mitch’s wife as you watched some of the guys begin to set up a drinking game.

“What are the odds he’s out of that sweater within the hour?”

“Has he finished any drinks yet?”

You eyed Matthew from across the room, watching as he and Auston argued over the rules for their game of pong.

“I think he’s on his second beer?”

“I give it three beers and the sweater is coming off.”

You sat in one of the barstools by the kitchen island as you watched the game of pong come down to the last few cups. Matthew and Joseph were one away from beating Auston and Mitch. The entire party was watching as it came to one last throw, Joseph needing to make it or there would be a rebuttal.

It was so quiet you could hear only the crackle of the fireplace as the ball flew through the air, clanging against the rim of the solo cup before finally splashing into the beer that filled it.

“Fuck yeah, let’s go!”

Matthew and Joseph jumped into each other's arms, Matthew clearly forgetting he had a full cup in hand as the beer poured out and all over your sweater. Your jaw was on the floor as you couldn’t believe he’d just drenched you in the liquid, a slight chuckle leaving your lips because what else could you do but laugh.

“Matthew. Knies. Are you fucking kidding me?”

Matthew’s smile faded as he looked at your white sweater that was now turned brown from his beer, immediately rushing to grab napkins as if they’d be of any help now.

“Babe I’m so sorry, um, here. Let me just try and-“

“Stop, it’s fine. Just stop.”

Pushing past him, you ran upstairs to the nearest bathroom. Immediately pulling the sweater from your body, gagging at the damp feeling left on your stomach and chest from the beer. Dropping the sweater into the sink you began running hot water over it, hoping that you could try to salvage things before it stained. Muffled expletives leaving your lips as you cursed Matthew under your breath.

“Babe?”

A soft knock came from the other side of the door as you heard Matthew call out to you. His voice was soft and apologetic as he slowly opened the door to peek in at you.

“I’m so fucking sorry, honest. Can I do anything to help?”

Slowly slipping into the bathroom, he found his place behind you as he watched you frantically wringing out the sweater, most of the beer washing out but now the fun part was drying it.

“And here I bet that you’d be the one out of your sweater in an hour, but instead it’s me.”

Setting the sweater down on the counter with a huff, you softly laughed as you shook your head. The party had only started and now you were without a sweater, and no change of clothes. Though you were sure you could borrow something from Mitch or Stephanie.

“Wait a minute, back up. Huh?”

Matthew’s hands rested on your waist as he smiled at you in the mirror.

“Me? Be out of my sweater? I think I’m missing some details here babe.”

Tucking some hair behind his ear you eyed him up and down, hand resting on his cheek as you bit your lip.

“You sir, have a dirty mind! It was a bet that you’d bitch out of wearing that itchy sweater all night and lose it within an hour of us getting here.”

Playfully you smacked him on the chest before searching for a hairdryer to use on your sweater now that the stain was taken care of. Matthew simply watched as you moved about the room in nothing but your leggings and a red lace bra, his eyes never leaving your frame.

“Damn, here I thought maybe you were finally matching my level of freaky dirty-mindedness babe. This bathroom is secluded, we totally could’ve had some fun.”

He leaned against the bathroom counter, his voice trailing off as he pretended to sound disappointed, simply sighing as he crossed his arms over his chest waiting for you to have some snarky remark.

“Matthew Knies, no way in hell we do anything like that in Mitch and Stephanie’s bathroom. Are you crazy??”

“Crazy horny right now with you standing in front of me in a red lace bra? Absolutely!”

His hands grabbed your waist as he pulled you into his chest, taking the sweater from you and tossing it to the side so he had your full attention.

“Come onnnn, it’ll be fun. Let me make it up to you for spilling my drink all over you.”

He began peppering your neck with kisses, making you giggle and squirm in his arms, finally giving in as he knew just how to win you over.

“Okay fine! But ditch the sweater, it’s really fucking itchy.”

[informalcrybaby]

One Condition (Travis X Reader)

You were drunk. Very, very drunk. So drunk, that you were absolutely, 100% positive, that the man with the shaven head sitting at the bar was flirting with you through subliminal messages. You had made eye contact around your third Moscow mule, his blue eyes meeting yours for a fraction of a second, a lazy smile turning up the corner of his plush lips before he turned back to his group of friends. At this point in your alcohol journey, you couldn’t remember if you smiled back but you must have done something to make him notice you because just a few minutes later, he ambled over to the jukebox, clicked a few buttons with his long fingers and your favorite song was playing. You weren’t ashamed to admit your eyes were glued to his firm backside for the entirety of his trip back to his barstool.

“He’s totally trying to get my attention.” You slurred before locking your lips around your straw to take a deep pull of your drink.

“Bitch, what?” Murphy, your best friend, cackled from beside you, “You haven’t even said two words to that man.”

“He put on Jack Harlow, Murph,” You stated, throwing your hand over to point at the jukebox, “The man obviously wants to fuck me.”

            Murphy fell into a fit of loud giggles that drew the attention of the four men sitting at the bar. You choked on your drink when the man with the shaved head, and incredible ass, raised his hand in greeting. After you managed to choke down the burning ginger beer in your throat, you managed a small, very awkward wave back.

“Come on,” Murphy said, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet, “Maybe mystery man and his buddies want to play darts.”

“You know I’m not allowed near projectiles when I’m intoxicated,” You scream whisper, fighting against her grip on your hand as you approach the bar, “Don’t you remember the lawn dart incident of 2018.”

“I do,” she acknowledges but quickly adds, drawing you closer into the men’s bubble, “But you’re not wearing high heels and I’ve spotted at least three fire extinguishers since we got here.”

            You have no time for a rebuttal because Murphy has already reached out and tapped the mystery man on the shoulder.

“Hey ladies,” He smiled brightly, his eyes soft in appraisal as he looked you both over, “What can we do for you?” His friends rattle off similar greetings, but you don’t hear one because holy mother of God, the man in front of you is mouth-wateringly sexy.

“Could we interest two fine gentlemen in a friendly game of darts?” Murphy asks, her hand tightening as I try to pull away. How could you have possibly thought, even drunk as a skunk, that this man would want to fuck me?

“Sounds great,” His smile widens, before he stands and dwarfs you both with his impressive size, “But I have one condition”

Your breath hitches as he faces you, and you fall under his suddenly burning gaze. Your body ignites with a fire you had never felt before and instead of fizzling like you normally would, you feel yourself grow bold.

“And what’s that big guy?” You challenge, crossing your arms and leveling your gaze at him. You watch as he pulls between his top lip between his teeth to stifle his smile but when he speaks, his tone is darkly serious.

“You’re on my team honey."

[scribeforchrist-blog]

What Is It ?

MEMORY VERSE OF THE WEEK

=========================

+ Ephesians 4:2 With all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love,

=========================

VERSE OF THE DAY

========================

+ Exodus 16:4 Then the Lord said to Moses, “I will rain down bread from heaven for you. The people are to go out each day and gather enough for that day. In this way I will test them and see whether they will follow my instructions.

=========================

** SAY THIS BEFORE YOU READ; HERE’S SOME CHRISTIAN TRUTHS **

I AM CONTENT

I AM LISTENING TO GOD

I AM LOVING

I AM FULLY INVESTED IN GOD

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

THOUGHTS:

=======================

   Do we always follow God's instructions? Do we always allow him to guide our lives even if we desperately need something, even if what we need is right there? Do we do exactly what he says, or do we wait on him and hear him? Sometimes we don’t because we are like, God will understand and he will, but when God gives us instruction to do this or that for a reason, and sometimes he's waiting to see what we will do, will we hold on to the little instructions or will we ignore him and do exactly what we want to do.

   I can tell you that I have had moments where I had the opportunity to have more. Still, God said to do this and that, and I had to choose: will I do what I like, or will I do what He wants? When I gave my life to God, he asked me to remove this person from my life because they were hindering my growth, and I prayed and prayed because I wasn’t ready to let go of this person. I still tried to fit them into my life and make it right, but the more they stayed around, the more I realized they were unsuitable for my life with Christ.

   I removed this person, and the enemy kept telling me I needed them, and at that moment I felt like I did. The Holy Spirit showed me immediately, why he said they didn’t need to be there. If I can be transparent, that was a tough season in my life. Still, I made it through because I did exactly what he wanted; sometimes, when we do what we want, we cause ourselves to have more hardship and more problems than what is needed, but when we follow God and listen to his instructions, we learn His way is always what's best.

  Verse 6 So Moses and Aaron said to all the Israelites, “In the evening you will know that it was the Lord who brought you out of Egypt,

 From verses 6-9, God tells them I heard your grumbling. I heard what you wanted, but who will you complain to grumble? We talked about his the other week about how when we grumble quenches the Holy Spirit, it doesn’t make him want to be around us, but God heard their complaints and let them know I will take care of you, that’s why if we have a man or woman of God in our lives we must listen to them and not rebuttal against them at every turn, that’s what Moses dealt with, with the Israelites they didn’t want to listen to him and nor did they care to listen to God. Hence, they fussed and complained until they got their way.

  Verse 15-16 When the Israelites saw it, they asked each other, “What is it?” For they did not know what it was. Moses said to them, “It is the bread the Lord has given you to eat. 16 “This is what the Lord has commanded: ‘Everyone is to gather as much as they need. Take an omer for each person you have in your tent.’ 

      Sometimes, when God blesses us with what he wants us to have, it won't look like what we want; the Israelites said what is this?? Some of us have been blessed now, and we are like, what is this? This isn’t the guy I wanted; I wanted him to be tall; this isn’t the ministry I wanted, I wanted to teach; this isn’t the job I wanted; I wanted an office job, and the words come right out of our mouth, what is this and he's saying this is what I want you to have, what he wants for us is what's best for us what he gives us will sustain us will help us will provide. Still, sometimes, we look at what something looks like and do not want what God has provided for us, and we should be content. Are you content? Are you asking what is it ??

 Verse 17, the Israelites did as they were told; some gathered much, some little. 18 When they measured it by the omer, the one who gathered much did not have too much, and the one who gathered little did not have too little. Everyone had gathered just as much as they needed.

   Some did exactly what God wanted; some got too much, and some got too little. See, we must listen to God. It might seem like it's too much or that we shouldn’t do this or that, but whatever God tells us to do, we must listen to him and not our thoughts.

 Are you still thinking about what it is? Why didn’t I get what I wanted? Maybe what we wanted didn’t fit the situation; look at me. What I wanted to stay wasn’t what God wanted. I had every opportunity to do what I wanted, but I did what God wanted and what he wanted, which hurt. I'm not going to lie to you: sometimes, when we do what he wants, it's going to hurt, it's going to make us feel a certain way, but we must place that

hurt on the side, we must place that emotion to the side and do what he wants of us.

   Jesus had emotions; he felt anger, but he didn’t sin; he felt sadness but he didn’t let his emotions break. The journey he was on, and we are all on a journey, but what is your journey saying? No better yet, what is God saying to you right now? Is it to stay? Is it to go? Is it listen? Whatever he’s telling you, don’t say what is it . Don’t say what is this you gave me. Say, thank you, God, for what you gave me and for giving me the right heart. We can’t allow our emotions to always steer us in the direction we want, and we can’t let situations do it, but you know what we can do: allow God to guide us through it and hear him.

   ***Today, the Holy Spirit showed us that what’s in our lives is out there and what he’s trying to take out; whatever God gave us, we can’t sit back and say what is it ; we must wait for instructions and follow ,what was one of the problems with the Israelites they wanted was, what they wanted ,but they wanted God to give it to them but what God is trying to give us, is more of what fits his will. Still, many of us are so fixated on what we want that we miss our blessing, and when we do this, we grieve the Holy Spirit with grumbling.

  The Holy Spirit teaches us daily that if we are willing to listen, life isn’t just a once-a-week journey; it’s an everyday journey filled with change, and we must be willing to walk in those changes. We must be willing to hear him, and the blessing God has for us could be held up by the grumbling, by the way, we dismiss what he’s doing now; some of us don’t have what we want because we are too busy searching for Gods voice in other things when he spoke to us but we are ignoring Him because we are too busy saying WHAT IS IT, stop saying this and say God what do you need from me in this season at this moment in this journey today! ©Seer~ Prophetess Lee

========================

PRAYER

========================

Heavenly Father, we thank you for everything and for giving us what you have given us. Father, today, we are asking what do you need from us. We are asking you to help change how we look at things, help us look at you, and help us stay focused on you! Lord, we love you and ask you to forgive us if we are grumbling; forgive us if we aren’t content. Lord, help us to be content with your blessing and help us to hear you right now, in Jesus Name, Amen

========================

REFERENCES

========================

+ Luke 12:15 He told them, “Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.”

 

+ 1 Timothy 6:6 But godliness with contentment is great gain,

 

+ Matthew 6:33 But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.

========================

FURTHER READINGS

=========================

Proverbs 21

2 Corinthians 10

Hebrews 2

Leviticus 21

=========================

[supersonicob]

I can’t stay away from him, he’s alluring and so incredibly intoxicating and addictive. This picture here I found floating around online is literally the best way to describe him and I. Only my mental and emotional scars are being shown on the outside here in this picture. The spiked crown/tiara on her head would represent the mental strain/stress he has put on me. Before I met him, before I was forced to come back to my dreadful hometown, I was happy and at peace with my life. Getting to go to theme parks with my annual pass any damn time I wanted, coming and going as I saw fit, I might not have liked being single in the general sense of the word, but I squared with the reality and overall in the grand scheme of things I was happy and at frickin peace with myself and my life. But god will find a way to make you have to start life all over again and reset your life when you least expect him to, and upon having moved back to my hometown I also end up meeting the now/recent ex. He is toxic, he is a little bit of a narcissist, he loves hearing himself talk, he thinks he’s smarter than everyone in his circle, he over powers the conversations and believes his words are the end all be all and his last word means the end of discussion and you are not allowed to say anything else or else in his eyes your being defiant and you have to have a rebuttal to everything he says and you aren’t listening and understanding him. That’s literally how that man’s brain processed anyone he fought with or tried to manipulate and control. So the male character in this picture BEST describes him to a T if our mental state of mind and our emotions could be best described in picture format, THIS RIGHT HERE WOULD BE IT! Hands down no lie! Straight up with no chaser. 💯 the spiked collar would represent the emotional block that man held up. It would represent an invisible barrier/bubble which protected him from fully opening up to a new girlfriend. The spikes used as a Mohawk, and the fire on top would literally represent his narcissism his ego and the flames itself would represent his short temper, that man could easily go from 0-100 with his nasty ass attitude if you questioned him about anything. The spikes could also represent his ego and pride. The sharp claw like nails would represent how much he would prod and provoke you to fight with him. Mass majority of the time he would be the cause of the fight, just because he was simply bored and craved chaos. The male character in this picture from every ounce of him that we can see would legit shot represent every negative aspect of how this man processed thoughts and emotions and how they were reflected and shown on the outside. It’s incredibly sad. Sure I made him improve on some things and he started to change for the better due to my influences. But it doesn’t seem like he’s going to improve on that stank nasty attitude and narcissistic personality traits. The bad awful habit of cutting people off when they are talking…..it’s just way too much and exhausting.

So then but wait!!! 🫸🏾 now with all that being said…..if the cons outweighs the pros then why do I keep getting pulled back into him? Why does my heart and brain process this man as intoxicating? Why do I end up destroying more pieces of myself to be the mediator in every debate/fight???🤔 why does the very sound of his voice soothe me and due to his height, the way he looks down at me turns me on? What is with this male that makes me feel like my brain processes his personality as toxic and rude and mean at periodic times, but I can’t peel myself away from him? He’s leaving psychological scars on me and emotional trauma. The only lesson I could take away from this fucked up yet delicious experience is how to be just…..like…..him! How to be cold hearted and give 0 fucks about a spouse’s feelings. Only thing God showed me was that I was UNNECESSARILY DRAGGED AWAY FROM MY HAPPY HOME IN THE OTHER CITY, FOR ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! I learned nothing new, only proved to me that love isn’t real, and there are more narcissistic people in this world than what needs to be. And that God will act just like the devil by consistently chastising you to test your faith and loyalty in him like some petty insecure man. I honestly feel like he isn’t there for me regardless of how much I spoke about him and try to follow HIS RULES and prayed to him. He still played a part in this UNNECESSARY experience just as much as the devil did. I mean let’s keep in mind GOD CREATED THE EVIL IN THE WORLD WHEN HE CREATED LUCIFER IN THE FIRST PLACE WAS FULLY AWARE HE WOULD BETRAY HIM BUT STILL ALLOWED IT TO HAPPEN!. So then in retrospect how can God get mad at how us humans act when he’s the reason why we have temptation and sin and evil in the world to begin with? I trusted God to have my back by not allowing anymore toxic mean people into my space into my aura. But yet here I am now, lighting little tea candles trying to get my old self back my life back pre boyfriend. (Also this picture is being used as the ex’s profile picture, just because it’s so fitting)

Can’t get over how much this picture best describes us. And this chingy songs also best describes us (not the first lyric where he’s talking about being a superstar obviously but)… everything else including the chorus Tyrese sings.

[florianjace]

˙ ˖ ✶ Andre

It was alarming. The way Florian remembered that first chance encounter, dimly lit rooms and music that made it all but impossible to hear. Silhouettes of people milling about, and then there was this one man. Pompous, exuberant, indulgent, haughty, narcissistic, annoying, cute, Andre. His name sounded so bitter sweet on his lips, like the ghost of a kiss that should've been that very first night but as the events played out, he'd never admit how he wished to replay that same night over and over to see if there could a miraculous different outcome. Then he remembered the vexing words, the veiled insults in the form of compliments, and how Florian rolled his eye unimpressed, over the conversation but most of all scared. Terrified of what he felt in those very few moments where they were forced against each other in a crowded room, and how he realized for a mere moment, they fit perfectly together.

"I was about to say I could show you better than I could tell you," Florian smirked, knowing that all of his figure skating gear had been stoned to perfection and how'd he'd taken design lessons so he could do them himself. There was not a single costume that didn't enhance his assets, and how truly wonderful he felt on the ice. "Oh I truly must," he chuckled, playing into the game. "You really do believe all eyes are on you in a room, huh? Hope you keep that same grace and confidence when all those eyes see you on the ice, because my eyes will definitely be glued to you."

As he reached the bar past Florian he took a heavy breath, reading a text from his best friend that asked what the hell was going on between him and Andre. An assortment of emojis that signified any sort of attraction felt offensive in this instance as he replied swiftly and glared back at his friend. People were truly losing their mind if they thought he had any sort of interest in this man. But he was playing this game to ensure he could hold something over Andre Etienne Temple. As he walked back he let his fingers travel up and down Andre's arm, exploring the so called bicep the man had been flexing prior. "Hmm, just as I thought, very skinny, needs a lot of work," he giggled before sitting down with another drink.

At the rebuttal he simply smiled, looking at Andre from over his drink. "It's simple, you'd love to have a win over me and make me admit that you truly can do anything, mister athlete." he teased. "I can think of a few things I want," he mused, his finger circling the rim of his glass he shot the man a glance. Rummaging through his belongings he felt a bit of panic when he couldn't find his keys. "Fuck! this is just what I needed," he blurted out as he stared up at the ceiling taking a deep breath. "Guess I'll find a hotel for myself tonight because I locked myself out of my place and my roommate won't be back for 3 days. First time this has ever happened to me, so don't try to rub anything in, Andre."

Andre was constantly perplexed by his own feelings towards Florian, ever since their first gritty encounter at a crowded party in someone's cramped Brooklyn apartment. It was dark, everyone was already drunk, the lights were low, and the introduction was brusque at best, but the air between them buzzed with an energy that Andre didn't understand. For starters, Florian was far from his usual type-- girls who drooled over him and guys he met at the gym. There was one long term relationship in his early twenties, with a boy from his senior data analysis course in college, but when he refused to go public with him after a year of being madly, secretly in love, and Andre had been sworn off of 'feelings' ever since. All he allowed himself to care about these days was work, hookups, his clothes, and having a nice looking grid on instagram. And Florian, in all his 5'5", figure skating, shit-talking glory, was a direct threat to the walls he'd carefully constructed. Andre was about to retort, something mean with a flirty edge, when Florian all but forced him to imagine him in a figure skating costume, the spandex clinging to his strong thighs, the pronounced curve of his arched back, the outline of his-- okay, stop, Andre, that's enough. "Hm, I don't believe you," he arches a brow, shifting uncomfortably in his chair as he tries to think of something less.... stimulating, "I guess you'll have to show me, then, won't you?" "See, I want to be insulted, but you seem to have a lot of pent up feelings about my biceps, don't you?" Andre chuckled, shaking his head as he smirked tauntingly at the boy. The smirk was promptly wiped away, though, at the taunting whisper in his ear as Florian got up to get himself another drink. ET? Part of him knew what that meant, but he wouldn't admit to himself that Florian could know him well enough. Andre pointedly had to stop himself from watching the boy walk away, turning his attention forcefully to the distant conversation of their friends at the other end of the table. He noticed his closest girl friend giving him a too-knowing look over the rim of her diet coke, and he glared at her in response. She just laughed at him, in that way that let him know that they would be ubering home together so that he could tell her in no uncertain terms that he did not have the hots for Florian, absolutely not, that's preposterous!! With a suspicious look on his hard-lined face, Andre listened to Florian's proposal, a brow arching at the terms of the bet. "And uh," the smirk returned full force, "What makes you think I want something from you, then?" He knows what he's doing, daring Florian to say what they've both silently agreed not to say, but he certainly won't be the one to break the ice (pun intended). "Alright, bet." Andre extends a strong hand across the table to shake on it, "And don't worry. You won't have to worry about figuring out what you want from me."

[kithtaehyung]

basketball (3tan) (m) | myg

title: basketball (the weekend, pt. 1)  pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)  series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party  rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au  summary: running into yoongi after weeks, you realize that you finally get to see him again. at least, you thought so.   warnings: cursing, tension, angst yall lmfao i am so sorry but trust the process ok, also a bunch of stuff happens in this one, protected, breast play, fingering, so much overthinking, orange yoongi is always a warning in itself, did i mention angst? note: the amount. of times. i wanted to talk about his chapter LMAO just know that it’s been ROUGH. more screaming in the author’s note at the end but yeah. lmfao. as always, thank you to my lovely betas @lavienjin​ and @joheunsaram​ for putting up with my many drafts and for the incredible support!! :’)) note 2: if you haven’t gotten around to the other three tangerines fics yet, i highly encourage you to read those first. it would make more sense!  drop date: february 8th, 2022, 7:17pm est word count: 14k !

-

-

Idiot🙄 [7:02pm]: Are you home? 

You [7:04pm]: Just got back

Idiot🙄: Incoming Call 

“Hey.” 

“Hey, can you bring us a ball? There’s one in the garage.” 

You groan while looking at the entryway around your exhausted bones. “I just got inside.” 

“So? We’re not far.” 

“Then come get it!” Why the hell is he making you do it then? He’s got two working legs!

Your brother is quick with the rebuttal. 

“Fuck that! We can’t leave ‘cus the court’ll get taken.” 

Thumping your bag down on a nearby counter, you hear some audible sounds on the line—one of them definitely Jimin’s distinct laugh. “Where are you?” 

“We’re at—Oh, Yoong, did you find a pump?” 

Oh, fuck. Yoongi’s there? 

Immediately, you wanna teleport. 

“How do you not have one in your—Whatever, she’s bringing one.” 

As someone that absolutely didn’t say anything close to agreement yet, you scoff on instinct. But… an opportunity to see Yoongi? On a basketball court of all places? You should’ve been leaving ten minutes ago. 

You remember watching them while growing up on the days your brother begrudgingly took you along. While you sat on the sidelines busy with your actual life on your phone, the shouts and squeaks of sneakers served as annoying background noise. 

Though, you remember with a smile that you did develop a tiny—only tiny, miniscule even—crush on Yoongi back then. The frightening mix of confidence and cockiness was hard not to be drawn to, especially when he was able to back up all the shit talk. 

“You comin’?” 

Shit, you didn’t even realize you weren’t talking! Recovering quickly while inwardly cursing your own damn mind, you huff, “Ass. I’ll change then head over.” 

“Thanks! We’re across from the rec.” 

“K. Wait, where in the garage?” 

“Tub under the bikes.” 

“K.”

Locking your door, you make your way over to the court a few blocks over with a ball under your arm and a canvas bag slung over your shoulder. You figured you’d bring them some water since, by precedence, they normally stayed out and played for hours. 

Are the bottles also another excuse to have any sort of moment with Yoongi? Maybe.

But who are you kidding? The outfit you also changed into fit under that same urge—an outfit that you have been wanting to wear but didn’t have the guts to thus far. 

After a few moments of worrying too much, you justified the clothes on the other plans you have for tonight. Didn’t make it anything to do with seeing anyone in particular. 

Just practicing some confidence. That’s all. 

After a good handful of minutes, you finally make it to the fenced court and immediately spot your brother leaning on the metal partition, greeting him with a slight bit of salt in your words.

As soon as he turns, he gives you a once over with furrowed brows. “What the hell are you wearing? You walked all the way here in that?”  

You ignore him as you put your bag down on the sidewalk. Tossing your ball over the high barrier, you instead ask with a grunt, “Aren’t you leaving tomorrow?” 

Thank god you launch it over the top in one try. It’s easily caught while he responds, “Yeah, that’s… That’s why we’re playing now.” 

“You won’t be sore?” 

“Relax. I’m not old.” 

“I am.” 

Oh, fuck. 

Fuck.

On the other side of your sibling, Yoongi appears out of nowhere, lifting sweaty arms to hang equally drenched hands on chain links. As you take in his wet locks, you have to rein in every ounce of power from the universe just to not break when he simply says, 

“Hi.” 

“Your hair.” You blink once. Twice. It’s the same color you saw on one of those hair dye boxes in his bathroom that day. And what’s worse: it reminds you of goddamn tangerines. “Wow.” 

As your brother launches into a huge rant about him dyeing it now of all times, Yoongi grins lopsided at your taking in the sight of his transformation. 

Asshole! He fucking knows how good he looks right now!

When you turn to face your brother, your eyes betray you and linger on the nuisance a bit longer. “What do you mean now of all times?” 

“He’s just got—”

“Relax,” Yoongi defends himself. “They won’t mind.” 

“I guess. But ever since you dyed it, your phone’s been blowing up.” He turns around. “Jimin! Here!” 

As your brother throws the ball to the other person you know on the court, he launches into a brief moment of nostalgia, the hollow bounces and his subject change almost enough to distract you from what he just said. 

“It’s been so long since you went orange.” 

Yoongi smiles a bit as he nods, wiping his hands with the bottom of his shirt. It’s cute how his downcast eyes soften a tad. What was that all about? 

You really want to know, so you listlessly ask when the last time was while focusing on the court behind them. 

And while your downfall watches Jimin lazily toss layups, you get a response from your sibling, “Damn. I don’t even remember. Seven years ago?”

“Eight,” Yoongi corrects offhandedly. “And you were just as bad.” 

“Hey!” 

Your brother laughs, and that’s when you wonder if you should join them on the other side of the fence, onto the court where some local bleachers have been placed. 

Besides, you still want to know what your brother meant by Yoongi’s phone… The feeling that’s developing in your stomach isn’t good in the slightest. 

“We thought we were hot shit, huh?” 

“You still think you are,” you scoff, earning a tsk and a chuckle. It’s then that you remember what else you have with you—something you need to step onto the court to give them anyway. “Oh, wait. I brought water.” 

They both watch as you fetch your bag and make your way to the fence opening, and you find this reunion a bit strange given your completely different relationships with the both of them. What’s even more awkward is the fact that your brother definitely doesn’t know about the other—if you can call whatever you have with Yoongi a relationship in the first place. 

Now that you think about it, what would the both of you even be? Nothing, right? Close to it, at least. The phone call a couple weeks ago showed that there was something there, but there hasn’t been much contact since then. Minimal contact, actually, even though his phone is apparently constantly lit.

Fuck.

This is hard.

Once your shoes step onto colored concrete, Jimin comes jogging up while holding your ball. His voice is light enough to lift your mood back to normal. “Hi!”

“Hey!” You beam a smile his way before walking up next to your sibling. 

Holy hell, it’s taking everything in you to not look at the orange-haired demon beside him as you hand out the bottles, feeling everyone’s sun-drenched skin radiating heat in waves. “How long have you been here without a ball?” 

“Not long. Someone just brought a flat one,” the same fiend cuts in with a drone before anyone else can answer. His eyes are aimed straight at your brother, so yours follow, filled with disappointment. 

“Wow. I even explained myself?” 

“You did,” Jimin responds immediately. “But it’s still your fault.”

You laugh before checking your phone, and your sibling and Yoongi use that time to take the ball from Jimin before heading to the closer basket. 

Damn. As much as you want to watch Yoongi in his element, you still need to get back home and drive to the theatre. Sighing, you state, “Well, I should head out.” 

“You aren’t gonna stay?”

Your head and two others turn Jimin’s way, and you falter before explaining, eyes snapping to Yoongi for a brief moment, “Didn’t plan on it. I’m seeing a movie.” 

“Oh, yeah! Taehyung told me about that.” He checks his watch before adorning a playful expression, shamelessly running his gaze along your body before providing an excuse, 

“You have time. Just tell him to meet you here.” 

Ah, fuck. Your brother is already piercing Jimin with suspicion. You hate when he gets this way so quickly. 

But, the flirt technically gave you another chance to do what you wanted in the first place. If anything, this would make your intentions a lot more subtle. “Umm… I guess I could.” 

“Yay! Watch me win.”

“No chance.”

Suddenly, someone is next to you picking up a bottle resting by your feet, and you don’t need to look to see who it is—the visceral reaction you have to their presence is enough to clue you in. How that’s possible, you have no fucking clue. 

When did Yoongi even leave his bottle there? And did he leave it on purpose? From what you saw during a quick scan of the court, his stuff is resting on the bleachers…

Your heart flutters while Jimin answers with mirth. “Is that so?” 

Yoongi only raises his eyebrows in response, mouth occupied with the water already. 

Goddamn it, you can’t look at him for too long, if at all right now. You think you would’ve been able to handle the same Yoongi since that’s what you were expecting. But this? This Yoongi with hair so loud that it’s creating another layer of confidence around him that you’re even more drawn to? Fucking hell, you may just turn down Jimin’s offer. 

But the man refocuses on you while grinning, tilting his head Yoongi’s way. “He’s always acting tough, isn’t he?” 

“Seems so,” you quickly agree, and you hear a brief snort on your side. 

And neither of them make any move to leave. 

But the stalemate ceases in an instant. There’s a clunk of a ball hitting a rim before your brother shouts, “Hey! Hurry the hell up!” 

“Kay!” 

Jimin jogs away with a smile, but while Yoongi follows suit, you blurt, 

“I like it.”

He turns. 

“The hair.” 

And he just smirks at you before shooting a wink, and your body almost breaks into pieces as you make your way to the bleachers. 

Finding a random spot on the third to bottom row, you immediately check your phone to make your eyes focus on anything else. Besides, you need to text Taehyung and let him know about Jimin’s derailing of your plans. You’ll take any distraction you can get. 

Your ride’s reply comes seconds later. 

Taeee😪 [7:20pm]: I am going to fight him 😐

Taeee😪 [7:20pm]: See you there.

As you’re cycling through apps, you start to hear a bunch of other voices, so you lift your head to take in the crowd coming in. You’ve seen some of them around but a lot of them are guys you haven’t seen before. Must just be the changes of the neighborhood since you last lived here. 

Yoongi is back to his smug ways on the court, eyebrow quirking before he easily cuts through defenders to score. If he doesn’t take shots himself, the passes he makes to your brother and Jimin leave his hands just as smoothly, some of them sick enough to get people on the sidelines to react. 

During the time you wait for Taehyung, more things happen. More people start filing in, the lights get flickered on when it starts to get dark, and a stray ball that bounces right towards you hits the front of the bleachers before Yoongi quickly follows—the expression he discreetly aims your way enough to send your inappropriate thoughts into overdrive. 

You haven’t felt this drawn to a sport in your entire goddamn life. 

Of course, it’s more the player than anything else. The way he laughs while pointing at fuck-ups, the times he wipes his forehead with the top of his shirt, and hell, even the way he plants his hands on his knees. Everything is normally so mundane if done by anyone else. But when Yoongi does them? You find yourself clenching your thighs together and trying to calm your erratic heart rate. 

He looks like he’s genuinely having fun.

You love that.

And the game goes on, with your brother and them winning and sweating through their shirts. But when it’s abruptly interrupted, the shouts you hear on the court are from randoms you don’t know. 

“That was out.”

“What? Motherfucker, no it wasn’t?” 

“I saw you step out!” 

“You’re lying.”

Finally, Yoongi cuts in, seemingly impatient and wanting things to keep moving. “Just shoot for it.”

He’s quickly overshadowed by the others again.

“I’m not shooting for that. It’s still our ball.”

“Stop holding up the game, bro. Shoot for it.” 

“No! No.”

It seems that this conversation will keep going. Because men. And pride.

You feel eyes on you while this exchange is happening and, while you think it’s Taehyung finally arriving, they’re actually coming from some guys on the other side of the court—the side that everyone stopped on. They’re talking amongst themselves, and who knows what the hell they’re saying. 

Ugh. 

Just focus on the game. You didn’t expect this much attention just sitting on the sidelines. 

As you plant your feet on the riser below you, you’re just wondering if they know about your older sibling. 

Because if they don’t stop being so obvious, they’re about to. 

The conversation is still happening about whose ball it is, and you see Yoongi walk up to the same group of people and say something before lifting his thumb back to the court. 

When one of the guys nods to him and joins the game, he gives a look to your brother before lazily walking… Your way? 

What’s he doing? 

Oh, yes. His stuff is on one side of the bleachers. Maybe he’s getting water. 

But wait. Why did he get someone to play for him? Why is he settling on the bottom bench, leaning back so that one of his elbows lies next to your shoes? 

Your heart is racing as much as the drops of sweat running down his neck. 

Holy fuck, he looks good.

“You okay?” You ask downward, taking in his drenched hair and heaving chest. 

A thought occurs to you then. A truth so exhilarating that you might burst if you don’t keep yourself in check. 

You get to see him tomorrow. 

You don’t know what to do. 

Yoongi wipes his neck while watching the game finally start back up again. When he answers, his voice is so low that you lean down a bit to hear. “Oh, yeah. Just tired.” 

He certainly doesn’t look tired. A little winded, sure, but not tired.

“Ah, I see,” you respond, planting your hands outside of your thighs. “You got a lot better.” 

He turns his head to look up at you. “You think so?”

And you want to tell him something else, but all that comes out of your mouth is, “Mmhmm.”

A corner of his mouth lifts before he shifts his attention back to the court. “Thanks. We started playing in a league so. Been playing a lot more recently. Damn rusty, though.”

Oh. You already know about the league because your brother mentioned it before, but… What is this feeling you have? Hearing just a sliver of Yoongi’s life outside of where you normally see him? You’re amazed he even said something. Truthfully, it’s also a bit shocking that it slipped out of his mouth so easily. 

Maybe it’s from adrenaline. You have seen people be a lot more chatty during games and today is obviously no different. 

“I heard about the team! I didn’t know you were on it.” 

A nod.

Grinning, you add, “Now I really won’t come to games.” 

Yoongi’s shoulders bob a bit and, though you can’t directly see his expression from where you’re sitting, his lifted cheekbone is enough of a hint that he’s highly amused. 

Fuck. 

You really want to jump his damn bones. 

A scary follow-up thought spears your brain: what if you actually don’t see him tomorrow? Like your brother just said: his phone’s been blowing up. What does that mean for you? Does Yoongi even still remember? 

Shit shit shit. 

You need to confirm now while the both of you are a ways from anyone else. 

“Yoo—”

“Hey!” 

Both you and the man below you snap your heads to the sound, watching as Taehyung walks along the concrete sideline before hopping one foot onto your bleacher. As the metal clang rings in your ears, you offer a smile. 

“Hey, Tae,” you greet as Yoongi lifts himself into a sitting position, slightly put out that your confirmation with him was interrupted. “Took you awhile.” 

His affronted expression is priceless. “I’m sorry. I was told to make a detour before even getting up! What’s up, Yoong.” 

“Sup.” 

You groan. “Your plans weren’t the only ones changed. I had to get these dummies a ball.” 

“Leave me outta this.” 

“Says the basketball player without a pump in his car.” 

Yoongi briefly tosses you a grin and scrunched nose over his shoulder, and you feel another skip of your heartbeat, wondering how long it will take until this man ends you completely. 

Taehyung’s voice starts out slow as he continues, “Well, if you’re ready, we can go.” 

“Yeah!” you chirp, not ready to leave Yoongi looking like that at all. “Let’s go.” 

As your shoes clunk along the bleachers before you step onto solid ground, you shoot him a smile over your shoulder. “Bye, Yoongi.”

“See ya,” he responds before his eyes flicker to your feet and back up again. 

Suddenly incredibly shy, you clear your throat before walking in stride with Taehyung, waving goodbye to your brother and Jimin. 

When you head out shortly after, you turn back one more time. 

And suck in a breath. 

Because Yoongi’s already turned away, drinking from his bottle while aiming a look to the other side of the court.

As you settle into Taehyung’s car, you spew some much needed venting about work and how everything is just inherently unfair. 

“You need to find something else, bro,” he sighs while starting the engine. “I keep telling you. You’re too smart for that place.”

“I’m looking, I’m looking,” you sigh, knowing that you can’t refute anything he’s saying. The only issue is that you want to find a career instead of a job, and the only options you’ve come across since graduating are the latter. 

It could also be because you’re picky. But that’s besides the point. 

While Taehyung starts to list some options—one of them definitely a joke but still making you embarrassed—you feel a vibration in your lap. Picking up your device, you see who’s on the lock screen and unlock it as quickly as you can. 

Yoongi [7:56pm]: Thanks for the water :) 

It’s such a simple message. Harmless, too. But you still can’t help your face from heating and your fingers from squeezing your phone a little tighter. 

An old, mellow song fills the car while you type your reply. 

You [7:58pm]: You’re welcome !

And the second one you send is made purely out of your own impatience to see him again. 

You [7:58pm]: I wish I could’ve stayed… 

After it slips into the thread, you wonder if you crossed a line before saying screw it altogether. Your brother and Jimin are most likely still on the court anyways, and it’s definitely not a lie. Maybe you’re gauging if he feels the same?

Or do you just hope that he responds to your texts out of the many messages he’s been receiving lately? God, that’s so lame, but it would at least help ease your mind if he did. 

Then again, he did text you first… But maybe that was—

“What was that all about?” 

A quick cough leaves your mouth before you brace your chest, hitting it twice. Fuck, you completely forgot you aren’t alone! Clearing the shame from your throat, you decide to tell part of the truth. “Oh. Yoongi just said thank you for the water.” 

Tae just lifts a brow along with his lips. “Mm.” 

“What?” 

He slowly slides his eyes your way, checking his mirror on your side before making a turn. You feel tingles along your spine when he airily responds, “I won’t tell.” 

“Tell what?” 

Taehyung gives you a look before droning, “Really.” 

“I’m not—Whatever you’ve got in that head of yours, it is incorrect.” 

“Uh huh. So the two of you aren’t fucking?” 

Your jaw drops to your thighs. “We aren’t!” 

“Mm. But you plan on it.” 

What the fuck! How does he know?

“Tae!”

“Next time,” your scarily accurate friend advises, “Don’t make it so obvious. He checks you out all the time but, if you do the same, then people’ll talk.” When he gives your outfit a once-over, you shrivel up at his smirk. “This makes sense now.” 

“He… I…” 

Well then. You didn’t know Yoongi regarded you like that enough for others to notice. Then again, Taehyung is the most intuitive out of your friends. If anyone was going to suspect anything miles ahead of everyone else, it would be him. 

He simply smiles and shakes his head. “Don’t worry. I won’t pry.” 

Come to think of it, you didn’t exactly tell anyone all the details about that day. Sure, you’ve mentioned to your girlfriends that something happened—they picked up on your glow even days afterwards, so you had to spill. 

But you didn’t dare mention a name. Not even a description, as much as they hounded you to describe his dick. 

In this case, however… Taehyung seems to be convinced that he’s right already. 

And he is. 

So maybe you can actually admit what the hell happened to someone. The truth. It can finally leave the walls of your chest and take temporary rest in someone else’s, and possibly make your steps a bit lighter in the process. 

You take a deep breath.

“We did. Once.” 

Taehyung immediately slaps his steering wheel, triumphant and making you flinch. “Hah! I knew it! Wait, only once?” 

The scenery outside your window is suddenly super interesting. “Yeah.”

“…When?”

“Last summer.”

One song changes to another as your friend pauses. “Oh, damn. I didn’t peg you as the one and done type.”

“Nah. It wasn’t like that,” you sigh. Reminiscent of what that day truly meant to you, you allow a fond smile to grace your face. “It was actually really nice.” 

An even longer pause takes place, but you’re too busy replaying the events while watching buildings and cars and lights flash by. With the soft music accompanying, you’re briefly content and simply someone along for a night ride. 

But Tae’s inquisitive hum pulls you back in.

Turning to him, you question, “What?”

The man is contemplative, and it looks like he’s gauging whether to say what he wants to or not. But you wait—like you always do—because you can’t budge the sudden fear in your gut. 

Finally, he speaks, “You know how he is, yeah? Never leaving parties or whatever alone?”

“…Yeah.”

“I started noticing something off but.. I never knew what it was. And Jimin didn’t know, either. Which was even weirder.” 

“Uh huh… And?”

“I dunno. He just started checking out early. Like he would just dip or. Check his phone then bounce.” Taehyung flicks his turn signal on shortly before changing lanes. “I thought he actually had a regular or something. And after your little freak-out—which was cute, by the way—I thought it could’ve been you.”

Your heart plummets. “Oh… It’s not.”

“Mm.” 

Goddamn it. First the phone situation with him and now this. Of course you know Yoongi is the type of guy you can expect this from, but… Shit. You feel like an idiot right now for thinking something would be different in your case. 

May as well get some questions out of the way. If this thing you planned happens at all, you need to be prepared. Licking your lips, you point out the obvious with a sigh, “You’ve been around him more than I have.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Does he… Hmm.” 

“What?”

Shaking your head, you both like how you can talk about this with someone and also dread the answer you’ll receive. “You think he’s the type to kick people out? After… You know?”

Tae aims a sly grin your way. “Is that what he did to you?”

You reach over to playfully tug on his sleeve before scoffing, “No!” But after thinking about it, technically Yoongi did send you off, but the circumstances called for it. “I mean. That was different.” 

And your friend hums, unconvinced. “But yeah, from what I’ve heard, that’s usually what happens. At least, if they end up at his place. Pretty quick, too.” 

“Ah,” you respond, heart bleeding. 

“Why? You really are planning on fucking, huh?” 

“Tae!” 

“Just because I’m right about your upcoming appointme—”

“It’s nothing like that!”

“Uh huh. And you’re just gonna be sitting on your single ass once your brother leaves.” 

Fuck. He’s got you completely had and you barely said a thing. 

You definitely need to be more discreet. It’s fine if Taehyung is the only one that knows, but if other people do? There’s no way it can be kept from your brother then. And that will turn out fine for no one. 

Your silence draws itself out long enough for Tae to say with slight pity, “You’re lucky I like listening instead of talking.” 

“I dunno,” you bite. “You’re being awfully fucking chatty tonight.” 

The laugh that erupts is completely Taehyung, his head throwing back a bit in the process. It’s enough to pull one side of your mouth up. 

You’re fine. You know you can trust him. And you were right: you do feel a bit lighter now that the truth exists past your heart and Yoongi’s place. 

“Just be careful with that one, okay? You know how he is. Just like your brother: doesn’t do relationships and all that.”

With a slow nod, you’re back to looking out the window, hiding the cracks in your visage. “I know.” 

“Does anyone else know?”

“No.”

“Mm.” 

Fuck. The feeling is back. The dark, simmering feeling that you’ve made a mistake is stewing, and you need to try your hardest to not let it consume you. 

But this is incredibly difficult to do once you see that you were left on Read.

The movie crawled by, a temporary distraction from your thoughts. 

It would’ve done a better job if it wasn’t so shitty, though. Both you and Taehyung now stomp out of the theatre, pissed and cursing the people that recommended it. 

“That had to be a prank,” you surmise, disgruntled and fishing out your phone before you even get to the exit doors. 

“Pranks I can respect. But if that was actually something they liked? I am blocking them.” 

Amusement bubbles from your throat. “Tae! Those are your friends. We do not block friends.” 

“We do if they have shitty taste in movies.” 

When you both cross the entryway of the building, your miffed companion spots the ticket booth. Determined, he proclaims, “Hold on. I’m getting our money back.” 

“Wow,” you laugh. “Good luck! I’ll be here.” 

It’s after you watch his taut strides that you finally unlock your phone to see any notifications. 

Some group chats, some emails, other random apps. 

But of course, your finger zeroes in on the one that has your heart beating again. A notification you wanted but didn’t expect to get.

Yoongi [9:52pm]: You missed out. I put on a show

You berate yourself for smiling at his overflow of confidence. But you’re also relieved as hell that he even responded in general. Maybe things aren’t as awful as you’re creating them in your mind. 

Hell, he could’ve been playing that whole time! 

You need to chill the hell out. Stop worrying. Just go with the flow of things. 

You [10:01pm]: Just got out of the movie !! And I knew you would.

Surprisingly, he responds quick. 

Yoongi [10:02pm]: How’d it go?

You [10:02pm]: Boring af. Tae’s trying to get our money back. 

Yoongi [10:03pm]: Damn. Sorry :(

When you look up, you see Taehyung sauntering back, knowing he was successful one way or another. 

Smiling, you observe, “I see we got what we wanted?” 

“Yup! But also…” He wiggles his phone. 

“Oh, my god. You got their number?” 

Taehyung beams a wide smile your way before you both leave the theatre. “And a free movie date.” 

Your eyes roll heavenward. “I dunno how you do it.” 

“Easy,” he puffs. “Confidence.”

“That’s it?”

“Ah, no. Confidence, and saying what you want.” 

You level your eyes with his. “It can’t be that simple.”

“Try it, babe. I promise it works.”

The car ride is more animated this time as you both rant about the film and ones that are scarily similar and equally terrible. 

As you look at your phone, you see that Yoongi actually texted you again, so you rush to answer—not without getting a chuckle from Taehyung. 

Yoongi [10:06pm]: What’s next?

You [10:20pm]: HOME

You [10:21pm]: Work early tomorrow. I shouldn’t have gone out tonight tbh 

It’s not until Taehyung drops you off at your house and you’re heading to your room that you get a reply. 

Yoongi [10:38pm]: Fuckin saaame. I’m passing tf out soon

Interesting, given it’s a Thursday night. Which part is he agreeing with? Work? Not going out? Both? 

What could it mean if he agreed to either one? Maybe he is with his regular—if that’s even a thing? 

Fuck! Stop thinking about any of this. This whole chilling out thing is clearly not working for you and you’re pretty sure stress is digging trenches in your forehead. 

Sighing, you set your bag down in your desk chair before deciding on a neutral reply, hating how you’re putting up a front.

You [10:40pm]: Okayyy gn!!

Yoongi [10:42pm]: gn :)

It’s after you get his reply that you realize: you went the entire day without a clear confirmation on tomorrow. 

And no matter what you try, your thoughts and worries still plague you well into the early, pink and yellow hues of the next morning.

“You got everything?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

“Okay. Because last time—”

“Relax. I checked.” 

“Okay. How long are you out this time?” 

“A whole goddamn week,” your brother grunts as he rolls his suitcase past the front door. “But the hotel is apparently fucking sick so. Whatever.” 

“Nice.”

“You sure you’re good?”

“Me? A functioning adult? Hardly.”

He shakes his head. “Well, you better ring me up if something happens. Or Yoongi.” 

You still your hand on its way to the doorknob. “Oh. Yeah, okay.” 

“I’m serious.”

“I know.” 

“Cool.” He pats your head before he turns to his ride. “See ya.” 

“See ya.” 

You [8:32am]: Hey ! I’ll be free after work. Are we still..?

Staring at your phone four hours after you sent Yoongi that text, you deflate before moving on with your work day.

While it’s true that both of you decided on today, that’s the last you heard of it and it’s been days since then. Weeks.

It was only after hours of back and forths with yourself that you decided to finally send him a confirmation text. But the fact that he hasn’t said anything yet—or even read it—makes a bit of squirming happen under your skin. 

Your thoughts mirror what you thought about on the basketball court: does Yoongi even remember?

Does he even still care?

Going through the motions of your day, you feel your hopes dwindle by the second, wondering if you’ll even make it to the end of your shift. 

But when you finally get a response, you quickly decide that no, you won’t. 

Because the text you receive is enough to make your heartbeat skip thrice. 

Yoongi [2:02pm]: 🍊🍊🍊 :)

Fuck. Fuck, it’s happening. 

The whole day at work after that seems to go terribly, awfully slow. Like some random entity bends time just for you because it knows you’re looking forward to something. 

But when you finally leave and practically bounce all the way to your car, you shoot a quick text before getting inside. 

You [5:42pm]: I’m out ! Just lemme know.

Again, you get silence. Then a read receipt after a little bit, and then finally, an answer that isn’t half as good as the first one.

Yoongi [6:11pm]: Shit ok. I’ll be out until late ): 

Damn. Well, you can still use this time to relax and calm the bottled up anxiousness you feel in your body. How to busy yourself until then? How to distract yourself from thinking about worst case scenarios?

Finding things to do, the final plan involves showering before getting ready, then blanking out on your phone while a show you’ve seen before plays in the background. Done. 

It takes a bit for you to choose a playlist before getting under running water, but when you do, you let the hot stream coat you as your thoughts run rampant. 

Yoongi and you never said what exactly would happen. All you said was you would go see him, and tonight was the night. Of course, the both of you definitely have one thing in mind, but… You don’t exactly have a plan outside of that. 

Not that it matters. After all, your conversation with Taehyung in his car confirmed that Yoongi doesn’t really leave room for anything afterwards anyway. 

Shit, do you even need to pack anything? Bring anything? Or will this whole thing that you’ve been stressing over for days just last for an hour tops? 

Your sigh mingles with the shower steam. 

Relax. 

Bottom line: it’s happening. 

“But I miss you, too.” 

You lean against the wall, folding your arms and smiling wide.

After you freshen up and get yourself all ready, you settle into a couch in your living room, knowing you’ll fall asleep if you choose your bed instead.

Your phone occupies most of your time, and you periodically check Yoongi’s thread—as if you don’t get notifications for messages. 

But after awhile, the mountain of stress from today and your growing pile of worries weigh down your eyes, and you can’t help but succumb to the sofa after all.

Oh, shit.

You knocked out. What time is it? 

Blinking fast, you groggily check your phone.

10:50pm

Yoongi: 1 Missed Call

“Fuck!” You scramble to click the notification, sitting up and feeling a bit disoriented. 

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

When did you fall asleep? How long has it been? Did he just end up making other plans? 

“Hey.” 

Your breath stutters. “I am so sorry! Fuck, I fell asleep.” 

“S’okay.”

A pause. 

Nothing else from him? 

“How… How was your day?” 

There’s a brief, soft noise on the other line. But you can’t tell what the hell it is. Was it a laugh? A snort? It sounds like he’s in his car, so maybe a random sound?

“It was fine.” 

You blink. 

Something’s off. 

You have no damn clue why, but this isn’t the Yoongi you’re used to. He sounds so unlike himself that you’re starting to get worried. 

But is it okay to ask him what’s wrong? He certainly asks you all the time. 

However, for some reason, you can’t. Maybe you don’t think it’s your space to pry. 

So you try to make the situation light. “At least your day is done! Tomorrow will be fun, right?” 

A long exhale crackles through the line, and you feel yourself crumbling when he responds.

“Same shit tomorrow, too.” 

“Oh,” you whoosh out, feeling your plans slip through your fingers and pricking them on the way down. “I see.” 

You’re silent after that, wallowing in your sudden sadness that your tomorrow isn’t looking as bright as you imagined. What was that about assuming disappointment again? Fuck, you should’ve done it this time. 

“Sorry.” 

Your heart lurches at his gravelly tone, and emotions clash inside your stomach, quickly turning it into a pit of turmoil. “No, no!” you blurt out, hoping he didn’t hear the heaviness you feel. “It’s okay. Things happen.” 

You hear another sigh, but it seems forced. 

And you don’t know what to do, how to react. There’s definitely something up and you have no idea how to approach this. To notice his blasé demeanor suddenly do a one-eighty is a bit jarring. 

“It’s okay, Yoongi,” you finally decide to say, whispering. “If you’re busy—”

“I’m not busy right now.” 

A car door thumps shut on the line, both that sudden sound and his quick reply rendering you speechless.

“Oh. Okay.” 

What in the hell is happening? If you were a betting person, you would think he’s… upset. Distancing himself. You don’t think you’ve breathed ever since he answered the call. 

So you just wait. Wait and wait and wait for him to hang up so that you can sit and think about this deep pit of emotions you dug for yourself. 

But Yoongi doesn’t end the call. Not even after an entire minute of silence. 

Your worries start to deepen. What the fuck is going on? Why did he even answer if—

“Open the door, doll.” 

What? 

A quick exhale leaves your mouth as you swerve your head towards the front. “The door? My door?” 

A small breath can be heard on his end before you get a very, very tired-sounding, 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh. Shit,” you rush out, shooting up from your spot. “Okay, hold on.” 

The call ends while you’re making a beeline for the entrance. 

Your feet pad with loud slaps the whole way there, and you really don’t know what’s happening or what you’re gonna do once you open the door. As you get to the opening, you stop and take a breath before undoing the locks. 

And though Yoongi’s head is slightly hung, his eyes are already trained on you when you slowly reveal your anxious expression. 

“Hey.”

“Hi.” 

You let him in and take in his heavy strides, shutting the door as if you don’t want your own house to know your secret. “I thought you were going home.” 

“I was.” 

Suddenly remembering what time it is, you blurt, “No one saw you, did they?”

Yoongi shakes his head, eyes aimed away from where you stand. “Everyone‘s out.” 

“Okay…” 

You remain planted a few steps away from him, not knowing what to do but wanting to do anything to wipe the expression off of Yoongi’s face. To clear the bags from under his eyes and the slight pinch in his brow. But you’re so shaken by the whole string of events that somehow led him here. 

What the hell is going on? Where is the Yoongi that you know? 

No. What you’re used to doesn’t matter right now. What you think you’re worried about doesn’t matter now, either. All you want to focus on is lifting his mood, so you launch yourself towards the kitchen and offer multiple things,

“Have you eaten? Do you want anything? I can make something or find a snack. We don’t have much but—”

Your arm is suddenly tugged backwards, and you don’t know what’s happening until your chest is crushed into the front of Yoongi’s hoodie.

Snapping your eyes to his face, you flicker them between his and start to ask what that was for, but he’s already putting your head back against him. 

And it’s silent. 

Only the beat of his heart pulses in your ear.

Embarrassed because you’re entirely sure he can feel your much quicker one, you bring your hands up to grip his jacket, burrowing your face into soft material that smells like comfort and him.

And as soon as you do, you feel at peace. Time bends in another way and, this time, you revel in the slower passing.

There are no thoughts, no worries, no others around. Just darkness and his scent and his warmth around your back. 

You feel his chest rumble when he asks a question, and his voice is so incredibly low that you have to pull away. 

“Hmm?” 

Yoongi just watches your face when he responds, exhausted, and you feel your heart skip once again. 

“Please lemme kiss you.” 

The first thing you feel is confusion. And the second is something terribly similar. But you say nothing as you see the look in his eyes—eyes that are just a shade darker than you remember.

So you nod. 

And kiss you he does, lips softly pressing into yours and lifting your soul off the ground. It’s not rushed, not imposing; rather, it’s a soft flame that slowly warms you through. 

Your eyes close shortly before it ends. Because though it isn’t rushed, it is still chaste, and you’re already pulling away.

It is now that you search his eyes, noticing more weariness and something else in their depths. The more you rest in silence, the more you want—

To be kissed again and exactly how he’s doing now, crushing his lips against yours and sending lightning down to your toes. This kiss is much deeper, much fuller, tugging your heart to the front of your chest with force. 

Your hands clamp impossibly tight around the material of his hoodie, gripping it and pulling him in a fraction. The grunt you get in return ignites something in your lower belly, only to be followed up with him twisting you to shove against the nearest wall. 

Everything bursts into overdrive as you moan into his mouth, hearing one of his hands thump the wall next to you. The way he thrusts himself flush against you sends your mind in a frenzy, and your hands abandon his hoodie to sling around his neck instead.

Fuck, you needed this. All the stolen glances and kisses up to this point have been driving you up multiple walls, and you have been craving this feeling for months. This intensity. 

The way he exhales from his nose, the way his hand never lets up on your hip, the way he chuckles when you reach for the bottom of his hoodie—everything he’s doing now is the Yoongi you finally know. He’s back with a vengeance and you want him to unleash it all on you.

You’re about to fling caution to the wind and yank him to your room when he suddenly, calmly, annoyingly halts your movements. 

With eyes aimed straight at his face, you wordlessly ask what he’s doing—and also plead him to keep going.

And Yoongi looks at you before rubbing your cheek. Murmuring, he clarifies with a low tone, “That wasn’t what I came for, doll.”

“Then… Then what?”

He just smiles a bit, eyes lidded and drooping. “I just wanted to see you real quick.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah.”

Forgetting everything that you just spoke about with Taehyung, you offer, “I can come over.” 

Yoongi shakes his head, swiftly reminding you what you stupidly needed to remember. “I’ll be out tomorrow, too.” 

“Oh.”

“And I don’t wanna keep you if you got plans.” 

“I mean… I guess. I kinda cleared my plans for… This.” 

Yoongi rests his arms around your waist. “I tried, too. But I can’t flake on this. My bad.” 

“Are you kidding? It’s fine, really. Do your stuff,” you offer as if he isn’t going to anyway. Fuck, you feel dumb. 

But Yoongi seems set on his decision. Who are you to make him change it? Besides, you can get some errands done. Listen to Taehyung and look for some real jobs. Folding your lips together, you hang your head in disappointment. “I just…” 

“I know.” 

“It’s been forever.” 

“I know.” 

Tilting your eyes back to his face, you ask, voice small, “I’m not… I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?” 

Yoongi roves his eyes over your features, and his silence is weighing you down with every passing nanosecond. “Say what you mean.” 

Determined to keep it a secret, you lie, “That is what I mean.” 

He doesn’t believe you. But he answers, “No.” 

“Okay.”

Cupping your chin, Yoongi rubs your face with a rough thumb. “And listen. If you got something on your mind, tell me. Ask me. You may not always like the answer, but I’ll always be honest.” He then steps away, and the breaths you’ve been harboring finally leave you in a rush. He yawns behind a fist before blinking hard. “You’re the one that fucking called me out on it.” 

No no no. This is too soon. You don’t want him to go. “Then can I ask something else?” 

Yoongi has a mix of curiosity and trepidation on his face. He brings you in again and waits. “Hit me.” 

“Do you want me to come over?” 

Surprise shoots from his nose, and he smiles wide, aiming his laugh away from you. “That’s not fair.” 

“Uh uh! You said I just have to ask.” 

“Too damn quick. Maybe you’re hustling me here, too.” 

“You’re stalling.” 

Yoongi grins even wider and softly kisses your forehead, eyes closed. “This isn’t good for me.” 

“Yoongi!” 

“Okay, okay,” he relents through another yawn. “…Yeah.” 

“Then I’m coming over.”

“Hold up, I didn’t say—” 

“It’s decided! I’m getting my stuff.” You head to your room and you hear Yoongi’s amusement follow your strides, and it isn’t until you get there that you realize you’re both very alone in your house. Like you wanted him to be that night on the phone. Like you want it to be all the time.

You grab your bag, wondering if you should pack a toothbrush and a change of clothes—

“Mm. Cute.” 

You shoot up from your hunched position. “Fuck!” Shaking your head, you sigh at the relaxed presence filling your doorframe, “I didn’t even hear you.” 

He pops his eyebrows up. “‘Cus you’re so loud.”

“And?” You watch him lean against the panel of your door, and it brings you back to when you first went to his place, drenched in rainwater and jitters. His hair is brighter this time, but his features are much more cloudy, and you can’t help but feel like his day was long. Maybe even longer than yours. 

What can possibly be happening? 

Noticing his eyes slipping shut, you quickly offer, “Hey. You can sit at the desk. Just no judging.” 

“I said it was cute.” He pushes off of your doorframe and inspects the space in earnest, dumping himself in your desk chair that’s seen many, many days of studying. 

As you’re getting your stuff ready, you remember the times you’ve seen or heard Yoongi walk past your room while in that same seat. You remember how you couldn’t help but glance at him every time, curling your toes or folding your lips together on instinct. 

To go from that to what’s happening now, you smile ruefully at the change.

A soft sound brushes your ear when you have the final item stuffed in your pack. Turning, you realize that Yoongi’s already asleep in your chair, head propped on a sleeved arm. 

Blinking, you feel things clicking into place: the weary call, the tired eyes, the goddamn yawning. Why didn’t you pick up on something so glaringly obvious? Idiot! 

But another thing clicks into place. 

His car is outside.

Shit, if anyone sees it out front and knows your brother isn’t here, the rest of the puzzle connects itself. 

Your packed bag is abandoned as you make your way over to him, deciding that this can go one of two ways. Slowly shaking his shoulder, you whisper his name. 

“Mm.” 

“Would you rather sleep here for a bit? Or have me drive?”

A quick quirk of his mouth precedes a sleepy, “S’okay. I can drive back.” 

Absolutely not. “I won’t let you. Pick one.” 

“Mmph.”

You immediately pick for him. “Lemme have your keys.”

Another sleepy huff of amusement expels from his lips. “So bossy.”

“Deal with it.”

He breathes deep before answering, “Pocket.” 

After checking both his hoodie pockets, you fish them out, softly guiding him up from your chair. “Come on. Let’s go.” 

Huh.

If you aren’t mistaken, you’re pretty sure Yoongi just pouted. 

And you believe it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. 

Even throughout the whole stilted walk to his car, on the way to his place, and guiding him all the way to his room, it’s legitimately the only thing you can think about. And you think you would do anything to see it again. 

“Sleep well, Yoongi,” you whisper as you leave him on his bed. A bed you want to occupy but know you can’t. “Sorry I kept you up.”

In hindsight, you could’ve taken his couch. 

But as you get woken up by vibrations in your own bed, you reason that you made the right decision to get a paid ride back home. You have no idea what Yoongi’s day entails, so it’s better to give him that space. 

Listen to Taehyung. You gotta be careful. Don’t allow yourself to get too attached to someone that doesn’t have the word relationship in their vocabulary.

It’s during the fourth vibration that you realize that you’re getting a call, and you shoot your hand out over your nightstand to check the ID.

Yoongi: Incoming Call

“Hey,” you rasp after a moment of panic, cradling your phone to an upturned ear.

“Hey. Did you drive me home?”

Fuck, his voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. “Mmhmm.”

“What the fuck. I don’t remember shit.”

“It’s okay.” You breathe through your nose as your eyes slip back shut. “You were exhausted.”

“Apparently. How did you get back?” 

You sleepily rub your eyes, feeling a bit teasing this morning. “I walked.” 

“What? You fuckin’ serious?”

“Yoongi, no,” you giggle. “I got a ride.” 

After prolonged silence on the line, you wonder what could be going through his head. Did you mess up by driving him back? You don’t think so, but it could’ve crossed a line anyways. “Sorry if you didn’t want me driving your car.”

“Nah. I was gonna say thanks.” 

“Oh.” 

You hear a shuffling of activity and a slight jangling of keys. 

“Did you really clear your day?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn. Sorry.”

“S’ok,” you say through a yawn. “Maybe I’ll actually job hunt now.”

“In person?“

A soft laugh puffs out of your mouth. “No, old man. On my laptop.” 

“Mm. So that’s all?”

“I guess so. Hate to break it to you but I’m kinda boring.”

Yoongi’s snort is enough to make you smile.

“Not at all.” 

“Maybe I can try a new boba place.” 

“Do that. Do shit you want today.” 

“I wanted to see you,” you whisper, the warmth from your blankets comfortable yet still no match for his embrace.

After a few seconds, you realize, “Well, I guess I technically did already.” This early revelation causes you to sleepily huff in triumph. “So. Win.” 

You hear a faint chuckle in tandem with a door shut.

“So cute.”

“Nu uh.”

“Uh huh.”

You shut your eyes, feeling dreamland’s approach again. Yoongi’s saying something on the other line, but his words barely register in your current state. 

“I can’t make any promises, doll.” 

“Mm.”

“But I’ll make it up to you regardless.” 

Afternoon sees the beginning of your day, your legs finally leaving the warmth of your sheets hours after your call. 

With dread, you know today will crawl, which won’t fare well for someone in your position—someone that cleared their entire schedule for plans that didn’t come to fruition. 

After you venture to your kitchen, you lean on your island and wonder what the hell to do. 

What you should do and what you want to do are two completely different things. You should be job hunting like you mentioned to Yoongi, but why would you do something so soul-crushing on a Saturday? On a day that you were supposed to—supposedly—spend with him? 

Eventually, you do end up trying that new boba place you heard about from one of your friends, meeting them for a few hours before seeing if Taehyung wanted to have a redemption movie date.

“Aren’t you supposed to be—”

“He’s busy, Tae,” you rush out before he can finish whatever the hell he was going to say. From your spot in the parking lot, you watch cars roll by and people amble the surrounding sidewalks with plastic cups and large straws.

“Doing what?” 

“I dunno.” 

“What do you mean you don’t know? He didn’t tell you?” 

“No.” 

“That’s sus. I’m sorry.” 

“Well,” you purse your lips while absentmindedly playing with your steering wheel. “I didn’t exactly ask, either.” 

“Huh?” 

God. You can picture the exact expression he has on his face right now. 

“You are hopeless.” 

“It just seems weird to ask!” 

“Why?”

“We don’t know each other like that. I can’t bring myself to ask him any personal shit.” 

“You can’t ask him about it? Or you don’t wanna know?” 

You freeze, staring at your dashboard like you’ve just been caught. “Damn. Maybe.” 

“Well. As long as you know what you’re doing.” 

“Tae, I never know what I’m doing.” 

“Lies.” 

You start to inspect your recently manicured nails before tsking. “Well, if we aren’t gonna do the movie thing, I’ll figure something else out.” 

“Yeah, we can. Just gotta be done by nine. I got that date tonight.” 

“If only both of us were that lucky.” 

“If you actually listened to me, maybe we would be.” 

This time, the movie was a much more successful distraction from your thoughts. Taehyung kept his earlier promise of not prying, and the two of you instead had a film to praise instead of critique to the ground.

In fact, you were so into the whole thing that you completely missed an update from him. 

Yoongi [7:20pm]: Free soon 

Soon? Rechecking the time, you realize that it has been a long ass time since then. Weird. 

Walking to your car, you slip a message into the thread before getting inside. 

You [8:50pm]: Still busy?

He texts back a few minutes later. But that was three of the longest minutes of your life. 

Yoongi [8:53pm]: Yeah 

Worry eats away at you, and a million and one possibilities race through your mind, each one vying to be first to conclusions. Pulling into the street, you hope they all lose. 

Fuck. You hate this feeling and you hate that you can’t bring yourself to fix it. Why can’t you be like Taehyung and just ask? Sure, getting money back is much different than dealing with Yoongi, but. Are you really that scared of what his answers to your questions would be? What exactly makes this so hard even though you know what he’s like? 

Is it because, for a brief moment on that phone call weeks ago, that you felt special? Like you meant something to him? 

As you fill your entryway with your dark cloud, you sigh. Grappling with all of your worries at once is incredibly draining and yet, you can’t do the one thing that would take care of most of them. 

You want to believe that he’s legitimately busy. You need to. Goddamn, you’re an adult and so is he.

And if he’s actually with someone else and not telling you? Fuck him. Even if he’s Min Yoongi, you cannot let a guy give you this much grief. 

Dumping yourself on your couch, you bury your face in the crook of your arm—mad with him, the world, but mostly yourself. 

You wanna travel back in time. 

Not too far. Just to the moment you both existed on the bleachers on that basketball court, before you were faced with the prospect of being just someone else he had on his schedule. 

Yoongi: Incoming Call 

Fuck, you answered faster than you could even process. 

“Hi—”

“I hate when people can’t do their job.” 

Holy crap. That came out of nowhere. Immediately, you’re sitting up. “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

Exasperation blows through the line.

“Long story. But I’m finally off. You want anything?” 

Motherfucker. 

Finally off. He was working. 

What the fuck. Why the hell were you even worried? Why didn’t you just ask! What the hell is wrong with you? Why couldn’t you do something so damn simple? 

You want to fucking cry. 

Your lips quake when you reply, “I… I’m fine with anything.”

“What’s wrong, doll?” 

“Nothing.” Your laugh is hollow and your throat is clogged. “Nothing.” 

“Don’t lie to me.”

Hanging your head, you hope your voice sounds neutral when you say, “Really, it’s stupid and I’m fine! It’s okay.” 

Yoongi seems to make a decision after a second, and the way he says your name—not a nickname, not anything else—takes all the oxygen from your lungs.

“Where are you?”

“Home. If you need to go home, it’s okay—” 

“Don’t. I’m on the way.” 

The call abruptly ends after that, which leaves you sitting on your sofa with rain in your palms.

Yoongi sounded so exhausted, and now he has to deal with you. You feel absolutely awful for adding any unnecessary stress to his day, and you already feel some tears slipping through your fingers.

God, you’re so fucking frustrated. Why didn’t you do literally anything else today except worry? You could’ve run errands, job hunted like you needed to, or at least been as productive as he apparently was. Now you just feel regretful and useless. 

Yoongi texts you a good handful of minutes later, and you swipe away your tears before heading to the front. 

You vow to put on a happy face when you swing the door open but holy fuck he’s in jeans and a white tee and you’re suddenly spellbound. His wild hair distracts you to the point that you don’t even realize that he’s shutting the door instead of you.

Gripping the back of your head, he forces you to look him in the eye, the wood banging closed before he questions,

“Were you worried?”

You tense before slowly nodding. 

Yoongi darts his eyes between yours. “How long?” 

“I…” Your eyelids slip shut with resignation. “Since basketball.” 

Yoongi lets go of your neck, and you blink to see him looking into the house behind you, gnawing on his bottom lip and inhaling deep. 

You wonder what he’s thinking, what lies behind that hardened expression on his face. 

Is he upset with you for worrying? Does he think he made a mistake making any sort of plans with someone like you? 

He’s muttering something under his breath, but his voice is so gravelly and deep that you can’t make out a single word.

It’s a drawn-out moment before he finally moves again, slinging his arms around your neck with a sigh and pressing his forehead against yours. His voice sounds like nighttime when he softly asks, 

“You seeing anyone?” 

You blink. “No.”

“Same.” He moves to press his lips to your temple. “Been dodging shit since the night you called.” 

You feel your lips tremble. What a fucking idiot you’ve been. 

Though stress is already slipping off your shoulders in clumps, you can’t help but point out with a clogged throat, “That was two weeks ago.”

“And?” 

You inhale his scent, closing your eyes and berating yourself again for jumping to so many conclusions. “I dunno. Just feels like awhile for you.” 

You feel rather than see Yoongi’s mouth curve up as he huffs out a short breath. “Is that what you think of me?” 

“Mm.” You shrug. “I don’t have any new evidence.” 

It’s after this that he props up your chin, his eyes already creased behind loose orange locks. “Smartass.” 

Your smile is rueful at best, and you hate how fucking obvious you were to him. Yoongi probably thinks you’re pathetic. 

But he doesn’t harbor any pity in his face as he reiterates, “I told you. All you have to do is ask. If you’re thinking something, say it.” 

For the first time, it’s your turn to look away. 

Taehyung’s words echo in your mind, and his advice coupled with Yoongi’s insistence finally breaks the dam in your mouth. Everything you’ve been wanting to say surges out in waves as you take a step back.

“I just— I dunno. I don’t wanna pry with you because I don’t know you like that yet. And the other day, Tae said something about you acting weird lately and maybe you found a regular or whatever and I just— I‘ve just been so…” You sigh as your gaze falls to your feet. “You keep telling me to tell you stuff, but I barely get anything from you. And that’s whatever, I guess. It’s not like... I mean. It just feels one-sided.” 

Well. The confidence certainly wasn’t there, but at least you got it all out. Taehyung would have to at least give you a pat on the back for your efforts and, though you may not also score a free movie date, you feel damn accomplished. 

Even though, from the looks of things, you may have just put distance between you and the man that shamelessly came to your house while your brother is gone. Twice.

Fuck. 

Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, face full of shadows and conflict. You don’t know what else to do except wait, so you do, hoping that you didn’t ruin anything. 

But he just looks at you before a resigned whoosh of air leaves his nose. “Get your stuff.”

“What?”

Yoongi tilts his head towards your room. “Your stuff.” He quickly exhales before continuing, “I’ll tell you everything in the car.”

“Oh,” you breathe, anticipation bubbling furiously as you regard him one more time. “You sure?” 

“Go, doll.” 

It doesn’t take you long to grab your things, especially since you didn’t unpack what you already put together the night before but never used. You hope the backpack isn’t too conspicuous, planning on using your laptop as the top excuse for that big of a bag. 

But the walk to his car is quiet and charged, and it isn’t until you’re a few blocks out that Yoongi finally decides to talk. 

“You remember Kook?”

Huh? 

That isn’t how you expected things to start, especially if it’s who you think he’s referring to. 

Sucking in a breath, you clarify, “Kook? …Jungkook?”

“Yeah.” 

Yes. 

Yes, you do. 

You remember Jungkook very well. 

“Mmhmm,” is all you can say, voice in the tiniest font possible. Looking out the window, you refocus your vision to see the reflection of your worry instead of the passing scenery.

“Well, he runs a studio here now. Downtown.” 

You swallow. While you know a lot of things about the guy, you didn’t know this bit. “Oh. That’s dope.” 

“That’s where I’ve been.” 

You snap wide eyes to him, stunned by multiple things. One, a name you didn’t expect to hear come up. And two, the fact that Yoongi’s even telling you this. 

Yes, the conversations have been a bit one-sided, but it’s not like the two of you are even a thing. Hell, you’ve barely seen each other and it’s almost been a whole year since you first approached him. 

Technically, he doesn’t owe you any explanations at all. 

So the fact that Yoongi—a very private person—is willing to share something about his life just to erase any worries you have, makes you feel things you don’t want to feel right now. Never mind the Jungkook thing. Looking back, you’re shocked that he didn’t just bounce after your mini rant. How did you even end up in his car after that? 

“Oh…” is all you can say, again. “That explains the music stuff.” 

“Kinda,” Yoongi says, low. “But anyway, I was a nobody when I got there. Then some shit went down and now it’s just me and two other people, so. I got work out the ass.” 

“Damn, I’m sorry.”

“That’s not it.” He runs long fingers through his fiery hair, and you’re temporarily distracted by the clinking of his bracelets. “We got a project deadline that I highly doubt we’ll make. Even if we go nonstop everyday for the next week.”

“When’s the deadline?” 

“The dude needs his files by next Friday.” 

“Shit. Why am I even coming over?”

The trip to his place is short, his car already rolling up to his apartment. “Don’t worry about that. I’m peacing out early tomorrow,” he proclaims before hoisting himself out.

“What!” You don’t even see him rounding the car when you shove your door open, eyes wide and mouth hung open. 

“That’s the plan,” he confirms after a few steps, disappearing around the corner that hides his place from the parking lot. 

Padding quickly after him, you refuse with every step, “No no. Hell no. You shouldn’t do that just because of me.” 

He shoots a quick smirk your way before moving to unlock his door. “It’s for me, too, doll. I’m fuckin’ beat.” 

As you’re greeted by his dark apartment, your whispers pass the threshold with your sagging shoulders. “Yoongi… I’m sorry for bothering you with all this. I’ve been so stupid.” 

“Nah. This is on me. I could’ve just told you.” 

Shucking off your bag and placing it next to your shoes with a thump, you assure him—because you really feel the need to—with a whisper, “You can, you know. You can tell me things any time. I mean it.” 

Yoongi just huffs out of his nose before looking away, his tiredness accentuated by faint moonlight seeping through nearby blinds. “It’s all bullshit. I don’t wanna bother you with it.” 

“You’re not.” It’s your turn to take his face in your hands. And the action stuns you just as much as him. “I feel like you’re keeping a lot of stuff to yourself and that’s not healthy. Obviously I’m the last one to talk, but. I know what that feels like. It sucks.” 

There’s a bit of settled silence after your last word dissipates. In the dark of the room, all you can see is his white shirt, now a faint blue. 

Did you say too much? Offer something you shouldn’t have? 

Well. He can deal. After witnessing the self-destruction of your day in real time, you meant every word. 

Yoongi finally moves, slowly sliding a hand over one of yours. His voice seeps out like honey when he asks, “Think you’re so smart, huh?” 

“No. I’m an idiot.” 

He laughs. 

“But I mean it.” You press your fingers around his jawline a bit tighter, willing your intentions to transfer right into his mind. “It’s okay. You can tell me.” 

His eyes search your face, and you feel like you can wait forever to hear his answer. It’s the second time you see something besides confidence in his face, and it makes you scared and content and something else you can’t quite place. 

So when he lowers his gaze to your lips and tells you to just fucking kiss him, you smash your mouth on his before he even gets the words out. 

The next batch of seconds is a whirlwind, both of you stumbling with purpose to his room. Every time you try to look into the darkness to see where you’re going, your jaw is gripped and your lips are claimed. Over and over and over. Your breath caressing his mouth; his groans invading your throat—everything is happening at once and comes to a head as your back connects with his door. 

A groan rips from your throat before a satisfied laugh follows, and the twist in sounds causes Yoongi to pause on his way to grip his doorknob. 

You aim a look of question his way, but he simply hums in amusement before diving to your neck, scorching your skin with his saliva and pent-up frustrations. 

“Yoongi,” you whine, gripping his shirt and tugging him impossibly close to you like you did in your own entryway. And once you say his name, it’s the only thing you chant, even while he yanks his door open and during your rushed fall onto his bed. 

He quickly follows suit, smothering your body lovely and capturing your lips once more. With a passing thought, you notice that he’s much quieter this time, not having said a single word since you started. 

Holy fuck, you’re here again. Excitement cannot even begin to describe the way you feel, for what exists in your chest feels much too intense for any known language. 

As Yoongi brings a hand up to grip the bottom of your shirt, you feel a wave of shakes overcome you—shakes that have been kept dormant for almost a year. Pure want is what causes your hands to grab his tee in reply, and your voice is heavy with pleas,

“Yoongi… I missed…”

“Mm.”

“So much.” 

He kisses the side of your mouth—rough—before shoving your legs open and pressing himself against your center. Though he still doesn’t respond with words, his answer is very, truly loud. 

And when he straightens into a kneel to yank his shirt off, it is then that you notice glints of moonlight around his neck. 

Oh, fuck. How did you not feel those chains at all? 

Yoongi doesn’t give you time to ponder, grabbing your shirt and pulling it up until you adjust yourself for its removal. It’s quickly flung to join his before he’s reaching around to unhook your bra, using one hand while digging the other into his mattress. 

As your bare chest is claimed by hot lips, you decide that you like both Yoongi’s—both the talkative and the silent. While the talkative Yoongi brought out the beautifully dark parts of you, the silent Yoongi allows you to simply feel without thoughts. Only the sounds of your lust burst around the bed, a symphony with the rustling of your discarded pants and rumpling of soft sheets. It’s still passionate; it’s still toe-curling; it’s still volcanic. 

Lost in throes of pleasure, your body relies purely on instinct, legs sliding along his body and your hands hastily searching for anything to grip. When your fingers find the chains sliding along your sternum, the deep chuckle that rumbles above you is full of mischief. 

Finally, Yoongi speaks to simply make fun of you. “Adorable.” 

You don’t get to reply, though. Because this is the moment he decides to cup you through your underwear, growling with furrowed brows, “Holy fuck.” 

No matter what, this part will always embarrass you. The way you’re so easily affected by the man crushing you with the best burden you could ask for. Igniting under your skin, you try to hide your smile with a lip bite, but Yoongi only laughs, slow.

“So fucking wet.”  

You flinch at his sudden swirling movements, shutting your eyes in pure instinct and sighing up to his fiery locks. “Just for… Just for you.” 

Instead of stripping your last piece of clothing, Yoongi does something that has your head spinning off its axis—pushing the material aside and sliding his fingers up your slick folds. 

You jolt upward. “Fuck! Oh, my god.” 

Laugh full of smugness, Yoongi replies, “I knew you’d like this. Dirty girl.” 

Holy shit. You knew that you missed his fingers, especially being where they are. But what’s happening now blows your expectations to pieces. 

It feels so different. Why does it feel so much dirtier? Why are you absolutely loving this? You’re envisioning other scenarios where Yoongi would do this same exact thing, your head clouding more with every single one.  

And when he admits something, your hands leave his jewelry to grip the sheets around you instead. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this for months.” 

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, throwing your head back as he softly caresses your clit. 

“Every fucking time I saw you.” 

Another teasing flick of his thumb. 

“Wanted to get you in every room and make you scream.” 

You finally whine with frustration, unable to take it anymore. The coil in your belly is already twisting incredibly tight. You need more. More more more and if you don’t get it you’re going to combust. “Yoongi! Oh, fuck—Please, I need you.” 

“Not yet, baby girl,” he responds, “You’re gonna come around my fingers so I can lick’em clean.”

“Yoongi!” 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” 

Fuck! More.You need more. 

But Yoongi starts to insert his digits into your cunt and your mind blanks. You repeat his name like a mantra, digging the back of your head into his mattress. 

“That’s it, doll,” he encourages, “Fuck, you take these so well.” 

“Yoongi, please…” 

“Uh uh.” 

You throw your head to the side, limbs locking as your body rocks on his fingers. “Please,” you beg, “I want— I need you inside.” 

Immediately, Yoongi stops altogether. “You sure?”

“Yes! Oh my god, yes.” 

“Say less.”

There’s a complete switch in both your movements when he finally realizes what you really want and need. His chains swing from his neck as he leans to grab a condom from his nightstand, but your hands grab at his chest instead of the weighty strings of silver. 

“Please,” you keep whispering, raking your nails along his skin and pulling a groan from his throat. “Please.” 

After he deftly tears the wrapper, Yoongi puffs mirth onto your awaiting form. “I like this part of you.” 

“What part?” 

“Impatient ass.”

“Shut up!” 

He grins before caging you in again, aligning himself with your cunt and making you tense your legs around him. 

It’s what you’ve been wanting ever since leaving that day, and from Yoongi’s face, you’d like to think he feels the same. 

He looks at you, silent, waiting for your cue. And just like before, the same feeling blooms in your chest while butterflies take flight into your fingertips, raising them to slightly tug on a necklace while nodding. 

Your eyes almost roll all the way into your head when Yoongi pushes your panties to the side, insistent on keeping them on while fucking you. Goddamn, you’re finding out new shit you like again. How he’s able to provide these sexual revelations, you can’t fathom but don’t want to question. 

The intrusion still has its initial discomfort, but your cunt adjusts to accommodate him, fluttering fast and milking him after seconds. 

A deep groan falls from his lips. “So tight.” 

Nodding, you offer your own observation, “Big. Very big.”

A half wince-half laugh leaves his mouth, and his jaw works in concentration, brows knitting and teeth biting his bottom lip.

“Oh, my god.” You throw your head back for the upteenth time, hands coming up to grip his arms. “This feels so good.” 

“Fuck, baby.”

Breathing hard, you start to tilt your hips, impatience and lust fueling your order, “Fuck me. Fuck me, Yoongi.” 

You don’t get a reply—just the long thrust of his dick before he launches into a frantic pace. 

Fuck! You see stars. You’re launched into the sky. You don’t know time from space as your head gets closer and closer to his headboard, your pelvis constantly getting smacked by his rough pounding. 

“So fucking—Fuck!” 

Yoongi grabs one of your legs and slings it over his shoulder, pushing himself incredibly deep and making you whine impossibly high. The new angle has him hitting a spot that has your vision blanking, and holy shit it’s impossible how close you are. 

How? What’s wrong with you? How are you about to come?

“Yoongi, I’m—I’m so close already—”

“Goddamn, I feel you. Lemme feel it, babe.”

“So fast—”

His voice dips when he growls, “I love it. Fucking do it.” 

You can barely hear what he says next, but your body still reacts as if it understands. 

Filth. Absolute filth. It has to be. Words and names that you want him to say louder but are too embarrassed to tell him. Phrases that you want him to say right to your face. 

But just him muttering it is enough for you, and you gasp as euphoria overcomes you, shaking you from your core and rattling your bones. Waves crash against your proverbial shore and the undercurrents take you simultaneously, and your trembling leaks into your moans,

“Fuck! Yoongi!”

“That’s it, babe. Fuck!” 

He keeps pounding into you through your high, tightening your core enough for you to snap again around him, gushing around his cock and straining the muscles in your neck. An outright groan tears from your throat, and the ceiling feels strangely close for a few seconds before you thump back down onto the bed. 

Just like last time, Yoongi follows right after. “Oh fuck, I’m—”

“You gonna come, too—”

“Fuck. Turn over. Lemme see this ass.” 

The urgency in his voice spurns you into action. Though you’ve never done this before, you let your body take over, twisting yourself and lifting your butt from the mattress. The wet sound of the condom snapping off hits your ears and, before you can anticipate what this will feel like, your underwear is tugged to your thighs before hot spurts coat your skin. Quickly, a wet hand grips one of your plump cheeks, making you moan into the pillow smothering your sudden shyness. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi grits through his teeth as you hear his fingers slide along his cock. “Goddamn.” 

You feel like it should be awkward, or at least strange to be in this position. 

But it’s not. 

You don’t know if it’s because you’re satiated, or if it’s because of who you’re with, but you find that you don’t mind this at all. The only uncomfortable thing that you feel is a bit of draft from the open bedroom door. 

A sweaty hand slides along the curve of your ass before patting its side, and you hear a sigh above you.

“So perfect.” 

You bury your forehead further down, not knowing what to do other than wait and wonder how you’re gonna get all of his essence off of you. 

“One sec. Don’t move.” 

Oh. He’s gonna do it. 

It’s not long before you feel a soft towel swipe everything from your back, and the care in his movements makes you both happy and incredibly, embarrassingly shy. You would think that Yoongi’s wiping a vinyl with how tender he’s treating your damp skin.  

As he slides a hand over you to see if he missed anything, you sigh, “That went way too fast.”

A chuckle. “What, never did a quickie before?”

You have. But you never came during those. You have never come that fast in your goddamn life. “I mean, in a bedroom, though?” 

“Happens.” 

Maybe for him, you muse with a huff. 

But with every fuck in his room comes the next step. The soft kick you’re anticipating with a heavy chest. 

So much for an hour tops. You’re pretty sure that only lasted—

Yoongi playfully slaps your ass, the shock of the motion jolting you forward. 

“Ow! Rude!”

A laugh. “You can move now.” 

With a huff, you force your body up and slide your feet down to the ground, teetering side to side as you make your way to the bathroom with a stretched pair of panties.

When you’re done, you fully expect Yoongi to be up to walk you out. You got what you came for, just like the last time, and you know what to expect next. 

However, that’s not what you see. Instead, he’s lying back on his bed in a simple tee and sweats, feet planted on the ground and eyes closed shut. 

Shit. Do you wake him? Do you initiate the kick and find a ride again? 

Lamenting the amount you’re spending on ride apps alone, another thought enters your post-sex mind. 

Does he still need to eat? 

From the phone call and getting context to his day, it seemed like Yoongi didn’t get to do anything else but work. Hopefully he did sneak a meal in, but if he didn’t, that can’t be good. 

You go over to him after putting on the only change of clothes you brought. Placing a palm on his shoulder, you give him a light shake. “Yoongi?”

“Hmm.” 

“You should eat.” 

His brows move before he responds, voice heavy with sleep and disappointment. “Shit. I didn’t get food for you.” 

For you? That’s what he’s worried about right now? Your chest swells while your stomach grumbles. “Don’t worry about me. I can order something. Or make something if I can use your kitchen real quick.”  

Another breath. Another pause.

“Course you can.” 

Smiling light, you gently pat him. “Okay. Get in bed, dummy.” Slowly but surely, you get him into a sitting position before making him stand, melting at the furrowed brows and second pout you get in return. 

He looks so much younger when he does that. It’s so out of his normal character that you can’t help but be endeared. “This is the second time I’m tucking you in. Does this always happen?”

“Mmph.”

After a small struggle, you guide him to lie down on the side of the bed you think he uses, the one closer to his bathroom. It seems to work, and he thumps down onto his pillow without any further arguments. 

Another grateful smile carves itself into your features when you think about everything that happened tonight. 

Yoongi was obviously so exhausted—again—and yet… 

Not only did he reveal things about his personal life, he made sure you knew he wasn’t seeing anyone. Not only did he put up with your mountain of insecurities, he made sure you got the point by bringing you into his bed again. 

You shake your head. 

Even if he doesn’t mind your outstanding ability to worry and overthink, you know it’s going to frustrate you until you can get it under some fucking control.  

It’s with a vow to do so that you start to walk away.

But before you even go, a hand catches your wrist. 

Your eyes snap downward as you tense, wondering how Yoongi knew you were still there. Isn’t he asleep? 

“Sorry.” 

You blink. “For what?”

“Making…” A soft exhale. “Making you worry.” 

Warmth blooms in your chest, gently searing the edges of your surrounding bones. “That’s just me being me,” you whisper, though you’re touched that he’s even apologizing. 

Yeah, he didn’t tell you anything, but you get it now. How can he know what you’re feeling if you don’t say anything? How would he really know what you want if you don’t ask?

If you’re going to do this… whatever, with him, you can’t keep having days like today. Can’t keep driving yourself into the ground with conclusions when all you need to do is ask.  

Yoongi’s voice is so, so low when he responds, “You shouldn’t ever need to.” 

Understanding coats your face as you tenderly take his fingers from your arm. 

With the conversation over, you know what you have to do next. Because you’re not exclusive. You’re not different from everyone else that’s been in his bed. There aren’t any special privileges that come with tucking him in. No overthinking about that. 

With a big breath, you say goodbye. 

“I’ll go, okay? I’ll just make something when I get home. I know you don’t like people st—”

“Don’t.” 

Time freezes. 

“What?” 

Slowly turning back to face him, you watch for any hint of mistake in his face. What did he say? Did he even mean to cut you off? 

After a rise and fall of his shoulders, you feel your heart stop when the last thing Yoongi says before slumber takes him is a soft, genuine, 

“Stay.” 

-

-

-

tbc. :)

A/N: HELLO! thank you so much for reading and for all the support thus far. i know this chapter was so jam packed with stuff, but now you know why i had to split the weekend up into two parts lol. did i write close to 2k of this while waiting in lines at disney? yes. LOL and yeah, i know about the angst. but don’t worry. 3tan5 will make up for it :) also, if you’re new to the 3tan fam, happy to have you !! it’s chaotic here but it’s a hell of a time :D  ++ A/N 2: AHHH OK SO. hello?? the amount of times i wanted to scream about stuff in this part bc of things that kept coming up while i was finishing it sdklfjdsk like. everyone guessing the hair color? guessing what jimin’s appearance would be? yoongi freaking posting STUDIO PICS ON IG? LMAO i wanted to say so much but i had to just sit here and keep everything to myself so that it would all be a surprise. hope you all enjoyed!!  ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that aren’t okay with reblogging with a review, commenting on this, or sending a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a feedback dropbox :D ⇥ here! ++ ⇥ masterlist  ++ up next..... stay (the weekend, pt. 2) :’))) 

[pagesoflauren]

House of Stone (1/5)

feat. professor!Andy Barber x student!single mom!reader

Premise: Spin-off/sequel to Wooden Façade; Settling into his new life as a bachelor, Andy is helping his brother Ari prepare for his wedding to their mother's former nurse. Between wedding planning and teaching, you enter his life and your eccentric one-year-old daughter catches his attention.

Warnings: mentions of sudden deaths, divorce, familial conflicts, spousal conflicts, pregnancy, and Parkinson's disease; Laurie Barber slander; teacher-student friendship; romantic/sexual tension; awkward and cringey moments; blind dates/blindsiding siblings (Ari is a menace to Andy); Andy wears glasses and is a hot professor

A/N: Important to note that the events of Defending Jacob do not occur before, during, or after this series. Andy and Laurie are divorced and Jacob lives with Laurie.

Thank you as always to @eightcevanscentral

Read Wooden Façade here

Main Masterlist

“Ari, I hope you realize we’ve been talking about ties for the past forty-five minutes,” Andy deadpans, still holding his green-colored grading pen between his fingers. In his other hand, he holds up his phone so that he can clearly see the different options in front of his brother as he facetimes him from the store. 

“Can you blame me?” comes Ari’s reply, “I have no fuckin’ clue what I’m doing.”

“You’re looking for the one that speaks to you.”

“Ties don’t talk.”

“That’s not–” Andy clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath. “You’re such a dumbass.” 

“A dumbass that’s getting married,” Ari says, switching from the back camera to the front camera. 

“God help the bride.”

“Hey!” 

“You know what I meant,” Andy laughs. “Are you sure she didn’t give you specific options for which one to buy?”

Andy’s treated to an unflattering view of his brother as Ari moves his phone down to get a better look at the screen. The camera turns off and Andy can hear the sound of Ari’s finger tapping heavily against the screen. 

“She just said get one that’s ‘cabernet.’ Is that a type of brand?”

Andy facepalms. “No, that’s a shade of red. A dark red. Which, given that your wedding is in December, makes sense.” 

The camera turns on and Andy can see straight into Ari’s nose.

Andy makes a sound of disgust, “You need to start bringing handkerchiefs with you.”

Ari adjusts how he’s holding the phone and turns the camera to face the table with all his options. “Nobody asked you to look, Andy.”

“Nobody asked me, but I wasn’t given a choice.” 

Andy watches Ari pick up three ties that he thinks are the right shade.

“You think any of these would work?”

Tilting his head, Andy figures they’re a good fit. “Probably. Maybe you should just buy all three and see what the missus thinks.” 

His brother hums.

“Are you making that stupid face that you always do when you think of her?”

“Maybe.” 

Andy gags exaggeratedly.

“Shut up,” Ari hisses.

Rolling his eyes, Andy rebuttals, “You know I’m kidding.” Then, he changes the subject. “Anyway, those are good options. And you’ll know what she thinks when you get home.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, either she’ll tell you which one is the best or she’ll say the both of you will have to go back to the store together and she’ll tell you which tie you’ll wear.” 

“You’re right.” 

Andy changes the subject quickly. “Well, on that note, I should sign off. I have class in fifteen minutes so I should head over there.”

Ari flips the camera to show his face and say goodbye to his brother. When they hang up, Andy puts his phone down and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

Taking a deep breath and exhaling, he sighs before opening one of the side drawers of his desk and pulling out his glasses. 

They were new, something he had to take on after his last trip to the ophthalmologist who had told him that the long hours of reading and sitting in front of a computer were doing a number on his vision. She had stated the glasses were a middle ground between compensatory and preventative.

However, Andy looked at them as a constant reminder of how much his life had changed in the past year. 

His wife and son are mostly absent, his brother is soon to be married, and his mother still progressing through her illness. 

Shaking his head and setting the frames on his nose, he gathers his materials for class, stuffing them into his work bag and slinging it over his shoulder, his laptop tucked into his elbow. He shuts off the light and locks his office behind him, making his way down to the large lecture hall that is far too vast for his evening class. 

- - - - -

Your cousin calls your name as you try to spoon another serving into your daughter’s mouth. 

“It’s 6:15,” she says.

“Oh, crap,” you sigh, flustered as you set the spoon on the saucer for it to rest. 

Ivy has a terrible habit of reaching for her utensils if you leave them within arm’s reach of her, leading to globs of food flying in any direction for you to clean up. 

“She just has this bowl and some milk–I think it’s still warm, you might have to heat it up again. Let me know how she goes down and–”

“Call if anything happens,” she finishes for you, handing you your water bottle, already filled up. “I got it.” 

“Thank you, Winnie.” You kiss her cheek, then turn to your daughter. “Mommy loves you so much, Ivy,” you say softly to her. You kiss her chubby face, heart squeezing at the little giggles that erupt from her. “Only a few more months and I won’t have to leave,” you promise. 

You know she can’t understand you, but at this point, you say it because it comforts you to tell her. 

Saying goodbye one last time before shutting the door behind you, you climb into your car and drive to the university campus. 

You never liked leaving in the evening. You never liked working during the day, either. You had imagined things going so differently, but life had other plans. 

Troy was planning to propose, a last-ditch effort to get the both of you back in the good graces of your extremely conservative family. Neither of you intended to start having children until after you had graduated and he had gotten a higher-paying position at the company he was working for. But when the tests came back positive and were confirmed by ultrasounds, the two of you found yourselves scrambling for ways to build a home for an unborn child.

He died before any of the real planning could have started. The holidays had just ended and it was his last weekend off before he had to return to work. When he hit his head really hard after slipping in the shower, you had suggested going to the hospital to be safe. A friend from the university in the nursing program had told you unchecked head injuries were silent killers. 

Insisting he was fine, he continued about his day, cooking dinner for both of you and watching a film to end the night. 

He was cold in the morning and you tried to wake him up, but his eyes never opened again. 

After the funeral, his mom gave you the engagement ring he had rush-ordered to her house. It was supposed to come before Christmas, but when it didn’t, he had said he would propose on Valentine’s Day. 

It didn’t help when your parents iced you out, and the majority of your extended family cut contact with you as well. 

Your aunt and your cousin kept in touch, supporting you throughout your pregnancy and bereavement. Your aunt put you up in a small, two-bedroom apartment she had previously been renting to students for the nearby university. She didn’t charge you anything, telling you to focus on saving your money to help support your baby. 

You had decided to defer your education until after giving birth, finding a job at the DA’s office as a receptionist to make some money so that you could afford some baby essentials and maternity clothes. 

When Ivy arrived, your world was turned upside even more (if that was possible). Still, your duo of relatives were at your side. When your maternity leave was up, your aunt took her during the day to watch her at the daycare she directed. Then, in the evenings when you had class, your cousin took over finishing up dinner, giving her a bath, and putting her down to sleep. 

Every day came with new challenges, but things also felt easier and you felt less alone. School was distracting, work was somewhat rewarding, and Ivy was happy. 

You had determined a long time ago that she would never experience anything remotely close to the loneliness and sadness you felt. 

Finding a parking spot in a decently-lit area, you gather your things and walk into the building with the designated lecture hall. 

It was far too big for your class; there were only ten other students in this section with you, yet for some reason, you all were placed in a massive lecture hall. Your professor didn’t even bother turning on the lights for the back half of the classroom, trying to prevent students from sitting all the way in the back and getting a nap in. 

“Hi, Professor Barber,” you greet him as he sets up his computer at the podium.

He nods at you, “Evening, Miss Y/L/N.”

You sit in your usual seat in the second row, the third one from the left aisle. It’s in the middle, but not too centered where you make uncomfortable eye contact with Professor Barber as you look up at his slides. 

You get settled, opening up your note-taking software on your computer and setting your phone to silent. As you place your water bottle next to your laptop for easy access, Professor Barber announces that he’s going to begin.

- - - - -

You open and close your fists, feeling the nervous tension in your arms as you watch Ivy play on her mat in the middle of the living room. 

Winnie is sick; a bad case of the flu, your aunt had told you. She would need to take care of her in the evening, leaving you with nobody to watch your daughter. 

Professor Barber had made it clear that last-minute absences wouldn’t be tolerated. One of your classmates hadn’t come to class for two weeks straight. When he returned, your professor immediately told him to leave and take the class next semester. 

“Maybe then you’ll understand that this profession has no room for bullshit.” 

You had gripped your pen tight that night, making a note in your planner to never be late and always let him know ahead of time if you were going to be absent. 

It’s a unique circumstance, you realize. If you explain the situation, maybe he would be lenient this time. 

Bringing your laptop to the living room to better monitor your daughter, you log in to your student account and write an email to Professor Barber. 

- - - 

Andy’s computer chimes as he receives an email. Finishing his note in the margin of a student’s paper, he sets down his pen and looks at his inbox. 

He recognizes the name. You’re normally on time, you ask insightful questions. You sit in the second row and always take notes. You have a good standing in his class and, according to his colleagues, you’re doing well in the program. 

You don’t reach out often, other than to ask an occasional clarifying question late at night, probably when you’re studying. 

He opens the email.

Hi Professor Barber,

My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m in your Wednesday night Children’s Rights class. 

I’m aware of your no-tolerance policy for late-notice absences, but I’m in a very difficult circumstance at the moment. I have a one-year-old daughter

You’re a mom? Andy would’ve never guessed. 

He continues reading.

I have a one-year-old daughter and my evening babysitter is sick, so I won’t be able to come to class today since I have to take care of her. 

Is it possible for me to attend another section during the day? I can try to request time off from work. Please let me know what my options are to succeed in your class after this setback.

Best,

Y/N

Andy bites the inside of his cheek. He understands the struggle of fulfilling commitments to work while also looking after a child all too well. 

Even with Laurie being a stay-at-home mom that would look after Jacob, he couldn’t shake the paternal instinct of wanting to be there to help his son, even if it was just a little cold. 

He doesn’t want you to have to deal with taking time off work–he can only imagine what kind of hoops you might have to jump through to get time off at the last minute to attend his Friday morning section of the class. 

In response, he offers a suggestion.

Hi Miss Y/L/N,

Thank you for reaching out and letting me know your situation. 

I wonder, would you feel comfortable bringing your daughter to class tonight? I will turn on the lights at the back of the classroom to allow both of you to sit there and have all the space you need. 

Let me know if this is possible. If not, we will discuss other options. 

Andrew Barber, LL.M., J.D.

Professor of Law

Boston University 

He sits back for a moment then returns to grading. After a few minutes, his computer chimes again. 

Hi Professor Barber,

Bringing my daughter to class is possible, yes. But I just worry about her getting fussy and interrupting. Are you sure you would be okay if she joined me tonight?

Thank you,

Y/N

He replies quickly.

Miss Y/L/N,

I would be more than happy to have your daughter as a guest tonight. And please feel free to bring whatever you need in order to keep her comfortable. If I can help in any way, let me know. 

See you tonight,

Andy deletes his standard email signature, opting to sign the email with his initials in an attempt to keep the conversation light. He doesn’t want to give the impression that he thinks himself above you. 

You’re a parent; he is, too. Who was he to deny you chances to properly take care of your child?

- - - - -

You’re weighed down by a lot of things. 

Your backpack rests heavily on your shoulders and Ivy’s stroller–stocked with plenty of supplies for you to give her to keep her occupied during your nearly three-hour-long lecture for the evening is difficult to push through campus. 

Your usual route to your lecture hall is changed; you have to use the elevators on the far side of the building instead of the stairs that will take you right to the door. All the while, you try to keep your nerves down, keeping calm so that maybe Ivy will be calm throughout the evening. 

As you enter the classroom, you garner a few strange looks from your classmates. Professor Barber greets you, inviting you to park the stroller by the door as he walks to the light switch panel, flipping up the last two switches to turn on the lights at the back of the classroom as he promised in his email. 

“Take your time to get settled,” he tells you, voice gentle and slow. “I shortened the lecture tonight to adjust for any extra time you might need.” 

“Thank you,” you sigh, catching your breath after your trip from your car to the classroom and trying to dampen your anxious emotions. 

You feel eyes on you as you grab Ivy’s bag of toys and food, slinging it over your shoulder and uncovering her seat so you can pick her up and carry her to the back row of the classroom. 

She’s quiet, looking around at the new environment. One of your classmates coos at her and waves, and she waves back. 

Instead of individual desks, the lecture hall has rows of long tables with all the chairs facing the front of the room. You decide it’s best for Ivy to sit on top of the table next to your workspace, placing a thick blanket so that she can sit or lay comfortably. You give her a shape toy to play with–one that doesn’t make any noise or light up. 

When she seems settled, you take out your supplies for class, then look up to meet Professor Barber’s expectant gaze at the bottom of the lecture hall.  

You give him a timid thumbs up and he announces he’s going to get started. 

The class goes well for the first twenty minutes, then Ivy seems to fuss and you switch out her shape toy for a stuffed animal. It keeps her occupied until she tries to start typing on your computer. 

“Ivy, no,” you whisper, placing her back on the blanket and giving her another stuffed animal. 

She tries again, little hand reaching for the keyboard but you stop her in time. 

“Ivy, please,” you try to tell her, but you know she doesn’t understand. She begins to whine, drawing everyone’s eyes up to you and you feel your face heat up. You can hear Professor Barber’s voice trail off mid-sentence.

You swear under your breath, heart racing as you try to find another toy but she insists on reaching for your keyboard. 

Her whining gets louder and her eyes begin to water and you know a meltdown is coming. There’s no way you can gather everything and leave before she goes nuclear. 

You hear footsteps coming up the steps to where you’re seated, looking up and catching a glimpse of your professor coming toward you. 

He’s going to kick you out. Fuck. 

“Is she okay?” he asks. 

“Yes, I’m sorry, professor. I’m just going to go–”

“May I?” he points to her, still crying and pushing against your hands as she pursues your computer. 

“Um…yes? What are you…?”

He turns her easily, picking her up under her arms and lifting her up above his head. 

Ivy stops crying when he brings her down, then up again. 

Then, she laughs. 

You watch incredulously as he repeats his actions, hearing her giggles grow louder and louder. He smiles too, eyes crinkling under the lenses of his glasses. 

He settles her on his side, supporting her bottom well with one arm. Then, he grabs the small towel you had placed on the blanket and slings it over his shoulder where her head might rest. 

You realize he’s done this before, then you wonder if he’s a father. 

Professor Barber looks at you, still smiling. “I can hold her, you keep taking notes.” Then, he turns to face the rest of the class, some people just staring blankly, others smiling, and others using the small interlude as an opportunity to go on their phones. “Now, as I was saying, when collaborating with a social worker, it’s important to…”

His voice trails off in your mind as you just focus on the image of him retreating down the stairs with your daughter on his arm, completely content as he continues his lecture. 

At the bottom of the lecture hall, he stands next to the podium, swaying and bouncing a little. Ivy seems to enjoy it, completely fixated on his face. 

She presses her hand into his beard, earning some laughs from him and your classmates. You’re horrified when she grabs his glasses, but everyone laughs again, and some people coo. He takes them from her and puts them back on, only for her to grab them again. 

Eventually, he relents, letting her play with them for the rest of the lecture. 

Towards the end, you notice Ivy’s body beginning to relax as she leans against his shoulder. Your professor grabs his glasses from her and places them on top of the podium, readjusting her so she’s better supported as she falls asleep. 

“That’s all I have for tonight; have a good Thanksgiving break, travel safely, and come back ready to finish the semester.” 

You rush to gather your things, practically running down the stairs. 

“I…” you begin, then stop because you don’t know where to begin. “Thank you.” 

“It’s no trouble,” he brushes you off, still rocking her even in her sleep. “Can I walk you to your car?” he asks. 

“Oh, you don’t have to–”

“I insist if it’ll help,” he shakes his head.

“I’m sure you’re eager to get home,” you argue weakly, really not wanting to bother him further. 

He practically babysat while lecturing. He clearly doesn’t mind, but you feel as if you’ve inconvenienced him regardless. 

“I don’t have any classes tomorrow,” he reassures you. “I don’t mind.” 

You huff a laugh, “I guess I shouldn’t argue with you…you were the ADA, after all.” 

He laughs too and your face heats up as you purse your lips to hide your smile. 

- - -

Andy carries your backpack as you push Ivy’s stroller, the November air chilly as the two of you walk to your car. 

“I can’t thank you enough, Professor Barber,” you sigh after buckling Ivy into her seat while he places your backpack in the trunk, then puts the baby bag in. 

He begins to collapse the stroller. 

“Oh, I can do that, you’ve done enough.” 

“Nonsense,” he dismisses you, folding it and placing it next to your other things. He shuts the door softly to not disturb your still sleeping daughter. “Happy to help.”

“I can’t express how grateful I am for all this,” you say, realizing you’re repeating yourself. “It’s a big help. And you didn’t have to do any of it–”

“Of course I did,” he shrugs. “I know the whole parenting deal. It’s a challenge.”

You smile, “How old is yours?” 

“He’s sixteen now.”

“Oh, that’s a fun age,” you remark. “Ivy’s only one and she’s already got a big personality. I can’t imagine what she’ll be like when she gets to that age. What’s it been like?”

Andy purses his lips and swallows. 

Truth is, he doesn’t know much about his son. Not since Laurie moved out and he went with her. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried.”

When he looks back at your face, he can see the guilt in your eyes and he shakes his head. “No, I…” he begins. The words never come to him; how can even begin to delve into the inner workings of his family falling apart? 

“It’s complicated.” 

A look of sympathy comes over your face. “I can empathize.” 

He feels his eyebrows furrow in confusion and curiosity. What does that mean?

“Um, I should probably head home,” you say, using your thumb to point at your car. “I’m not as lucky as you; I have an early start tomorrow.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” 

“Thank you again, professor. Happy Thanksgiving,” you smile, going around to the driver’s side of your car.

“My pleasure. Any time you need to bring her, just bring her. She was great to have in class.” 

“You may regret saying that,” you joke. “Goodnight, Professor.”

“Goodnight.”

He stands there like an idiot in the middle of the parking lot as the cold bites at his body, making him shiver as he watches you drive away. 

He had noticed you from the beginning, your quiet, respectful demeanor and great work ethic made you stand out against your other classmates. Now, having met your daughter, it unlocked a side of him he was forced to stow away when his family fell apart. 

He realizes maybe this is what his father felt when he left; there’s a void where Jacob once was, something that Ivy seemed to fill. 

Shaking his head, he reminds himself of the university policy: he’s faculty, you’re a student. It wouldn’t be appropriate. 

As he makes his way to the other side of campus to the faculty parking lot, he can’t shake the stirring in his stomach. He has to press it down and push it away, no matter how much he wants to convince himself that his rapidly growing fondness for you and your daughter is platonic. 

His fondness for you was never platonic to begin with. 

Permatag: @caffiend-queen @fckdeusername @lou-la-lou @bangtan-serendipity @lovemarvelousfics @rainbowkisses31 @richonne4life @damnndeanndamnn @meetmeatyourworst @tinyplanet-explorer @vivien-1211 @unknownmystery22 @nerdygirl8203 @xoxabs88xox @mariaenchanted @gotnofucks @denisemarieangelina @myoxisbroken @kelbabyblue @pspice639 @maynay43 @just-another-wretched-egg @jennmurawski13 @avantgardium-leviosa @random-butterfly @rachelderivia @kenzieam @bluemusickid @asiaaisa77 @angrybirdcr @inactivewhore @velvetcardiganbucky  @madbaddic7ed @mysweetlittledesire @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @buckymydarlingangel @mayasreadingnook 

Chris tag: @onetwo3000 @patzammit @astheworlddturns @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @maeleeme @tvckerlance @thiskindahotkindamusic @fizzahocleirigh @marantha @justile

Wooden Facade Taglist: @ghotifishreads @buckysteveloki-me @blackwidownat2814 @wsoldat @sn0wpiercer @aynanasstuff @fluffysmutmnstr @emerald-evans @abbatoirablaze @justalonelyslytherin 

[laiqualaurelote]

For the AU prompt game: Phrack as cryptozoologists maybe? 👀

“Absolutely not,” says Jack. “I will not countenance it.”

“Well, then how do you explain the sightings!” cries Miss Fisher. “The livestock disappearing? Whole animals dragged into the water?”

“It could be a lot of things,” Jack argues, “but nothing conclusively proves it was a twenty-metre long serpent lurking in the river for over half a century.”

“Oh, I know what you lot call conclusive evidence,” huffs Miss Fisher. “If I haven’t sliced it up, pickled it in a specimen jar and stuffed it in that poky attic your department calls a museum, it’s inconclusive.”

“It’s inconclusive,” parries Jack, “because the creature doesn’t exist, and therefore there is no reason for you to disrupt our field study of actual, non-alleged fauna.”

Jack’s research assistant makes a face at Miss Fisher’s research assistant, who is studiously taking water samples. If Jack had the budget he would hire Dorothy Williams away from Miss Fisher, but Jack does not have the budget, unlike Miss Fisher, who clearly has pots of money to throw away on her pseudoscientific shenanigans, the knowledge of which pains Jack deeply every time he has to write a grant proposal.

Miss Fisher peers at him. “You’re not hung up about the peer review thing, are you?” 

“Of course not.”

“Because there were legitimate issues with your methodology, and I really felt like I had to point them out.”

“No, I’m – ” Jack sighs and grits out. “It was. Sound. Criticism.”

Her eyebrows go up. “Why thank you, Dr Robinson.”

“Don’t mention it, Miss Fisher. I mean, really, don’t.”

The rest of the department calls Miss Fisher Miss Fisher as an affront; it’s to rub in the fact that despite her considerable force of personality, no institution of repute has seen fit to award her a doctorate. Professor Sanderson, department chair, calls her “that woman”, as in, “for God’s sake have that woman escorted off campus grounds” after Miss Fisher took to delivering improvisational lectures in the quad about the predatory evolution of the Mongolian death worm, which to the faculty’s dismay proved extremely popular among the student population. Jack sometimes wonders what it is like to believe in something the way Miss Fisher does. To have the conviction to fling oneself into the unknown on the faintest promise of discovery.

“You should call me Phryne,” says Miss Fisher.

Jack opens his mouth for a rebuttal he hasn’t thought through yet, but is saved from having to produce one by the shock of her finger laid suddenly on his lips.

“Do you hear that?” she whispers.

There is a rippling in the water, accompanied by a kind of spreading susurrus. If Jack squints, he can just about make out a dark shape, moving in its depths towards the bank. If pressed to estimate its length, he would place it at around twenty metres.

“Dot,” breathes Miss Fisher, “are you getting all this?”

“Yes, miss.” Dot is already filming. Hugh glances at her, then scrambles to do the same.

The serpent breaks the surface. It rears up above the river, magnificent and ancient and crusted green, beneath which its skin runs mottled. It bares a mouthful of teeth, each as long as an icepick, and hisses at their party on the bank.

“Oh, it’s beautiful.” Miss Fisher’s eyes are brimming with wonder. “Oh, you absolute darling.”

“Does it,” ventures Jack, “does it, by any chance, eat humans?”

“You didn’t even want to admit it existed a minute ago,” Miss Fisher shoots back. “How should I know what it eats? Oh, Jack, isn’t it marvellous?”

“Splendid,” agrees Jack, as the creature begins frilling in a mildly alarming fashion. “Given the dearth of literature on the subject, however, we should probably run.”

“We are going to write the best paper,” shouts Miss Fisher as she sprints up the slope. 

“This,” Jack shouts back, dragging Hugh behind a ridge as the serpent hits the bank with wet force, “is the worst possible way to ask someone to co-author!”

“Are you saying yes to me, Jack Robinson!” She seems, despite the circumstances, to be wildy enjoying herself.

“I wouldn’t want to set a precedent,” says Jack, though he knows, to his chagrin, that he already has.

(For the AU prompt game. I had to Google cryptozoologists. Apologies to any actual zoologists, or for that matter anyone in science academia.)

[ormir]

“It had to be done.” Ormir said, blunting his answer. After a moment’s consideration, he adjusted, realizing the bluntness he parried against the King would not do enough to soothe her. “The boy was a traitor, Freydis. Same as each blood-hungry mongrel that raises a sword to your claim on the basis of gender alone. You’ve proven yourself worthy of what they’ve been freely given, and that frightens them.” With every agitator she cut down, more would rise up in their place in effort. Ormir heard the buried implication in his own attempt at consolation: She’d have to kill again. And again. And again, until the Midlands became embroiled in conflict, or until she was at last battered into exhaustion. Either way, the blood spilled would stain his record. “With no real qualms over your governance, their true challenge would be with the legitimacy of the crown’s decision to honor you.” Ormir would see to it personally that Orhan adopted this conviction, as well. If such blatant rebuttals to the crown’s rule went unpunished, he rehearsed, how much further would these Midlanders reach in their insolence? 

“You offered more mercy than he deserved and he still denied it. That boy wouldn’t have given a second thought to taking your head if he’d had the chance, and you know it.” He stated, hoping to correct the doubt he’d heard in her words. “I am glad it is you standing here today.”

Enough. A slippery concept. “A question that plagues Kings and farmhands alike, my Jarl.” It was one he knew affected Orhan, deeply. It was a surprise to hear his worries echoed in a young noble with so much promise before her. “We each do the work bid of us, as best we can. The scribes do theirs to groom the legacy that follows us. My job,” Ormir’s head canted slightly. “Is to nudge their quills in the right direction.”

One exception, even a sanctified one, would not rewrite traditions reaching back hundreds of years. The grace Ormir was given when he was raised to the second-most influential position in the Kingdom, without a name nor clan to claim to, had been contentious enough at the time of his ascent. Controversial a figure as the Raven-Feeder he’d been as a chosen mouthpiece, he had one steep privilege over Freydis. Conspiracies from those early days still clung to his heels. Iskaldrik was an ancient land. In so unyielding a place, its people clung to the security of the old ways that sustained them. But there catalysts for change in its histories, just as sprouts fought their way up through the ice-crusted snow at the first break in the frost. A thaw would come.

“I have something for you.” Ormir turned toward the entryway, motioning a hand to summon the pair of Kingsguard that had been his escort. The two men bent and lifted in synchronicity, littering a large wooden box forward into the open chamber. Their footsteps echoed loudly within the unfurnished space, with nothing to absorb the sound. Ormir undid the heavy metal latch and lifted the lid. “For your housewarming.” He smiled, and stepped aside to observe.

Nestled in a bed of hay was a small spruce shield. Very apparently handmade, clumsy, fit for a child. A delicate, almost undetectable golden trim webbed the sinews where it had splintered, as if sewn back together by a thread of purest gold. It reflected a faint, sweet-smelling varnish, for preservation’s sake. “Our smiths could not make a novelty fit for combat, I’m afraid. But it deserves a place of honor in these halls, as a part of its history.” True satisfaction peeked through the huscarl’s voice.

“Maybe not worse,” Freydis admitted after putting some thought to the matter, “but similar.” She’d sustained injuries before that felt worse, that lasted longer than the aching of her head would. She could remember the deep pain and ugly sight of blood blisters, the suffering of a broken or bruised rib that made everything from breathing to defending her post agonizing, and several broken fingers in between. She had learned quickly that men didn’t pull their punches just because she was a girl. If anything, she suspected they struck harder. 

It was a relief he didn’t make her tell the story–if Aytaç had darkened her doorstep in her place, Freydis knew the princess would have needled the story out of her. The jarl wondered vaguely if Aytaç had always displayed such interest in the details as a means to access the experience vicariously. Freydis had no doubt the princess could have bested the better half of the men who had challenged her, but were Aytaç’s title scared men off of potentially harming her it seemed that Freydis’ was viewed as an open invitation. 

Freydis stood very still as Ormir looked at her after she spoke. She was not sure she had ever seen The Hand in such a state of confusion or disbelief or whatever it was he was experiencing. The expression was novel to Freydis–she had learned how to read many things within the subtle edges of his mannerisms, but not this look. Not yet. Her humility was palpable when he elaborated. She still found herself to be rather simple and wanting. “You aren’t angry that I killed him?”

“If another woman was permitted to follow,” she answered, not understanding the question was rhetorical in her battered state. “And if she were allowed to do it well, without resistance… If her legacy was better than mine.” He put words to her greatest fear a moment later–it was true, she had worked herself to the bone for some time now and had little to show for it but blood indelibly etched into her pores and innumerable bruises. “What if it’s not enough?” she asked quietly. What if she were a joke to them forever? What if her legacy continued on the current trend? If she were always to be seen by court and country as nothing more than a trained bear to toss into a ring and throw victims to?

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Hey, if requests are open, can we pretty please get some Jonathan and Will with a sister/sibling (middle sibling) who is kinda a good balance for both of them? I just would like to see your take on a dynamic like this! Thank you!

I like this concept a lot :) This will be the only thing I write tonight since I'm recovering from surgery.

For days, I could sense the overwhelming weight and sadness taking over my younger brother, his eyes sunken in and a permanent frown etched on his face. I know that he won't come clean that it's about Will, that his whole speech about how El probably feels like an outsider with no one to understand her was just a way for him to communicate how he feels without actually saying it.

But unlike Jonathan, Will doesn't need to actually say anything to me, I just know.

He's never really fit in with anyone, even the group and all of their games over the years. With the Mind-Flayer and the Upsidedown invading Hawkins, making my youngest brother its prime target, it only made him and our family stick out more. He has never been able to go out without people looking at him or itching to ask him questions.

That's why the move to California was possibly the best decision that my mom ever made from us, aside from leaving all of our friends and the rest of our 'group'. It gave all of a chance to start new, gave Will and El a new place to really make a name for themselves outside of our conservative town, but it also let Jonathan and I make new friends and try new things.

"So, do you like it?" Jonathan asks, leaning against his headboard as I let the smoke billow out from between my lips, watching it seep into the air and blow out the window in a moments notice. I cough a bit with a small smile, giving him a stern nod. "Good, Argyle got it from his guy last week and then totally forgot to give it to me." He snorts, taking a hit off the bong with a doped out smile and hazy eyes.

"So," I pause, flopping back down onto the bed as I watch the fan spin back and forth, "you gotta stop giving Will dating advice." I huff, giving him a pointed look as he scoffs, holding his hands up in feigned offense.

"My dating advice is great!" He shakes his head, brows firmly pulled together in an attempt to make himself believe his words but he can't be any further from the truth. It's an unspoken rule in this household to not come outright and talk about Will's struggles with sexuality and who he likes. It's already confusing for him to think about let alone talk about so we've steered pretty clear of talking about it when he's upset.

But lately Jonathan keeps trying to play match-maker and get him out in the world which, if he could have a successful relationship, I'd appreciate the thought. But given his weird relationship with Nancy, I don't trust a word of advice that comes out of his mouth.

I say that with all the love and respect in the world.

"You guys play for different teams! It doesn't help when you're giving him tips on how to woo people and you use the words 'boobs' every other sentence." My head tilts with a deadpanned smile, giving him somewhat of a condescending look that he calls 'the Joyce'.

"That's fair- alright." He sighs, his eyes fluttering shut as he pulls the bong up to his lips once more, lighting it and taking a deep breath before going to argue once more. "But-"

"Mike's ignoring my calls." His rebuttal is cut short by Will storming into Jonathan's room, red in the face and angry tears lining his lashline. Immediately, I sit up, sobering up quickly as I'm filled with unadulterated rage.

"Is he answering El-" I start but he cuts me off with a scoff.

"Of course he is." He huffs, his hands hitting his sides after he throws them up in the air, his hair falling in his eyes as he looks down at the ground and I can practically hear his heart pound out of anxiety from ten feet away.

"Then he's a dick- ignore him bubs, come take part in the illegal with us!" I laugh, trying to turn the tension to laughter but he just shakes his head, ignoring my comment all together.

"I just don't understand how he could just be my best friend for all of those years and then get a girlfriend and drop only me and not any of the rest of them." His voice quivers, eyes looking to me for support but I just frown deeply, my shoulders deflating in disappointment that he has to deal with this at such a young age.

"If he cares enough to talk to El and not you, when you're the same distance away, then maybe it's not worth it. Mike's always been kind of an airhead dude- I always liked Dustin more." Jonathan laughs, pointing a finger at our younger brother as he finally cracks a half smile, stepping towards the bed as I pat the spot beside me.

"C'mere." I whisper, wrapping my arm around Will as he slides down onto the bed, turning into a bundle of mush the minute I side hug him. "I know that it upsets you that he doesn't care- or it seems like he doesn't care- but remember that you're way more in touch with your feelings than he is." I look down at him, brushing his bangs from his face as he nods, not completely believing me but he stays quiet and lets me continue. "You're not a dumb boy like he is. So maybe just drop him for a bit, spend more time with us and less time worrying about what he's doing and who he's talking to." I offer and he nods, his eyes a bit more brighter than they were before and I can hear the words 'hard to get' playing over and over in his mind. Make him work for it, Will.

"Sounds like you're giving dating advice." Jonathan snorts, pulling the marijuana away from his lips as his eyes widen in accidental embarrassment. "Shit, sorry man, that wasn't a joke or anything-"

"Boy advice is boy advice whether it's a friend or not a friend." I cut him off, quieting his high rant as quickly as it can come out before looking to our brother, rubbing his back gently. "You gotta be a good friend before you can be a good boyfriend or girlfriend so this all applies, got it?" I ask, my eyes flickering back and forth between his as he smiles sadly, giving me a simple nod.

"Got it."

"Now lay here and get the second hand smoke, we'll take care of you." I laugh, forcing him to lay down as his eyes flutter shut, his back hitting the mattress moments later as he takes a deep breath.

"I don't trust you guys." He whispers, looking at me specifically and I gasp, looking to Jonathan for support but he just snorts and sends our brother a wink.

"You shouldn't."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane2828 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi

@crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets@haylee-e@popehaywardssecretgf @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife @smoke-and-fire @officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @smoke-and-fire386 @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @minjix @luvrosee @storytellingwitht

[miyagifangkai]

Birthday Party

Request: I wonder if you could make an imagine where Johnny wants his son's party with reader to be about karate and there's a fun discussion about that with Robby and Miguel in the middle afraid to give an opinion.

Tagged: @cobrafanggirl

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Cursing, AND CUTENESS OVERLOAD!!!

Also not completely proofread

Couple Pairing: Johnny Lawrence x Reader

Characters involved: Johnny, Reader, Miguel, Robby, Sam, Hawk, Demetri, Tory, a mention of Kenny, and a mention of Daniel

A/N: I tweaked it just a little bit, I hope you don’t mind. I was just having so much fun writing it! Also I didn’t give the baby a name.. idk what would fit. I’m sorry lol

I hope you enjoy it! 😊 also I’m sorry it took forever…

You, Johnny, Miguel, and Robby were quietly eating your dinner while the baby was asleep.

The four of you are enjoying the comfortable silence. Silence, man, what a nice thing to have. Things had been complete chaos for everybody this past year. With taking care of the baby non stop, balancing a job, the boys balancing karate and school, and Johnny trying to keep his head screwed on the right way between the boys bickering, karate, and you losing your shit from lack of sleep. Everyone was soaking in the absolute bliss of the quietness and being in the company of each other. You had found time to make some dinner for everyone with the help from Robby; he was wanting to learn how to make spaghetti.

You and Him had gotten some bonding time while Johnny and Miguel got the baby to fall asleep for when it was time to eat. It was nice having those two over, it felt like a real family with them. Johnny also seemed happy about it as well so that made you happy too.

As you all finished eating everyone helped clean up the kitchen and then the boys sat down on the couch and turned on a movie while you were finishing up the dishes. Miguel had sat on the left side of Johnny and Robby on the other side.

You overhear the boys having a conversation about the baby’s birthday party theme. But what made your ears perk up was when Johnny said, “C’mon guys! The party is going to be karate themed.”

Miguel says, “How do we know if they’re gonna like karate when they get older?”

Robby rebuttals, “The kid is only one, Miguel. They won’t know what the theme is anyway.” Robby sighs, “I think we should just keep it simple. Birthday cake with colorful candles and some nice polaroid pictures.”

You liked Robby’s idea. Not wanting to push things on your child; but you also understood that Johnny was one stubborn son of a bitch.

“Robby, don’t be a nerd! We need to make this party bad ass,” Miguel and Johnny both fist bump.

Robby rolls his eyes and takes a look at you and he says, “Any back up here?”

You put up the last plate and turn around, “Guys, I think I agree with Robby here. Maybe like keep it neutral, you know?”

Johnny scoffs, “You’re joking, right? We are not gonna have a nothing party for the little dudes first birthday!”

You step into Johnny’s living room, “I think it’s the best option. I mean, we don’t know what he likes yet. I think we should–”

“So you’re saying you don’t want him to have a karate birthday?”

“Johnny–”

“Why not?”

You notice Miguel and Robby look at each other awkwardly knowing that they had opened a can of worms. Both of the boys' heads keep turning towards you and Johnny as you two go back and forth.

“I just think it’s a fun idea to have the classic first birthday, you know?”

“Classic?” Johnny crosses his arms, “Karate isn’t classic?”

Miguel and Robby both say, “Lets calm down–”

“QUIET!” Johnny yells at them. Both of the boys flinch at Johnny’s words and they decide to opt out. You hear the baby stir on the monitor and you all shush each other. You end up not hearing anything else come from the baby monitor so you continue.

You give in slightly, “Karate is awesome, babe! I’m just saying a karate birthday would be more fitting for a kid who’s a little bit older and could enjoy it.”

“Why can’t we have more than one karate themed birthday?”

You roll your eyes, “And we can,” but you sigh, “When he’s a little older and can choose what he wants, Johnny.”

“What if he chooses to have a princess party?” Johnny almost regrets his words knowing that you wouldn’t like what he had just said. You see both of the boys step back and look at each other again knowing where this is gonna go and they both mouth, “Oh, shit,” at each other.

“What if he does? Who cares?” You say with a tinge of annoyance.

Johnny didn’t know how to answer that. He knew you were right but it also felt wrong. His whole entire life he was taught how to be a “man” and being a “man” didn’t include Barbie dolls. But it’s a different time now and he knew that. He was also okay with that. Sometimes he had a hard time getting a grip on what was truly right or what was a part of his raising. You knew he struggled with that as well and that’s why you didn’t completely explode on him. He messed up. A lot. But he was trying and that’s all a “man” could do, right? You saw that he was at a loss for words and couldn’t find the right thing to say until Miguel jumps in.

“Guys, why don’t we do a half and half?”

You look at Miguel confused, “Half and half?”

“Yes! Do the normal run of the mill cake but have some karate decorations? All of us show up in our gi’s but keep you three in normal clothes,” Miguel says as he points at you, Johnny, and the baby’s room.

You see Johnny smile liking the idea. You liked the idea of compromise.

Robby says, “Won’t that be a little disjointed?”

Miguel gives Robby the evil eye, “Yes. But have you even met this family?”

You felt the blow that Miguel had thrown at Robby and he almost grimaces but instead opens his mouth to fight back but to break up the tension between the two you say, “It’s disjointed. But fitting.”

Johnny finally speaks up, “I wish it was totally karate themed,” you all look at Johnny annoyed, “but! I think this could work. 50/50.”

Everyone gets into an agreement; with Robby bringing his camera and candles, you getting the cake (with the help of Robby) and the matching outfits, while Miguel and Johnny pick out the karate decorations. The baby’s birthday was a week away and you all were rushing to get things right.

Today was the day for the party. You three were ready to go in your matching outfits which were blue and white plaid shirts with light wash jeans and with the cake on hand. Robby had acquired the camera and Miguel had gotten the decorations.

You all were setting up for the party hanging streamers, little cutouts of karate men doing all types of moves, and a humongous balloon with the number one on it. You could say it was a little tacky but for some reason it fit so well.

Soon enough everyone had showed up in their karate gi’s and all started conversing amongst each other. You had made your rounds with the baby around the room thanking everyone for coming to the party. Everyone loved him and couldn’t help but compliment the matching outfits and how adorable you all looked. Even Demetri gave in with the shrug of his shoulders, “Okay, I’ll admit it. I mean, it’s a bit cheesy. But it’s very cute,” which warranted a laugh from you.

“Demetri, coming from you, that must mean I did something right,” you say to him, causing him to smile at you.

Miguel had invited Hawk, Sam, and Demetri to the party while Robby had Tory and Kenny tag along with him. Not the biggest crowd but definitely the right ones to show up. You had decided to not invite Daniel for this one because you didn’t want an all out karate fight to break out in the living room at your son's party. But there’s always next year. You saw Robby going around and taking pictures, some candid and some posing. You handed Johnny your son so he could show him off to Hawk and Demetri. You walked up to Sam and Miguel.

“Thanks for coming, Sam. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N! Thanks for the invite. I was really excited to see how the half and half thing would go,” she chuckles.

You look around and realize that it didn’t look too great, “Yeah, not the best. But Johnny is happy and for some reason the dysfunction really works here.”

Miguel and Sam both laugh but agree with you. As you three were laughing you all see a flash catch you all in the act and you hear Robby say, “Man! That was a good one!”

He hands you the picture as it develops and you take a look at it.

“Robby, this is really sweet!”

You see Sam and Miguel lean over to take a look and you show them; both of them smiling at the picture. You say a small, “See you later,” to the two and start to scan the room for your boys. You spot Johnny, Hawk, and Demetri still talking so you walk up to them as well. As you walk up you see Hawk holding the baby while gently moving his arms making sound effects as Johnny pretends to be battling with Hawk and the baby. Might have been the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

You say, “So who’s winning?”

Hawk says, “I’m not sure. This one is definitely a fighter!”

You all laugh and you say, “Thanks for coming boys, honestly.”

Demetri says, “And miss this? The fight of the century? No way!”

You see Robby sneak back up and take a picture of you all with Hawk posing with the baby. You all chuckle at the picture and you say, “I think it’s time for cake, huh?”

They all agree and Hawk hands you the baby back and you go to the kitchen to get everything set up.

“Need any help?” You hear Tory ask you.

“Oh, yeah! Could you get him in his chair while I put the candle on the cake?”

“Yes!” Tory exclaims. You could tell she was wanting to hold him for a little bit. She took him in her arms and she automatically started talking in baby talk to him. Calling him beautiful and whispering “Happy Birthday” to him. Robby was definitely there taking pictures of her and you thought it was adorable. You see Kenny trying to photobomb with Robby trying to “shoo” him away. You couldn’t help but laugh.

Everyone circles around the table with the lit cake and your baby laughing at everybody looking at him and singing. You and Johnny blow out his candle together and share a quick kiss. With most of the kids saying, “aw” but you hear Demetri go, “ew.”

Robby had definitely gotten some really good pictures you could tell by his face. Everyone got a slice of cake and started talking again with Miguel and Robby spending time with the baby together. You could hear them say, “Happy Birthday, little baby.” and “I love you,” and it warms your heart. Knowing that two of the most prominent figures that are gonna be in his life love him unconditionally was the best feeling. You sneak and pick up Robby’s camera and take a picture of the boys and you just look at the picture with so much happiness.

You look up at Johnny smiling, taking everything in and you say, “Can’t believe you’re speechless.”

“I am. I’m happy,” he couldn’t hide his bright smile and he wraps his arm around you.

“Me too, Lawrence,” you lean into his touch.

He kisses your forehead and mumbles, “I love you, babe.”

You smile and say, “I love you too.”

You both did. You both love each other. You both love your son as well.

You two stand there for a bit looking at everyone and enjoying the party. It might not have been the prettiest party in the world but it was your party and though it was tacky; you wouldn’t have it any other way. You couldn’t wait for your son to meet them all one day when he gets older; what an adventure that’s gonna be.

[leviiattacks]

teacher!levi and teacher!reader headcanons please 🥺

author note :: i expected for this to be better but idk,,, um, you know maybe it’s just me who wishes i executed it better but i wrote this at 3am that’s my excuse. ANYWAY I HOPE U ENJOY ANON :-))) i know it’s not headcanons but here!! also my ask box is always open to feel free to drop by !! 

word count :: 5.4k (after i had to severely cut the word count down because my tumblr wouldn’t let me post the longer version with more detail,,,,)

honestly you’ve never fit in well with the math teachers in particular but you’re still amicable with most

however, there’s one unbearable member of the group that happens to want to play jump rope with your patience constantly

and that person just so happens to be mr ackerman

every single staff meeting the both of you sit furthest away from each other whilst silently exchanging bitter glares

maybe it’s his stony disposition or his unrealistically harsh grading system that makes him seem so off putting to you.

or perhaps it’s your soft and gentle approach to teaching that drives him up a wall

but to make matters simple, the two of you have never got along. nearly everything he says you disagree with and nearly everything you say he has to rebuke.

every outlandish suggestion of his at meetings is met with firm disapproval from you and every time you bring up wanting to provide the children with more time for extracurricular activities he sneers in annoyance

today he’s proposing a plan to set exams as soon as possible

???

you wonder if he’s even thinking with his head attached to his neck because it’ll be impossible for the children to handle all of the content in the form of an exam paper so soon

the workload he’s been pushing onto his math class has become far too ridiculous for your liking and you want to put an end to the man’s reign of terror

it just so happens your classes are scheduled in the blocks next to each other meaning he always sees your students an hour before you do

it’s got to the point where your pupils trudge into english class completely EXHAUSTED

the other day a boy fainted because of lack of sleep and now mr ackerman has the audacity to put forward the exam dates???

“we need to instill these children with discipline. taking them by surprise will give them a much needed reality check.”

you groan at his speech and raise a hand

“may i interject?”

professor ackerman’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek the irritation is painted on his face but he nods although he seems reluctant

“these children do not need standardized exams to-”

“would you like for me to completely scrap exams from the curriculum?” without even allowing for you to present your argument he has to cut you off with a mocking grin

“levi, i think-”

“that's mr ackerman to you.”

his blunt correction has you rolling your eyes because YES!! you understand the two of you aren’t exactly the best of friends but he doesn’t even want to be on a first name basis with a colleague of two years??

his pettiness has your blood boiling in searing displeasure

“you have to stop going so hard on these children.”

he’s shuffling through some paperwork not even batting an eye in your direction.

“personally, we aren’t hard enough but of course the english teacher has trouble understanding that.”

the jab he makes at your job only causes the anger inside of you to bubble up again

why does teaching english have ANYTHING to do with this???

“you teach math yet you can’t calculate the reasoning behind your subpar love life. do not insult english.”

personal insults are your favourite to throw at him because he always gets so riled up

and actually for once you have the answer to a math question.

the reason why his love life is so uneventful has to be because of this :

his personality + his obnoxious humour + his looks = a good looking but undatable man

his jaw clenches and the grip he has on the stack of papers in his hands strengthens

ok,, that is kinda hot but that is not relevant at all

you’re able to make out miss ral one of the other math teachers make a move to speak and god you fight the urge to punch her every day because she’s always gushing about mr ackerman

seeing as you don’t want to punch her or anyone for that matter you turn to give her a “if you speak right now i swear to god i will lose my shit” look

she gets the memo incredibly quickly because her mouth closes shut immediately

mr ackerman takes a sip out of the cup of black tea next to him. “i would appreciate if you just sat back and let me do what’s best.”

“children fainting in my lesson is not what’s best.” your rebuttal catches him off guard and he seems more than a little surprised

“wait- fainted??”

you eyes flick over to mr zacharias, you had told him to pass the message on but the way he’s sheepishly looking at the floor avoiding your eyes clearly tells you all you have to know

“looks like someone forgot to pass the message onto you but the other day falco fainted in english.”

“is he- is he okay?? did he say why?”

eyebrows raising you’re quite surprised to see any sort of reaction from him let alone concern

“he stayed up all night completing your homework.”

lips pressing together into a fine line it almost looks as if he’s guilty

“i’ll talk to him about it later.” his voice is back to its usually plain tone and any trace of his previous worry has been masked.

an awkward silence follows. he coughs choosing to not continue the discussion about exams.

principal smith takes the hint and moves on to discuss planned school trips

HOORAH victory!!!

yet another day where you’ve saved your students

“who is fallacy and why are they pathetic?” a few snorts and giggles are heard around the class and you force yourself to laugh at falco's miserable attempt at a joke

you’ve noticed falco’s been cracking more jokes around his new seat mate gabi.

she’s small but feisty always willing to debate and she’s really a joy to teach although she can get a little bit aggressive with the others at times

honestly it’s quite obvious that falco has a fat crush on her. well, actually it’s been obvious from the moment she step foot into your class

and... you couldn’t just ignore the way falco looked at her could you?? and there was an empty space next to him too sooooo, what harm would there be in placing the two together?

it seems as if your attempt at getting the both of them to talk has worked. gabi and falco compete desperately for the top position in the class and are two of the best students you’ve had in a while

also after the day falco fainted in class gabi has been noticeably nicer. things like asking if he’s drank water or how much he’s slept

you have a small inkling that she may like him back

and the budding romance is adorable to you because you too once had childhood crushes

it feels rather nostalgic to see the two interact

but today you notice the two aren’t in

in fact, you notice half of the class isn’t?

“where are the others?” your question sends a jolt through one of your present students but he stays silent choosing to pretend to clean his glasses as a distraction

crossing your arms over your chest you walk over towards his desk

“udo, you can tell me what it is.”

“professor ackerman said not to tell.” udo looks petrified and you’re just kinda wondering what in the hell is going on

lucky for you his resolve is thin and he quickly cracks under pressure

“okay. you can’t say i told.”

nodding in agreement he looks around making sure no one else hears what exactly it is he’s about to disclose

“he’s kept some people back to talk to them about something top secret. i don’t know what but he asked for the students who like you.”

at that you feel a little bitter because if he asked for the student who liked you why on earth is half the class still here??

but oh well, you guess you can’t please them all

“oh no, no, no. you’ve got it wrong. we all wanted to stay but he didn’t let us.”

udo looks genuine so you let it slide

either way it doesn’t really matter as long as the majority prefer you over that sick and twisted math teacher you’re alright

“he does know he’s cut into my class time right?”

“falco told him that and he whispered something about how you’re bothersome.”

you???? bothersome???

WHEN HE’S THE ONE BOTHERING EVERYONE?/!:£:!/)

you don’t even look back as you walk out frankly furious at what’s happened

english is important

ACTUALLY!!!

ENGLISH > MATH

you will stand by that till the day you die

your knuckle meets with the wooden surface of your sworn enemy’s classroom door and almost automatically you’re able to hear the shuffle of chairs and padding of numerous footsteps approach

the door swings open and you step aside to allow your missing students to pass through

they look nervous but one look at your reassuring smile lets them ease up and relax

“well.” a voice behind you snaps “look who paid me a visit.”

“we’re talking about this later.”

you try your best to sound serious but you don’t know if you pull it off as well as he does because he just ends up giving you a disappointed sort of look

“y/n. stick to being the good cop it suits you better.”

“we are not on first name basis. you said it yourself.” is your narrowed comeback

finally turning to face him you’re surprised when your eyes travel to the triangle of space behind him and you’re able to get a peek of what looks to be a list of books on his whiteboard

pride and prejudice

wuthering heights

jane eyre

ville-

before you’re able to read the rest he moves in front of your line of vision

he’s got quite the selection but,, when did he of all the people on this planet start showing any interest in literature?

“the books on the board what’s that about?”

your inquiry flies over his head and he shuts the door behind him completely

his face doesn’t move and if it does it only shows the slightest hint of confusion

“what books are you talking about?” he replies and don’t know why your knees feel a little weak when he looks you straight in the eyes

snap.

out.

of.

it.

“i saw books on the board.”

“you saw wrong.” he barks back and he’s getting agitated now

maybe you did imagine it...

and you have to get back to teach your class so okay fair enough you’ll let it go because you do know you have a habit of daydreaming randomly

however that doesn’t stop you from giving him another skeptical look before you leave because there is NO WAY you imagined it, but it is you and it really could be a possibility

the click clack of your heels against the floor sound out as you remove yourself from the conversation

you assume he’s returned to his classroom

that’s why it catches you by surprise when you hear a hesitant voice behind you

“there were no books on the board.”

you don’t know why he has to tell you that again because it only makes himself look all the more suspicious

“but if they were a list of book recommendations then what would you recommend i read?”

the question is peculiar coming from him

are you in an alternate universe?

is this a dream?

are you talking to a clone?

a robot?

because this can NOT be the same man you’ve been working with for two years

maybe he’s having a change of heart?

but that sounds unlikely

maybe he’s planning to read the book and somehow with that big brain of his formulate a calculation to score it a measly two out of ten

yeah. that sounds more likely.

nevertheless, you still want to give him a recommendation, maybe he’ll find out he’s into books this way

“you should totally check out pride and prejudice :-)”

for once you’re smiling at him and he doesn’t know what to do because the change is sudden but he doesn’t say a word after that

instead he retreats into his classroom

god.

now you’re sure he’s just asked to form a stupid calculation or whatever the hell it is math teachers do.

“he likes you.” hange has a shit eating grin on their face and you can’t help but narrow your eyes and sigh in exasperation

no he does not like you but you don’t try to correct hange because you know they’re firm in their stupid belief

“would you ever date him?” hange fiddles with the last of their potato salad absentmindedly waiting on your reply

the question literally has you choking on your lunch

“i would rather fight for survival in the wilderness. thank you for asking.”

“oh come on... he’s got a thing for you. you read romance novels all the time you should be able to tell he does.”

“yeah and that thing he has for me is wanting to shove my head onto a pitchfork. you’ve got the wrong end of the stick.” shoving a piece of pasta into your mouth you sigh dreamily at the taste. it serves as a momentary distraction

you get one lunch break and you are not!!!! in the mood to talk about him whilst you’re on that break

he’s attractive

and you have to admit he looks handsome in his crisp white button up and pristine black suit AND his cologne is really...

okay, you are digressing from the point

none of what you just said means anything!!!

at surface level he seems like a catch but it’s what’s on the inside that matters and he said he finds english stupid

that’s more than enough of a reason to dislike the guy?

he thinks stuff like the pythagorean theorem and y = mx+c are entertaining

y = mx+c ??? over literature???

you read books to teach and you read books for your own enjoyment

it would be a complete travesty if you had a crush on a book hater

and levi ackerman most certainly can be classed as a book hater.

a pessimistic book hater if the specifics are needed

“OH! SORRY Y/N GOTTA BLAST MOB’S OVER THERE!!!!!”

you don’t even get the chance to say goodbye because hange makes an eager run towards moblit

hange and moblit are inseparable, both are the shared heads of the science department and since he’s been off on sick leave recently you understand why hange’s rushed off to greet him

you wish you had a teacher friend like that but the sad truth is you’re pretty much a lone wolf. the other english teachers are wrinkly old pickles and talk about antiques or quiz shows :-(

“this seat free?”

no way.

it’s not him

it can't be

what does he even want??

“um, well yeah it is free b-.”

“good.” he takes the seat without you even inviting him and now you’re stuck in an awkward situation you didn’t even expect to be in today

you're about to burst into tears because is it too much to ask for a peaceful lunch period???

mr ackerman clears his throat and places a book in the center of the table. “pride and prejudice although not my cup of tea was... mildly enjoyable.”

wait...

is this him...

admitting defeat!??

HELLLOOOOO

you are over the moon right now because you know he really had to have enjoyed it a lot and is simply choosing to withhold that information for his own reputation

“i’m happy to hear you took a liking to it.” you’re munching away at your pasta a little more upbeat now

“okay but the start of the book assuming all single men want a wife? no, all i want is a good night’s rest for once. also mrs bennet needs to calm down, elizabeth can marry who the hell she wa-”

“someone’s a little passionate aren’t they?” you giggle into your glass of water and you catch mr ackerman frowning

“i liked it okay.”

“i thought you said it was only mildly enjoyable just now?” grinning and looking at him through your lashes his cheeks become red

you guess he’s angry or something but that’s the usual with him

“yeah, whatever. i just wanted to play fair and apologise.”

“apologise?” oh wow, now your interest has really peaked because never in the past two years has he apologised to ANYONE

not even principal smith for the one time he flipped out and nearly cursed at a mouthy student at parent's evening

grimacing a little before he does it he finally speaks again.

“english is important. i’m sorry.”

your lips tug up into a bright smile

well???

this is a great interaction??

an apology coming out of levi ackerman of all people

“apology accepted! i’m glad to know you liked the book but now that we’re a tad bit friendlier with each other i wanted to ask for a favour.” your eyes gleam and he swears he can see specks of shining stars in them

“...okay, it depends.”

he’s warming up to you so he considers it

“please don’t cut into my lesson time levi.” his name slips out of your mouth but it’s so natural you don’t even care to correct yourself

“i’m sorry about that too y/n.” your name now ventures out of his mouth too as it tests the waters

wordlessly the two of you agree to first name basis

BUT more important matters are at hand such as how he’s issued you yet another apology?

this is satire surely

because why is he so willing all of a sudden...?

well, that's the power of pride and prejudice, wow you’re really thanking the heavens for blessing this world with jane austen’s existence

jane austen. a woman capable of remarkable things, she's even managed to make an unmoving book hater somehow become a lover

poking at your tuna pasta you and levi are now quiet.

“soooooo, any opinions on mr wickham?” you ask the question hoping to initiate a longer conversation than before

and luckily for you your attempt works

SUCCESS!!

levi pinches the bridge of his nose and the creases on his forehead show he clearly isn't particularly fond of wickham

“don’t get me started he’s so indescribably annoying?”

ok, ok, ok

you don’t even know how it happens but you and levi really hit it off

weeks have passed and you and him have even become lunch buddies

it was so shocking to moblit at first that he dropped his lunch on the floor when he saw you and levi enthusiastically exchanging words

then again, two mr wickham haters are bound to get along

you’re seriously wondering how the two of you ever survived as mortal enemies

yeah, you still disagree a lot but you’re getting there!!

sometimes he helps you out when your computer stops running and in exchange you’re willing to offer him book recommendations

he swears he doesn't want any recommendations from you but you know he enjoys it

yesterday he got microsoft excel out and showed you how useful it really was and you went :O because you never really understood the need for it at all

you’re a little bit of a granny when it comes to tech...

and just today at lunch you recommended he checks some plays out but his nose wrinkled at the mention of shakespeare so the both of you went through a long list of dramas and eventually you were able to interest him in j.b. priestely's an inspector calls

another victory for you!!

anyway, right now the two of you are sitting inside of the staff room seeing as it's that time of the month again.

time for the monthly staff meeting

it's the first one you've had since you and levi became friends and you're worried the both of you will be back at it butting heads

wait, are you friends?

well, you wouldn't mind if that were the case but to be honest you would like to be a little bit more than friends mayb-

no!!! no!!! no!!! stupid thought!!! you retract that statement immediately

no you do not want to be more than friends with levi ackerman, yes he's lovely to a degree but you are not going to elaborate on why it's a terrible idea to fancy him

okay wait, let's elaborate for the sake of elaborating

he's surprisingly charming and wittier than you thought he would be. the fun conversations are making your days now and to be honest it is nice to have someone to spend lunch with (hange usually skips out on lunch all together to tinker in the science labs and set up experiments)

wait... weren't you suppose to explain why you don't want to get with him?

you're an idiot and you don't notice how dumb you really are until everyone just kinda gawks at the both of you because it's so odd seeing you in the same room let alone within a three feet radius of each other.

fuck, you completely forgot you and levi sat at opposite ends of the room

principal smith enters and even he looks visibly shocked at the change in seats but he doesn't mention it and you're grateful he doesn't because you didn't purposefully sit here it just happened on accident

erwin turns in your direction and smiles

"would you like to start off with your proposition for extracurriculars?"

nodding your head you begin passionately.

"well, i'd like to say i don't think we offer the children enough. we have spare funding so why not open another club? cooking perhaps? i understand many of you may not understand the importance of teaching them how to cook but-"

"do you have an obsession for setting these children up for failure?" tensing up you notice it's levi who's spoke and he doesn't sound remotely happy

blinking once and then twice he realizes his tone isn't the best and he mutters an apology "sorry, go ahead i'll add in when you're done."

whispers travel through the room straight away

"did he just say sorry?"

"actually why are those two sitting together?"

"do you think they're you know...?"

miss ral who's sat a little further away is the next person to disagree with you

"i understand the intention but would it not be better to let them have extra math lessons?"

"oh, so you can get a pay rise?" the comeback you make is aggressive and dripping in displeasure

she sits up face burning up

"no- no- absolutely not i take pleasure in teaching all of my classes." flustered and trying to hide her nerves she takes a sip out of her water bottle

you want to pour all of the water out onto that ginger hair of hers

the reason why her interjection is getting on your nerves is due to the fact you overheard her and another one of the math teachers plan to bring this specific point up

and you are well aware that her reasoning behind it has nothing to do with the children

she couldn't care less about them

"do not make me repeat what you and mr bozado were chit chatting about earlier today."

the threat is enough to silence her and just when you think you've handled the situation levi has to give his input

"let's ignore petra's motivations and talk about how teaching these kids how to cook means nothing if they have no tradable skills to offer in the real world." levi's not looking at you. he's either too annoyed or too preoccupied with his thought process

at that moment you feel naive, you thought maybe he would try to understand your opinion seeing as he's been spending so much time with you as of recent but that looks to not be the case

murmurs of agreement fill the room at his statement and you feel pathetic

it's practically the entire room against you now

genuinely how is it these people can manage to be such spoiled sports about everything?

"recently, i asked all of my classes to write an essay about school stress. maybe you won't understand my views because you haven't read their pieces but they need a fucking break." the expletive flies out of your mouth without warning and you flush in embarrassment

that

was

not

professional.

"oh god, i'm sorry i got worked up i shouldn't hav-" fumbling over all of your words you feel even more mortified

the principal raises his hand signalling you stop and you clamp your mouth shut. you're in huge trouble that's for sure

but,,, in spite of the clear difference in opinion between you and the other teachers, soft and well spoken principal smith says the unthinkable

"i have the final say and i believe you are coming from a good place after reading your student's work. how would you feel about running the new cooking club?"

scanning his face for a second you can tell his question is legitimate and the wave of relief that washes over you has never felt better than ever

sighing contently you agree and as the topic of conversation shifts to something else entirely you sense your heart rate picking up

you feel like you're back to square one with levi.

it's yet another day where you’ve saved your students and you should be feeling overjoyed but if anything you feel a little deflated

you wish he would have come around and understood but you can't teach and old dog new tricks

again, the feeling of disappointment wears you down

two weeks have passed since then and your favourite time of year has come. it’s spring term meaning MACBETH

the english curriculum includes plays and it just so happens that today is your first lesson covering shakespeare

and you LOVE shakespeare

something about all the intricate foreshadowing always has you excited

but some children are missing

and it’s way too many to blame on sickness

so you wait for a few minutes but it's consistently radio silent

the last time this happened the culprit had been levi and he promised to never cut into your lesson time

but you could count on him to break his promise after the fiasco that was the monthly meeting

is he back to hating you and hating literature?

well, that's his loss if that's the case!! and no!! you will not upset yourself over the loss of the budding friendship

sighing you get to your feet making a beeline to the door but gabi and falco rush to stop you

awkward chuckles activated they wave their hands to get your attention “OH NO, they’ll only be five minutes!!” their sentence comes out as one big blur of words but you manage to understand them

now you’re doubtful because you know falco and gabi would usually ignore you and allow you to walk out

giving them a knowing glance the pair look between each other

their eyes are clearly communicating and asking if it’s alright to tell you

“i promise i won’t be mad.” you sigh

perhaps if you reassure them they’ll be more likely to spill the beans

“it’s not that you... i don't know. you might be upset.” gabi isn't one to care much for other's feelings so you're slightly anxious even though you shouldn't be

but you’re a tough nut to crack. so, absolutely not. you are not going to upset yourself over whatever it is

“i won’t be hurt. i’ve suffered through reading some of the most emotional classics to ever exist.” hitting your chest with your fist you wince a little because you hit yourself a little too hard

falco’s seems to be too shy to come out with it so gabi takes the lead as she normally does

“some students were talking badly about you so mr ackerman kept them behind to have a talk.”

oh.

yeah, actually you are a teeny weeny bit disheartened because you think you’re nice to all of your pupils but it’s nothing too bad, not everyone will like you

“if that’s all i’ll go get them. thank you for letting me know.” giving them two thumbs up you leave the class immediately

levi is probably scolding them to hell and back

not because he cares for you but because he hates disrespect in general

as you’re nearing the open door of his classroom you hear something you never thought would emerge from levi’s room

“final question. why does mr darcy say he doesn’t want to dance with elizabeth at first?” oh yeah, that’s levi’s voice for sure

an english question?

is he quizzing them on pride and prejudice?

you wait hoping your students don't fail you and are able to provide the correct answer.

“ummm... she’s not pretty enough!!”

levi hums “you answered all five questions right. do you all know why?”

you can’t see the children’s faces but they have to be confused if there’s no immediate response

he grunts in agitation “because your english teacher works hard to teach you every single day. have some respect because that teacher of yours is one in a million.”

taking your bottom lip in between your teeth you fight the urge to smile

“do you know how at every single staff meeting there’s only ever one teacher fighting for you all and what you want. i can assure you that teacher isn’t me, but i believe you can all guess who i'm talking about.”

your heart does a back flip in your chest and you feel jittery but in that really fuzzy good way

like that super duper fuzzy and hazy good way

he’s really very sweet for saying all of this and you're now smiling like an idiot

one pupil takes a chance to make amends “we’re sorry mr ackerman.”

but before levi can give them a response you clap your hands together and walk in unannounced 

“apology accepted, now if you want to all be forgiven forever please return to class and answer the questions on the board!” directing them to the door with your hands you make sure they're conscious fo the fact you aren't mad at them

still, never have you seen them so eager to run off to analyze macbeth. you guess levi's deathly stare is the cause for it

holding back a laugh you clear your throat after the last student leaves

“thank you levi :-)”

it’s quiet for a second and you think to ask him about what has been gnawing at your mind

“you didn’t have to do that. you disagreed with me before so... why did you?”

“i say this at every meeting and you never listen but children need to be disciplined.” his unchangeable tone is unwelcoming

again it’s awkwardly silent and you sorta regret even coming over to see what was going on because now you and levi are just having an uncomfortable staring contest

then he scratches the back of his neck and heaves a heavy breath

“it may also be because i really fucking like you, but i look like an idiot saying that when we’ve been at each other's necks for two years.”

oh.

the sudden and brutally honest confession has the wind knocked out of you, you’re stunned

and then you get hit by it too. the realization hits you like rain hits umbrellas on stormy days. you like him too.

you like him for his witty sense of humour, his pure honesty and his hatred for mr wickham only serves as a bonus

yes, you have your differences. many of them. but you like him

he’s no longer a book hater and so by default you can fancy him. he goes against none of your guidelines essentially

you like him, he likes you back?’//’.;

[SCREAMS]

“well, what do you say? will you be this mr darcy's elizabeth bennet?” hearing the cheesy pickup line from him of all people has the butterflies in your stomach exploding in delight 

“you sound weird, where's the grumpy math teacher from before?" now you and him are simply shamelessly flirting but HEY!! you have no complaints at all

he scoffs at your sarcastic question

"do you want the equation for a two dimensional heart on a graph beca-"

"can i just kiss you?"

wOWIE are you being bold today y/n???

thankfully you don't have to wait for his answer. levi’s right hand pulls your face in and he slams his lips against yours. he gives your waist a squeeze and you hold him tighter by the neck in response. he has a way of somehow making it all feel gentle and relaxed in the same breath

and... you know what? maybe you should have recommended pride and prejudice to him earlier

but oh well.

what matters the most right now is that you're kissing your mr darcy!!

and he’s kissing his elizabeth bennet

:-)

[the-bau-quinjet]

Please Don't

Summary: Hotch and Y/N have been pining for each other but everything changes after they go undercover for a case.

Warnings: Criminal Minds level violence, angst

Word Count: 2289

a/n: Thank you for this request!! I love a good Hotch moment. I hope you like it!

Masterlist

"Alright ladies! Here's the first round." Emily smiled as she set the four glasses down in front of you all.

Girl's night had just started. It being Penelope's turn to pick the nights events meant you, Emily, and JJ were in for a long night of bar hopping.

"Yes!!!" Penelope nearly screamed, grabbing her drink and taking a large gulp. "First question of the night goes to Y/N."

Your eyes widened as everyone turned to look at you. Whatever game Penelope was trying to play was clearly not going to go well for you.

"Oh, God. What is it?" You grimaced, eyes flitting between the three of them.

"When are you going to do something about your crush on Hotch?" Emily wasted no time in getting into the hard hitting questions.

"And don't even bother denying it! It's so painfully obvious." JJ added on, eyeing you skeptically.

"First of all, rude. Second of all, fine. I have a hopeless crush on our boss. Are you happy now?" You playfully glared, knowing there was no use in even trying to pretend.

"So? When are you going to do something about it?" Penelope was giddy, always one to celebrate new relationships.

"Uh, never." You deadpanned.

"Why not?" She whined in response.

"Pen, he's my boss for one. Plus it's highly unlikely he feels the same. I mean, how would I even bring that up?" You shook your head, trying to avoid the conversation.

"Y/N, Hotch is totally into you-" Emily's rant was cut off by the sounds of all of your phones buzzing.

You all shared a glance before confirming your suspicions.

"Another girl's night cut short." You shook your head. "Who needs a ride?"

The four of you quickly made your way out of the bar before piling into your car and heading to the Bureau.

-

"Damn ladies, looking good." Derek greeted you when you piled into the elevator together.

You hadn't thought about changing before coming in. None of you were wearing anything wildly inappropriate. Your outfit was just a bit more form fitting than a typical day in the field required.

"Thanks Derek." You rolled your eyes, stepping out of the elevator and immediately heading for the conference room.

Aaron's eyes were on you almost instantly. He always looked for you first when a new case came in.

"You ever gonna tell her?" Rossi asked from next to him.

"I have no idea what your talking about." Hotch kept his face neutral despite knowing there was no real point in denying it to Dave.

"I see the way you look at her. You know, I see the way she looks at you too. you deserve to be happy, Aaron." He replied easily, a smirk on his face as he took a seat in the conference room.

Hotch merely shook his head, trying to supress the smile forming at the idea of you returning his feelings.

He quickly moved on to debrief the team ultimately telling everyone to meet at the jet.

-

Three days later, another couple was dead, and you were no closer to catching the guy.

"Wait, there's a new pattern." Reid jumped up, pointing out the abduction sites on the map. "He's moving south, alternating between 11th and 14th Street. Each abduction happened at a different club on those streets. If he follows pattern the next abduction will be tonight at Cameo." He pointed out the next club on the map.

"So we'll stakeout the club, stop him before he gets another couple." Morgan suggested.

"We can't risk a takedown inside the club." Hotch ran a hand over his face.

"What if two of us go undercover? Pretend to be a couple and then we can stop him when he tries to abduct us." You suggested a new plan.

"That could work." Dave added on, sending you a nod. "You and Hotch fit his victimology."

"What d'ya say, Hotch?" Your heart was beating rapidly, but you refused to let it show. "Wanna go on a date?" You playfully nudged his side.

"It's our best plan." He nodded resolutely. "Go with Emily to get something to wear."

You smiled at him before turning to see a mischievous look on Emily's face. She whispered in your ear as you walked out of the room.

"Get ready. Hotch won't be able to keep his eyes off you tonight."

-

"Are you sure I should wear this?" You pulled the dress down a bit, trying to cover more of your thighs.

"Yes. You look amazing, and this is definitely going to catch the eye of our unsub." JJ complimented as she added a few finishing touches to your hair.

"It's just now dawning on me why we don't do undercover work." You flinched away from Emily as she attempted to add a third layer of mascara.

"Oh, hush. This was your idea. Everything will be fine. Better than fine if you're lucky." She winked, capping the mascara and throwing it back into your makeup bag.

"Em, this is work. I'm absolutely not making a move on Hotch while trying to lure an unsub to abduct us." You deadpanned.

"I'm not saying make a move! This is your opportunity to flirt a little and see how he responds." She shrugged casually.

You were about to provide another rebuttal when a knock sounded on the door to the bathroom.

"Y/N, you almost ready?" Derek called from the other side of the door.

"Coming out now!" You nearly ran out before Emily or JJ could try to convince you to flirt with Hotch again.

"Damn, L/N." Derek smiled when you exited the bathroom. "Looking good. You know who else might think so?"

"Can it, Derek. I'm in no mood." You swiftly walked past him. You could hear Hotch arguing with Rossi about something as you walked up to the conference room door.

"Dave, cool it will you?" Hotch rolled his eyes, not noticing you yet.

"I'm just saying Aaron-" He tried again.

"Well, don't." Hotch's playfulness rarely came out on cases, but you could see a glimpse of it in the way he bantered with Dave.

"Ready to go?" You asked from the doorway, putting your comm's device in your ear. You felt a blush creep up your cheeks at the way Aaron looked at you.

"Ready." He gave you a tight smile, diverting his eyes from your tight dress.

"We'll be right outside. All the exits covered." Dave reminded the two of you, nodding as you walked out the door.

-

"Here you go, one vodka cranberry." He winked when he passed the glass over, a subtle reminder about the lack of alcohol coursing through you.

"Thanks." You shifted awkwardly, unsure of what to do now. You'd been by the bar for about an hour, and nobody suspicious had caught your eye.

"Do you want to dance?" You surprised yourself by asking the question, watching as Hotch's eyes widened slightly. "I just, the other couples? Didn't witnesses say they were dancing?" You whispered the last part, obviously trying to limit anyone overhearing your conversation.

"Right. Of course." He looked nervous, but you chalked it up to not doing undercover often.

You lead him to the middle of the dance floor, trying to find the best view of the doors. It took a few minutes of awkward swaying, but the two of you found your rhythm.

"Behind you, there's a man watching us." Hotch whispered in your ear sending a shiver through your spine.

You nodded slightly in response before turning around. You pressed your back to his chest to cover the movement, eyes flitting around the room to observe anyone suspicious.

It didn't take long for you to spot the man Hotch was talking about. You moved your arms up around his neck, pulling his head closer to you so you could whisper to him.

"Got him. How do we get him outside?" You suppressed the urge to grind your hips against Hotch's. It was hard enough to deal with the feeling of his hands on your hips.

He spun you around, pressing your chests close together. Again, he moved his mouth close to your ear to whisper, "we just need to give him a show."

He pressed his lips to yours lightly, waiting for your response. You kissed him back with passion, relishing in the feeling of his lips moving against yours.

Your breath caught in your throat when he pressed a series of light kisses to your neck. You involuntarily tilted your head to the side, giving him more room to work.

"I think we've got his attention. Let's head out the back door." Hotch grabbed your hand, pulling you behind him toward the back of the club.

The cool night air sent a chill through your body, but you didn't have long before the man burst through the door behind you.

Hotch easily overpowered him, knocking the gun from his hands. He pulled handcuffs from his pocket, quickly securing his hands behind his back.

"Morgan, we got him out back." You spoke into your comms, turning slightly when movement in the shadows caught your eye.

"Y/N, get down!" Hotch jumped in front of you just as you heard a gun being fired. He fell into you, slumping against your body. Everything happened so quickly.

"FBI, drop your weapon!" Morgan yelled, running closer to the man in the shadows.

He quickly handcuffed the partner, leading him to a waiting officer while Emily collected the other unsub.

"Aaron?" You looked at him in your arms noticing the blood soaking through his light blue shirt. "I need a medic!" You called down the alley, watching in terror as two medics removed Aaron from your arms.

You were frozen in place as they put him on a gurney and pushed him into a waiting ambulance.

It wasn't until the ambulance was completely out of sight that you realized Reid was talking to you.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" He gestured to the blood on your dress and hands.

You nodded silently, pointing to where the ambulance just was.

"Let's get you to the hospital okay?" He spoke softly, not wanting to add to your distress. He grabbed a shock blanket from a paramedic before leading you to an SUV. Derek and Emily sat in the front, ready to drive as soon as you got in.

You don't remember the ride to the hospital. You don't remember JJ helping you wash the blood from your hands. You don't remember a nurse updating you on Hotch's surgery. You don't remember anything except the look in Aaron's eyes as he bled out in your arms.

"Aaron Hotchner?" The doctor called out into the waiting room. All six of you stood up, eyes fixed on the woman in scrubs. "His surgery was successful. I can take one of you to see him."

The whole team gestured to you, knowing how you felt and how much you needed to see that he was okay.

"Follow me." The doctor lead you down the winding hallways to a recovery room where Aaron was asleep. "He's still under anesthesia for now. It should wear off in a few hours."

You nodded as she left, still unable to form any words as you took in his pale appearance.

"Aaron." You whispered his name, eyes brimming with tears. You pulled the chair as close as you could next to his bed, both hands wrapped around one of his.

You must've fallen asleep because before you knew it, the hand in your grasp was squeezing you back.

"Aaron?" You lifted your head from the side of his bed, eyes focusing on his. "Oh, thank God." You felt the tears brimming again.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm okay." He murmured softly, moving his free hand to wipe your tears.

"No. You're an idiot who jumped in front of a bullet for me." You whispered back, voice breaking.

"I'd do it again." He took no time to craft his response, only causing more tears to fall down your cheeks.

"Aaron-"

"Y/N, I don't have anyone else in my life quite like you. I haven't in a long time." His eyes never left yours as he spoke. "You make me feel like I could be happy again. Like Jack could have two people to provide him unconditional love everyday in his life again. Like maybe, just maybe, I could love someone again. I would jump in front of countless bullets for you because I can't imagine my life without you in it."

"Please don't." You whispered, eyes still watery.

"What?" Hotch could feel his heart breaking at the thought of you not returning his affection.

"Please don't jump in front of anymore bullets for me. I don't think I could survive this feeling again." You took a deep, shuddering breath. "Watching them wheel you away on that gurney... it felt like my heart was being cut open. Aaron, there's not a day that goes by where you don't make me smile. Even if it's just the thought of you. I can't imagine my life without you either."

He continued to wipe tears from your face as you spoke.

"Would now be a good time to ask you out to dinner?" He smiled when you laughed.

"I think now is a great time for that." You smiled, leaning your head into his hand.

"Perfect. So, will you get dinner with me?" He nearly whispered.

"I'd love to." You pressed a soft kiss to his lips before setting back against your chair.

It didn't take long for him to fall back asleep. This time, when you leaned your head against his leg, your heart felt full.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@strawberryspence

@sebastnstn

Criminal Minds taglist:

@mac99martin

@goldeng1rl8

@measure-in-pain