#it is simply not my fault that wednesday is a busy one for me

[sugarpsalms]

WIP Wednesday Thursday once again sksksk. Now that Quarter, oh Quarter! and 'Til All These Things be Done, My Dear are finished and up, I'm mostly working on finishing off two drafts of fics for friends. Howmstever, I'm also still chipping away at that mishuggy fic, Tend to the Flame, I've been occasionally talking about. So, since the other two are gifts (and I don't want to risk sharing any part of them since the giftees follow me 🤫), have a snippet of that!

—

He thought about the word wraith again as they passed through town—Shanks and Buggy ahead of him, hip to hip. The bustling streets weren't roomy enough for all of them to walk abreast, so Mihawk fell back, watching them from behind.

They cut a handsome figure, under the moon and occasional streetlamp, and the town was alive around them, the night market in swing. They could've been locals for how at ease they looked, content in one another’s company as only old lovers can be. 

They looked back at him often, gracing him with attention. He still felt like a ghost.

It threatened to make him morose—more morose, his mind supplied unhelpfully. He was keenly aware of his mood and fought to get out from under it. If he was a ghost, he told himself, then he had been all along; and his lovers, who surely knew this, had never minded. Perhaps, Mihawk reasoned, it was even what they liked about him. There were stranger things, certainly, to want in a man.

Feeling a bit better, or at least determined not to feel worse, he focused on the market as they made their way back to the harbor. 

The smells of coffee, pastries, and freshly ground spices competed with puffs of perfume that vendors spritzed as people walked by. Groups huddled around tables of jewelry, whole fine cloth, clothing, and hats, haggling for whatever caught their eye. Musicians, dancers, and troupes of performers weaved through stalls, vying for attention and crooning for coins. A number of the more lively ones drew Buggy in, and the clown stopped often to ogle at their costumes, props, and face paint.

Shanks, ever indulgent, didn't rush him. Mihawk didn’t either. He enjoyed watching Buggy air his charms out on strangers. He liked how women blushed when Buggy admired their lipstick, how men squared their shoulders when Buggy palmed the embroidery across their chests, how Buggy himself seemed unaware of his own allure; that, or uncaring about who he caught in its net.

“At this rate,” Shanks said aside to Mihawk, who was idling with him by a shuttered shop, “we may get to bed by morning. I hope you weren’t in a hurry.”

Mihawk hummed, unconcerned, as Buggy laughed like a seagull at something a prop girl was saying. It was an ugly sound. Mihawk loved it all the same, and the girl looked like she’d drink it if Buggy deigned to spit it into her mouth.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

You look like a fun place to sit.

Gif credits

Pairing: Neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader

Words count: 2667

Rating: + 18, MDNI

Summary: You decide to enjoy a night at the movies, your neighbor Frankie ruins it all. Or maybe not?

Tags: pov second person, no use of y/n, fluff, sort of romcom vibes (?), smut, enemies to lovers, age unspecified but they are both full grown adults, Frankie is annoying but also cute and lovely and fucking gorgeous, reader has hair, breasts and vagina, other than that no other description of her is given, fingering (f receiving), sexual acts in public places (again? Again. I'm not even particularly interested in doing that irl I don't know what to say to you, please forgive me), pet names (honey, baby, princess), arguing, kissing, no use of Spanish because I terribly suck at it and I don't want to butcher another language LOL. If by chance I realize I forgot something I'll add it right away.

It’s my first Frankie ff and I’m so incredibly nervous to post it you all! I really hope it doesn’t sucks because I had so much fun writing it today in one sitting ‘cause I’m just an impulsive impatient mess. (Leo sun and Aries moon, what do you expect from me if not chaos? I had nothing a few hours ago, I even skipped WIP Wednesday and btw thanks for the tag @almostempty 🩷)

Title comes from a gif of Karen Walker from Will and Grace that I saw last night, it made me laugh a lot and this thing was born LOL

As usual, English is not my first language so please be gentle, no beta and no proofreading, it’s tiny and it’s all my fault, I’m sorry 💀 Thanks to anyone who will read this!

“Excuse me, you should stand up, that’s my seat” 

Frankie turns, looking at you with a surprised expression “I don’t think so, you’re wrong” he replies. 

Ugh, your neighbor.

Frankie lives two houses away from you. Last winter you had a fight at a neighborhood meeting because you pointed out that he keeps forgetting to put the recycling bins back in, and he told you to mind your own business and called you an hysterical witch.

A stupid fight that ended up with you not saying hello to each other and various other arguments about your flashy Christmas lights or his overgrown yard. You and Frankie fight constantly, about everything. And now he's here.

You glare at him “I’m not wrong at all, look” and you wave your ticket under his nose “P10, see? It’s my seat and you’re rude”. 

A grin spreads across his face “listen, honey, I don’t know where you got this ticket, you probably made it yourself, I bought it a moment ago and it’s the same seat” 

He takes a card out of his pocket and hands it to you, remaining comfortably seated with a large popcorn box. 

You look at the ticket, him again, the ticket again “how the hell is that possible?! I booked it on their website a week ago” 

He sneers “I told you! It must be a system error, I don’t know, I’m not getting up from here”

You are furious. The theater is filling up and you absolutely don’t want to leave, you have been waiting for this movie for months and you have inspected the theater map choosing a seat that would guarantee you the very best view.

“I bought it first, so I have more right to be here than you do,” you say firmly and Frankie laughs. 

“Where are we, elementary school? Listen, honey, go buy yourself another ticket and leave me alone.” He replies crunching on popcorn.

The way he calls you “honey” irritates you deeply, it sounds like an insult.

“I’m not going anywhere, YOU get the fuck out of here” you hiss. 

“No” he simply replies and then he turns back at the screen pretending you’re not there. 

“Truly a gentleman, as usual. I have no words.” you roll your eyes and search for an usher to ask for help. No one is there. 

The movie starts in 5 minutes and you don’t want to miss anything you paid for. If you went to the box office right now to complain it would take forever to get back in. 

“Fuck” you exclaim and sit down next to him huffing. You are sure that someone will make you get up very early and it pisses you off.

Frankie continues to nibble on his popcorn and looks at you with an extremely amused expression, it seems like the show has become you.

“Why do you care so much about this movie anyway?” he asks you. “Does any of your relatives happen to be in it?“ 

You’re fuming. 

His teasing tone, his vaguely Spanish accent, his smirk, the sound of him chewing, everything bothers you.

“No. Shut the fuck up” you tell him with a death stare. 

You won’t tell him that your favorite actor stars in it, that you have every photo from the set of this movie saved on your phone, that you’ve read every article about it, and that you couldn’t wait to enjoy it on the first day of screening.

You can already hear his raucous laughter. No, you would never tell Frankie anything like that.

“You're not one of that guy's crazy fans, are you?” 

“What guy?” you ask him, pretending not to know what he's talking about. “Gladiator is one of my favorite movies, that's all. I just wanted to watch the sequel in peace. Someone is stopping me, though” 

“That guy, I bet you like him, what’s his name? Paul Pascal?” he stares at you searching for every little involuntary movement on your face that might give you away. 

“Oh for God’s sake, what are you doing here anyway? Do you even know what you're about to see? They are Paul Mescal and Pedro Pascal, two different people, you uncultered swine.” You yell. This guy is impossible.

“Yeah, whatever, so which one do you fancy?”

“Fucking nobody” you lie “I just want to watch a movie after a horrible week at work, okay?” You try to play on his guilt. If he has one, you think.

“Well, I've had a rough week too, okay?” he shrugs without stopping to give you that annoying little smile. “And it's not my fault that this theater is having problems with its computer system.”

You glance at him, wondering if he's telling the truth, it's impossible to guess from his face.

People keep sitting in the front rows and you start hoping that luck will be on your side and that no one will make you get up.

“Okay, look, now we're going to watch this movie and then we'll go our separate ways, please don't bother me anymore"

“As you wish, princess” he replies ironically.

You don't even answer him, you're too busy checking that no other people come in.

Finally the opening credits start to roll and the doors close with a dull thud.

You made it, despite this unbearable guy, you feel victorious.

You begin to relax in your chair and you don't know why you turn to look at him, lingering on his face for the first time in months.

His eyes are fixed on the screen. In the dim light you observe his raven curly hair tucked under his baseball cap, his dark eyes, the line of his prominent nose, his scruffy beard, his mustache, just above a pair of lips that seem made for kissing.

Really, truly, gorgeous.

You're so busy arguing with him all the time that you never realized how handsome he is.

He's wearing a grey t-shirt and a pair of jeans, you can’t help but admire the way the fabrics hug his body so deliciously. 

He’s just your type, built up in all the right ways, you find yourself unable to take your eyes off him until the last second. Then the movie starts and you look away.

He’s still your number one enemy, what the hell were you thinking?

When Pedro first appears, you shift in your seat, crossing your legs.

“FUCK” you scream internally “here we go”

Unbelievably stunning in his armor, you’re basically drooling. 

You try to stay as composed as possible but Frankie is next to you and notices.

He comes closer to you and whispers in your ear “So it was all about this guy… the fuss before” You feel one of his large hand brushing your arm that is resting on the armchair and you try with all your strength to remain still even if he causes a storm inside you and especially in your panties. 

“Shut. Up.” You hiss, without moving your gaze. You feel his breath on your skin and it’s intoxicating. 

He chuckles “Yeah, that was I was thinking” and throws another popcorn into his mouth.

Your cheeks burn and you're thankful you're in the cinema, in the dark.

“What’s so special about this guy?” Frankie approaches again “is his penis platinum by any chance? All my female colleagues at work are crazy about him”

You turn to look at him with the desire to slap him “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” 

“Okay, okay, I was just asking”

You hate people talking at the movies. You wonder if you could have a more annoying guy than Frankie next to you. Probably. 

Hotter? Probably not.

This dude hits on your last nerve but he makes you horny at the same time. 

Terrible combination. 

Frankie settles back into his seat and resumes watching the film.

You can't help but look at him from time to time and your desire grows. even if you're offended that he didn't even offer you his popcorn. Rude. 

His mouth pouted and his eyebrows furrowed as he seems all focused on the movie makes you want to cup his face and kiss him.

You can still feel the warmth of his hand on your arm and his breath on your neck.

Concentrate, you tell yourself, it's the neighbor you hate, the neighbor you hate, the neighbor you hate. Fuck. You want him so bad. This revelation drives you crazier than Pedro half naked on screen.

At a particularly bloody scene you involuntarily turn around and hide your face on his shoulder.

You feel his arm around you “hey, it’s okay. I’ll tell you when it’s over” and he holds you tight the whole time.

He smells clean and fresh, like citrus and sage with a light hint of cigarette that you assume he smoked right before entering. 

Your mind goes fuzzy and your pulse races at an impossibly high rate. 

“You can look now” and it takes you a few seconds too long to register his words. 

“Th-Thanks” you mutter, shifting back to your place. 

Halfway through the movie the lights come back on and Frankie bursts out laughing looking at you. “What?” you ask him with wide eyes “what is it that makes you laugh so much?”

“Your face” he grins “it's clearly painted on it how much you want that guy. He turns you on, huh?”

You roll your eyes “Oh my God! Can't you go sit somewhere else? Two rows down, look how many free seats there are”

“I like it better here” 

You cuss, there’s no way to get rid of him.

He has something magnetic that destabilizes you, your eyes fall involuntarily on his neck, slide along his broad chest and stop at the crotch of his pants. From the way he sits you can clearly see that he is quite big.

“What are you looking at?” he asks you amusedly. 

You immediately look up. “Nothing” 

“Nothing my ass. Did you like what you saw?” 

Fuck. He noticed. You're done for. You hate to make him understand that after all, yes, you like what you saw. He seems pleased, proud, you would so much like to wipe that little smile off his face. As much as you struggle to admit it to yourself, you like him.

“Well, maybe…after all, you look like a fun place to sit” 

You can't believe you actually said that.

Frankie's response is not long in coming, his eyes immediately darken and his smile twists in a mischievous way.

The lights go out again and you feel him tug gently on your arm “come here, pretty”

He sits you down on his lap and as the movie starts again he whispers “was that what you wanted the whole time? Were you offended that I didn’t invite you?” you can clearly feel his smile spread across your skin just before he places his lips on your neck.

You would like to say something back but his closeness makes you confused and excited.

He sucks your skin like he's hungry and you moan in the dark "shh baby you gotta stay quiet while I give you what you want”

You don't know how but you find the strength to reply, "God, you're so arrogant.”

He tightens his hands on your hips, pulling you towards him, now you are practically sitting on his cock. You feel it pressing against your ass, trapped in his pants.

A rush of pleasure wets your pussy and you bite your lips to hold back another moan, you hear his hoarse voice in your ear “Maybe. You like it though” You hate to admit that he is right. 

The heat of his body envelops you pleasantly, he raises a hand to one of your breasts and squeezes it over your shirt. You like his hands. They are big, expert and eager to touch you, they make your head spin. 

You completely forgot about the movie, which seemed impossible to you, if they had told you you would have laughed in their face. In no universe would you have expected this.

“God” you whine “oh my God” His hand slides under your shirt and reveals your breast pulling down your bra, it is still covered but now you can feel his skin against yours. His fingers gently grasp one of your nipples, pulling and twisting it.

“Open your eyes, baby. Watch the movie like a good girl” his voice sounds authoritative, it irritates you and another rush of pleasure floods you at the same time.

“It’s not that easy” you mutter between your teeth as you feel his other hand dangerously approaching the hem of your skirt. He slowly goes up, as you try to hold back and make sure no one notices what he’s doing to you. Luckily, everyone seems enthralled by the film.

At this moment you don't even know why you started arguing so fiercely, if you had known before you would have tried to smooth things over a long time ago.

His fingers reach your panties, you feel them barely touching you and you already feel yourself burning with anticipation.

They move under your skirt, pushing your panties aside, grazing at your outer lips and then dipping inside you “Fuck, you’re soaking” 

He moves them up and down between your folds, gathering your wetness towards your clit.

You feel his heavy breathing on your neck, his tongue running over your skin and his teeth nibbling on you.

“Fuck, Frankie” you cry 

“Eyes to the movie”

You want to turn around and straddle him but there isn't enough room and Frankie holds you firmly anyway.

He applies pressure on your clit just right, starting to move two of his thick fingers in circle over it, the motion of his hand is partially hidden by the fabric of your skirt and your moans die in your throat one after the other. Frankie is rubbing away your sanity, you feel possessed and delirious under his touch.

Your last shred of control is torn by his fingers entering inside you, claiming your cunt as his, curling and scratching at your spongy spot.

Your eyes are still fixed on the screen but your vision is totally blurred, you see nothing, you understand nothing, you only feel Frankie pumping incessantly inside you while continuing to rub your clit with his thumb.

You feel the soft reverberation of his voice behind you, close to your ear “good girl, you're taking me so well”

The subtle Spanish accent in his voice now seems to you the most erotic sound in the world, sweet, melodious, addictive.

He takes you to the edge, you throw your head on his shoulder, shutting your eyes so everything goes black and you only feel him, until even biting your lips doesn't help anymore. He covers your mouth with his hand as you explode in a devastating orgasm, you moan against his skin, between his thick fingers that have just left your breast and you already miss them, feeling full and satiated by him.

He uncovers your mouth and kisses your neck, pressing his hand to your hip to keep you from slipping off his lap as your body trembles against his.

“Shit” you mutter “Frankie…oh my god”

“Do you think we can stop arguing all the time now?” He playfully says as he nuzzles at your hair.

“I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked, you know, I’m just like that” you reply, grinning and turning around to finally fix your eyes on his. 

“I noticed it”

You take off his cap laughing and put it on backwards and before he starts to protest you kiss him deeply, licking into his mouth, tasting butter and salt on his tongue.

“Take me home”

“The movie isn't over yet,” Frankie observes, and you reply, “that means you'll have to take me to see it again and you’ll pay”

“Fine to me, princess” 

[freckledsokka]

wip wednesday

a wee snippet of the self-indulgent tense-fuckery zukka fic i'm working on that no one asked for! most of this fic is sokka (ghost sokka? spirit sokka? who knows) waxing poetic about zuko grieving him, but i wrote this scene with korra for a touch of levity (while still being a little angsty).

note: this is NOT a reader fic. do not let the use of "you" fool you. this is fully from sokka's pov as if he's narrating this to zuko.

"You remind me of him," you tell the Avatar, something wistful tugging at the corner of your mouth, reaching to the creases of your eyes. Korra looks almost bashful, or maybe just flattered. "I get that a lot," she says quietly, as if it's a sore subject but she doesn't want to offend you by mentioning it. You smile at her, warm and reassuring. "I don't mean Aang." "Oh." She sounds surprised, which quickly gives way to embarrassed when you offer her an encouraging smirk to help the thought along. "Oh," she says again, nearly in a different octave. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I should have realized that's — of course, that's who you meant." She laughs nervously, waving her hand vaguely at herself. "Southern Water Tribe, duh." "It's not just that," you tell her, and her nervous energy seems to settle a little at the calm, smooth tone of your voice. "You have the same tenacity, the same spirit. He would be proud to see the Avatar you've become."

Korra is quiet for a moment, either out of respect or simply a loss for words. Then she smiles, a little sheepishly but no less grateful to be honored in such a way. "Tenzin told me he — the Chief? — was with you and my father the night the Red Lotus tried to kidnap me." She looks away, guilt seeping into the set of her shoulders, the way she wraps her arms across her chest. "I'm sorry, I — Did he —?" She glances back, eyes bright, pleading for some kind of forgiveness she doesn't need to be given. "Was it my fault?"

"Korra," you say slowly, frowning, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "What did Tenzin tell you? The Red Lotus had nothing to do with Sokka's passing."

Her eyes go wide. "Really? But he made it sound like — I mean, my dad became Head Chieftain not long after that, I thought —"

You can't help the chuckle low in the back of your throat, a rumble of distant thunder, warm as a summer storm. "No, Korra. Sokka never was particularly suited to be Chief. He felt it was time to pass it on, is all. That, and he felt he could do more good behind the scenes, or through his work in Republic City. But, more often than not, he was with me. Those years were some of our best." 

Korra lets out a trill of nerves, huffing in relief. "Thank the Spirits." A beat, the haunted look of someone who is technically thousands of years old yielding to the vulnerability of someone barely out of her teens carrying the weight of the Spirit and human worlds on her shoulders, knowing she is the reason your — our — friend is gone. This is the cycle we were all prepared for, and yet — "Is that why I barely remember him? Didn't he ever visit Katara at the compound? Why didn't he ever say hello?"

"I wish I could tell you, Korra, but he never gave me his reasons." A wry smile. "I'm sorry if I kept him from you."

Korra twists her mouth, setting her jaw defiantly. "Lord Zuko, if I may —" She isn't really asking permission and you know this, but you nod anyway. "That's bullshit, and you know it. He was your husband. Don't tell me you didn't know just because he didn't tell you."

Your mouth twitches knowingly, even as your expression remains impressively neutral. "I had my suspicions, of course."

"Which were?" Korra presses.

If she weren't the Avatar, I suspect you would've said something along the lines of None of your damn business or Nothing to concern yourself about. Being the Avatar still has its perks in dragging honesty out of you, it seems. Still, you manage to make it a whole production, sighing like it physically pains you to admit it. 

"He wanted to wait until you'd mastered all four elements before he would teach you" — an exaggerated eyeroll, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose — "the 'fifth element.'"

Korra's brow furrows. She blinks like she's waiting for a punchline. "The — what? There is no fifth element, unless you count energy, but —"

"I know," you agree, exhausted. "I know."

"Then what?" Korra demands, sounding as flabbergasted as she looks.

You take a deep breath, wearily replying, "Swordbending."

Korra is frozen for a moment, maybe in shock, maybe in disbelief. Then she bursts out laughing, bright and cool as snow crunching underfoot, until it dawns on her that maybe you weren't actually joking. "Wait, really?" she asks incredulously. "He actually wanted to — to teach me? Why didn't he just team up with Katara? Spirits, it would've been so much fun to have a swordmaster around."

"You told me you have to learn the elements in order, Zuko," you say in a poor imitation of my voice. It's been so long, you've almost forgotten it. "He didn't want to influence your bending, or distract you from your role as Avatar, or so I assume."

Korra huffs. "Sounds an awful lot like he did tell you things, then," she mutters indignantly.

You shrug. "Not in so many words. He said a lot without ever saying it." That wistful slant of your mouth softens into something closer to melancholy. "When you're with someone as long as I was with Sokka, you learn to read between the lines. We had our own language, in a way."

"But if you suspected, why didn't you say anything? Why not encourage him?"

There's a sadness in your smile, an ache in your eyes. "Because, young Avatar," you say gently, "you always think you'll have more time."

[babymetaldoll]

Baby, I'm yours - Chapter eleven: “Heartbeat is coming in so strong”

Summary: Spencer and reader are struggling to try to make it without sex until their wedding day. Bachelorette and bachelor parties are happening. 

Word count: 7,1K

Warnings: Extreme fluff, people will get drunk, there will be strippers, love promises, and all the good stuff we need to go through the week. 

A/N: And just one more chapter left!! Hope you are enjoying all the fluff this chapter has. 

Final chapter: will be posted Wednesday 28th, March. 

Series Masterlist | General Masterlist | Prequel’s Masterlist

Previous chapter | Next chapter

(Y/N)’s point of view 

It was Thursday and I felt that week had been eternal. The longest week of my life. I don’t know if it was because of everything we had to get ready for the wedding, or if it had something to do with my stupid idea of not having sex with Spencer. But the last few days had been endless.

Monday, we picked Diana up from the airport. She and aunt Ethel arrived for the wedding and were staying with Spencer at our apartment. That kept him busy those days. We had dinner with them and my parents, and it all went quite well. My soon-to-be husband was worried Diana might get confused on the trip, and meeting all these new people. But no, she was perfect. We couldn’t have picked a better time for our wedding. Her medicine was working magic on her. 

- “I couldn’t believe it when they told me they had just started dating”- Diana said, making my parents laugh immediately- “All these years I had been sure they were together and had decided to keep me in the dark about it!”

- “You were not the only one!”- my mom added- “I can’t even start telling you the number of times I tried to convince (Y/N) to date Spencer all these years! But she was so stubborn! She kept saying Spencer wasn’t attracted to her!” 

When you put your parents and your husband’s family together in the same room, you only have one result: embarrassment. 

I looked at Spencer and his cheeks were burning red. I held his hand underneath the table and squeezed it. I knew this whole thing was new to him, and to be honest, I wasn’t very experienced myself. He was the first boyfriend I ever introduced to my family. And that was the reason, I wanted to save myself the embarrassment. Clearly I was doomed. And Spencer with me. 

- “Is this going to be a theme at the reception?”- I dared to ask, and my dad chuckled as he replied. 

- “I’m gonna make sure it is.”

Why didn’t we elope? 

Tuesday had been chaos. My dress wasn’t ready. The delay was apparently my fault, for losing weight. I wasn’t even trying to lose weight! I just couldn’t eat 'cause I was too nervous. So the seamstress had to do all the changes again, and my mom freaked out, trying to get me to eat every half hour. 

Suddenly I remembered why I had left the house as soon as I could. 

- “Ok peanut, let me see you”- mom said from the lounge with Lu, Penelope, aunt Ethel and Mrs. Reid. They were my wedding squad, and they were following me all over around… driving me slightly crazy. 

The seamstress finished adjusting the dress and the veil and opened the door for me. I heard mom gasp as I walked toward her and the rest of my squad. 

- “Oh my god, you are an angel.”- I wanted to argue with mom’s words, but all I managed to do was to blush and look down. Diana clapped as she stared at me, and cut me the biggest smile I had ever seen from her. Garcia’s eyes teared up, and she couldn’t stop herself from running to me and rising my veil. 

- “My munchkin! You look so beautiful.”

- “Th… thank you.”- I stuttered and stared at the reflex on the mirror as I tried to take it all in. It was real. I was getting married. Believe it or not, it hadn’t fully hit me until that day. And I was going to marry Spencer. When did that happen?

- “Are you ok?”- Lu walked toward me, holding a box of Kleenex. I simply stared at my reflection in the mirror and saw the tears falling down my cheeks.

- “Lu, I’m gonna marry Spencer this Saturday.”- I announced the breaking news, and she just nodded. 

- “Yes, why? Did you have other plans?”- she joked and adjusted the back of my dress. 

- “I just… I’m getting married.”- I looked at her in shock,, and she just smiled. 

- “Yes, and as far as I know, you are going to stop being (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and you will go by (Y/N) Reid”

I had totally forgotten about that. I was changing my name. Diana looked at me and walked toward the mirror. She simply smiled and held my hand. 

- “I know you will make my boy very happy”- she whispered and kissed my cheek. 

- “Thank you”- I managed to reply and kept wiping the tears from my face. 

- “Do you want to know how I know it?”- Diana asked me and opened her purse.- “He has been writing about you since November 7th, 2005.”

In front of me, there was a stack of letters handwritten by Spencer over the last five years. Diana placed them in my hand and smiled so sweetly I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around her. 

- “Please never tell him I showed you these. You can read them and return them in the morning.”- I just nodded and hugged her again. 

- “Thank you, Diana”

- “Don’t thank me, dear. I know you will always love my boy. And I know you two are gonna give me a lot of grandkids to spoil rotten.”- I chuckled at her words and thanked her again. 

- “Come on! Don’t stain that beautiful dress with any tears or makeup”- Garcia warned us- “You better take that off before you cry your eyes out!”

- “Yes ma’am.”- I replied and walked back to the dressing room.  

Wednesday was a very relaxed day. I went to our apartment to make the bags for our honeymoon. Diana and aunt Ethel were out with my parents, touring around the city, and Spencer soon discovered we had the entire place for our own. And what started like an innocent cuddles session on the couch, quickly developed into a hardcore make-out session that nearly got me to break my promise to stay away from sex until our wedding. 

Spencer’s hands were underneath my shirt, trying to unclasp my bra. I was sitting on his lap, rubbing against his erection, like a little slut. I regret nothing, by the way. 

- “I miss you so much”- he murmured against my skin. He kept biting my neck and licking every inch he could, his tongue tasting me and making me so wet, I was sure I was going cave. 

Spencer groaned against me as my hands palmed his erection, just above his pants. He was so hard my mouth watered up just thinking about how good it’d feel to wrap my lips around his cock. 

- “I miss you too, hon”- I basically whimpered, and let his hands roam my body, hungrily. 

- “I need you”- he breathed against my neck and kept sucking my skin. My hands opened his belt, ‘cos I couldn’t control myself anymore. I needed him. I wanted him. I couldn’t stop thinking about feeling Spencer slipping inside me. Fucking me hard on that couch, like we had done so many delicious times. I wanted him. More than anything. 

- “Please…”- I mumbled as he unbuttoned my shirt. His eyes were hypnotizing. God! I wasn’t going to stop, I just wanted my fiance to fuck me.

- “Hello… Oh my god!!!”- and suddenly, I heard mom yelling, killing the mood in a second. I wrapped my arms around Spencer tight as he tried to cover my slightly naked chest from my mother, his mom, and his aunt. I gasped and stared at him blushing. Mom stayed still at the door, looking at me so embarrassed and shocked I felt like a teenager all over again. 

- “Hey… did you… have fun?”- Spencer asked, in the most awkward tone of voice ever. My cheeks were so red I decided to hide my face in his neck and giggled. Seriously, this was insane, awkward, and bizarre. 

- “Do you want us to wait in the room?”- Diana asked and I basically jumped from Spencer’s lap, buttoning up my shirt and watching my new mother-in-law laughing at us. 

- “No! I’m sorry, we were just… it’s… I’m gonna go.”- I mumbled and started walking to the door, to get my bags. 

- “Wait, chipmunk! No!”- Spencer grabbed my hand and looked at me. He had no idea what else to say, he just stood there in silence with a blank stare. 

- “Are you coming with me?” 

- “Guessing that was his plan before we got here”- Diana mumbled and I gasped in shock. When I thought that moment couldn’t be any worse. 

- “Mom! Please!”- Spencer complained, grossed out, and my mom started laughing. 

- “Ok kids, relax, we won’t make fun of you”- Diana said and walked over to us with a big grin.

- “It’s ok, I really should go. I only came to get a few things and I have to go back home. Lu wanted to talk about the bridesmaids’ chore list.”- I quickly replied. But Spencer didn’t let me go. He held onto my hand and followed me, grabbing my bags for me. 

- “I’ll drive you”- he suggested, though it sounded more like a command. 

- “Your dad is at the house with your brother”- mom announced- “Just in case you are thinking you can…”

- “Mom!!”- I shouted and she just burst out laughing.  

- “I just wanted to save you from another embarrassment”

- “I’ll see you later, mom! Bye, Diana! Bye, aunt Ethel!”

Spencer’s point of view 

There are certain moments in life when you have to ask yourself: “How did I get here?” “Which have been the choices I’ve made in life that lead to this particular moment to develop?” and most importantly “How do I stop it?” 

That was my mood at my bachelor party. 

I was currently at Frank’s apartment. He had taken his best man’s duties very seriously. Maybe too seriously, now that I think about it. All my friends were there: Morgan and Mikey were already kind of drunk. Rossi, Will, and Hotch seemed to be enjoying their time and kept pouring each other whisky. Ethan had traveled to DC for the wedding, and he was currently having what seemed to be the most exciting conversation with Frank, probably music related. On top of everything, Chief (Y/L/N) and (Y/N)’s brother, Phoenix, were there too. After my drug issue confession, and the argument between me and (Y/N) they had witnessed, I talked to them and tried to explain everything, but they shook their head and said everything was ok. They were surprisingly understanding and welcoming.

- “Son, my daughter loves you. I know you are a good guy. Nobody asks you to be perfect, I just want you to promise me you will never hurt her feelings ever again.”- Chief (Y/L/N) said, in a way that might have been threatening, but ended up sounding quite paternal. 

- “I would never do anything that could upset her, sir”- I replied and felt his hand tapping on my back a few times. 

- “I know. You are a good guy, Reid.”

But I still didn’t want to ruin things with them. So I couldn’t get drunk, I couldn’t mess up. I had to be my best self that night. 

And there I was, awkwardly holding a beer, half listening to Rossi’s advice as a “wedding expert” and wondering what that night would bring. I had told Frank I just wanted a quiet get-together with my friends. Maybe play some poker (though no one ever wants to play cards with me), have a few drinks, and call it a night. But when I told (Y/N), she laughed and assured me Frank would never lose the chance to get me a stripper. And that idea scared me. I just couldn’t shake the thought of how dirty strip clubs are. I didn’t want to be there or hang around strippers, as a matter of fact. 

Am I too lame? Probably. That’s why I didn’t even open my mouth and tell my friends about it. I didn’t want to ruin everybody’s fun. That was the perfect time to get called on a case. But, of course, it didn’t happen.

- “Ok guys, anyone needs a refill?”- Mikey asked from the kitchen and grabbed a few beers from the fridge. I  can’t really complain, I had friends. I was having my bachelor party with them, and it was nice. I never imagined in my wildest dreams that could ever happen to me. 

- “Ok doc, ready for your surprise?”- Frank asked and stood next to me. 

- “What?”- I nearly jumped as I heard him, scared of what he might have planned. 

- “I got my old Xbox from my parents!”- Frank looked proud and excited with the news- “So tonight it’s Mario Party night!”    

I chuckled and nodded. Now that was entertainment. Over the years, Frank and (Y/N) had managed to teach me how to play video games, it was part of our “game nights” activities, along with a lot of board games and karaoke sessions. I, the guy who had never been good at technology, knew all the different fatalities available in Mortal Combat Armageddon. Not to brag, but I could kick ass. 

- “Are we waiting for someone else?”- Mikey asked when the bell rang. I counted my friends and shook my head. I didn’t know anyone else. Frank jogged to the door and answered, Ethan suggested maybe someone had asked for more pizzas, but there were still four boxes in the kitchen.  

- “Hello”- two girls stood outside the door and walked in. A guy followed them and stood by the door.

- “We heard there was a very smart boy here who loved reading.” 

Shit. 

All the guys started clapping and yelling as they forced me to sit down on a chair and the strippers stood in front of me. Music started playing right away and before I could even argue, one of the girls was dancing in what I could only assume was a slutty librarian costume, and the other was in a slutty teacher costume that left too little to the imagination. 

- “Hello, big boy”- one of them whispered as she leaned in against me and ran her hands down my thighs. I widened my eyes as she did so and looked at my friends, they all seemed to be enjoying the situation very much. And I loathed whoever came up with that idea. 

- “Hey… you know, there is no need to do this”- I managed to mumble as she turned around and sat on my lap, rubbing her ass against me. 

- “I heard you have a big brain. What other of your body members are considered large?”- she whispered in my ear when she turned around and straddled me. I instinctively put my hands behind my back, trying my best not to touch her, or even look at her.

- “Are you shy, big boy?”- I hated how she called me “big boy” the whole time- “Don’t worry, mama is gonna make you feel good.” 

It’s like she wanted to make me feel awkward. 

The girl moved from my lap, thankfully, but started unbuttoning her shirt. Morgan was wooing and clapping like he had been waiting for this moment. Phoenix and Rossi had singles in their hands. Mikey’s jaw was open as he stared at the stripper, and my father-in-law just sat back on the couch and drank his whisky, like he was watching any random football game on a Sunday afternoon.  

- “So, are you sure you wanna get married?”- the other girl asked me as straddled me and started unbuttoning her shirt. 

- “Would you mind not doing that, please?”- I asked and closed my eyes. 

- “What’s the matter baby? Your girlfriend doesn’t want you to enjoy your last night as a single man?” 

- “No, but I prefer not having other woman's breasts on my face. Thank you.”- I kept my eyes closed as she stayed on my lap. She moved along with the music, but I really didn’t feel comfortable at all the entire time. And my friends noticed. 

- “Ok pretty boy, don’t worry, your groomsmen are gonna take care of this for you”- Morgan said and grabbed another chair, making himself available for a lapdance. As soon as the girl moved from me, I stood up and walked away from the scene. I even felt like a needed a shower. 

I stood next to the table and grabbed a whisky. I needed one, for a fact. Phoenix took the chair I had left vacant and the other stripper soon started dancing all over him. 

- “Sorry, Doc. I tried to warn them this was a bad idea”- Frank stood next to me and tapped on my back- “But they insisted”

- “Who? I thought this was your doing?”- I frowned at my friend and he shook his head right away. 

- “I am not the kind of man who says no to a stripper”- Frank confessed chuckling- “But I know you would never be on board with this kind of thing.”

- “You are right, thank you. But then who did it?” 

- “Rossi and Morgan said it wouldn’t be a bachelor party without a stripper. Mikey and I said you were gonna hate it, but everybody else kinda pushed it, and… there you have them.”

To be fair, everybody seemed to be enjoying the strippers. Including Mikey. The girls were now doing some “artistic” scene that included sucking whipped cream from each other’s body. 

- “If it’s of any consolation, we only booked them for half hour.”- Frank added. 

- “Thanks, that helps. I’ll stay here if that’s ok.”- I pointed at the corner of the table- “But if you want to get closer...” 

 - “Nah, I’ve seen them performing live a few times already.”- my friend admitted- “And are you nervous about (Y/N)’s bachelorette’s party?”- I smiled and shook my head.

- “No, I mean, I trust her.”

- “Oh, I know, but do you trust her friends?”- Frank laughed at his remark, probably just trying to play with my brain. And it worked. Suddenly I remembered who was planning her party. Emily “sin to win” Prentiss. That couldn’t be good. 

(Y/N)’s point of view 

It was Thursday and so far, I was having a blast! My girls had the whole “bachelorette party” thing completely down to a T. They had picked me up from my mom’s house for a nice afternoon in the spa. Mimosas, massages, sauna, the whole thing. 

After that, we drove to Pretiss’, where we got ready for a party night. A limo picked us up and took us “bar touring.” It had everything I wanted: loud music, my girls, and tequila. 

- “Come on, Mrs. Reid”- Prentiss grabbed my arm and crawled me out of the current bar we had been drinking at - “We have one more surprise for you!” 

- “What?”- I questioned but one of my friends gave me a decent answer. They all just hopped in the limo, blasting my favorite Distillers song, and took me to the next bar. 

- “So, do you know anything about Spencer’s night?”- JJ asked- “How is his bachelor party going?” 

- “No, I don’t wanna text him yet and look like an obsessive girlfriend”- I admitted, blushing. Those are the kind of things I would only say when I’m already a little drunk.  

- “Awww! Aren’t you sweet!!”- Garcia slurred and sipped the margarita glass he took from the latest bar- “I don’t think Spencer would ever think you are obsessed with him. He loves your attention!” 

- “Pen is right, that man loves you too much to ever get mad at you.”- Lu said and sipped her water- “It’s slightly annoying if you ask me.” 

- “Thank you!”- Prentiss yelled and made everybody in that limo laugh. I, on the other hand, was shocked by her comment. 

- “What the fuck do you mean by annoying?” 

- “You are the definition of fluff!”-  Prentiss sentenced- “You are corny and cheesy, and adorable. You hold hands underneath the table as we go through serial killers’ profiles. Who the fuck does that?!”

- “Oh my god!! You noticed?”- I don’t know why I didn’t see it coming after all.

- “You work with fucking profilers, (Y/N)!”- Emily argued, making me feel like I was dumb for even asking- “We’ve noticed the hickeys, the bruises, that sore muscles. Everything!”

- “Oh shit!”- I covered my face with both hands, embarrassed to the bone. 

- “And now that we are on the subject, munchkin, I’ve been meaning to ask: how is Dr. Spencer Reid in the sack?” 

I swear, there was a deep silence in the limo as soon as Garcia delivered that question. All eyes were on me, waiting for my answer. One I didn’t know how to give. 

- “Come on! I’ve been dying to know!”- Garcia insisted. I sipped my drink and took a deep breath. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t ashamed about talking about my sex life, It’s just that… every time I had done such a thing before, it was with someone who didn’t know my boyfriend. Now we were talking about his friends. When we were back to work, it was gonna be weird, I knew it.

- “Ok, I’ll tell you a little”- all my friends start yelling at my answer- “But not everything!!”

- “So, does he have a mommy kink?? He looks like he is a sub with a breast and mommy kink!”- Garcia started shouting question after question- “Was he a virgin when you first met him? Did he know what to do the first time he got you naked?” 

- “So… no. He is not a sub, he doesn’t have a mommy kink that I know and he wasn’t a virgin. And, I can’t stress this enough: he is a fucking genius!!”

All my friends stared at me in shock. Like I was saying the craziest thing ever. Did they actually expect me to tell them Spencer sucked in bed? I could never, and would never do such a thing, ‘cos I am not a liar. Also, ‘cos I was already half drunk. 

- “Seriously? Reid?”- Prentiss frowned- “But… how?”

- “I honestly don’t know. But trust me, he knows what he is doing.”- I winked and added- “Have you ever noticed how long his fingers are?”

- “Gross!!”- Garcia yelled and jumped on her seas as JJ stared at me, blushing.  

- “Penelope Garcia, you fucking asked!! Why are you grossed out?! I haven’t even told you about his kinks! And lemme tell you…”- at my words, Lu jumped from her seat and covered my mouth with her hand.   

- “I don’t care if she asks, please don’t tell us! I don’t wanna know!”

- “I’m just shocked! I thought you had taught him everything!”- Pen explained- “But don’t get me wrong, I am glad you are enjoying this relationship.” 

- “Trust me, I am. I enjoy it very often”- I smirked and my friends nodded. 

- “We know! I just told you, your hickeys are not invisible, and you are often sored.”- Prentiss pointed out and I would have blushed if I hadn’t been too busy finishing my margarita. 

- “Ok girls, we are here!”- JJ announced and opened the door, leaving me with all the sex details I could have shared, but didn’t. 

- “Where did you take me now?”- I asked as I got off the limo and took a look around- “Emily Prentiss, you have to be fucking joking.”

We were in the Green Zone, right outside a male Strip Club called “Hunk-O-Mania”. I really wasn’t sure I wanted to go in there. I had never been scared to party, but male strippers are way out of my comfort zone. There was only one man I wanted to see naked, and I was counting the hours to fuck him after our wedding.  

- “Come on Mrs. Reid!”- Prentiss grabbed my arm and crawled me in. I looked at my friend’s faces and they were all incredibly excited about the situation. Was I the only one who didn’t want to go there? 

We sat at our table and a hunky waiter without a shirt got us our complimentary drinks. Garcias’ eyes were wide open, looking pretty much like a cartoon character. I thought her jaw was gonna drop and her tongue would roll down the table the second she saw him and the rest of the staff. 

- “Congratulations Mrs. Reid”- the waiter winked at me as he read the sash the girl had gotten me, part of my party props as a bride, that also included a little veil and a crown.  

- “Thank you”- I replied and tried to keep my eyes on his as we spoke. It was quite embarrassing ‘cos he was hot and toned and I know I was supposed to enjoy the view. But it felt weird. And awkward. So I decided not to stare at his body. 

- “Maybe we could get the bride some shots to keep her going”- Prentiss suggested and the waiter nodded immediately. 

- “I never thought we were gonna end up in a place like this.”- I confessed.

- “It’s not a bachelorette party without a good stripper show. We deserve it as the bride’s squad, and you earned it after waiting for Reid all these years!!”- Garcia made a point. I did wait for my man for a very long time. 

- “All those years without sex, I still can’t believe it!”- Prentiss was still shocked about that fact- “I mean, I can believe it from Reid, ‘cos I thought he was a monk. But you?! You could have gotten some!”

I laughed and covered my face with both hands. It wasn’t like we had never talked about sex before, but we had never talked about sex with Spencer. 

- “Got a lot of vibrators though”- I managed to say and all my girls laughed along. 

- “You could have gotten laid way before if only you had heard us when we told you he was crazy in love with you”- JJ pointed out and Lu nodded frenetically. 

- “I told her so many times! So many times!”- my childhood friend seemed to be taking a weight from her chest as she complained about all the years I spent in denial- “But she kept repeating over and over again Reid didn’t love her.” 

- “It was painful to watch.”- JJ commented. Somehow I felt she was awfully quiet that night. Maybe she didn’t want to be at the club either. Perhaps she didn’t want to know any details about Spencer in the sack. Garcia stood up and raised her glass. That wasn’t the first toast of the night. If anything, I had already lost track of how many we had shared already. But that was by far the funniest of them all: 

- “I raise my glass tonight for the cutest bride that has ever existed. I can’t believe you are the first of us getting married after all the years you made us wait to finally confess your feelings to Spencer. But most of all, I can’t believe this might have happened three years ago, but you were so fucking stubborn you made us all wait for the greatest bachelorette party there has ever been!” 

My friends laughed so hard, some girls from other tables turned to look at us, confused by all the noise we were making. A few minutes later, the lights dimmed and the show started. And a few dancers showed up on the stage. Everybody started yelling and clapping, and I took advantage that no one was paying attention, and grabbed my phone to text my boyfriend. 

- “I miss you, hon”- I quickly texted and he replied in a matter of seconds. 

- “Me most. Rossi is drunk btw.”- I chuckled as I read those words, trying to imagine how that party was going. I also giggled thinking Spencer had never texted “btw” before. 

- “Are you having fun?”- I had to ask ‘cos I was worried Frank had planned anything Reid wouldn’t enjoy.

- “Yes! Videogames, pizza, and beer. You?”

- “Male strippers and drinks”- I wrote and after I sent it I realized it might upset Spencer. 

- “Nake guys?! Really?!”

- “They are not naked, and I’m not watching ‘cos I’m texting you.”- I hoped my boyfriend wasn’t mad. I knew he trusted me and loved me. He couldn’t get mad about it, right? 

- “Try to control Garcia. Morgan would never forgive her if he knows what you are doing”- I laughed at his reply, and that was when Prentiss noticed what I was doing, and snatched the phone from my hands. 

- “Stop talking with Reid!”

- “I just wanted to know how he was doing!”- I pouted as I grabbed my phone back and put it in my pocket. 

- “Well, stop this now and watch the guy getting naked!”- my friend commanded, making me chuckle. 

- “Yes ma’am.”

Spencer’s point of view

Around one in the morning, everybody was drunk. Myself included. Whisky, beer, and vodka kept flowing like a river of booze that kept my friends and family going. The jokes never stopped. After the strippers left, we played video games for a while. Frank has also gotten a shot roulette, which Rossi, Chief (Y/L/N), and Hotch seemed extremely into. We also played a lot of drunken Jenga, and even some poker, after my friends were drunk enough to think they could win against me.

Rossi was wasted. He has shared way too much personal info for me to look at him right in the eyes ever again. The story of his latest prostate exam wasn’t necessary. And yet, he gave us all the details we didn’t even ask for. 

At that moment, I was holding a drink. I don’t even remember what it was, but I do know I kept drinking it as Phoenix and Morgan made me laugh. 

- “What was that?”- Mikey asked suddenly and muted the radio. We all looked at each other confused. I hadn’t heard a thing. 

- “Please guys, no more strippers”- I argued immediately, thinking the worst. 

- “I swear, there are no more tits on the agenda. Unless Rossi takes his shirt out.”- Frank answered, laughing. I know it was a joke, but considering how drunk he was, it was a real possibility.

- “Maybe Mikey is paranoid”- Ethan said and chuckled.

- “No, I heard someone yelling”- Mikey argued immediately and we all stayed quiet for a few seconds. But nothing.  

- “Dude, you are drunk.”- Frank tapped on Mikey’s back a few times. Until we all heard it.

- “Hotch!”- someone was screaming Aaron’s name downstairs. Considering how drunk we were, we stumbled to the nearest window and for a moment I didn’t recognize anyone. Until I saw a limo downstairs, and my girlfriend waving and holding a tequila bottle, as we all heard Prentiss yelling:

- “Hotch! You are a dilf!!” 

- “You are such a daddy, Hotch!”- Penelope supported Emily and some neighbor yelled asking them to shut up. 

- “You are Unit chief daddy!!”- Prentiss continued yelling. I chuckled and headed to the door. If my girl was drunk downstairs, I needed to steal a kiss. 

I ran the four floors down the stairs, and when I got to the sidewalk, (Y/N) was already out of the limo. Lu was with her, looking like the only sober person of that party (and mine, as a matter of fact). 

- “Of course, lover boy is here!”- Penelope said and rolled her eyes- “I knew he was going to run to his bride as soon as he saw her.”

I just waved at her ‘cos my eyes were locked in my girl. I hadn’t seen her that day, and I had missed her terribly. I couldn’t wait until Saturday, when we would finally marry and I wouldn’t be forced to spend another day away from her. 

- “Hey��- she whispered when I stood in front of her, just staring into her eyes. She smiled and cupped my face, standing on the tip of her toes, reaching my lips and kissing me. 

- “Oh come on!”- Prentiss argued right away- “We are on the run! Come on, lovers! We have to keep the party going!”

- “But I wanna stay with him”- (Y/N) whined and wrapped her arms around my neck and I did the same, holding her in my arms, keeping her as close to me as possible- “I missed him.”

- “But it’s your bachelorette party tonight! You can’t spend it with your fiance!”- Garcia argued, but her frown disappeared as soon as she saw Morgan, and ran to him. 

- “Pretty boy! What are you doing here? Come on!”- he was there to force me back to the party- “And what the fuck was that “Hotch is a dilf” shit going on?”

- “Oh! Oh! Oh!”- Garcia hyperventilated as she tried to explain. I heard part of what she was saying, ‘cos (Y/N) grabbed my face and planted a deep kiss on my lips, that made me feel more dizzy than I was already. 

- “So, can you save me from my bachelorette party?”- my girlfriend whispered and I chuckled at those words. 

- “If you can save me from mine…”

- “Are you too drunk to drive?”- she asked innocently and I nodded, embarrassed as I tried not to chuckle, I don’t know why, maybe ‘cos I was in fact very drunk.

- “Damn it! We are gonna have to get a cab then”- (Y/N) pouted as she cursed and I remember thinking I wanted to kiss her for the rest of the night. 

- “Are you drunk too?”- I asked, surprised. 

- “Two drinks away from blacking out.”- she replied and giggled- “But still… I would run away with you right now.” 

- “Come on, Mrs. Reid, time to go!”- JJ grabbed (Y/N)’s arms and that was when I noticed the sash on my fianceé’s body. 

- “Oh shit… can you keep that?”- I slurred and (Y/N) blushed immediately. Everyone had heard my question and I knew they kept looking at us, probably figuring out one of my kinks. 

- “I’m gonna try, hon.”- my girl mumbled and giggled.

- “But wait, where are you taking her?”- I asked and held (Y/N)’s hand as JJ tried to take her away from me. 

- “We have to continue with our bachelorette schedule.” 

- “It’s two in the morning, JJ, can we call it a night and stay here for a while?”- (Y/N) begged and turned to Emily, who was now trying to get Penelope away from Morgan. And clearly failing in the process. 

- “Hotch! Thank god you are here!”- (Y/N) said suddenly, as she managed to get rid of JJ’s hold and ran to our unit chief, who was also drunk. 

- “Mrs. Reid! Are you having fun?”- Hotch asked her as my bride wrapped her arms around him and started whimpering. 

- “JJ wants to take me away from Spencer. Please don’t let her.” 

- “I just wanna take her back to her party”- JJ explained, also looking drunk. Will was upstairs, with the rest of the guys, I wondered at that minute if she didn’t want to talk to him, see him or ask him how he was going. 

- “If she doesn’t want to go, she can stay here, we are just playing cards.”- Hotch added, acting so cool about everything you might think he wanted the girls to hang with us. 

- “Cards you said?”- Emily asked and raised an eyebrow- “I could use some extra cash to pay for the party. This was actually pretty expensive.” 

And just like that, Prentiss asked the driver to leave and then started walking back into Frank’s building with Hotch, and we all followed. (Y/N) ran back to me and held my hand as I wrapped an arm around her body and kissed her. 

- “So, no strippers upstairs?”- she whispered and I chuckled immediately.  

- “God! No! It was all Rossi and Morgan’s doing.”- I stopped her from walking and kissed her lips one more time before asking the question that had been spinning my head the whole time- “Why is Hotch daddy, by the way?” 

- “Oh, that’s a good story.”- (Y/N) chuckled as she moved apart from me, still holding my hand and smiled- “So, you noticed we are all pretty much intoxicated.” 

- “Yes, you’ve mentioned it.” - we were all drunk, but still completely aware of our actions. Thankfully. 

- “So, we were in the limo...”

- “Nice ride, by the way”- I interrupted her- “You had a party with style.” 

- “Thanks, Emily planned the whole event down to the minute.”- we stood by the building door, my hands were on her waist and her arms were locked around my neck. I just stared at her for a minute, thinking there was no way she was actually going to marry me. 

- “So, we were drunk in a limo playing “Truth or dare” and one thing led to the other… JJ and Prentiss kissed by the way.” 

- “Really?”- I honestly didn’t care, I was hypnotized by (Y/N)’s lips. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things I wanted to do to her and I still wasn’t sure I could wait until our wedding night.

- “Yeah, so we were playing and Garcia said to Emily “I dare you to tell Hotch he is your daddy,” and one thing led to the other and now here we are.”- I nodded at her explanation, barely listening. I leaned over and landed a soft kiss on her lips.  

- “Hey.”- (Y/N) whispered, forgetting about the story and focusing on kissing me again. 

- “Hey.”- I replied and toyed with the gem of her shirt as I felt her fingers playing with my hair. I deepened the kiss and moved her closer to my body, feeling her moan softly against my lips. 

- “Come on, lovers!”- Frank showed up and interrupted what could have been a memorable pre wedding moment- “We are waiting for you upstairs! Chop, chop! Hands where I can see them!” 

- “But Paco!”- (Y/N) whined and her friend simply shook his head. 

- “Not until you are married, I didn’t make the rules, you did.” 

- “Are you trying to make me pay for interrupting you with your girlfriend the other night?”- I asked Frank, holding (Y/N) closer and trying to steal another kiss from her lips. But as soon as she heard me, she stopped and let me go, turning to her best friend in shock. 

- “Girlfriend? You have a girlfriend and you never told me?!”

- “Thank you, doc.”- Frank raised an eyebrow as he turned to me. I simply smiled and waved, knowing that was not the way he wanted to tell her the news. 

- “You have a girlfriend? Shit! Are you bringing her to our wedding? A complete stranger?”- maybe telling (Y/N) about this when she was drunk hadn’t been a good idea after all. 

- “Listen, nugget, before you freak out.”- Frank started explaining. 

- “It might be a little late for that.”- I suggested and the two of them turned to me looking very much furious. I just raised my hands in defeat and closed my mouth.  

- “When were you planning on telling me? This is huge news!”- (Y/N) demanded to know. 

- “I wanted to tell you last week, but clearly it wasn’t the right time. Sorry.”- Paco seemed honestly concerned about (Y/N)’s reaction. I knew they were close, with Mikey and Lu. Closer than me and the BAU team, if you ask me. Which meant (Y/N) was going to be emotional and a little (a lot) overprotective. 

- “But this is huge! Since when? How did this happen? How come you are dating?!”- (Y/N) let me go completely and wrapped her arms around Frank. I don’t know if it was because of the alcohol, but the whole thing was very emotional. 

- “We met a few weeks ago at a local show.”

- “Mikey knows her too?!”- (Y/N) nearly shouted, and hit Frank’s arm. 

- “No, I was alone watching a show, I was going to meet Jerry there, but he never showed up. It was alone, and she was there, we started talking, and we hit it off very fast. So far, it’s been great.”

(Y/N) stayed quiet staring at Frank, processing all the information. I knew he had dated a few girls in the last couple of years, but he hadn’t had a proper girlfriend since way before I had met them. So yes, it was a big deal. 

- “What’s her name?”- my girl asked, trying to look calm and unbothered. 

- “Tarah.”- Frank replied in a split second- “You’d love her.” 

I could feel (Y/N)’s hesitation as she heard her best friend speak. I don’t know if she was jealous, or worried Frank might get hurt. Probably a little bit of both. I know she has always been very close to Frank, Lu and Mikey, and I also knew she hated Mikey’s girlfriend. She wasn’t even invited to the wedding, Mikey had agreed to take Lu as a date because he knew none of his friends liked his girl. So, it was obvious in case any other of her friends got a date, (Y/N) was going to be concerned. 

- “Maybe you could bring her tomorrow for the rehearsal dinner?”- she suggested- “I don’t want strangers at our wedding.” 

Frank’s face lit up at those words, and without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her waist and spun her around as he gave her a bone crushing hug. 

- “Thank you, nugget! I love you so much!”

- “I don’t like her yet, save the love for my blessing.” 

- “Come on! We always liked the doc, give her a chance!”- Frank argued, though I knew both of them were joking. 

- “What’s not to love about Spencer, Paco?”- she questioned with a cocky smirk on her lips. 

- “I give you that, freaking doc is adorable.”- Frank chuckled and turned to me- “Thank you for making her so happy, Reid.”

- “My pleasure. I promise I’ll keep doing it until my last day on earth”- I added and I saw how Frank’s eyes teared up in a second. It must have been the booze, but I felt quite emotional at the moment. So I opened my arms and felt him hugging me in less than a second. 

Dear 20 year old me, you are gonna get a lot of hugs and a lot of kisses once you meet the woman that will change your life forever. And trust me, you are gonna love it.  

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[violeteyedkiller]

Recovery’s a Long and Winding Road

(A FUN (oh my god the feels) snippet thread from a confrontation between Anthea  (@notyouraveragesecretary) and Stan after Viktor had attacked her and they discuss (aka yell and shout until Anthea’s pain meds kick in) how they need more transparency between them and how Stan might be able to help her recovery)

--------------------

Anthea:  sound escapes her lips, like she’s forcing herself to not just shut off, and after a clench and unclench of her jaw she speaks again. ‘Whether you intended to or not, you painted yourself a victim to me. You spent hours telling me stories of scars and wounds, about the death an destruction that chased you for simply being you. But you omitted so much. You omitted the atrocities you committed. You knew that if you told me them it would not be good, so you omitted them. You manipulated the narrative between us.’

Stan: "You expect me to just bring it up on a Wednesday afternoon? You think I want to tell you about all the shit I regret about myself? You don't think I fear that if you knew all that shit you'd leave? That it's so wrong of me to wish I could just start over? But I should know fucking better. Because that shit is always going to come back and bite the ones I care about. I can't fucking get rid of it. Guess I should suffer forever because of my past mistakes. But what about you? What about you Anthea. Do you think I'm going to hold all that I don't know about you over your head? No. I'm not going to do that. Because whatever you don't want to tell me isn't my business until you feel like making it my business as far as I'm concerned."

Anthea: ‘You’re suffering forever because you won’t address it! You think I want to know about you from a half zombie creature who gets off on shoving a blade between my rib cage? You think that’s how I wanted to learn that? Your past makes it our business, and hiding this from me, that’s made it a million times worse!’

Stan: "I KNOW! I fucking know that!? You don't think I know that and you don't think this was the first time and you don't think I should have fucking known better!? And how fucking scared for you I was? That I would lose you and it would be my fucking fault!?"

Anthea: ‘You weren’t honest with yourself! You weren’t honest with me! You put the people you love in harms way to protect yourself and you should have not been so naive to think I would have never known, that anyone would have never known!’

Stan: "I wish it were me! Every time I wish it were me! I'm the one that deserves to get hurt but that's not the way it fucking goes. That's not how the fucking world works. Only the people I love get hurt. I tried shielding you from that. I tried saving you from that but it hurt too much to let you go. What the fuck do you want me to do about that Anthea. Tell me what to do because clearly I have no fucking clue"

Anthea: ‘I want you to be...Honest with me-about everything so that I can make my own decisions about you, about us! That’s all I ever wanted from you, from day one: honesty!’

Stan: "Anthea I don't know how to talk about my personal day to day life how am I going to know when and how to bring up thousands of years of history."

Anthea: ‘Maybe next time you talk about how humans hunted you down you can include a footnote about how you liked to tear them to shreds like little toys because it made you feel better to display how much power you have’ ‘Just a thought’

Stan: His mouth will open and shut, twisting into a growl, grimace, purse to a straight line. Hands are thrown up. He paces. Looking to her. Looking away. Hands on hips. "Alright. So now you know everything, huh? Because of what he told you? So what are you still doing here. Huh?"

Anthea: ‘I’m here because I love you?????? And despite what he says I can see both good and bad of people ??? People are multi-faceted, and when you work in government long enough you begin to see that no one being is black and white. So I’m here because despite what I’ve been told I still love you.’ A pause. ‘And also I’m still in a walker wheel chair combo and I am 85 percent dependent on another person so it’s either with you or the physical therapy facility and I really don’t like that place.’

Stan:  He's at a loss for words again. But eventually he sighs, head drooping. "I wasn't trying to keep it from you. It just isn't something...I'm not proud of who I was then, Anthea. And I'm trying to be better now. That's why I wasn't looking for any other reasons to give you to leave me. Because I love this life we are creating for each other....but I guess it won't mean anything if ... If we don't even know who we are living with.."

Anthea: She is glad the fight is dissolving-both of them de-escalating it rather quickly. Anthea doesn’t realize she’s got her teeth clenched until she unclenches them again. ‘It’s okay to not be proud of parts of you, and what makes me the most upset is not that you didn’t tell me, but that I had someone else tell me, and I know that even that is a flawed view. ‘

Stan: "I wasn't expecting Viktor to come back. You'd think after all the times I've killed him to get rid of that part of my past and for him to keep resurfacing...." Perhaps he talked about killing him too casually. "I don't know what he told you...but his view is usually skewed. He thinks back on those days of bloodshed fondly. I ended it with him when I realized how foolish I was thinking that I was making any sort of difference or bringing any sort of justice by senseless killing."

Anthea: ‘....yeah well he did come back and he’s still around so we still have a problem.’ She has no comment on his previous life with Viktor, it doesn’t matter now.

Stan: "You don't have to-" What. She doesn't have to make it her problem? Was he really about to say that to her while she was still recovering from his attack? There was a long pause as he tries to frame it better. "...Maybe I'll have better luck with dealing with him with your help.."

Anthea: She waits for the stupid comment, but he backtracks, and for that she is grateful. Still, at the mention of helping, Anthea sighs, looking for the right angle to sit down at. ‘I doubt that, but I appreciate the vote of confidence’

Stan: "Brute force hasn't gotten rid of him. I think wit's got a better chance. After all, he had the capacity to kill you, and didn't. I think that means something." He was hoping that sounded as confident as he was trying it to be. He makes a small move to get closer to her to help

Anthea: ‘It means hes fucking stupid-‘ she scoffs, finally finding the right angle to sit at, ‘Do you know where you could find him?’

Stan: Stan couldn't stop a chuckle from moving past his lips. "Well..that is true." His hand moves to rub the back of his neck, still a bit unsure where they stood right now. "I don't but I might know someone who could find him. But for now..other than making sure this doesn't happen again let's just get you healed up...alright?"

Anthea: She seems annoyed by that blasé answer, and a crease forms in her brow. ‘Stan,’ she says, perhaps sharper than she meant, ‘You heard what they said. It will be years before I’m healed completely, by then he will be gone.’

Stan: His brows furrow. He hadn't really heard what the doctors had said. Well he had..but it hadn't registered. He just wanted to get her out of that hospital. To get her better.. His thumb works furiously over his knuckles.

Anthea: He’s not paying attention now, and that doesn’t help her mood. The frown deepens on her lips, and she reaches across the couch for a pillow to lay on. ‘Fine. It’s fine.’

Stan: His hand moves to take her's, needing to clear his throat before talking after keeping his jaw set as tight as it was. "Anthea." It was his 'this is serious' voice "..If I were able to heal you....with the risk of.. complications..would you..accept it.."

Anthea: She’s only half listening, serving the same energy he’d given her back to him, trying to curl onto her least broken side, in the hopes of finally letting the painkillers wash over her. ‘What the fuck are you talking about, heal me?’

Stan: Stan pulls his hand back. "I'm trying to lay everything out. Like you want. I can infect you with my Darkness. Enough to heal you. But it could have side effects..And it's not something I want to put on you if you don't want it..but..It's also what I did to Viktor when he was dying...not saying that is going to happen to you..He was much worse off but.." He could feel his core tightening. There was a reason he had swore never to do it again..but he knew if Anthea knew he could help and didn't...

Anthea: The second he mentions Viktor she closes her eyes, knowing all too well what had become of him. Anthea doesn’t want that, doesn’t even want to take the chance of that-she had escaped with most of her physical features in tact (the face, anyway) and the idea that side effects meant she could look like that....worried her. ‘No-‘ it’s firm and she means it, ‘I don’t want that, I don’t want that to happen to me. I will recover, it will be painful, sure, and long, but I will recover. I don’t need an instant fix.’

Stan:  He raises a hand. "No. Not how he looks now..." Shit why did it all have to be so complicated. "I can give you the whole long story if you want but I don't think you want to talk about him right now. But the short of it is that he mutated. That's the only time I've heard of something like that happening. But I understand and I'm not going to press it upon you..It is your body." He scratches at his arm, thumb still working over fingers in worry. But whatever he was going to add, he decides to keep it to himself. He had to respect her decision to go through it the 'natural' way if that's what she wanted.

Anthea: She’s confused, but it could be the meds. ‘I’m confused, are there side effects or not?’

Stan: "Well..I would be infecting you with my Darkness. I would only put enough to heal the lacerations. It could still take some time because I can't just flood your system with it and..it would create a connection between us..Physical..and mental. Best I could liken it to is an empathetic link...A more dire risk would be if I put too much and it start to do more harm than good..but..well...you've already gained some tolerance from our love making to be honest..."

Anthea: Oh god this is so much to process and she’s doing such a poor job at it. Anthea’s brain is trying so hard to understand all the things he’s just said, to figure out where the pieces fit, how it works. But there are clouds and it’s a battle, and it takes a long time for her to connect the dots. ‘What about the bones and organs and tendons and things?’

Stan: "That would take more Darkness..And that's where we could get into territory of it beginning to convert you. Which could lead to more complications if not kept in check. Conversion can be...painful in its own way if rushed. You're stable..so that wouldn't be needed..Unless you wouldn't mind being less human." A poor attempt at trying to make this a lighter conversation than it was. "But this would be far from the first time I've done something like this."

Anthea:  For the first time since the conversation started, she reaches out for him, slender fingers looking for a hand to hold. ‘Conversion into what?’ Thats all her brain had the ability to process right then, the rest? She would not remember, at least not now. But she is sure it’s kind.

Stan: He takes her hand. "Into something...more like me..." He could tell the drugs were really starting to set in. He moves over to adjust her pillows. "But we won't make that decision until you're more clear headed." He would try to get her comfortable

Anthea: ‘We could try it-‘ she hums, still searching for his hand, ‘maybe fix the one on my thigh.’ It’s been bugging her since she’d gotten home-64 stitches from hip bone down, where he flayed her wide open, a wound that could have killed her but amazingly did not. ‘It’s itchy, and been bothering me.’

Stan: He takes her hand as he saw her reaching out. "You get some rest first..." He wanted to make completely sure this was what she really wanted. That she understood. No more doing so against other's will. He wanted no chance for him to be doing this selfishly. Violet eyes look down to the bandages.

Anthea: She curls their fingers together, pulling the arm so that it’s tucked under her chin, snuggling it tight with her. A sigh escapes her lips, soft, feeling herself slip away to sleep. ‘I love you,’ she hums, right before she heads off to sleep

[1d1195]

It was very hard for me to actually stay home and like rest?? But yeah no I got it all fixed today which was nice so at least! and you're so right about inconveniencing them lol

Im sorry your weekend was not good and stressful :( Hopefully your week is not as stressful! Is the school year almost over? Either way I am so excited for you to be on break and be FREE!

This week has gone okay so far! Im going to a drag show on Wednesday so I've been doing a little bit more work recently to have free time that night. But very excited! Ive also been having a new album on repeat so Ive had new sad songs to fixate over lol

And It's actually my last week of classes! So finals week for me starts next Tuesday and I think my last final is on that Friday! So i still have a bit to go but not really lol And yes! I agree it felt very far away and I simply can't comprehend time lol

ALSO I SAW MY EX HOT PROFESSOR YESTERDAY WHILE WALKING BY THE PSYC BUILDING😭 I felt weak in the knees! even after all this time seeing that man in his leather jacket makes me want to cry in a good way lol

and speaking of going feral lol THAT TRADITIONAL EXTRA WAS SO GOOD! it was kinda sad considering we got to read a bit about Harry's POV. But I really did like reading about him being vulnerable and I think it really adds to his character :)! but tell me why you kinda surprised me with her going down on him WHILE NIALL WAS THERE!?! yeah that was hot 😵‍💫 Also when she called him 'boyfriend' my first though was that Harry probably hates being called her boyfriend HAHA Love his little thoughts lol Anyways I loved reading it, seriously so thankful to be able to read what you create 💗

Wishing you a better week/weekend! You got this my love, I doubt it at all! love you!!-💜

omg I love girl-rotting lol. I never do it because there is always something to do. But when I'm sick I give myself like an extra hour to rot and whatnot. It's hard though because I'm the only one that does anything in my relationships (family, friends, work, etc.) I'm having a very eldest daughter kinda week. My sister and mom both texted me asking for help on something and I was actually TRYING so hard to set a boundary and my sister is just useless quite frankly. I actually think most people in my life fall under the weaponized incompetence category of people. It's EXCEEDINGLY frustrating. But nonetheless, I will move on :)

I'm glad you got to rest. I'm sure it was really hard and whatnot (based on what I mentioned above) But your body needed it. Now it's all taken care of too so that's good! SO exciting about your finals. Feels like it's a quick turnaround but maybe that's good! What do you have planned for the summer!? That's cool about the drag show! That will be so much fun and a nice mental break between your last classes and finals! What album is it? I love a musical fixation! Def in the need of some sad music. My current sad girl hour songs are not cutting it rn lol

I think a leather jacket is like catnip for women. My anti-feminist take. 😂 So happy to have a sighting of him 😍 He'll be good visual for our TA Harry 😉

My week has actually started off pretty okay knock on wood. I'm doing alright. Treated myself to a manicure today. My cuticles were so gross the woman did a deep sigh after getting all the dead skin off ☠ I feel less busy at the moment. I'm hoping I get some time to read. I desperately need my hair and eyebrows done lol. I'm hoping after this week is over I can kind of schedule that. My school year is over toward the end of next week. My students also have finals and such thank the lord. Can't wait to be done with my 3rd period group. I love all my students--I would take a bullet for them. But I do not like some of them. The TUDE and AUDACITY is reaching my limit for this year. I need a reset.

I love to write from Harry's POV. But I think I'm at fault for writing a man for a woman because I'm pretty sure Harry doesn't think like that (maybe he does, that would be really nice 😍) But I do LOVE to make him vulnerable. I think as a celebrity he always has to be poised and put together and always on so I like to think about the part of him that no one else gets to see. I'm glad you liked the boyfriend line too! We're actually getting towards the end of what I have planned for them. I think there is still a few more tricks up my sleeve maybe but only four more blurbs in store for them 😉

Onto the kinkier side of things, I have been thinking about this blurb for an EMBARRASSINGLY long time and can't even tell you how depraved I think I am for even THINKING about it let alone sharing it 🙈😭😅😍 I am a pretty conservative person when it comes to my sex life or whatever but I'm pretty sure I would turn into a whole other person for Harry 🤭🙃 Poor innocent Niall has no idea I wish I could tell you what was going through my brain but it was not much at all hahahahaha

Thank you for reading and checking in. So glad you're almost done with your classes! Can't wait to hear about your drag show. Also I assume you'll be studying your smart little butt off so don't worry about getting back to me! Don't forget to stay hydrated, caffeinated, and rested this week! Love you lots!

xoxo

[valpogossip]

VALPOGOSSIP TEACAP: FEBRUARY 2024

You lot sure have be busy the last few months. If I was of lesser mind or simply someone with something better to do, I would have resigned myself to my silence and let you all carry on. But business pays. And unfortunately for you, it's yours that pays me, and you're all not going to believe this.

Resident weirdo Drew Crane up and abandons his life in New York to follow everyone's sleep paralysis demon Luna Dominguez-Herrera after she ( rightfully ? ) dumped him. He claims it was because he was tricked by the leader of the unemployed, Rafael Cisneros. But Rafa couldn't talk himself out of charges, I doubt he's convincing anyone of anything. But don't worry Drew, you're not the only one who came to Chile in the pursuits of love but you do seem to be the only one who was successful. Congrats ( ? ) on winning ( ? ) Wednesday back even if you got kicked out of the apartment in the process !

The same can't be said for Nikhil Hari. Rumor has it he was catfished? I'm not buying it. Just like Drew, I think it's a fabricated story he put together to get our resident it girl, Carmen Hernandez, to not be weirded out by his showing up in her new city. Though, when it comes to girls who look like Carmen, who can fault him for being willing to cross seas, mountains, and rivers to be with her. Then, of course, maybe there's someone else who may be seeing this as well.

Omar Osei seemingly leaves his apartment for the first time in his life I guess ? This sighting was pretty week, but considering the man never has any sightings because he's a hermit who doesn't stop outside his apartment, ever, we think there's some merit in the dancing showcase him and Carmen shared. Thank god too, there had to be something beyond that DND group.

Moving on, Omar isn't the only hermit finally making his way out of the house. Gabriel Naisanga is also making his rounds ( and we do me around and around ) with Kala Kannan. The two of them fight more than Lin Wickwar only there are no winners here. And no. Not even me. It seems all Gabriel has to do is breathe oddly and Kala is ready to start a fight. I guess we can't entirely blame the girl, how long does one need to get over a wife ? We all want love don't we ? However, we do find it interesting that while Gabriel is currently only romantically ( ? ) involved with Kala ( a shame, sharing is caring ); he's not the only one she's romantically ( ? ) involved with ( good for her ! ).

Rumor wheel has it that she and Leon Amos hooked up rather quickly ( no shame ) upon his arrival. According to Leon, it doesn't take long at all to get over a wife ? fiance ? What does it matter, he learned the cardinal rule the fastest way to get over one person is to get under someone else ! And we support him on this journey. Though, maybe the journey can conclude its side quests of giving Drew weed brownies ? Just a thought. Perhaps these two were just a one and done, only time will tell. But I've heard reports the Kala has her eye set on another ( and no, it's not Gabriel ).

Adem Kartal, our beloved father. While Kala seems to be shooting heart eyes to him, sources say he's shooting heart eyes at Sariyah Carter. Guess you can claim not to be best friends as much as you want, but the similarities will always remain. Though, I guess if you ask Sariyah, she doesn't think Kala ever thought of her as a friend. Guess Sariyah can hold a grudge. They always said nothing hurts like a best friend break up, but everyone needs their best friend.

Luna and Carmen would know best, as Carmen came to swift conclusion that Jelena Lucas was after their boyfriend ( ? ) The more delusional the friends the more powerful the friendship.

Suppose Arlo Hwang would know a little bit about that as well. Using the time while his roommate, Alba Ocha, was out drooling and/or moping about their ex, Milani Lennox, he snuck Jamie Sokolov in to live with the two of them. Talk about Threes A Company.

That's all I have for now. It's not enough for me personally, so I'm advocating for you all to do even more ! Don't think you're safe just because you weren't mentioned. To Kaia, Manu, Marisa, Charlie, Aviva, Nora, Ravneer, Victor, Askel, Minnie, Itzel, Matty, Esteban, Aivryn, Leia, and Sofia; we're all still watching.

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 18

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 7.6k

Abu Dhabi holds a special place in Pierre's heart. The food is great, the views are spectacular, and there is always plenty to do to keep him busy. Night races are some of the more exciting races too and Pierre appreciated the variety.

Coming into the final race of the season, Pierre holds on to seventh in the championship by a few points. Perez sensed the usurper creeping up on his seat and had cranked it up to eleven. 

Exams had kept you in London for the race in Brazil, where Pierre had finished sixth and Checo DNF'd. You had managed to fly out for the weekend in Saudi Arabia, where Perez had finished fifth and closed the gap to Pierre to only four points behind. 

If Pierre didn't finish ahead of Perez this weekend, he was fucked. And he was at the distinct disadvantage of his good luck charm being absent, stuck in London finishing up your final few exams of the semester. Two weeks without seeing you coupled with barely hearing from you had worn on him. It wasn't purposeful on your part but Pierre's stress was already compressed like the suspension on his car. Stray an inch too far over the racing line, hit a curb too hard and it was liable to snap, sending bits and pieces flying.

Pierre checks his phone for the millionth time as he waits to check in to the hotel. Wednesday was late for this many crew members to be arriving. His main concern though was that you hadn't responded to the text he'd sent you upon landing.

"Look lively, will you?" Max claps Pierre on the shoulder and he slides his phone into his pocket. "It's the last race of the season. We get to go balls to the wall and leave it all out in the track. And here you are looking like a kicked puppy."

"Easy for you to say," Pierre starts, grinning at his friend. "You clinched the title weeks ago. You don't even have to race this weekend if you don't want to and you'd still win."

"Doesn't mean I won't be shooting for a podium."

Pierre rolls his eyes. "Yeah well we can't all be so lucky, can we?"

"Next year you'll be playing with the big dogs." Max hands the receptionist his ID, says a few words and turns back to Pierre. "Looking forward to having you as a teammate again. It was fun for those couple races and I'm sure you'll be a challenge now that you've found your groove."

"You're gonna jinx it if you keep talking." Pierre laughs, praying that it covers up the old wound Max's statement picked open. Pierre hated the idea of moving back to Red Bull but he didn't have much choice. He was still contracted to one of four Red Bull branded seats for next season. A promotion, at the very least, would help him showcase his talent and further cement his value. If he had to spend any longer than that with the team, ripping out his hair was a real possibility.

"Wasn't someone supposed to be with you this weekend?" Max quirks a brow. "Where is she?"

"In London." Max bringing you up doesn't help the pit forming in Pierre's stomach. Win or lose, seventh or eighth, Red Bull or Alpha Tauri, come Sunday Pierre wanted you at his side. Interview requests were bound to roll in either way and Pierre would need someone to ground him, a task much easier to accomplish if you were physically at his side.

"Too bad." Max clicks his tongue and takes his room keys from the receptionist. "It's gonna be a fun weekend."

"I don't think-"

Pierre's vision goes dark at the same time someone whispers, "Guess who?"

Pierre sucks in a breath, spins on his heel and wraps you in a hug in one smooth motion. You laugh as he lifts you off your feet and presses kisses to your cheeks. 

"What are you doing here?" He grabs both suitcases and tugs you aside. His room can wait.

"Tost asked me to come." Your grin is contagious, its twin appearing on Pierre's own cheeks. "He said that since you were flying out from Milan on your own there was an extra seat on the jet, so if I got myself to Nice I could fly out with the Red Bull boys."

"Seven hours trapped in a tin can with Max, Yuki and Checo?" Pierre rubs his chest. "I've got heartburn just thinking about that."

"It wasn't so bad," you say, finally giving him a proper kiss. "Yuki and I just played games on our phones the whole time. And I beat Max at Scrabble."

"How many Dutch words did he try to use?"

"Mmm, about half the words he tried were definitely not English."

"Yep, sounds about right." Pierre throws an arm around your shoulders and leads you back to the reception desk. He pays for an upgraded room when you aren't looking- though when you're assigned a suite there's not much higher you can go- and slips the woman behind the counter an extra bill for good measure.

"I could use a nap," you note, leaning against Pierre like you'd otherwise fall over. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

Pierre checks his watch. "We've got time for a nap."

"We?" Your raised eyebrow is question enough. Pierre smiles and swipes his key card once you're in the elevator with him. He hadn't looked at the price of the room but he was positive it was more than he'd spent on a single night in his entire career, considering it occupies an entire floor of the swanky hotel.

"It's date night," Pierre says simply. Initially his plan had been to invite Charles over for a game of Fifa but the Monegasque wouldn’t fault him for cancelling at the last minute. "We're in one of the most luxurious cities in the world and I'm going to show you off every chance I get. The restaurant down stairs is to die for."

Your attempt at nodding along with what he says is thwarted by a yawn. "Sleep first, eat later." Seeing as it was impossible to deny you, Pierre simply drops a kiss to the crown of your head.

"Wait until you see our room." The way your eyes light up when he says our room makes him want to say it again and again just to see you sparkle.

"I know you upgraded it, Mr. I-think-I'm-sneaky." You uncurl yourself from against his arm when the elevator chimes. "How much did it cost?"

"A few extra pennies."

The stainless steel doors open directly into the suite. The living space is dominated by a curving crescent of full length windows overlooking the cerulean harbor and the jagged steel of the city skyline beyond. Suitcase forgotten, your jaw drags along the floor as you toe off your shoes in favor of sinking onto one of the half moon couches situated around a low coffee table.

"Did you get some sort of bonus you didn't tell me about?" Pierre sees your inner engineer cataloging the chandelier dripping crystals over the carved dining table and the pattern of the black veined marble flooring. "This cost more than a few pennies."

"I didn't really look at the price so it's possible," he admits. In the end it was worth it to see you like this, happy as a pig in mud. Pierre was in his element at the track you were in yours in beautiful buildings. For all Pierre cared you could be sharing a dingy room at a motel; it would still be five star worthy with you there. 

Every once in a while though, you deserve a bit of pampering for all you put up with. Late nights and months apart wasn’t easy on either of you, but you stuck by him. And when the day comes that Pierre retires or loses his seat, you would be the one there to comfort him. Spending frivolous amounts of money to see you smile was nothing in the grand scheme of things. 

In Pierre’s world, money is temporary, you are forever.

"Well I have half a mind to tear into you for spending so much on a room we won't spend all that much time in," you start, your star-speckled gaze landing on Pierre, "the view is too pretty to be upset about."

"Mine isn't half bad either." You laugh, tucking an errant hair behind your ear. You both know he isn’t referring to the glittering bay or the expensive furnishings.

"Up," Pierre demands softly, holding out his hand. Your hand is warm and dwarfed by his long fingers but you barely seem to notice. The heart in his chest pounds for no discernable reason as he leads you down the narrow hall past doors leading to what he can only assume are bedrooms and bathrooms, to the one at the end of the hall. Based on his mental floor plan this one has the best view, if he's guessed correctly.

Your breezy oh confirms his hunch. You stutter at the threshold, coming up short behind him to bathe in the beauty of the sea, dotted through with white sails. Sunlight twinkles off the waves and if he breathes deep enough, he can almost smell the salt.

"Come on," Pierre says with a chuckle, urging you to fall into the fluffy down of the bed with him. You follow reluctantly, too enamored by the sights to pay any real attention to how Pierre arranges your limbs to his liking, your head resting on his chest and your joined hands laying atop his stomach.

"How about that nap?" He murmurs, running the fingers of his free hand through your unbound hair. 

You sigh and snuggle in closer. It was rare that Pierre had the opportunity to steal moments like this during a race week, when he had nothing better to do than tangle himself in you.

"I'll tell you a story." 

Just as he expected, you leap at the offer. "Can you tell me the one about the time you and Charles got in trouble when you were karting?"

Normally he opts for something fictional that allows him to embellish the details to fit his narrative. Pierre loved spinning tales rife with laughter and intrigue but he also didn't mind indulging your curiosity.

"Yeah, I can tell that one. Let me set the scene. It's midnight on a Friday at a little track outside Rouen. Two gangly teenage boys, one French and one definitely, positively not French, have nothing better to do than get themselves in trouble…"

**********

Fans began whispering when Pierre set foot in the lobby. The price of stardom was high and had taken years to get used to. Some days the bombardment of people asking for photos and autographs overwhelmed him to the point he was desperate for an out. Most people respected his boundaries and when they sensed it was too much, they backed off. Other days it was simply too much and he would mumble excuses and book it out the door.

The pressure increases tenfold when he steps into the lobby with you on his arm, the pair of you dressed to the nines. He clocks a group of women- clearly tourists based on their body language- perched on a sofa the minute their low murmurs turn into excited squeals.

Pierre mentally braces for you to stiffen or stop altogether but you do neither. You carry on unaffected, either ignoring them or completely oblivious to the women who do nothing to hide their pointed stares.

"Table for two please." You smile at the restaurant host and then at Pierre. You must not have noticed the fans then. You were getting better at coping with the photos and whispers, although your smile usually became forced the longer it dragged on, the polar opposite of you currently beaming at him.

Pierre's shoulders sag a bit when you're led to a secluded table towards the rear of the dining space. Privacy wasn't a luxury he was often afforded. With his back to a wall of windows, there were fewer angles for people to approach from which was a small comfort.

Apparently you find sitting across from Pierre unacceptable because you shuffle your chair to his side of the table before plopping down in it. Pierre shoots you a questioning look but keeps his mouth shut. Inquiring after your motives didn't tend to end well for him.

Instead he leans over to kiss your cheek, relishing the blush his lips coax to the surface.

“It all sounds good,” you say, scanning the menu. “You’ve been here before, I take it?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I have. It’s all wonderful.” 

The fans from the lobby remain in the blurred fringes of his vision. Pierre does his best to focus on the waitress explaining the specials. He tunes in automatically to the fan’s heavily accented English as they argue with the host, vying for a table as close to Pierre as possible.

Their phones remain out as an annoyed waiter tries and fails to coax the gaggle of girls into ordering something. Pierre drags a hand through his hair.

Being the center of attention usually doesn't bother him. Coping with the spotlight and the scrutiny that accompanies it is second nature; if the press conferences at Spa in 2019 had taught him anything, it was the importance of a solid poker face. Fame is new to you though and interactions with polite fans make you nervous. Having your picture taken without permission and splashed on social media? Forget about it. Pierre didn't care to find out how you'd react.

"Don't be nervous." You lay a hand on Pierre's thigh. The touch is enough to temporarily pause his bouncing leg. "You're going to do amazing this weekend. All you have to do is finish in front of Checo and you're golden."

How you haven't noticed the girls giggling mere yards away is beyond him. The last thing he wants to do is ruin this perfect, beautiful moment of bliss. You look gorgeous with your painted lips and that sinful black dress that he doubts can be comfortable based on how it hugs your curves like water. To top it off, the pride in your gaze is something to behold, making it impossible to doubt himself when you so clearly and openly believe he can conquer the world.

But it's better to tell you now versus you finding out on social media later. "That's not what's bothering me."

"Oh?" You sit straighter and set the menu down. "What is it then? Because if it's Horner, I have no problem marching in there and chewing him out. Birdy will back me up."

Despite himself, Pierre can't hold back his smile. "Where did all this confidence come from, hmm?"

"I'm learning," you insist, nodding your head firmly. "I'm growing as a person and you should be proud."

"I never said I wasn't." Maybe you'd spent the last month at university interacting with racing fans on campus. Perhaps being exposed to endless questions in a setting you controlled was the key. "Did you take a course in confidence at university?"

You scrunch up your nose and laugh in the most adorable way. Pierre's heart lurches at the sight, regardless if it was him you were laughing at.

"No, but I did make a few new friends that have a habit of pestering me about you." You jab a finger in his side for good measure. "It helped, I think. I don't look for cameras as much anymore. You're my focus now, not paps that may or may not be lurking in bushes."

"I knew it." Pierre is slightly impressed that he'd hit the nail squarely on the head. "I figured there had to be someone at uni responsible for helping you out."

You shrug and purse your lips. "I guess we'll have to see how I handle this weekend. I mean, there's bound to be press trying to corner me, what with the stakes and all. But I think I can take them." You raise your fists in front of your face and Pierre has to laugh. 

“Throw a punch like that and you’ll break a finger.” He takes one of your clenched fists in his and untucks your thumb from under your fingers. “That’s how you make a proper fist. And you hit with these knuckles here- make sure you distribute the blow across all four, or you’ll be hurting.”

“Regardless,” you say, jabbing the air a few times, “The shock factor of having little old me in their face ought to be enough to earn me an advantage.”

Pierre finishes the lap to circle back to the topic at hand. "How about we test your confidence?” 

"Okay," you say, dragging out the 'a' until it hangs in the air between you like a spider's web. 

Pierre rakes a hand through his hair and nods to the girls a few tables away. "They've been taking pictures since we sat down. I'm sure they'll be all over Instagram in an hour, if they aren't already."

You steal a glance at the table in question under the guise of grabbing something from your purse. You hum, contemplating how to go about responding. Pierre is almost certain you'll ask to head back upstairs where it's just the two of you, no cameras or outside influence to ruin your night. His wallet is already out under the table, ready to leave a hefty tip for putting up with your drink-and-dash.

“We aren’t doing anything interesting,” you point out, swirling the knuckle’s worth of whiskey in your glass. “Why do they feel the need to document every passing second?”

Pierre lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s just what some people do. If you’re uncomfortable we can go.”

“Who said anything about leaving?” You scoff, the corners of your lips turned up in a teasing smile. “I figure the best course of action is to give them something worth photographing.”

“What do you-”

Pierre’s yelp is decidedly unsexy when you yank him forward by his tie and attach your lips to his. Caught entirely off guard, he flounders for a moment before he catches himself and sinks into you. One hand on your cheek and the other creeping up your thigh, Pierre slides his tongue over the seam of your lips. You don't hesitate to obey the silent command.

He should be embarrassed. He should be contemplating the consequences of this kiss being splashed across tabloids the world over. He can’t bring himself to care, not when you’re the only release he needs and something as simple as a kiss sets his skin alight and causes any sane thoughts to trickle from his head.

Nothing matters. You're kissing him and your hand is a few inches below his hip on his right thigh, burning a brand that he prays leaves a puckered pink scar. Your scent and your mouth and your unmistakable hiss of pleasure saps the worry from his limbs. He's floating up off his chair, lungs filling with helium as you steal every last molecule of oxygen from the room.

Just like that, Pierre is the one that's roaring to leave for an entirely different reason.

Your hand on his jaw keeps your lips a hair's breadth apart as you whisper, "Are they staring?"

A blissed out nod is all he manages. Thoughts evade him and speaking is utterly out of the question when your lips are within striking distance. He surges forward for another kiss, heavier on teeth than on tongue. He makes sure to hold your lower lip between his teeth longer than necessary, putting on a show now that you've given him permission.

"Pierre," you murmur, using the hand splayed on his chest to push him away. The whine that escapes him is wholly unintentional. Thankfully it's low enough that only you hear, pressing a finger to your sinful lips.

"Down, boy." You extricate his hand from the dimpled flesh of your hip and place it chastely in his own lap. "We've accomplished what I wanted to."

Saying you tossing a wink over your shoulder at the intrusive fans isn't the hottest thing he's ever seen would be a lie. Pierre needed to be sure to thank Daniel's girlfriend the next time he saw her for whatever the hell she said to finally bestow you with a healthy serving of self-assurance because this new you is an entirely different entity, one Pierre intends to explore at the next opportunity.

"Problem solved." You brush your hands together and Pierre half expects to see dust clouds in the air like you'd just finished a woodshop project. 

Pierre's brain is operating on a ten second delay. So really, normal operating procedure when he was in your vicinity. "I don't think we've accomplished everything I'd like to get done."

"We have a dinner to finish first." You pick up your menu and resume browsing like you hadn't just forcibly ripped his appetite for anything other than you right out of him. "The salmon sounds good, don't you think?"

"You sound good," Pierre mumbles under his breath and picks up his own menu. God, he'd love to let his fingers drift to the apex of your thighs. You’re always cute when you squirm. It was so simple to do too, all you needed was a brush of his knuckle to your center and you'd be gasping.

"Are you ready to order?"

The soft-spoken waitress bursts Pierre's bubble. She brings fresh drinks and jots down an order of two salmon fillets and leaves with a smile. 

How Pierre has managed to make it this long without fucking you is beyond him. From the moment you surprised him in the lobby, his limbs have been thrumming with energy. And now your surprise kiss had been the pebble that preceded an avalanche of feverish longing. Those red painted lips would look better wrapped around his-

The pointed toe of your shoe digs into his calf. "Quit staring."

"Either you let me daydream or you let me take you upstairs,” Pierre quips back, licking his lips before he can catch himself.

"Can we get through one date without you mentally undressing me?"

Pierre dips his grin in a vat of lust, his words dripping with waxy promise. "No. Not when I know that as soon as we're alone, you'll let me do what I want."

"And what about what I want?" Your pouted lip does absolutely nothing but push his mind further in the gutter. 

"Your wish is my command." His hand floats under the hem of your dress to graze along your core. And there it is, that sound he would swim across oceans to hear, your chastizing gasp of surprise. 

The cross way you whisper his name is a thing of dreams. No one else's name sounded like that on your tongue, that honor is reserved solely for Pierre. The two breathless syllables are more exhilarating than standing on the top step. The rush of adrenaline that accompanies them is ten times what he is rewarded with when passing a world champion on track. He'll give it all up to hear you repeat it when you're pissed or lonely or tired- he just wants your voice echoing in his ears like a broken record.

You move his hand a safe distance down your thigh, nearly at your knee. Pierre gives your leg a sharp squeeze. "Can we please get our dinner to go?"

"Not tonight. You can wait, mon amour."

The French rolls off your tongue awkwardly but Pierre will be the last to complain. Your encyclopedic knowledge of which buttons to press when had come back to bite him in the ass.

"That's not fair." His pout is a mirror image of the one you turned on him earlier. "You can't use my own language against me."

You pat your pockets as if searching for something and shrug when you come up empty. "I don't see a rulebook anywhere."

Reminding you what happens when you tease him shoots to the top of his to do list. "I'll play if you wanna play, ma chérie. Don't bite off more than you can chew."

"I think you're forgetting who usually wins off track."

Pierre can't help it. He takes advantage of his superior reflexes and surges forward to claim another searing kiss. You did normally win and it wasn't for lack of trying on his end. No matter the tactic he employed, you generally got the better of him. Not that he minded.

"Why don't you come here?" He purposely grazes his lips to your ear as he speaks and grins when a shiver runs down your spine. 

"Because we are in public," you hiss back, though the way your head tips to the side betrays you. Pierre's nose touches the underside of your jaw and you struggle to find your breath.

"We should eat." A self satisfied smile splits his face when he notices your heaving chest and wild eyes. 

"When did our food get here?" Pierre did that. He got you so worked up that you blocked out your surroundings so thoroughly that you hadn't heard the clink of plates. Pierre wears that fact like a badge of honor.

"A minute or so ago. Remind me again who's winning?"

"We may be even," you relent, adjusting the skirt of your dress. Yeah, even isn't the word he would pick, considering how flustered you are. It's a good thing Pierre has learned to eat with one hand because he doesn't plan on moving the arm currently slung over the back of your chair anytime soon. His finger traces the letters of his name on the bare skin of your shoulder. Whether you realize what he's writing or not you lean into him as you eat, falling in closer with each lemon-scented bite.

"Excuse me?"

You don't bother to look up but Pierre does. Disappointment washes over him when he is met by one of the fans, apparently deeming now to be the appropriate time to approach him, while clearly on a date, in the middle of a meal.

"I'll be happy to take a photo once I'm done." Sometimes passive aggressiveness works best with people like this, who have no regard for personal space. "Right now I would prefer to be alone, thanks."

"Oh, right." The blonde giggles, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You two make a… cute couple?" The end of her sentence turns up and your fork falls to your plate.

Pierre tucks you a little closer to his side, both possessive and reassuring. "We know."

Your discomfort is plain, the way you curl in on yourself making his heart hurt. But you surprise him by taking a deep breath and turning to the woman with a smile. 

"If you'd let us finish our meal, I would appreciate it. We can stop by on our way out and chat with you." Sylvie would be proud of that answer. Diplomatically phrased and said with a smile that negates any negative connotations.

"Of course." The blonde's smile is sickly sweet. To Pierre she adds, "Good luck on Sunday."

Pierre nods. The woman's rude behavior didn't warrant a verbal response. She mumbles a feeble goodbye before slinking back to her friends. If nothing else at least their whispers died down, put out by his behavior. 

Pierre loves his fans. Without them he wouldn't have a sport to compete in, and of course he appreciated their endless support. Stopping for photos or autographs had gotten him in trouble with Marko multiple times for being late to meetings that usually turned out to be pointless anyway. As a whole, their enthusiasm gives him an extra boost on Sundays and lifts his spirits after a bad weekend.

And then sometimes there were people like the blonde woman that had interrupted his dinner. Those people he has far less tolerance for. Basic manners were imperative to Pierre giving someone the light of day, otherwise he saw no need to waste time and energy on them.

"All good, ma chérie?" Pierre rubs your shoulder, hoping it'll stave off any anxiety.

"I'm good," you confirm with a nod of your head. "Let's finish up and go to our room."

Pierre presses a kiss to your temple and scarfs down the remainder of his meal in record time. He flags down the waitress and hands her his card, leaving a substantial tip when she returns with the check.

“Can you distract that table?” Pierre asks, aware of how unusual the request likely is. “I’d like to get out of here without making a scene.”

“Of course,” the waitress says with a warm, sincere smile. Pierre waits until she loudly announces, “Excuse me? Your card has been declined, do you have another method of payment?”

Neither of you can contain your laughter as you stumble through the lobby. In the sanctity of the elevator, Pierre wraps his arms around your middle and molds himself against you. "You look especially gorgeous tonight."

"You're not too bad yourself." One of your hands finds the nape of his neck, guiding his face to the crook of your shoulder. Pierre takes the invitation at face value and nips at the sensitive skin. Your hum goes straight to his cock, twitching against the swell of your ass.

"I win," you purr, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging. 

For once Pierre is glad to be in the world's slowest elevator. Since he's already lost, he might as well lose in style. He spins you to face the mirrored wall. And because he knows it'll make you tremble, he trails his hand lazily over your throat to grip your jaw.

A low moan leaves your parted lips. Pierre studies your reflection, from your hands gripping the railing to the skin dimpling beneath his fingers. 

"Fine, you win this time. But I think you and I both know, I'll come out ahead in the end."

**********

Waking up to soft kisses will never get old. Thirty years from now when Pierre was retired and you fell asleep each night with his arms around you, you'd still yearn for the brush of his lips to your cheeks, neck, and shoulders to rouse you from the violet shores of sleep.

"Good morning," you mumble, a sentiment which Pierre echoes with his gruff, sleep tinged voice. "Sleep well?"

"Best sleep I've ever gotten. You tired me out last night." You both grin at the reminder. Fueled by a slight tinge of jealousy after the women at the restaurant made eyes at him, you had refused to let him tumble into bed until well past midnight, when you both were well and truly exhausted. Thursday is press day, nothing strenuous that he couldn't afford to be a little sore for.

Pierre rolls to straddle your hips, lips capturing yours for a proper kiss. The taste of freshly brushed mint makes your skin tingle when he tugs your lip between his teeth.

"It's too early for that." You throw your arms around his neck and urge him to bend his elbows until he falls atop you. It takes him a moment to snuggle in, his head on your chest and his arms sliding under your middle. 

You're convinced that ten minutes in this position can cure any ailments, physical or mental. The weight of your soulmate pressing into you, forcing you to focus on breathing instead of whatever might be bothering you. It's easy to forget about the outside world when everything you require to be happy is wrapped around you like a blanket.

You stroke a hand over Pierre's hair until his breathing evens out, only rousing him when the sun peeks over the harbor. Amiable silence fills the space as hues of orange and pink paint Pierre in swaths of color. Suddenly you're seeing him for the first time, completely enamored by the angles of his cheekbones and the sharp cut of his stubbled jaw. The golden hour of dawn shines on it's golden boy, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he turns towards the warmth calling him home.

"Pyry and I are going for a run soon if you'd like to come with us."

You cringe. Running used to be fun when you were in school, but seeing as you hadn't properly trained in years you doubted you could keep up with a pair of professionals. "How about you text me when you're back and I'll come to the gym with you? It looks fancy, if George's snaps are anything to go by."

Pierre trails kisses up your sternum, over your neck and only speaks once he's reached your lips. "Looking at other men, are you?"

"Shut up," you laugh, shoving him off you. "I'll have you know it was a rare shirt on picture, thank you very much. I don't need to see George shirtless ever again."

A satisfied, "Good," rumbles from Pierre's chest and he stands to stretch the lingering sleep from his limbs. Clad in nothing but a pair of white four inch inseam shorts and with his back to you, you grin as an idea forms. You scramble forward before he can process you moving and smack his ass so hard he yelps.

"Gotcha!" You devolve into a fit of giggles as he rubs the spot you hit, whining about you taking advantage of his distraction.

"You like it," you tease, and Pierre remains strictly pouty for two whole seconds before he breaks into a grin and nods. "Now put on a shirt and get downstairs before Pyry calls you and you get reamed for being late again."

Pierre leans down for one last kiss before rushing off to the lobby. Waking up before the sun leaves you plenty of time to laze about if you choose to. Kicking your butt into gear seems like the better option so you drag yourself out of the relative warmth of the sheets and shuffle to the kitchen in search of coffee. 

Apparently the suite came fully stocked with a handful of different freshly ground blends, and much to your delight you recognize one of your favorites. You scroll through the room service menu on your phone while it brews. Without a doubt Pyry would rope you in to whatever workout he had planned for Pierre, albeit giving you a watered down version of what he gave the driver. Regardless, it would still be grueling and you needed to fuel up.

A hearty breakfast of fresh fruit and cinnamon sugar oatmeal shows up at your door ten minutes later. You're just finishing up when Pierre's snapchat comes through and you nearly choke.

Come on down baby

The sweaty, shirtless selfie that accompanies the caption is wholly unnecessary. Pierre's stupid tongue sticks out and the fingers of one hand are tangled in his hair. The muscle of his bicep is perfectly flexed, an obvious but appreciated attempt to rile you up. You shamelessly screenshot the photo before it disappears to save it for later.

You change into a simple set of leggings and a loose t-shirt and head to the elevator, curating your music queue on the way down.

The outdoor gym overlooks a pool of the same crystalline blue as the sea not far beyond. A few Alpha Tauri and Red Bull team members you recognize occupy a handful of machines. You wave at the ones you recognize, including Alana- she was a sight for sore eyes. You make a mental note to catch up with her at some point today, as you're sure to cross paths again.

Pyry spots you before Pierre does and waves you over. "Start stretching," the fin orders, "I'm glad you dressed for the occasion this time."

"I've learned my lesson." You plop down next to Pierre and lean into a stretch to stage whisper, "He drives you this hard?"

"Get used to it." Pierre shoots you a grin that sets you on fire. He's got a shirt on now, which means he only took it off earlier to send you that snap. Tease.

Any other time you'd chide him for his behavior but this weekend you let it slide. Tension has been brewing since the moment you spotted him across the lobby; simple things tip you off to the stress winding up in him. If flirting could offer him a small amount of release, then so be it, even if it was torturous for you to see him like this and be unable to do anything about it.

"If you two can't get through this without making heart eyes at each other I'll separate you," Pyry warns, pushing at your shoulders and helping you stretch a few more inches. You hide your wince and laugh, leaning into the slight burn.

"Sorry coach," Pierre chimes in, "I'll keep my hands to myself, don't worry." He accepts Pyry's hand to be pulled to his feet. Bouncing on his toes he throws a few punches at the air and catches your gaze over his trainer's shoulder.

"Definitely not you I'm worried about."

As Pyry says it, you blow Pierre a kiss. You quickly tuck your hands behind your back when Pyry's head whips around. Your cheshire grin gets you off the hook and Pyry just points to the stationary bike in silent command. At least he was going easy on you.

Headphones pumping a Pierre curated playlist, you lose track of time as you cycle mile after mile. Pierre sparring on the fringes of your vision helps distract you from burning muscles. Sweat soaks his black tee and is absorbed by the waistband of his oddly patterned orange and white shorts. No matter how incessantly you tease him for his fashion choices, he never fails to amaze you for how well he pulls it all off.

Lost in the music and the incredible view, it takes you a moment to realize Pierre's lips aren't just moving silently. You yank out an ear bud and blubber, "What did you say?"

Pierre's breathless laugh is accompanied by a shake of his head. He half curls in on himself, hands on his hips and mouth agape as he tries to catch his breath. The image stirs memories of the last night, when he was panting just like that but with nothing obscuring you from drinking in his godlike muscled body.

"I said," Pierre starts, walking over to kiss your cheek, "I need a shower before press. I'm going upstairs. You can stay here and Pyry can take you through some more-"

"No thanks!" Pyry shrugs off your immediate refusal. Training top tier athletes and training you sat at polar opposite ends of the spectrum and often times the Fin pushed you farther than you thought capable. You'd like to be able to function tomorrow, thank you very much.

The elevator ride to the suite is filled with salted kisses and wet touches. A breadcrumb trail of clothing leads from the stainless steel doors to the glass encased shower. There's not enough time to worship Pierre like you'd wanted to but he sighs when you run a soapy cloth over his body. Your lips follow the suds, leaving light kisses to the tender muscles. By the time you pour shampoo in your palm and lightly scratch at his scalp to work it into a lather, he's practically purring.

Media appearances are a necessary part of being a driver. Pierre usually handled them well enough on his own and occasionally with Sylvie's help when she could be bothered to get off her phone for a few minutes, but having you with him is different. You pride yourself on reading him well enough to know exactly what he needs. Some days, when the press isn't a pack of rabid animals, he returns to his driver's room and needs nothing more than a quick kiss to have him righted. On days when the pack of piranhas descend to feast on the bones of a bad session or the whispering of drama, a delicate touch is required.

If your suspicion proves right, today would be the latter. Being ahead of the frenzy might take the edge off when Pierre got in the thick of it.

When the tap cuts off, you step out and wrap Pierre in a fluffy towel. His smile communicates how grateful he is- and that he knows what you're doing.

You hand him a stack of Alpha Tauri branded clothes and sit on the foot of the bed. "Do you want me to come to the paddock with you?"

Pierre pauses with his shirt half on. "If you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind." You pluck a few of his rings from the nightstand and hold out your hand. "You have to complete the look."

"What would I do without you," he murmurs, slipping one on his pinky and one on the thumb of his opposite hand.

"Probably be ridiculed for your lack of fashion sense."

**********

As a driver's girlfriend, you had come to grips with being relegated to a background role when it came to team events. You have to ask Sylvie to repeat herself twice before her words sink in.

"Come with me to the media pen," the woman grits out. Apparently Tost intended to have some fun torturing the woman before he fired her at the end of the season. Hopefully whoever Pierre got stuck with next was a bit more personable than Sylvie.

"Pierre told me to wait here," you say, gesturing to the garage buzzing around you. You were a rock and the mechanics were the stream, parting around you without a care in the world. You were barely a blip on their radar, everyone too honed in on their tasks to pay you any mind.

"And now I'm telling you to come with me. The other wives and girlfriends are in attendance and it'll look odd if you're not there too." Clearly, Sylvie didn't like the idea. And any idea that pissed Sylvie off sounded like a good one.

"I know the way," you say and breeze past her. Your feet follow the familiar path to the cluster of reporters crowded around metal gates, keeping the drivers in like caged animals. It was fitting, considering how often people referred to the sport as a traveling circus.

Pierre is already knee deep in an interview with one of the more popular journalists in the bunch, Will Buxton. Careful to stay out of the lens, you lean against the guardrail to listen in. So far it seems to be going well, Pierre's laugh brings a smile to your face.

"So, Pierre." Will shifts on his feet, pausing to create a sense of drama. "Your seat for next year. We know you'll be in Alpha Tauri or at Red Bull. Only a few points separate you from being demoted right back to eighth in the championship, which would officially relegate you to keep your seat at Alpha for the upcoming season. Are you worried about a mechanical problem or an accident stripping you of your chance to prove yourself and leaving you stuck where you are?"

Your stomach sinks. Buxton knew how to phrase a question, you had to give him that. Each word had been carefully chosen to elicit an emotional response from Pierre. You hate seeing him backed into a corner, forced to answer the same questions again and again, helpless to prevent it.

"Well first of all I'd like to stay that I'm not stuck at Alpha." Pierre shifts his weight and you exhale. Buxton's poisoned dart had missed its mark.

"Given a few years of development I know we could have a really competitive car. But it's more so that I'm ready to move up, fight with the leaders now instead of waiting. I'm in my prime and I don't want to let that pass me by.

"So no, I'm not worried about things that are out of my control. My team has given me an amazing car this year and I'm not concerned about mechanical problems. Things out of my control aren't worth my energy. There's nothing I can do about it so I don't even give it thought. I'll focus on my driving and pushing my limit- if an accident happens, I'm just a passenger."

"Well said." Buxton nods and turns away, effectively dismissing Pierre. As soon as he's out of the camera's view he's reaching for you and you meet him halfway. Sylvie trails after you as Pierre leads you through to the Alpha garage.

"Five minutes until your briefing," Alana says the second you enter. "And hey girl. Don't think I've forgotten about that sweater I loaned you. I still want it back!"

Your friend doesn't leave any room for rebuttal before heading for the conference room, presumably to set up whatever presentation she had created. Sylvie had disappeared too, leaving you as the only one for Pierre to focus on.

"You think I can do it?" He asks quietly, playing with your interlaced fingers.

"I don't think." You tilt his chin up so he's looking at you. "I know. And I'll be right here when you cross that line on Sunday and bring home points. You've got this, baby. Don't doubt yourself now."

"Pierre!"

Your grip on his chin prevents him from following the voice, not that he would if he could. You shoot him a raucous grin, "Red Bull colors would look pretty good on me, huh?"

Pierre's smile is brighter than all the stars in the sky. "Anything with my name on it will do.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz @xeniarocks @teenwaywardasgardian @saintandrea-droidsmuggler​

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future updates!

[timextoxhajima]

Not For Sale: Week 14

NOT FOR SALE CHAPTER NAVIGATION

Member: Heeseung + Jay [ft. Sunghoon and Jake]

Pairings: [fem] uni exchange student! reader x uni student! HS x uni student! Jay

Genres: Fluff | Slice of Life | Comedy | Angst | Teenage Romance | Thriller

Warnings: scenes in the hospital

Word Count: 3k

Synopsis/Quote: In which your oblivious ass cannot tell that a popular boy in your class has a big, fat crush on you | “It seems like the one who was ruined was me.”

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @seasideheeseung @wooya1224 @gratefulmaria @sunshineshouchan @youreverydayzebra @fayqj @witheeseung @haechanhues @w-o-o-y-a-a @miingxuxi @reallysmolrenjun @hrrhmay-primaryblog @rosie112703 @ac-ewow @liliansun​​ [drop me a dm/ask/comment to be added!]

You’re staring at the project document blankly, the pages filled with words and tables of the work you’ve done with Heeseung in the last few weeks or so. The weekend felt like three weeks, even when it was just three days - simply because you were in the hospital watching Jay flit in and out of consciousness and Heeseung’s still in a comatose state. 

The seat next to you is empty and there is no other word to describe being alone on your last week of school than ‘sad’. 

The Uber that picked Jay and Heeseung up had just been in school compounds and the police had found a rig in the brakes - the Uber had been stopped by another car driving straight into it.

Heeseung was on the side the car was rammed into. It’s a miracle he’s even still alive. 

“y/n?” 

The call jolts you out of your dissociation.

“Hey,” The professor walks up the stairs, and only now do you realise everybody else had left the lecture hall besides you. “I had the others hand up their projects but I saw you zoning out and I couldn’t do it.”

“Sorry,” Mumbling under your breath, you give the folder a quick flip-through before handing him the document. “Here.”

With pursed lips, he takes the folder and glances through it, skimming through the contents and pausing on the last page where you and Heeseung had signed off on. 

“I’m sorry it happened.”

“I’m sorry the school had to go through so much to catch the idiot,” Through gritted teeth, you offer him a small wince. 

“Well, yeah, that too,” The professor pulls up the lecture table from the seat next to you and sits himself in the plastic grove. “But it’s not important now. He’s going to be charged for God knows how many felonies, but I just- I wanted to know how you’re holding up.”

The concerned question thrums chills through you. Heeseung would’ve asked that. Jay would’ve too.

Jake and Sunghoon have probably tried, but you’re too busy crying or zoning out at the hospital to process anything else even if they did try. 

“I’m fine,” You shake your head and stuff your iPad into your bag. “There’s nothing anybody can do to make him wake up faster.”

“I know that. It’s just... I don’t want a student ending her semester like this.”

The grumble of the zip as you close your bag is disgustingly loud in the empty lecture hall. You hug your bag, slowly looping your arm through one of the holes as you push the lecture table away. 

“I’ll be fine. I’m leaving next week anyway and Heeseung’s not dead, so.”

The professor goes quiet upon the declaration. 

“Thanks for the fun sem, Prof,” You give him a tiny, wretched smile that’s not genuine at all, lifting a leg over the backrest of the seat in front of you. “I’ll tell my dad to say hi to you every now and then.”

Finally on both your feet one row before him, he looks at you with sad, tired eyes. 

“It’s been a pleasure having you and Heeseung as students, y/n. Do come back to visit when you come visit your father.”

A bare nod shakes your head.

“Bye prof.”

The ceiling looks the same. The light dangling from the beige, crusty roof looks dusty.

The room looks the same - except the fact that 80% of it were in boxes now. The clock hung on the wall has the loudest ticking you’ve ever heard - had it been this loud since the start?

Bzzzzt. Bzzzzzzzt. Bzzz-

“Hello.”

“Jesus Christ, how many times do you want me to call you before you’d pick up?”

Maybe until Heeseung wakes up.

“You know what? Don’t answer that.”

A pause.

“How are you holding up?”

“Great. I mean the sem’s over. I’ve handed up almost every project I need to submit.”

“Fuck you, you know I don’t mean that.”

“What am I supposed to tell you? I’m great, while I wait for my two friends to recover in the hospital? One of them’s not even awake.”

“I don’t want to be that person but no matter how much you cry or pray that he wakes up, it’s going to take time, okay? Let him rest and recuperate and he’ll spring back to life like he wasn’t just in an accident.”

“I shouldn’t have let them take the Uber.”

“For crying out loud, it is not your fault. You told them your dad was coming to get you and Jay didn’t want to cancel it for the fee. It’s a normal reaction. Who was supposed to know the Uber was rigged?”

You blink. 

“Have you packed?”

You count the boxes in your room. “Mostly.”

“I’ll be at your place when you come home. We can bake cupcakes and cookies and you can tell me about the school there.”

Your ears are taking in her words but your eyes are on the paper bag on your desk. It’s the tumbler that Jay got you. 

“Hello? You there?”

“Byeol, what if they don’t wake up before I leave? I have 8 days.”

“Have some faith in them, would you? Jay’s already awake right? He’s just flitting in and out of consciousness and Heeseung... They haven’t said he’s in critical condition, right?”

“But he’s been in the ER and it’s been three days.”

“Sis, I could sleep for three days. He’ll be awake before you leave.”

“Hope so.”

“Not going to the hospital?”

“Nah,” You roll over onto your side and stare at yourself in the mirror on your wardrobe doors. “Their friends are swarming the wards. It’s fine, Jake and Hoon got me onto the special visitors’ list.”

“There’s a special visitors’ list?”

“It’s Jay and it’s an expensive hospital with classier management. So yeah, pretty much.”

“That’s nice.”

Silence - except the occasional crackling of the static on the phone. 

“They’ll do fine, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I have to go now. I’ll call you tonight or tomorrow, I’ll text you?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye bye.”

The car ride with your father is quiet, the gentle music from the stereo playing and you’re thinking about how your mother is back at home. She is a busy woman back home too so you hadn’t really had the time to call or text her.

For the first time in a long time, your father knows more about your life than she does. 

“I know you’re probably not in the mood to answer this but...” The car slows at a red light. “Have you started packing?”

You don’t turn. The trees outside are swaying gently in the light breeze on this sunny day. It reminds you of the day Heeseung brought you out to the beach for your picnic. 

“I’m about 80% done. The stuff left’s like my laptop and iPad and daily appliances.”

“That’s good,” You see him nod in the window’s reflection and glance at you. “Well, I’ll come by and hand you the documents for credit transfer later this week and I’ll send you to the bus terminal next Wednesday too, yeah?”

“Mhm,” Humming to yourself, the refracted red light turns green. “Sure.”

The car starts again. “Hun, I... I just wanted you to know that I know this sem has been difficult for you. I’m- I’m sorry that I suggested you come. Had I known that there was going to be a lunatic running on the loose, I would’ve stopped you from coming.”

“You wouldn’t have known,” You mumble, but still loud enough for him to hear. “It’s fine, it’s over.”

“And with what happened with Jay and Heeseung... I’m sorry. I really am.”

“They would’ve gotten caught up in this crazy shitfest with the psycho anyway, regardless of my presence,” Finally turning to look at your father, he side-eyes you while keeping his hands on the steering wheel. “It’s not anybody’s fault except that psycho’s that this happened.”

Your father remains quiet, unable to respond. The car drives into the sheltered drop-off point at the hospital and he watches you unbuckle the seat belt to let yourself out the car.

“Hey.”

You sling your bag over your shoulder and rest a hand on the car door. 

“They’ll be okay.”

A weak smile pulls your lips up your cheeks. 

“I hope so.”

By the time you’ve reached the floor where the wads were, you’ve run into a good number of their friends. Of course, there were one or two bad apples among the bunch, but most of them knew you were on a special visitors’ list and that’s why you came so late. 

It never gets easier though, the look on their faces when you know they want to tell you that they’ll be okay, but promises should not be made if they cannot be kept.

Walking into Jay’s ward, you see his mother helping to sponge his face while Jake and Sunghoon speak to a friend on the other side of the bed. 

You catch the room’s attention when you pull the plastic bag out from your bag and let the door shut behind you, Jay’s mother looking up and offering you a tired smile. 

“Oh, hey,” Jake grins and beckons you over. 

“Hi Mrs Park,” You gesture to Jake to wait before holding out the plastic bag to Jay’s mother. “It’s a box of tonic for you and Mr Park. Thought of getting fruits but I don’t think Jay can have them yet.”

“Gosh, you really didn’t have to,” She shakes her head and sets the cloth down by the bed. “Thank you. Are you sure you’re okay, coming to visit so often? You’re here everyday, aren’t you?”

You return her a tight, pursed smile. “Yeah, but it’s fine. I’m leaving to go home next week so I don’t have much time left to spend with them. I don’t mind.”

“Oh, honey,” She stands and takes the box from you, turning to set it down on the table behind her before returning you her attention. “I... I don’t know what to say. This must be all a lot for you.”

You break the eye contact first, knowing that you were probably going to cry if you hadn’t stopped looking at her.

“No, it’s fine,” You raise a palm and rub her upper arm. “All I want is to have a decent conversation with Jay before I leave, and I’ll be more than satisfied.”

“Oh!” She exclaims, nose crunching into a threatened crying mess. She holds her arms open and coerces you into her arms, patting the back of your head. “Of course. Of course, Jay will be fine by the time you need to go home. I promise.”

“I really do hope so,” You pull away first and smile weakly at her.

“By the way, Mr and Mrs Lee are with Heeseung in the ward next door,” She sniffles, anxiously rubbing her palms together.

“Oh, right- Do they know I’m on the-”

“Yes, of course they do, sweet heart,” She quickly rubs your arm to comfort you, then slides her hands down to yours to keep them in her palms. “Their parents are the sweetest couple ever and they’d be so grateful that Heeseung has a friend like you. How about I have Jake or Sunghoon bring you over to meet them?”

“Oh,” You watch as she waves to get one of the boys’ attention, Sunghoon quickly pulling away from the crowd to attend to you. 

“Would you do me a favour and bring her over to Heeseung’s ward? Introduce her to his parents.”

“Of course,” Sunghoon hurriedly nods and lowers his head out of respect. “Come on.”

“Thanks, Mrs Park,” You turn your feet to follow Sunghoon, but your hands are reluctant to leave hers. “I’ll come back later.”

“No, take your time, sweet.”

With a slight nod, you pull away and trail after Sunghoon out of the ward after leaving your bag with Jake.

The ward door closes with a soft hiss, then Sunghoon pauses right before you can come into view of Heeseung’s ward door, turning over his shoulder to look down at you. 

“I don’t mean to bring this up at a bad time but...”

“I know,” You nod. “I know I’ve been an ass the last few weeks. Honestly, I... I didn’t know who I wanted to be endgame either.”

Sunghoon gives your word one more second of thought before he turns around to face you. 

“It’s not my business but are you going to choose? Or... just go home next week?”

You frown and look down at your hands, reminiscing the warmth from Jay’s mother.

“I don’t know,” Your voice cracks. “I don’t think I can choose. Even if I do, I have 8 days, and neither of them are awake yet. I don’t... I don’t want to do that to them.”

He takes a deep breath and looks away, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“It’s Heeseung. Choose Heeseung,” He says without looking at you. “The night they got into a crash, Jay texted Jake to tell us that Heeseung kissed you, and that was the moment he decided he would give up.”

The statement tears you apart on the inside. 

“Jay’s a tough guy to hurt and he plays his cards fairly and maturely,” Sunghoon nods and finally looks at you. “Don’t feel bad you’re choosing Heeseung over him. He had a truce with Heeseung. About you. And he knows he lost fair and square, so don’t feel upset. Just pour your heart and soul into Heeseung for the rest of the time you’re here, and worry about committing anything else after you’ve gone home.”

You part your lips to breathe, as if it would help you understand any faster or better.

“Anyway, both Heeseung’s parents are in there and they already have an idea who you are so... Just be nice.”

He watches you nod, slightly zoned-out, then pushes the door open. 

His parents can tell you’re more preoccupied with the limp, breathing body on the bed than their presence, but they still take it with grace and greet you like they’ve known you your entire life.

The sight of Heeseung being bandaged up with a leg hanging in the air makes you feel like shit.

Who wouldn’t?

Later in the night, after Heeseung’s mother had gone home and his father had left to get coffee, you’re left alone with him and the occasional beeping from the Holter monitor. 

There was a bruise and scratch on his left cheek, and his neck, arms and right leg were in a cast. You think about how much he was going to miss dancing when he gets told he’ll need to be on a 6-month break from anything strenuous. 

Tired, you pull your earpieces out and plug it into your phone, laying it on the bed while you hover over him to fit the earbuds into his ears. Then you sit back down and scroll through your playlist, playing with the volume buttons to make sure it was softer than the volume you’d normally listen to your music at. 

You make your selection, then quietly lay on the mattress with the faint music drizzling the atmosphere’s noise. That’s how quiet the room was. 

His fingers were sticking out of his cast, so you play with them. His hair was in his shut eyes, so you gently push them out in case he were to open them. 

“One more time, Heeseung. Just one more time before I leave.”

Jay’s mother was sleeping by his bed when you walk in to check on them, bag hanging from your right shoulder and lids heavy from the terrible sleep schedule the past few days. 

“Hi.”

And a smile stretches your lips out when you can see him blink, offer you his bright grin, apart from the cut on his eyebrow.

“Hey,” You whisper, walking towards him on the other side of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

Jay clears his throat and blinks. “Had better days, but at least I’m alive.”

A snigger threatens to wake his mother up. “Good. Do you want me to wake your mom up? Maybe get a doctor in to give you a check up or something.”

He shakes his head, even managing a small wave in his fingers laying by his hip. “No, I’m good. I’m going back to sleep soon anyway.”

You lean over and adjust his pillow. “Well, then I shan’t disturb you. I’ll come by again tomorrow.”

“Sure,” He looks up at you and nods. Your gazes meet, for a split second, he can kind of know what you’re thinking of, and you know what he was. 

“Thank you for this sem, Jay. I really am.”

He shakes his head. “No, thank you. It was a fun sem because of you.”

“You call being in a hospital ward fun?”

Chuckling, he turns back to look at the ceiling for a second. “You will come back to visit us, won’t you? Zoom call us or something.”

“Of course. We could meet up during the summer break if anything.”

Satisfied, he nods again. “Good.”

“Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow,” You shove your hands into your pockets. 

“Okay,” He quietly responds, watching you turn on your heels. “Oh, y/n.”

You turn and raise a brow.

“Heeseung. He’s the one for you, and... he’ll wake up for you. I know he will.”

With a slightly ached grin, you nod and look down at your feet. 

“Bye Jay.”

“Bye.”

[taexual]

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (21)

   jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: angst but it’s for a good cause

words: 7.7k

   chapter twenty-one

The next week was, as expected, full of frustrating epiphanies each time you checked your phone and realized you had no business waiting for anyone’s call or text. Not to mention, Inna’s hopeful eyes followed you whenever you were in the same room as her; she was eagerly awaiting the moment you and Jungkook would make up.

You hadn’t heard a word from him since the last party and his family hadn’t reached out to you, either. You couldn’t help but wonder how the dinner on Sunday had gone, and what excuse Jungkook used to explain your absence – he’d have to come up with a good one because you didn’t think the chances of you two talking again were very high.

In fact, you thought they were non-existent. He’d walked away from you for the second time in just one lifetime – you didn’t think it was supposed to be you who had to take the initiative and get to the bottom of things. And Jungkook would, most likely, have too much pride to offer an explanation.

So, no, you didn’t think you’d hear from him again soon. Not in the next seven years, at least.

However, life had a funny way of throwing your expectations out of the window – as you came to learn as soon as you left your final class the next Wednesday afternoon, five days after you’d last seen Jungkook, and spotted his mother looking at you expectantly from the end of the hall.

She waved at you as soon as you caught her eye and, walking over to her, you weren’t sure what to expect – her face was the perfect mask of polite indifference, so you couldn’t guess if she was here because something terrible had happened to Jungkook, or because she was getting remarried and wanted you to be her bridesmaid.

“You look lovely, dear,” was the first thing she told you when you approached her. That was enough for you to understand that she wasn’t going to be entirely honest today – she never was – because she was here in a designer two-piece, while you were wearing a—stained from an unsuccessful attempt at lunch—gray hoodie and your favorite sweatpants. “Do you have a moment to spare?”

“Sure,” you nodded after giving her a mandatory hug hello. “Would you like to get coffee? There’s a café across the quad.”

“Oh, of course,” she nodded, allowing you to exit the building first. “I’d love that.”

The two of you crossed the campus quadrangle towards the café next to the library and neither of you said a word. You’d hoped Jungkook’s mother would offer an explanation why she was here instead of making you ask her outright – that felt impolite – but that seemed less and less likely with each silent step that you took.

“You can choose a table, I’ll go place the order,” you said once you’d reached the café, “what would you like?”

“Just black coffee, no sugar, please,” she replied and then looked around the place, smiling pleasantly at every weary-eyed student that turned to look when they saw this lady with a very expensive aura come inside. “I think it’d be nice to sit by the window, hmm?”

You gave her a nod of approval and went over to order, choosing to wait by the coffee machine so you could brace yourself for what was coming when you’d join her at your table later.

Once you finally sat down opposite Jungkook’s mother, your caramel macchiato had turned from pale orange to plain white from how much your hands were shaking. His mother thanked you and, leaning forward to purposelessly stir her coffee with a spoon, she cleared her throat.

“Something happened,” she said simply. “Am I wrong?”

You didn’t want to misunderstand her. “What do you mean?”

“Between you and Jungkook,” she clarified. “He said you were busy when he was over for dinner but I could tell that wasn’t it. He looked different.”

You looked away from her to think. You were glad that Jungkook hadn’t missed the dinner even despite you not being there with him. That was a mature decision, you were almost proud of him for it.

“I… I don’t really know what to tell you, to be honest,” you said, watching your coffee and wondering why you even bought it. You didn’t feel like drinking anything. “We got into an argument after his concert last weekend, and we hadn’t talked since.”

She nodded knowingly, without the slightest change in her expression. As if this was a normal thing that she’d expected to happen sooner or later anyway. And, because she was prepared for it, she also knew just how to proceed.

“I’m not supposed to pick sides because, I suppose, I would be biased,” she started to say, giving you a warm smile as she clutched her cup in both hands, “but I have a feeling that you weren’t the one that started the argument. Am I right?”

Inhaling deeply as you shrugged your shoulders, you replied with, “actually, that’s hard to say,” and then you took a long gulp of your coffee, ignoring the burning of your throat as the hot – and unwanted – liquid struggled to make its way down.

Jungkook’s mother watched you drink in silence. She knew you were doing it only because you weren’t comfortable admitting to her that her son had never learned how to handle conflict – and who else was there to blame for that, if not his parents?

Sighing, she finally confessed, “I told myself I wouldn’t mention this to either of you because, well, it’s really none of my business, but I was backstage before Jungkook’s last concert.”

You turned to her. Noticing the confusion in your eyes, she explained, “his father and I came back to the venue early and I had to use the restroom. One of his bandmates showed me where to find the nearest one and, as I was on my way, I saw the two of you.”

Thinking what moment in particular she could have seen, you unconsciously squeezed the porcelain cup in your hands so tightly, the china almost started to crack under your fingertips. Even worse, as soon as you realized what she was getting at, you let go of the cup so quickly, it nearly tumbled off the table, splashing the contents around.

“Oh,” you said, more alarmed by the fact that his mother had seen you force him into a cold shower, than by the fact that your sweatpants were now stained with the caramel from your drink. “I was just—”

“You kicked some sense into him,” she finished for you, nonchalantly handing you a napkin, “in a way that I’d never seen anyone do before. And,” she chuckled in a good-natured way that did not conceal the admiration in her voice, “I’m his mother.”

“That’s…” you stopped yourself, choosing to wait until the warmth on your face receded and you felt less flustered. “You don’t give yourself enough credit,” you said, still not looking at her as you wiped the table, “kids aren’t easy to raise and Jungkook was a-a... a different sort of challenge. You did your best and he loves you for it.”

She was the one who was forced to look away from you this time.

“I thought I was doing my best,” she said. “I… I know it can be hard to understand, but I’d always had his best interest at heart. His and yours. You two were like two pieces of the same set when you were young.”

She smiled despite herself, but when you dared to lift your eyes to meet hers, there was a tear glistening on her face, slowly descending down her cheek. You didn’t know if it was caused by the memory or by something else that she hadn’t said yet.

“It’s…” she tried but couldn’t find the words, “I feel—ah. I don’t know how to tell you this without making you hate me. It’s my fault that you and Jungkook were apart from each other for so long.”

She struggled to keep talking and you struggled to find a way to tell her that you already knew that.

Admittedly, it wouldn’t have been hard to reach out a hand and touch her shoulder, tell her that Jungkook had already told you about this. But, by doing so, you’d have to admit that everything was fine. That you didn’t hold a grudge. That you’d moved on.

And part of it was true – you didn’t hold a grudge. But it wasn’t fine. And you hadn’t moved on.

So, you stayed quiet, letting her continue.

“I thought it was for the best,” she said, “you two, being apart, I mean. I thought it could save you both from the damage your close relationship could do to your futures. But,” shaking her head to herself, she scoffed, “that wasn’t what happened at all, was it?”

“Hmm,” you shook your head slightly, “no, it wasn’t. There was always this gap—t-this empty space in my life. It was kind of like losing a tooth. You can get it replaced, get an implant, but it’s not the same. Even if the hole isn’t there anymore, you’re still missing a tooth.”

Another tear cascaded down her face as she listened to you, only daring to nod her head when you glanced at her – which was once, right before you finished speaking.

She noticed how you didn’t question her or asked her to elaborate; you understood what she was saying.

And she understood that you had already known about this.

“You blossomed,” she said, smiling even though there were tears in her eyes, “but Jungkook never recovered. He needed you. Probably more than you needed him.”

“No. That can’t be,” you disagreed instantly. “I—I need him, too.”

Noticing the present tense, Jungkook’s mother smiled. “Then don’t be apart from each other anymore. You’re not meant to be.”

That was simple. So simple, that it got you to smile in this ironically sad way. But because this could have been one of the last times you’d ever see her – since your future with Jungkook, despite how much you said you needed him, was very unclear – you chose not to mention it.

Instead, you figured now was as good of a time as any to come clean about the real status of your relationship with her son.

“You know…” you started, “when we first came to your house, we weren’t—we weren’t really together. We were just—”

“I know,” she said and, just when you were about to continue, she finished, “that you think so.”

“I—sorry?”

“You think you came for dinner, pretending to be dating so it would leave a good impression on his father,” she explained.

It felt ridiculous to hear her say it when she wasn’t supposed to know about it. Apparently, both of you knew a lot more than you let on.

“T-that’s… yeah. That’s what we did.”

She shook her head. “No, it isn’t. Not really. You came for dinner together.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Sweetheart, no,” she took your hand into hers. “You’d been together from the moment you first talked to each other after all those years. And, every day following that, you were more and more together.”

Feeling the warmth from her hands wash off to yours, you asked in a hushed tone, “why do you say that?”

“Because I’d watched you grow up,” she said, a smile on her otherwise clouded face. “I know you love each other in a different way than most people. You don’t have to go on dates and get to know each other before you get attached and form a connection. You don’t have to spend months with each other to fall in love. It’s already happened. Maybe it happened even before you were born. Maybe it was written in the stars, so to speak.”

She laughed as she said that last part and—because you’d been watching her with such intensity, you didn’t blink once—you felt yourself smile in response.

Then, you asked, “do you really believe that?”

“Ah,” she leaned back in her chair, exhaling. She did seem like the sort of person who believed in the happily-ever-after and she didn’t mind this image. But, because this was nor the place, nor the time for acting, she chose to be honest with you and admitted, “normally, no. But with you two? Yes. Absolutely.”

And that meant a lot more than anything else she’d ever told you when she was busy trying to maintain the look of an untroubled, completely satisfied member of a rich family.

She was human now. And she was rooting for you – she’d always been, even if she didn’t always choose the best ways to express that.

“Do you know what he did during our last dinner?” his mother asked after a moment.

Thinking she was about to tell you that Jungkook knocked his father out, you were afraid for her to continue.

“He renounced his position as the heir to the company,” she said and you saw her tears stop, a smile spreading on her lips instead – like she was proud of him. “I’ve never seen him so determined before. I don’t think his father has, either. I… I think he’s been expecting it, though. Jungkook never expressed much interest in the family business, not unless it meant pleasing his father.”

You were shocked she’d noticed Jungkook’s eagerness to be a good son to his father, but perhaps you shouldn’t have been – she was his mother. She knew him best.

Funnily enough, she thought the exact same thing about you.

“He wants to talk to you,” she said after a while, her hand still holding yours as steam ceased to rise from your cups, the drinks inside of them gradually growing colder.

“Did he tell you that?” you asked, surprised.

“No, but that’s obvious. He’s been antsy throughout our dinner on Sunday,” she spoke, “almost like that gap you’d mentioned before was especially prominent when he was supposed to be with his family, but one member just wasn’t there.”

You felt a quick spark of honor in your chest – they still considered you to be a part of their family – but you lowered your eyes, hoping to hide it.

“What bothers me the most,” you admitted slowly, “is that his method of solving arguments is so unconventional, I can never guess what he’s going to do.”

“What do you want him to do?”

“I want him to—I…” you couldn’t finish.

You didn’t want much, you just wanted to be able to admit to yourself that every time you’d been angry at him since last Friday night, was all pretend. All because you were supposed to be angry. But, the truth was, you weren’t; you were just hurt. And what you wanted most of all was to see him.

“I want to talk to him,” you said. “Because if he’s thinking of spending another seven years not talking to me, then he better give me a direct warning, so that I can tell him I won’t do this again. I won’t go through—if he doesn’t want to be with me, I’m not going to wait for almost a decade for him to change his mind.”

“That was never the case,” his mother said. “He always wanted to be with you even when he wasn’t supposed to.”

“See, but he keeps making these decisions,” you said, “these wrong decisions. He seems like he’s learned to tell right from wrong in all of these years, and yet he still—”

“He’s trying, though, isn’t he?” she interrupted you. “He fails a lot, but he always gets back up and tries again. I love him with all of my heart, but I hated to see some of the situations he’s gotten himself into over the years. He’d had to make a lot of choices for his future and he made a lot of wrong ones. I used to think that, maybe, the only right decision he’d made, was choosing to give you some space to grow seven years ago—”

“No,” you stated immediately, your voice firm and unwavering for the first time today. “The only right decision he made was talking to me again after seven years.”

His mother’s eyes watched the expression on your face change from hopeless defeat to assured confidence, and she finally let go of your hand, but not before you saw the hairs on her skin stand up as she shivered.  

“You’re right,” she spoke, her voice in awe over how quickly you defended Jungkook even though, at the end of the day, you and her both knew you needed that space. You needed some time away from him.

She had come here with the intention of getting you to give her son another chance – because, God knew, Jungkook was taking his sweet time asking for it himself – but she could see now that her visit was largely pointless.

She didn’t need to ask you to fight for your relationship with Jungkook – you’d been fighting for it from day one.

“Talk to him, okay?” she asked, even though she knew this wasn’t going to be the end of your story. It couldn’t be. “As his mother, I even give you the permission to kick his ass if he won’t reach out to you first.”

You snickered at this and then looked at her as you spoke, “I’ve really missed having conversations like these with you. Not about Jungkook—I meant, over coffee, when it’s just us two.”

“I’ve missed that, too,” she replied, responding to your warm words by allowing an uncharacteristically big smile to appear on her face, “but we’ll have plenty of those in the future,” she added, “because we just got you back and we’re not letting you go.”

The next day, you were almost afraid to run into Jungkook because a conversation with him seemed inevitable, and you didn’t think you were ready for it.

The universe – that is, your class schedule – cared little whether you were prepared or not, however.

As soon as you were done with your last class of the day, you cautiously turned your head to Jungkook’s usual spot—across the auditorium from you—and found him already watching you.

The two of you eyed each other in an almost formal way – the way you would look at your professor as you approached her to inquire about a paper that was due – and then you both got up, packed your things, and, exchanging a yet another meaningful look, you both headed for the exit of the building, every single movement of your bodies completely in sync even though you hadn’t spoken a word to each other.

There was a mute agreement between you and him: you haven’t seen each other since the party last week, but now that you have, you simply had to talk again. Those were the rules for people like you – people who’d spent nearly a decade avoiding all conversation with each other, and had promised they would never go through that again.

You figured the first thing you’d say to each other after last week would be “sorry�� but, as it turned out, your first words were your coffee orders as the two of you had automatically left the building to head to the campus café.

“I know my mom came to see you,” Jungkook broke the uncomfortable silence when you found an empty table at the back of the café. “Sorry if… she made you uncomfortable. I didn’t ask her to come, I swear.”

He didn’t start to speak because he had a lot to say. He started because, even though you came here with him naturally, without a single word, he knew you hadn’t come here just for a cup of coffee. You’d come to hear his explanation, his excuse, and, eventually and most importantly, his apology.

“I know,” you said even though you didn’t. It made sense for Jungkook not to ask for anyone’s help, though. “It’s okay.”

“But I’m glad she came,” he revealed, “because now I have an excuse to tell you that I, uh… I fucked up.”

Resisting a relieved sigh – because you’d been worried that resolving this argument would require the sort of maturity that neither of you had, but Jungkook was surprisingly determined to solve it the same way you solved all of your fights: by turning half of it into a joke – you sat opposite him and shrugged.

“Not the first time,” you said.

Scoffing, Jungkook agreed, “yeah. Definitely not. But I, uh… you haven’t done anything wrong. I was pissed at—I was pissed off and I let my frustrations out on you. And that’s not fair.”

You nodded, agreeing with the way he’d interpreted your last conversation.

“Well,” you said then, “that’s probably not the first time, either.”

He raised an eyebrow at your comment, a flash of concern appearing in his eyes before he clicked his tongue and said under his breath, “alright, open and honest. That’s good. I deserve that.”

You didn’t reply this time. You didn’t encourage him to keep going, either, but he took your silence as a sign that he’d obviously not said enough to make up for his words that night.

“I was wrong,” Jungkook said and paused. He couldn’t believe he’d spent every night the past week, trying to think of a way to say this to you, when it was literally all so simple. “I asked you to leave because I genuinely believed you’d be better without me, but I—I’ve never felt more afraid than when I saw you turn around and walk away. I thought it’d be for the best, but the thought of never seeing you again was terrifying. That sounds selfish now that I’ve said it, but I’m not saying it because I’m scared to lose you, even though I am. I’m saying this because I’m sorry.”

You’d forgotten how to blink as you watched him, and you thought you’d misheard him when he apologized. That was something that was understandable – a person did something they regretted, and they apologized for it – but Jungkook was never one who behaved in conventional ways.

And yet, he continued, “I’ve been caged my whole life, always blamed for the things I did that did not fit the person that I was supposed to be.”

Contrary to the conversation with Jungkook’s mother that you’ve had in this exact same spot, now you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes off of him as he spoke. Jungkook, meanwhile, scratched his temple with a nervous finger and proceeded to count the wooden tiles on the floor.

“But you’re not like them,” he was saying, not specifying who ‘they’ were because he didn’t have to, “no one’s ever given me the sort of freedom that you did. You’re the only one that allowed me to think about what I wanted. You’re the one who told me to act on it. As long as I didn’t self-destruct along the way, of course.”

He tried to lighten the mood, smiling as he said that last part, but your face remained stoic and, for a moment, Jungkook worried you hadn’t heard him. Or, worse – you had heard him, but he wasn’t saying the right things.

In all truth, that was precisely the case – you thought he was giving you too much credit. He’d blamed you for taking control of his life that night at the bar, and now he was thanking you for it.

You didn’t think you deserved the blame or the gratitude: you never wanted him to do whatever you commanded him to do. You just wanted him to stop making decisions that would lead him to an early grave.

“You…” he continued, more tentative now, “you’ve put up with me for so long and I was overwhelmed by the fact that there’s no one like you in my life. So, I guess, for a moment, you didn’t feel real to me, either, because how could you be? A-and so, I ended up blaming you for the things that I should have never blamed you for.”

You nodded, acknowledging it all, even the sleepless nights that he hadn’t told you about – he didn’t have to; the dark circles under his eyes said more than enough. You’d recognized them with ease because you’d seen them in your own mirror every morning this week.

And then you spoke, returning to the one point of your last argument that he hadn’t brought up.

The one point that may have angered you more than anything else he’d said that night.

“I didn’t agree to help you with your parents because of the company,” you said.

“I know,” he said.

Jungkook seemed to remember almost every part of that night – although, blissfully, he’d forgotten what he’d done after you’d left; there were bruises on his knuckles and his face to show for it, though – and you couldn’t decide if that was better or worse.

If he didn’t remember what happened, that could have been a sign that he was wasted out of his mind and that was why he’d said what he’d said. But that was a very poor excuse, considering that a drunken tongue often voiced out sober thoughts.

At least now you didn’t have to remind him of his own words – that would have made this conversation far less calm. But, at the same time, the fact that he could remember arguing with you, meant that he was sober enough to get himself in control back there. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d allowed his instincts to take the wheel: he’d won against the alcohol, but lost against his own impulses.

Taking a deep breath, you thought now was your only chance to explain your reasons for being with him because you weren’t sure how this coffee date was going to play out just yet. And if this was the last time you’d see him, he deserved to know the whole truth.

“I agreed to help you,” you said, “because you asked me to.”

Nodding before you properly finished, he said, “I know—”

“But also,” you cut him off, your voice growing louder and then falling into an almost hushed tone as you said, “because I couldn’t say no to you. Not when you were desperate to get me to say yes. I—I had been in love with you for a lot longer than—than either of us realized, probably. And, maybe, I’d also wanted to know what it’d be like to be with you.”

Admitting that you wanted to play a relationship with him felt childish, and you couldn’t lift your eyes to meet his. But, even so, it also felt relieving.

You’d said it.

You’d admitted it to yourself and to him. You’d chosen to strip down to your vulnerability, and that was difficult and bold, but it also freed you from being the only person in the world who knew this.

“And,” Jungkook exhaled shakily, “what was it like?”

You felt your lips curl into a hesitant half-smile. “Not too terrible, surprisingly.”

He laughed with his whole chest and you found yourself leaning back a little, so you could take in the sight in front of you.

A beat passed as Jungkook recovered, a small smile still on his face. Then, you dared to speak again.

“I’m sorry I always tried to take care of you,” you spoke, each word calculated. You had already thought about telling him this, so you knew you chose your words right; you just weren’t sure what sort of reception awaited you.

Jungkook gave you a long look, his eyes accepting your apology while, simultaneously, trying to tell you that it wasn’t necessary.

“I’m sorry I always asked you to,” he countered, “and then demanded that you don’t.”

You smiled. “I’m sorry I’m starting to think you need to see a therapist.”

“Yeah,” he snickered, nodding, “don’t be sorry about that one. I…” he lowered his eyes before saying, “I’m sorry I accused you of controlling me when I’m the one who never lets you make your own decisions.”

Your eyebrows did a little dance, rising in surprise at first – because he’d said something you weren’t expecting – and then lowering into a frown – after you’d digested his words and came to the conclusion that you didn’t like the way they tasted.

“No, that’s—I can stand up for myself if I have to,” you said, defending both, yourself, and him, too.

“You can,” he didn’t disagree, sighing, “really well, too. No matter how much I try to stand in your way,” he paused for a minute. Then, he said, “I can’t. Stand up for myself, I mean. I think I can, but unless I’m hitting someone in the face, I—but I’m trying. Only, I’m not doing a very good job at it, clearly.”

He stopped talking even though he’d inhaled as if he had something else left to say. You watched him, waiting and slowly realizing that he had either forgotten what he was about to say, or he thought there was no point to say it.

Neither was the case. He just needed some time to gather the words.

When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, “I need you. A lot. And I’m sorry about that, too. I’m sorry I rely on you so much.”

You looked away, shaking your head, “you don’t.”

“No, I do,” he disagreed. “I always go back to you. I need you in my life and then I push you away, I’m—”

“That’s what I mean,” you cut him off, your voice more frantic than before. “You don’t rely on me. You want to, but you’re holding yourself back. I’m here for you. I was always here for you.”

The sound of his rapid heartbeat deafened him for a moment and he wasn’t sure if he really spoke, or if he just thought about it, as he tried to ask, “even though I don’t deserve it?”

“You—well, sometimes, you really don’t,” you admitted, not sugarcoating it because the expression on his face needed you to be truthful. “But, at the same time, I couldn’t think of any other person who would need someone to rely on more than you do.”

Now the beating of his heart wasn’t just deafening – it was painful, too, each beat like a sharp stab that did not merely scratch the surface of every organ inside of him, but seemed to suck all oxygen out of his lungs, too.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, “and I know it would be better for me to leave. But I—well, I can’t. I… I think that maybe—uh, maybe I picked that fight with you at the bar just so you’d walk away from me.”

His hypothetical reasoning hurt almost as much as actually walking away from him did.

“What makes you think I can walk away from you?” you asked, sounding brave but only because you hid your face behind your coffee cup as you took a sip.

“You know you can,” he replied.

Lowering the cup, you phrased yourself differently, “what makes you think I would want to?”

His blood pulsed with a desperate need to hear you say that again – a dozen more times, at least – but Jungkook tried, for once, to remain rational.

He’d gone too far that night at the bar, but it gave him the opportunity to get the closure you didn’t get when you talked to him that night in your bedroom, moving past the Seven Year Silence as if it didn’t matter anymore. As if you didn’t need to talk about that ever again, even though the lost years lingered behind you like a forgotten tail that you kept tripping over each time you took your relationship a step further.

“I’m bad,” Jungkook spoke. “I’m bad for you.”

He’d said it – and that was it. He’d stepped on the tail. Purposefully this time, with scissors in hand. Only he didn’t yet know what he’d end up cutting – the past that he couldn’t seem to move on from, or himself, out of your life.

“You’re—you’re annoying as shit. Impossible sometimes, even,” you said, remembering how irritated he’d made you feel at times. And how little it mattered, at the end of the day. “But you’re not bad for me. You’re not bad, period.”

Jungkook exhaled and opened his mouth as if he wanted to argue with you further, but didn’t know how.

In the end, he didn’t think he deserved you because he thought he was too far gone, but, as you watched him, you knew that that was exactly the reason why he did deserve you. Because he only saw his flaws – always only flaws – and he refused to consider how much more of him there was.

“I never meant to hurt you. Ever,” he said, “not even when I said those stupid things—it’s all because I’m—fuck, it all just sounds like an excuse, doesn’t it? An excuse to make me feel better about staying with you despite being bad for—”

“It might sound like an excuse,” you interrupted gently, “but it’s the one part that isn’t. You’re not bad if you didn’t mean to be. You’re not bad if you’re trying to be better.”

He thought it over for a minute and then, looking up from his abandoned cup of coffee, he gave you one final excuse, “I love you. Too much, probably.”

Inhaling sharply because the confession took you off-guard, you replied with a slight tremble in your voice, “I—I love you, too. You know I do. But I don’t want that to be something that… something that you take for granted.”

That had never been his intention – which was why his stomach clenched uncomfortably after you said this – but he knew he’d been doing exactly that: treating you like you were a constant in his life. As if he’d never lost you before. As if he couldn’t lose you again.

“I know,” he said, “I didn’t mean to. We’ve already been—”

Reading his mind, you cut in, “thank you for not waiting for seven years to apologize this time.”

Jungkook had to give you a good look before he allowed himself to react. When he saw the small grin on your lips right before you took another sip of your coffee, he laughed.

“No, I’ve learnt that lesson,” he said, “I promise.”

“Just that one, then?” you bit, not cruelly.

Jungkook lowered his eyes, taking the blow in silence.

Putting your cup of coffee down, you exhaled and kindly reminded him, “you know, you, uh—you’d promised me you would think before you acted.”

“I promised to try,” he corrected, careful. “And I’m trying, really. I’ve kept my other promises to you, haven’t I? I never lied to you.”

You nodded, “sure.”

“I’m getting myself together like my father wanted,” he stated and, looking out the window of the café, he added, “but I’m not doing it for the company.”

Surprised and, consequently, alarmed, you almost didn’t want to ask him what he meant. You were afraid there was a reason – a person – that he was trying to grow up for. You were afraid he might say he was doing this for you.

Because that would mean that his determination was temporary. He’d try to behave, try to mature, try to grow but only as long as he got a reward for it. Never because that was his own goal.

“No?” you questioned lamely, your voice almost a squeal.

“No,” Jungkook confirmed, “I’m doing it so I wouldn’t lose my teeth before I’m fifty.”

Startled at first when you recognized your own words, you felt your face break into a surprised smile. Jungkook was glad you remembered.

“I’m doing it for myself,” he said then, “so I could be with you.”

You did not say anything else – but not because you had nothing left to say. In fact, it was the opposite – you had too much to say and you couldn’t choose where to start.

“I want to…” Jungkook broke the momentary silence between you but he too struggled to find the right way to begin his next sentence. Clearing his throat and straightening his posture, he tried differently, “I want you with me through everything, but only if that’s what you want, too. If it’s not, then—”

Cutting him off with an aggressive clear of your throat – you didn’t mean to, but he was spitting out his words so quickly, you couldn’t find the right moment to interrupt him – you slid to the edge of your seat and shook your head.

“I want to be with you,” you said and then added in a matter-of-fact way, “I’ve always wanted that. But I need you to talk to me. I need you to tell me what you need—do you need me to be with you quietly, or do you need me to say something? Do you need me to stay or do you need me to leave you alone? Do you—”

“Stay,” he said without hesitation. “I always need you to stay.”

Leave, his voice echoed in your mind, the night at the bar still painfully fresh in your memory.

“I need you to tell me that,” you said, feeling a lump in your throat, “when you feel like you’re not thinking clearly. When you want to do something so you’d get rid of all that you’ve bottled up inside. I need you to talk to me.”

“I—”

“Don’t say you will if you don’t mean it,” you warned, noticing the determined look on his face. “I don’t want for us to keep going back and forth, because I don’t like it when you tell me to leave, only to say the exact opposite later.”

Wincing, Jungkook was forced to remember how the night ended yet again. Not wanting it to turn into another tail that you never addressed, even though it obviously strained your relationship, he cleared his throat before explaining.

“I… I just don’t want you to feel like you’re wasting your time on me,” he said, “I—I know I keep saying I’ll try to get myself together and learn how to—well, be an adult, but no one knows how long that’ll take me to learn, least of all me.”

Jungkook expected you to hesitate but your response was immediate.

“I never asked you to promise me something that you didn’t believe in. And I know that our future isn’t clear,” you said with a sympathetic nod because he didn’t give you an excuse right now. He gave you an explanation. “I’ve always known that. And I’ve stayed so far, haven’t I? So… how about you don’t worry about how long it’ll take for you to grow up? Worry about the end result instead. Worry about making sure that, at the end of the day, neither of us is wasting our time, pretending to be bigger and better than we actually are. Worry about us becoming as big and as good as we’re pretending to be. However long that takes.”

“I feel like the only way to really make sure we’re not wasting our time,” he confessed, “would be for me to leave.”

Groaning in defeat, you said, “you’re an idiot.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook needed a moment to understand why, but he got distracted by your exaggerated groan, so he just went with it, “yeah, I probably am.”

“You tell me that walking away is the right choice one more time,” you threatened, “I swear, I will punch you. And then you’ll really need stitches.”

He’d forgotten about his wounded eyebrow and the band-aid that he’d clumsily glued on it yesterday – after he accidentally ripped the wound open and didn’t want the blood to get in his eye.

Smiling now, he asked, “I thought violence wasn’t the answer?”

“You’re too thick to hear me otherwise.”

Jungkook laughed. You realized that, despite knowing him for twenty-three years now, you haven’t seen him laugh nearly enough times to get used to the sight.

“I need you, too. Okay?” you found yourself saying, hopeful that he’d really hear you this time. “A lot. And, believe me, I make it complicated for myself enough without your help—I overthink, I get scared, I hesitate, I waste my own time. But, see, I think it’s worth it. I think we’re worth it.”

He nodded, taking mental notes to ease his uncertainty about this. He had to know that being with you really wasn’t selfish on his part.

But even with your glittering eyes on him, he still needed more reassurance.

“What do you need me to do?” he asked. “I know you said I need to talk to you, I-I get that. Okay. But what do you need me to do so you wouldn’t look back at this, and think of every minute you’ve spent with me as a minute wasted?”

You didn’t have to think long about your answer.

“I need you to give yourself a break,” you told him. “You’re not something I have to “put up with”. You’re not bad for me. I need you to understand that I genuinely love you and it hurts me when you refuse to see it.”

Ready to apologize again, Jungkook suddenly stopped himself. An apology would have only been genuine if he knew what he was apologizing for – and he wasn’t sure that he did.

“I’ve never… no one’s loved me like that before,” he admitted, his eyes low.

You shook your head because that wasn’t true at all, and it was painful to know that he’d spent his whole life thinking so. He’d gotten so used to believing that he was only loved as much as he was useful, he couldn’t even see how some love was completely unconditional.

“Yes, they have,” you said, speaking slowly because you waited for him to look at you again, “your mom—she loves you much more than you see. Let her. Let me. Learn how to stop thinking of yourself as someone not worthy of love.”

“It’s—but I wasn’t always this way,” he said, not just stepping on the tail, but gripping it tightly, too. “Seven years ago. I’d been putting myself first every day before that. But that day—that last day—t-that was probably the day when I’d made the only smart decision in my life – I did the right thing by not putting myself first. I thought of you, and I walked away.”

You and him kept going in circles -- with Jungkook beating himself up for not being good enough, and then finally giving himself a moment to breathe only to return, yet again, to the loudest voice in his head: he thought he was selfish for being with you. He thought it’d be better to leave.

His mother had thought so, too, and she’d said the exact same thing to you. You’d disagreed then and you disagreed now.

“And how’d that “smart decision” work out in the end?”

“Well—”

“It obviously didn’t,” you answered for him, “or we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But, you know what, you’re right about one thing – maybe the moment you overheard your mom say that she was worried about your influence on me, was exactly the moment you convinced yourself that you weren’t worth it. That you didn’t deserve to be loved unless you became exactly what you thought people wanted you to be,” you finished and Jungkook looked frozen, not daring—and not being able—to move a muscle. You felt the need to add, “so, you’re, uh—you’re right. You weren’t always this way. But this change—that wasn’t a good change. You hadn’t made a good decision. It was stupid. Walking away was stupid.”

It took him a minute to regain control of himself and when he did, he wasn’t sure what to say because, mentally, he was across the table, standing right behind you and holding you so tightly, neither of you was able to breathe.

“I was—” he said and almost choked, his mouth dry. Swallowing, he tried again, “I-I was trying to look out for you.”

“I understand your reasons,” you said, not needing him to explain it again. “Let’s say you were. But I’m not in the ninth grade anymore. You said so yourself, I can walk away. I know my limits.”

Jungkook nodded, keeping his respectful silence as he listened.

“You push them every day,” you added.

Blinking, he scrambled for a way to reply, “I—”

“And,” you weren’t done yet, “I let you know when you do. I tell you. And if you told me about what you were thinking, too, then we could work on it,” you paused, wondering if you’d said everything. Then, deciding that you hadn’t, you added, just to strengthen your point, “walking away is not the best solution. Not when it hurts more than staying.”

Jungkook feared what you would answer, but he still had to ask, “does staying with me hurt?”

Your skin prickled at the sound of his small voice.

“No,” you admitted.

“Does leaving?”

“Yes,” you said. “Always.”

Inhaling sharply, he longed to reach over the table and touch your hand, but he felt himself freeze again – as if this whole afternoon had been one dream, and he was now paralyzed: his mind awake, but his body still asleep.

“Come to my show this Friday night,” he finally asked, his breathing shallow while his words poured out of his mouth in an uncontrollable stream, “fight me and punch me if I’m wrong. Argue with me and completely shatter whatever was left of my ego after I fell in love with you. Leave me by myself if you’ve had too much. Walk away if you need some time to breathe while I learn how to be better. But always come back to me,” pausing because he needed one more moment to brace himself before saying this again, he asked, “stay with me, please.”

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[cosmiclatte28]

Sick Sunday (Jaemin x you)

a/n : I remembered writing this when I was feeling sick, it was last year the character was supposed to be Suho, but I changed it into Jaemin and post it now

stay safe and healthy everyone! Hydratee!!

enjoy

The throbbing sensation from your head confused you from dream and real life. You squeeze tight your eyes hoping that the furious beast who constantly punches your head can stop its activity. It didn’t work, you slowly force yourself to open your eyes to the blinding lights that made it into your room through the small gap of your curtain.

You yawn and stretch your muscles, only to feel some neck and shoulder pain. You shrugged it off assuming you were sleeping in the wrong position. The clock in your bed side shows 10.00 am, your regular wake up time in the week end. As you push yourself up from your bed, you know things are not right. You feel your head spinning and for a moment you have to hold on to your bed post as you shake your head to bring back the sight you suddenly lost for a second.

You blink several times and turn your eyes to look around, the objects are still blurry. Taking steps to the bathroom, you check your phone as you walk to pee and wash your face plus brush your teeth. Your phone dings with one notification from your man. You pass your toothbrush to your left hand and bring yourself to reply his morning message.

“Morning sweetheart! How are you?”

In which you simply reply “My head is throbbing and I feel weak. Should probably take some rest. You?”

“Woah, told you, you should’ve taken less over-hour shifts. I’ll be there with lunch, any special request and medicine?”

“I took some ibuprofen already; pretty sure it will soothe the throbbing. Any warm food is welcomed.”

“Alright, don’t skip your breakfast. Call me if you need anything.”

“Sure, thanks Love,” You end the conversation there.

The medicine sure works a little bit as you finally feel your head only heavy but not pounding. You make yourself one piece of bread and you thank Heaven for still being able to taste the best chocolate spread in the world. You finish your cup of warm water and you find yourself naturally returning to your blankets and snuggle yourself in. Jaemin knows the password to your apartment so you do not need to wake up to open the door for him.

The exhaustion and sleep deprive from boosting yourself since Wednesday to Friday must be the reason why your body is sending you signal to stop working and rest. Actually you feel a bit sad for Jaemin, since usually Sunday is the only time he can have free time with you despite his busy work as an uprising actor; and this Sunday will only be spent sitting in the room, taking care of you.

You did not check your neither phone nor scroll the Instagram at all, and that clearly shows you’re sick. The heavy head and weak feeling drive you back to slumber and to a deep nap. You will probably die if there was fire or a robber breaking in.

Jaemin enters the six-digit code to your apartment in one try and quietly makes his way into the small house. He hangs his jacket and makes his way to the pantry. He keeps the lunch there for a while and afterwards he slowly opens your room to check your condition.

 The young man frowns when he sees the state of your power nap. He wonders if you feel stuffy at all, judging from the number pillows surrounding you and the warm blanket. Jaemin notices how your lips tremble and quickly he places his palm over your forehead. It is burning and luckily he brought a stronger fever medicine.

He looks at the time, 11.30 quite suitable for lunch. The fair skinned man gently shakes your body and your peaceful sleep was over. Your eyes flutter open and you smile when your boyfriend leans in to kiss your burning forehead.

“I’m sorry I got sick.” You push the blanker over and support yourself to sit on the bed.

“Hey, that’s not your fault! Come on I’m never mad if you’re sick. I am so worried. Look your fever is high, let’s eat lunch and you take your medicine.” Jaemin offers you his hand and you gladly take it for a pull out of the bed.

“I brought you some Chinese take outs, your favorites.” Jaemin ushers you to seat on the dining chair as he takes over your plates and cutleries. He unboxed the dishes and lunch began.

“How is it? Good?” Jaemin asked when he sees you eating slowly.

You nod your head, “Yeah, just that I feel really weak.”

He pats your head with care, “Take your time, I can also help you.” He winks

You blush and laugh at his cheesy attempt to make you happier.

He cleans up the tables and dishes he made you drink all of the medicine and vitamins he had brought for you and told you to sit and relax.

You walk yourself to the big sofa in front of the TV. You sit down with a blanket over your body and you hug to your favorite bunny plushy. He had given that to you, although he had hard times not sleeping with it.

Jaemin joins you on the sofa after drying the dishes and snuggles right beside you. “Hey we don’t have to watch anything if your head is still throbbing.” He smoothens your hair away from your face.

You shake your head, “I don’t know, I feel bad for you. I can watch a film.” You try to pick the remote to turn the TV on,  but Jaemin is faster.

“No, why don’t we stay in your bed? You should lay down and take rest. Come,” he scoops you up and you hold on tight to him. He gently and easily walks through the living room and places you back on the bed.

You still bring the bunny plushies with you and Jaemin tucks you nicely under the blanket. He walks to your closet, calmly takes out his set of pajamas he left here and changes his clothes. After he is comfortable, he jumps into your side.

“Won’t you get sick because of me?” you ask, though you don’t have cough or flu. Jaemin shakes his head, “Nah, I’m fit. I won’t fall sick.”

You smile and nuzzle into his chest as he hugs you tight.

“Thank you Nana, I’m so lucky to have you.” You whisper.

He plants a kiss on your forehead, avoiding lips coz he doesn’t want to risk his health you totally understand that!

“I love you too little bunny, now sleep! I’ll stay here with you so you get better soon.” Jaemin giggles at his own word, but you laugh at that “That’s cute!  I love you more!”

He closes his eyes and sighs, “I love you most,” his warm breathing hits your neck as you feel Jaemin’s hand tighten around your waist. You can hear his chest thumping and you close your eyes too. Secretly thankful Jaemin risked his Sunday and health just to take care of you.

end

[sleepy-sunlight]

Hey have you been busy or have you not been getting many requests? I miss your writing! If you have the time could you write something where the inquisitor has a child (around 5 years old) and the child stays with Cullen and the others at Skyhold whenever the Inquisitor is away? Thanks, I hope you've been doing well 💞💞

I’m a mix of busy and living for the next time I sleep so it’s been a bit messy life-wise but I’m trying to start things back up! Ideally, I’m trying to set up a Monday-Wednesday-Friday schedule where I post a prompt on one of my three blogs each day because I should be totally free during those days!  

Anyways, thank you for your patience, and have a fantastic day!

———————————————————————————————————–

Cullen grew up the second oldest of four. Most of his early childhood was spent parceling out responsibilities for watching over Branson and Rosalie with Mia.  

Branson was the epitome of what his mother had liked to call a ‘wild child’. He’d climb up to the tallest trees in Honnleath and when he found himself too high to properly come back down his solution was to swing from the branches until they broke. One could only guess how well that turned out.  

Rosalie on the other hand was a fan of collecting every insect or small animal that crossed her way. Cullen could still remember the yelps his mother would try to hide at the sight of Rosalie holding a long, winding centipede in her palms. The worst was a feral fox cub that’d subsequently became loose in the house. That’d been an eventful evening.  

Neither sibling was ‘ideal’, but he supposed even he had his own faults.  

Nevertheless, it made Cullen oddly ideal with children. For all his military abilities and fighting talent, most were astonished at how in the snap of one’s fingers, Cullen could stop even the worst wailing from a child. Josephine once said she’d “pay him double his Inquisition salary to babysit her siblings.”  

Cullen had responded with “what salary?”  

Considering money was Josephine’s department, the subject was swiftly dropped.  

However, that didn’t take away from the actual babysitting Cullen found himself in.  

Very few, after all, expected the Inquisitor to have a child.  

Your child’s name was Olivia – just five years old and more of a firecracker than you were. Her hair was often in braids, so for all her running and scrambling about, she wouldn’t get caught on anything. For her birthday Varric had given her a little yellow ribbon, and she’d wear it to sleep if you didn’t insist otherwise.

She was a troublesome little thing, but she was one of the few bright things in your world, and you clearly treasured her. She’d race to you as fast as her legs could carry her when you’d return to Skyhold and every time you’d scoop her up in your arms and swing her until you both were left dizzy and stumbling throughout the courtyard. No matter where you went you always came back with something for her, and whether a fanciful toy or simply a flower, Olivia adored it.

She even had a secret hiding place for all the presents you brought her. She’d shown Cullen one evening and despite knowing just about every detail of the gifts, he’d still ask like it was the first time he’d ever laid eyes on them.  

Curiously enough, Olivia had a fondness for the Commander. Often times when you and Cullen would take walks along the barracks Olivia would follow behind, holding loosely onto the end of his shroud. She liked it especially when each of you would hold one of her hands and swing her back and forth. It was… domestic in a sense. Far more than Cullen ever expected for himself.  

He’d hardly even expected to meet someone like you – so full of life and passion for all that you did. You were a breath of fresh air in the coldness he’d so well known. Cullen hoped Olivia hadn’t noticed how he stared but she was nosy – she took that from you.  

She’d been given plenty of opportunities to be nosy since you’d left, asking Cullen specifically to watch over her.  

“I won’t be long,” You’d told him the evening before you left. “But there are reports of red templars making advancements towards a village and I-”  

“I know,” Cullen hesitated but set a hand on your shoulder. He didn’t know if his smiles helped you at all, but he offered one anyway. “You don’t need to explain. I’ll help however I can, including taking care of Olivia.”  

You let out a sigh of relief and laughed. “Thank you I-” You couldn’t figure the words and so instead hugged him, winding your arms around his neck. “You’re the best.”  

He was left stunned for a moment. It wasn’t like he’d experienced much affection in his life once he’d left for the Templar order – so much as a hug was almost foreign to him.  However hesitantly, he managed to return the gesture. His hovering hands shifting to hold you tight.

He forgot how much he missed such a simple thing as a hug.  

You left shortly thereafter both of you a little sheepish but warmhearted, nonetheless. Olivia followed you to Skyhold’s gates, holding your hand but still stumbling to keep up despite her best efforts. When you knelt to meet her, she nearly ran right into you, only caught by your grip shifting to her shoulders.  

“Woah there, soldier!” You laughed softly. “You know you can’t come with me.”  

Olivia immediately began to pout. “But I’ll be good! I promise!”  

“It’s not a matter of being good, it’s dangerous.” You smiled warmly, squeezing her shoulders. “Even for the toughest kid around! You got to stay here, keep everyone safe.”  

Before Olivia could object you spoke once more, lowering your voice to a whisper. “In fact, I’ve got a super-secret mission for you. I need you to personally look after Commander Cullen – keep him out of trouble.”  

Olivia shot a quick glance to Cullen who stood a little way off, pretending to look at a set of reports.  

“Okay! I know you like him!”  

Cullen had to work very hard not to look up and see your expression in that moment. But he supposed he wouldn’t want you to see how red he’d become either. At the very least, he heard a gasp.

“I-It’s ah – it’s our little secret though! Don’t forget, okay?”  

Olivia nodded. “I won’t!”  

“Promise?”  

Olivia huffed. “I promise!”  

You chuckled. “Alright, alright. I love you, Olivia.”  

Cullen looked up to see Olivia jump up to hug you, burying her head in the crook of your neck and failing to hide the tiniest sniffle. She always hated seeing you go.  

“I love you too.”  

With a wave of your hand, you and the rest of your team left. Olivia refused to budge an inch before you disappeared beyond sight. Even then she only moved a few steps forward, perhaps in hopes to catch one last glimpse of you.  

“Miss them already, do you?” Cullen approached the child steadily, making his heavy boots clearly known to not startle her. He even spoke quietly.  

Olivia gave a meek nod, wiping at her eyes quickly.

Cullen pretended not to see – if she was anything like you it’d only make her more embarrassed.  

“I miss them too.” Cullen said. “But while they’re gone… would you want to sneak a few extra treats from the kitchen? I won’t tell if you don’t.”  

Olivia perked up just a tad. Cullen offered his hand that practically swallowed Olivia’s when she accepted it. But she smiled.  

“Okay.”  

She hid an entire extra loaf of cinnamon bread in Cullen’s shroud. It was awful, thinking of the sugar and sticky cinnamon that was sure to attract insects of all sort, but worth it. She giggled the whole time, and still considered it an ‘extreme scheme’ even though no one cared and at least three kitchen-maids watched them the entire time – pretending to hide little Olivia from everyone else.  

She didn’t even bother to have the bread cut into slices, sitting in his office breaking it apart in chunks and pieces.  

“I can cut it if you want, you know.” Cullen told her, his brows furrowed.  

“No, I like it this way. It’s a surprise every time!” Olivia raised her head to the Commander, swinging her legs in the seat across his desk. “Do you want some? I’ll share, but you can’t tell Varric! He’ll get jealous.”  

“Why would he-” Cullen immediately remembered Varric’s proud title as Olivia’s ‘partner in crime’ and found the answer for himself.  

Admittedly Cullen would’ve said no. He never had much of a sweet tooth. However, Olivia clearly wanted to give him a piece and already had two corners of the bread pinched between her fingers to give him. It was just something a person couldn’t say no to.  

“I’d love a piece.”  

It was just as sugary and sappy as he’d imagined.  

“Oi, metal britches!”  

The yelling came a few hours later, when evening started to paint the sky overhead and the sun dripped in through his windows. It didn’t take a genius to recognize Sera.  

She nearly kicked the door in, and as if that wasn’t enough, slammed her firsts against his desk with enough ferocity to shake the very earth. The mischievous glint in her eyes was anything but good.  

“As appealing as the name ‘metal britches’ is, could we try another name next time?” Cullen frowned. “Perhaps my real one?”  

“Nah, I like this one better. Listen, I’ve got this great idea for an ambush on this Orlesian snobs – and I know you hate Orlesians just as much so I was thinking I could get your head of your ar-”  

Cullen nearly jumped out of his seat trying to stop Sera. “Reserve the language for when children aren’t around?”  

“Wha-” Sera wrinkled her nose only to twist her head and see little Olivia, watching Sera with the utmost awe. Olivia happened to look up to Sera with her ‘fun-loving’ pranks. It brought comfort when you were gone. “Oh! Pipsqueak! I was wondering where you’d run off to!”  

She peered over to see the last bits of the cinnamon bread. “Mind if I swipe a piece?”  

“Mm!” Olivia eagerly gave Sera the rest. Of all the people Sera loved to torment, Olivia was never one of them. If anything, she had a soft spot for the child.  

“Oh no that ain’t necessary but you’re a sweet thing for offering.” Sera leaned in to Olivia, pretending to whisper, but only brought her voice louder for Cullen to clearly hear. “See, I was trying to get Mr. Boring over here to have some fun for once, but I don’t think he’s gonna budge.”  

“Cullen!” Olivia exclaimed, puffing out her cheeks.  

Sera stopped her further protests. “I know, what a bore! But I’m thinking if he won’t have some fun – why don’t we?”  

“Now Sera-” Cullen rose from his seat. “The Inquisitor asked me specifically to look after Olivia while they were gone-”  

“We’re not going to Halamshiraal get your knickers out of a twist!” Sera snorted. “I’ll bring her back in one piece, but a kid can’t sit around all day!”

“I…”  

Olivia was gripping excitedly at the edge of her seat, and if her toes could reach the floor they would’ve been tapping too. Anyone could see she desperately wanted to spend time with the ‘fun rogue’. Cullen could be fun too – it just didn’t include putting buckets of water over their ambassador’s door. Less dangerous fun.  

“Nothing reckless,” Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose. “If I see so much as a scratch on Olivia, I’ll have your quarters repurposed to a storage closet.”  

“If I get a hair on the squirt’s head out of place, I’ll banish myself, does that make you feel better? I won’t get in the way of your crush on the boss.”  

“I do not-”

Sera and Olivia were already gone before he could even finish, giggling as the elf lifted the girl onto her shoulders and scrambled out. It was almost fascinating how quickly he could come to regret a decision.  

They were gone for a few hours, when night arrived and a chill soaked into the floor Cullen began to pace, anxious and ready to go searching top to bottom for Olivia.  

He only made it to the grand hall when he found the two of them. Sera, snoring with her head fallen back in her ornate seat with Olivia, sleeping sound in Sera’s lap. A blanket was slipped over the two of them, and just a few feet away in another chair was Varric, watching the fireplace crackle.  

“Don’t you worry Curly, I kept them distracted.” Varric laughed and took a sip of his wine. “You’d be surprised how much Buttercup loves a good story.”  

Cullen let out a sigh of relief as he made his way to Olivia. She was clutching onto to Sera and her head was laid lazily on her stomach, a slow rise and fall lifting her up and down. She looked so comfortable; it was almost hard to wake her up.  

“Was she a handful?” Cullen asked.  

“Olivia or Buttercup?”  

“Either one.” Cullen scoffed.  

“Buttercup is a given, but Olivia is always a pleasure. It’s nice to have someone actually enjoy my rough drafts – they’re just what put Sera to sleep.” Varric laughed to himself. “Everyone’s a critic.”  

“I’m surprised the Inquisitor didn’t take you with them,” Cullen remarked. “Dorian, Blackwall, and you are typically their regular party.”  

Varric simpered. “As old as Blackwall looks, I’m older – and you’ve got to give the elderly a break.”

“You can’t be beyond your late thirties.”  

Varric raised a glass amusedly. “Or maybe I just age that good. Either way, mentally, I’m in my sixties. I like to have the occasional night in!”  

“Does that mean Olivia could call you ‘grandfather’?”  

“Don’t you dare put that idea in her head Curly.”

Cullen turned his attention back to Olivia with a laugh. He gently scooped her up in his arms, and Sera only mildly objected in the form of halfhearted tugs at his gauntlets. The second Olivia felt the fur of his cloak she sank against it; even attempting to wrap herself up like a blanket.  

“Thank you for watching over her, Varric – even if only for a short time.”  

The dwarf shook his head. “No trouble. You just make sure that one gets some shut-eye.”  

Cullen took Olivia to your quarters – It had a grand enough bed that you shared with your parent when they were here anyhow. The few times Cullen had entered early, Olivia would be snuggled up among the silk sheets like a burrowed rabbit. She’d never get out if you didn’t make her.  

He pulled back the blankets and set her down gently. The second she recognized just where she was, Olivia grappled at the sheets and pull them up to her chin – even her cheeks were smothered against her pillow.  

Cullen would’ve left to return to his own room when Olivia reached out for his hand and ruined that plan.

“Can you stay, Mr. Rutherford?”  

She only used that name when she wanted something out of him. It worked every time.  

Cullen paused briefly, relenting as he sat down at the foot of the bed. “Of course, Olivia.”  

“Can I ask you something?” She mumbled, eyes only a tiny bit open and words slurring.  

He smiled softly. “Of course.”  

“Do you… do you like them?” She clearly peeked one eye open at this point. Olivia was far from subtle.  

“Like who?”  

“You know… my… parent…” Olivia sat up, rubbing at her face groggily but far too curious to sleep just yet.

Cullen’s heart jumped into his throat. He swallowed hard, and even then, his chest heaved like a drum. “Why ah – why would you ask that?”  

“I see how you stare – and how they stare. And I…” Olivia brought her knees up to her chin. “I want you to be a part of our family.”  

The rapid beating of Cullen’s heart stopped, his fidgeting fingers stopped, and his panicking brain stopped. All that remained was a warmth, gentle, and protective like a lantern in a dark night. It never felt so easy to say exactly what he meant.  

“I think I’d like that too. But I’ll have to be a bit braver before I can tell them.”  

Olivia saw his faint, nervous smile and leaned over so that she drooped over his shoulder. She did her best to drape a bit of the blanket over him but even at her best, she only managed to cover his knee. A valiant effort.  

“I’ll cheer for you then,” Olivia yawned. “so, you can get brave. Would that help?”  

Olivia truly was just like you. Maybe that was why he found himself adoring her just so much. You were always so encouraging and supportive – even at your worst, you found a way to brighten someone else’s day. You passed the kindness in your heart down to Olivia, and it showed.  

Perhaps when you returned Cullen would finally tell you all the things that’d be brimming inside of him. How he cared for you like he’d never known before and wanted nothing more than to simply do the same for you. For the first time, he felt like he could.

“I think it already is.”  

Cullen would’ve thought Olivia already fallen fast asleep were it not for the little grin spread across her face.

[sunflowerim]

I LOVE YOU 3000!

-PART 42

Weekend 8

When you want time to slow down, it happens to roll faster. Saturday had arrived in the blink of an eye.

"As much as I like having you, don't you think you gotta talk to Lou?" Niall said Saturday morning, handing Harry his cup of coffee. Harry had taken to crash at Niall's place random times of the day since the uneventful incident on Wednesday. Not a single text exchanged with Louis. And lots of media training.

"And say what exactly?" Harry replied coldly, taking the cup from Niall, "that I have to stoop so low for the publicity of my movie?"

"First of all, stop that. Celebrities need publicity and you're new to this field and it'll do you good with the general public. But yeah I don't consciously agree with the whole "stunt" thing," Niall frowned, "and that's why I want you to talk to Louis. Explain stuff to him before he gets the wrong idea."

"No Niall you don't understand."

"Then enlighten me."

"It's all very new to me okay. My feelings for Louis. Me coming to terms with my sexuality. It's all new. And I'm scared Ni. I really am."

"H, but you told me Louis likes you too right? And I know him man, he's a good friend before everything else. He'll understand."

"Louis didn't have a very good image of me okay- and it took me some time to make him trust me, and to low-key make him believe that my media image isn't me. Trust me, I don't have it in me to tell him that I'm a guy who fakes a relationship for the sake of promo. I value relationships man and he does too. So if it's making me angry, rest assured he'll be pissed too."

"God Harry you're overthinking. You never cared what people thought of you."

"Louis isn't people Niall."

"Then TALK TO HIM."

"I don't want him to hate me."

"He will not. Trust me."

"And it's not just that," Harry fumbled with the coffee cup, "Taylor is involved too. And you know how Louis worships Taylor, I don't want him to think less of his idol either. It'll crush him."

"But it's not your fault Harry, and I think it'll be easier for you guys if he knew it was for show."

"I suppose you're right Niall, but I don't have it in me to tell him. He'll think of me as a shallow spineless celebrity. Again."

"You're being paranoid."

"And you're not being a good friend," Harry said, setting down the cup rather too hard.

Niall softened at that and said soothingly, "ok how about this, today's a Saturday. Go to Louis', spend some time with him and just skip this topic. You're missing him. I'm sure he's missing you too."

"How will I face him after what I did last time?"

"Just go on with whatever story you made up that day, since you don't wanna tell him the truth," Niall said, sounding a little disappointed.

"I hate lying to him," Harry replied sadly.

"Ok I'm running out of options here. Just go meet him alright, everything will be fine."

"Fine," Harry sighed, "if you say so," Harry said getting up.

And he drove off to Louis'.

-

Back in the apartment, Louis was distractedly stirring his fourth cup of tea. It was 11a.m. and he hadn't had any breakfast owing to the fact that his helper was on a sick leave and he didn't feel like ordering either. Clifford was kept prodding his knees, probably sensing Louis' sad demeanor.

He was wondering whether he should just visit his sister for lunch when the bell rang. Louis' heart skipped a beat. It couldn't be Harry could it, Louis thought with a start. No that'd be absurd. Harry had possibly lied to him, abandoned him and ignored him for three days. Why would he come here now.

With his heart in his throat, Louis opened the door. And there standing with his silly gorgeous green eyes and stupid beautiful curls was Harry.

Louis' heart sank to his stomach.

"Hi Lou," Harry said slowly, eyes struggling to look into Louis'.

"Um hi?" Louis asked still standing at the door.

"Can I come in?"

Louis was so lost in his thoughts that he missed the question. His mind was burning with questions. Why was Harry here? To apologise probably. He surely had a reason for his behaviour last day and Louis will listen to whatever Harry has to say.

Harry cleared his throat and repeated, "Will you not let me in Lou?"

Louis' mind came back to the boy in front of him and he moved aside to let Harry in without saying a word.

Clifford leapt up to Harry and barked madly with joy. He was clearly missing his friend.

"Ah good to see you too Cliffy," Harry said, bending low and scratching Clifford's fur.

He stood up again, facing Louis, "I'm really sorry for the other day Louis. It's just I couldn't find a way out." Harry's eyes kept flickering down to his hands, which he was nervously wringing. Still lying, Louis thought.

"Are you sure it wasn't something else?" Louis asked in a calm voice.

"No," Harry replied, still looking down.

"Okay then," Louis said, walking over to the couch and picking up his cup of tea again. "Make yourself comfortable," he said before sitting down himself.

"You're having tea now? How many cups have you had already?" Harry asked.

"This might be my third one." Louis wasn't looking at Harry either. He kept his attention on his phone.

"I'm sure you haven't had any breakfast."

"And?" Louis looked at Harry and raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing. I'll make you some," Harry said, walking over to the kitchen.

Louis didn't find it in his heart to stop him. Maybe if Harry was trying to fall back in their normal habits, he'd eventually talk about whatever the fuck was going on.

Louis didn't join him in the kitchen where Clifford kept running around Harry. He stayed in the couch listening to Clifford and Harry's conversation. Clifford had missed him. Louis had too, but he'd eat avocados sooner than admit that.

Harry made a quick breakfast and called Louis over. Louis ate in silence, aware of Harry's intense gaze on him but every time he looked up, Harry would look away.

"Okay, are you gonna tell me what's bothering you?" Louis snapped.

"Wha- nothing. Nothing." Harry stammered.

Louis took a deep breath to calm himself. "Sorry for that. You know what, take your time. I'm here. I'll listen whenever you're ready."

And Harry could've kissed him, but he kept himself in check. He'd probably had lost his privileges. Louis was so understanding, Harry didn't deserve him.

"I just wanted to spend some time with you and maybe watch a movie."

"Oh yeah," said Louis, remembering something, " the last one's left, I'll put it on."

Louis didn't set up the projector this time. He simply connected the player to the television and settled back in the couch as Avengers Endgame started playing.

Harry didn't know about Louis, but he could hardly focus on the movie himself. His mind kept replaying his previous visits to the apartment, to various funny incidents, to some heart warming ones, to last weekend-

No. Harry couldn't think about it. That hurt. He couldn't imagine how Louis must be feeling at that time.

The movie was showing Iron Man tucking his daughter in bed and his daughter saying, 'I love you 3000'.

Harry glanced sideways to see that Louis had a little smile playing on his lips. Harry made a mental note to remember that it probably held importance to him.

Harry kept fidgeting in his place and in a few minutes, Louis had paused the movie.

"What's wrong Harry?"

Harry didn't know what to say so he kept staring at the motionless character in the television.

"Is this about last weekend?" Louis continued, "Did I cross the line? Do you regret it? Because if so I'm really sorry about that."

Harry looked at Louis with a horrified expression on his face, trying to ignore the pang of sadness it was causing him to know that Louis thought that way.

"Regret? What? No Louis. I don't regret anything. I could never," Harry said earnestly, hoping Louis would understand.

"Then why are you ignoring me?"

"I'm not-" Harry replied, sounding unsure.

"You are Harry. You're making me feel like I was some random hookup for you and trust me, it doesn't feel good." Louis' voice broke.

It made Harry miserable, seeing Louis like that and he wondered for a brief moment if he should take Niall's advice and tell Louis everything. Louis' presence made the decision easier. He was ready to blabber everything to Louis when his phone rang. Fucking Manager.

"Hello," said a gruff voice from the other side.

"Yeah?" said Harry irritably.

"Where are you?"

"That's none of your business it is?"

"Turns out it is. Did you forget about your outing with Taylor?"

"Ofcourse I didn't. It was on 3rd of July," Harry wanted to punch his manager.

"Which happens to be today."

"Wha-" Harry quickly moved his phone from his ear and checked the date on the lockscreen. July 3rd, 2021. Harry wanted to punch himself. "Okay yeah, um, I didn't notice the date, so uh, is there any way we can postpone this? I'm really busy right now-"

"Taylor is already here. The car is waiting outside your house. So, no."

"Damn it. I mean yeah-"

"Hurry up."

"Yeah I'm coming."

Louis obviously could hear only one side of the conversation and he clearly understood that Harry had to leave. Again.

Harry turned to look at Louis, his eyes apologetic, but Louis looked away.

"Lou-"

"It's alright, just go okay."

"I'm sorry about this."

"Sure you are," Louis replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"What- what's that supposed to mean?"

"Are you sure you're not doing this intentionally?"

"How could you even think that?"

"I'm trying to understand the situation Harry. In two months we became closer than ever, so what exactly did I do in the last few days for you to avoid me. I'm sure it's not work related problem, because then you'd have told me."

"No Lou you don't understand-"

"I think I do."

"Lou please, you have to believe me, whatever I'm doing, it's because I don't wanna hurt you."

"Well, guess what, you already did."

Harry tried to reach out for Louis but he moved back a few steps, away from Harry's touch. "Just leave Harry."

Harry's face fell at the last words. He tried to speak again, to make Louis understand, but no words came out and eventually he thought it best to leave. With great difficulty he made his way towards the door and left.

And after a while, Louis left for the gym to channel his frustration to someplace useful. He didn't let himself feel sad about the fact that him and Harry were no longer close, that some unknown barrier had introduced itself in between.

The Next Day

Zayn was overjoyed to see the mail. He could actually see Louis' face as he told him about it. Louis would be thrilled. And his designs on Harry! He had some amazing outfit ideas for Harry. Zayn remembered that the first time he'd heard about Harry being his client he'd refrained from telling Louis about it because back then Louis wasn't exactly on pleased at Harry's existence in general. But now that he was absolutely smitten by Harry, this was going to be nice.

He set off for Louis' at once deciding to surprise him with the news being oblivious to everything that was going on between Louis and Harry.

He stopped by McDonald's drive-thru to grab Louis' favourite milkshake and hash browns.

Harry knew what was coming and he couldn't hold himself back anymore. Louis would be seeing the article soon. He couldn't imagine what Louis was going to think about him. Once again, he felt courage build up in his stomach. He was gonna tell Louis. He dashed to his car and drove off before his paranoia returned.

Back in Louis' apartment, things weren't looking that good. Louis had forgotten that he'd turned on twitter notifications for Harry's update account. So, when his phone vibrated with a notification, he clearly wasn't prepared enough to absorb whatever he was seeing. He hastily clicked on the notification and froze at the contents of the screen.

Louis was stunned. He waited for a few seconds before he clicked on "undo retweet". No he wasn't gonna mope about Harry, Harry who simply didn't ever care about Louis, Harry who kept lying to him. Louis shuddered to think about all those times he thought him and Harry actually had something. Was Harry lying through it all? He couldn't think about it anymore. No,no, no. He won't think about Harry. He won't let him affect him. Enough of all that shit. He sat frozen in his spot in the couch when the bell rang.

Louis absent-mindedly made his way to the door. His heart sank when he saw who was standing outside. Harry.

"Louis believe me! It's not what it looks like," Harry said, panic stricken.

"Get out of here," Louis' ocean blue eyes bore a thunder like expression, his voice steely.

"Lou I'm sorry."

"As you should be."

"Louis, pl-"

"You broke my heart Harry Styles."

"But-"

"Good. Fucking. Bye." Slam.

Louis shut the door in Harry's face and slowly made his way back to the couch. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

No sooner did he fall back on the couch than Clifford came running to him. He leapt up on Louis' lap and Louis broke down.

"Harry broke our heart Cliffy," he said between sobs. "He never liked us. It was all a big lie."

Clifford lapped up the tears keen on making Louis stop crying, but Louis went on and on. "We shouldn't have made friends with him. Such a waste!" Louis hugged Clifford tightly and Clifford made a sad whimper and settled his head on Louis' shoulder.

For a few minutes, no other sound could be heard in the apartment other than Louis' sobs and hiccups.

Suddenly the bell rang again. Clifford jumped from his lap and began sniffed around the door. Thinking it was Harry, Louis decided to ignore it but then the bell rang twice again and Clifford started to bark happily. Louis wiped his tears and walked up to the door and there stood Zayn grinning ear to ear and holding a McDonald's pack, but his grin faded when he saw Louis' tear stained face and red-rimmed eyes.

Louis flung himself on Zayn and began crying again. Zayn hugged back the shaking sobbing mess in his arms and asked slowly, "hey hey Lou, what happened? I'm here. Tell me."

"Harry-", that's the only word Zayn could make out from Louis' muffled sobs.

"What about Harry?"

Louis stepped back from the hug and pulled out his phone. He showed Zayn the tweet and Zayn was equally shocked. "What the fuck is this? What? No this can't be true. I'm sure this is some rumour. Remember he told you once, how he's set up with every girl he's spotted with."

"It's not just that-" Louis replied before breaking down again.

"Hey ,hey please don't cry. You know what, let's go for a drive. Let's get you out of here and you can tell me everything that happened."

Louis silently nodded and bringing Clifford out of the house, locked the door behind him. Dropping Clifford off at the dog park, so he could play with his friends, Zayn drove off with Louis.

Zayn offered him the milkshake and and hash browns and let him eat in silence as Louis slowly regained his composure. One by one, Louis told Zayn everything that had been happening, from the day out with Harry, Theo and Lux, to the sudden change in behaviour two days later, to yesterday's almost argument to Harry showing up today after the article was dropped.

Zayn listened in silence and tried to make sense of what Louis was saying. The incidents didn't add up. He'd really taken a liking to Harry and he couldn't process that Harry would do something like that.

But then again, the sight of his best friend sitting miserable next to him, was making his heart harden towards Harry. He tried to reason with Louis, who refused to listen to anything. Zayn sighed and asked, "music?" hoping that'd calm Louis a bit and help Zayn think.

Zayn tuned in to the radio and a soft melody sounded,

"I want her long blond hair

I want her magic touch

Yeah, 'cause maybe then

You'd want me just as much

I've got a girl cru-"

One look at Louis' face and Zayn slammed the music shut.

Why was everything so difficult?!

Zayn had driven them to a club on the outskirts of the city. The club was pretty famous but owing to it's high maintenance, was mostly accessed by celebrities or people connected to celebrities and was much less crowded compared to the other. Well, a quiet cafe would have been nice too except, now that more people knew Louis and connected him to Harry, if anyone spotted Louis like this, it'd raise an issue. Hence, a club with dim lights and loud music it was.

Zayn led Louis to booth and after making sure Louis was a bit stable, went off to buy drinks.

Zayn didn't drink because he had to drive Louis back but after 3 rounds of drinks Louis was feeling lightheaded, but at the same time, it was very distracting. Zayn kept talking to him about different topics, not bringing up Harry until Louis did that himself.

Eventually Louis started talking.

"I don't understand one thing Zee," he slurred, "that if this was indeed some rumour, why didn't he talk to me? He was clearly avoiding me this week."

Zayn knew whatever he said won't have much of an effect on him, so he just kept rubbing soothing circles on Louis' back. Talking for so long had efficiently tired Louis out and he asked to be taken back home when suddenly,

"Louis! Zayn!"

The duo looked up see a blond haired someone walking towards them, but they couldn't make out the face. It wasn't until the person was right in front if them and the lights fell directly on the face that they made out who it was. Taylor Swift.

Taylor smiled down at the two boys who stared unblinkingly at her, unable to say a word.

"Hi? You guys okay? Can I join you?"

Zayn came back to his senses and smiled, "yeah sure."

Taylor joined them in the booth and looked at Louis again, who was still staring with a blank expression at Taylor.

"What's up with him?" Taylor asked Zayn.

Zayn looked at Louis and then back again at Taylor, "uh, nothing, just work stress. We just came to get some steam off." There's no way he could tell what really had happened.

"Huh, tell me about it. I'm so tired with all the promo work," she replied.

And that's when it hit him. Taylor was dating Harry too. Up until now, he was just thinking about it from Louis' point of view and thinking about how Harry broke Louis' heart but now it dawned on him that it meant Taylor was involved too. Taylor, the person Zayn had liked for quite some time and had to bury his feelings for the sake of his profession.

Here he was, consoling his friend, trying to mend his broken heart, when the reason his own heart ached had decided to grace them with a visit. Things couldn't be worse. Zayn pushed down the pang of sadness he was feeling and tried to think of something to say when Louis started sobbing again. Taylor's presence seemed to have reminded him about Harry.

Louis didn't take Harry's name but went on and on about a certain someone who'd broken his heart. Taylor listened with interest and tried to console him best as she could. Her words were actually effective on Louis who had eventually stopped crying and was listening with rapt attention to Taylor. Zayn himself tried to take in some of the advice, and surprisingly it was good. Taylor really had the magical ability to comfort sad people.

After a while Louis got more drunk and insisted on taking a picture with Taylor and Zayn happily complied because Louis' mind was finally off Harry's.

Soon they bid their goodbyes and left the club, and Zayn drove back with a less sad but slightly drunk Louis.

---

When Louis shut the door on Harry's face, he didn't see how crestfallen Harry looked. He didn't see how Harry ran to his car, barely able to control his tears, which had started falling incessantly thinking that Louis hated him. Harry drove to his apartment, not wanting to face Niall. He knew what Niall would say, I told you to talk to Louis. You should have listened.

No, Harry needed to be alone for a while.

Dave, Harry's personal assistant, noticed something was off and made a whole flask of hot chocolate for Harry and quietly slipped it in his room.

Harry spend quite some time drinking the hot chocolate and thinking about the good times he'd spent with Louis when his phone rang with a notification.

Harry was taken by surprise. What on earth was Louis doing with Taylor? Especially today? What could have possibly happened for them to hang out and for Louis to even post a picture?

Probably Harry was the only person he hated, probably he adored Taylor way too much to think bad of her. Whatever might be the case, Harry was sure of one thing- Louis hated him and Harry had lost his chance at love. Yes, love.

At this point Harry knew, that he was head over heels in love with Louis and he had ended up hurting him.

He'd lost Louis, probably forever.

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INTRO

[youarejesting]

Mania.3

[Full Master List] [Mania Master List]

Beta: N/A Rating: Mature 18+ Pairing: BTS OT7 Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Comedy, Omegaverse Words: 1k Blood types: Namjoon, Jhope, Jungkook, Yoongi (A) Taehyung (AB) Jin, Jimin and Yoongi (O) (Jimin in real life is an A blood type)

Summary: At eighteen everyone takes a blood test to find out their blood types. A, B, or O. Each blood type represents the person’s secondary gender Alpha, Beta or Omega and can be Dominant (+) or Recessive (-). 

When small thin Yoongi receives his letter he doesn’t expect A+. There was no way he was an Alpha especially not a dominant. But as time passes he shows no Alpha nor Omega tendencies and frankly he doesn’t care. Working in his father’s electrical business helps pay the bills but Yoongi’s real passion is music. 

One very hot day in the roof space of a luxury apartment that Yoongi is rewiring an intoxicatingly pleasant smell churns his insides and he finds himself in need of something to quench his thirst. 

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Yoongi went to the appointment thinking he would be stupid not too, this was a well reknowned specialist and a celebrity had given him the appointment. This doctor was the best of the best and after checking in Yoongi was given a full check up, blood tests and more. The doctor made sure to tell him about all the risks involving his late blooming. He had been misdiagnosed or his results had been mixed with other students in the class. 

Yoongi thought back to his graduating class, was there anyone whose results could have been switched. He wasn’t sure if he could really pinpoint anyone who could have accidentally switched their results.

“So, on top of the misdiagnosis, you haven’t experienced any heats until just last week?” The doctor asked typing on her computer. “You have experienced fluctuations with weight, acne, any excessive body hair?”

“No, I haven’t had anything?” Yoongi wondered what those things had to do with all this, he was just here to get some suppressants now that he was an Omega. It didn’t matter to Yoongi when his body decided it was ready or how, he didn’t care what his first or second gender was he didn’t care about things like that.

“So,” The doctor turned from her computer and looked Yoongi in the eye, “our dilemma is, that you haven’t technically gone through puberty properly, you have for your first gender your voice deepens and such like that, but you hadn’t gotten your first heat until a week ago.”

“Okay, so I am going through puberty now?” He asked confused, “what does that mean?”

“It means your heats will be unstable, greatly so because it is trying to play catch up with the rest of your body, I am prescribing you a rather strong suppressant and also a mild one, what I would like you to do is collect them today from the pharmacy and carry them with you. Your body at any moment could fall into a heat again, if and when that happens I want you to take the mild suppressant if that doesn’t alleviate the symptoms I want you to try the stronger ones.”

“So you're saying at any moment I could just,” Yoongi clicked his fingers emphasising his point. The doctor nodded grimly. This wasn’t what he had expected to hear at all. “So if it happens the weak one and if they don't work the stronger ones''

“Yes until we can find the right dose there is no harm in using the stronger medication as a failsafe to stop any pheromone secretion and to ease your discomfort during this time,” the printer behind the doctor whirred to life and his prescription was spat from its mouth. “The thing is I have to warn you, your body is vulnerable to pheromones and it can in fact trigger your heats. This transition may last anywhere from a few weeks to a year”

“It might take a year for my hormones to even out?” Yoongi asked, exasperated by the information. 

“Yes, I recommend perhaps seeking a partner to help with your symptoms, or simply taking the medicine until things settle down.” The doctor paused, handing over the prescription and paused, “I don’t think it will be worth mentioning, but there is a slight chance that the medication might make your symptoms worse as they will try to overcome the suppression, its basic instinct that when in heat an Omega desires to be bred. But the chances are so slim that I don’t believe you should have a problem.”

Yoongi’s mouth was hanging open, so not only could it happen any time any where, for no apparent reason, or even induced by an Alpha just walking past, it might not be something he can suppress and to top it off it would last a whole year. “Being an Omega sucks.”

He snatched the prescription from the bench and headed to the pharmacy, which was connected to the doctor's office by a set of clear automatic doors. The man at the counter seemed way too excited to see Yoongi.

“Hey how can I help you today?” The man chirped up, eyeing the prescription in Yoongi’s hand as if it were a winning lottery ticket. “Do you have a prescription to fulfil?”

Yoongi wanted to tell him that of course he did, why else would he come in holding the obvious medication script if he wasn’t filling a prescription? It’s not like he was in a particular mood to chat with the pharmacist. But he held his tongue and handed the paper over.

“If you would like to sit we will have your medicine ready quickly” He gestured to a few seats before heading to the back. Yoongi called his father asking him what their plans were, he was bored not working and if he didn’t get back to work he wouldn’t be able to afford rent.

“Well we have a few small odd jobs today and tomorrow but on Wednesday we have Mister Kim’s Apartment again.” Yoongi’s dad rattled off everything left over since Yoongi had gotten sick and was unable to finish the wiring.

“Listen, put me on for some jobs and I will finish the wiring on Wednesday, it’s my fault I didn’t finish it in the first place.” Yoongi sighed standing to collect his prescription, “I need to get back to work” 

Yoongi was happy to be back at work, after his days off during his heat he just wanted to forget all about it and do what he did best. The first few homes were easy, the omega’s who were home were super nice to Yoongi as always and he finished up his work and quickly left. It wasn’t until he walked into the last job of the day, an Alpha who needed a powerpoint installed, easy work but his pheromones were kind of annoying.

Yoongi felt the familiar dull ache in his stomach and quickly took the weak suppressant and the symptoms disappeared easily. He finished his work and left quickly not wanting to smell the Alpha’s sickening pheromones. They were nothing like the band members he had spent his heat with, even the omega’s smelt better than that Alpha.

Yoongi was disgusted that even some weak pheromones could induce his heat, but on the bright side the mild suppressant he was given did the job, he was feeling perfectly fine. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be as scary as he thought.

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[hidden-otaku-stuff]

Different but the Same (pt. 7)

tw: A few swears, insecurity, family trauma

Word count: ~5.1k

Rating: R18+/M

Omegaverse AU, Rating: 18+/M

Pairings: Iwaizumi x fem!reader, Ushijima x fem!reader

Summary: An unexpected encounter at the Inter-High tournament tossed you into a whirlwind. Being tugged between two males, two different packs, who will reign supreme in this battle for your heart?

Masterlist | prev | next

ch. 7: battle of the packs

“What’s Ushijima-san doing here?” One of her Omega classmates whispered to her friend, looking over their shoulders at the door. The impressive Alpha took up the entire doorway. Semi had left with Tendou just moments ago. 

“Ushijima-san? What are you doing here?” (Name) looked up, echoing the other Omega’s sentiment as her eyebrows furrowed at the sight. The bitter scent of jealousy clung to the air as they glared at (Name).

The corner of his mouth twitched. He lifted a bag. “May I eat lunch with you?” She looked at him, then back at her desk where her textbooks were sitting. A moment of hesitation.

“Uh, sure.” She closed the book, placing them back into the bag as she brought out her own bento. “I thought you normally eat in the cafeteria with the pack?” Ushijima pulled a chair to her desk, settling himself into it. He almost seemed too big for the chairs, she noticed. 

“Yes, but you don’t, and I wanted to eat lunch with you.” He opened his bento, taking out an apple as he bit into it. “Were you studying?” 

She carefully chewed a piece of salmon. “Yes, I was. I needed to finish a group-project before we leave for Tokyo on Friday, so I figured I’d do all my individual work during lunch so I had enough time.”

“What is the project on?”

“It’s just a history project on Japanese revolutions, I’m providing the research and assembling part of it into an essay for a presentation since I’ll be missing the presentation.”   

“You are a proactive student,” Ushijima commented, finishing his apple before he opened up his lunch-box. 

(Name) laughed at his comment. “Not always,” she admitted. “But I do have to try harder since I’m going to be applying for university soon.” She eyed her veggies. “I don’t wanna mess up on my finals this semester.”  

“Do you have time to help me study as well?”

She blinked. “Help you? Ushijima-san, I thought you were planning on going pro?” She laughed. “You already have a spot on the national youth team, don’t you?” 

He shrugged, carefully chewing his next bite. “I still would like to graduate with good grades. And after being so invested in volleyball for so long has left...much to be desired about my academic skills.” 

(Name) hummed. “I suppose that’s fair.” She took a sip of her lemon tea. “We don’t have practice on Wednesday, I can tutor you for a bit at the library after school.” She bit her bottom lip; the original plan had been to go to Aoba Johsai’s practice that day, but she really needed to finish this project and that took precedent. 

“That works for me.” 

“So, what does the great Ushijima-san eat for lunch?”

Ushijima looked up, blinking at her. “The ‘Great’?”

“Well yeah, since you’re quite famous in volleyball circles, and exceptionally popular in our school.” She eyed the group of Omegas that were shooting daggers at her. He glanced over, only for the Omegas to fall over themselves in fits of giggles to escape his gaze. (Name) wasn’t stupid, she knew that Ushijima was a highly sought-out Alpha. In fact, most of the volleyball team was. Something about them just simply screamed masculinity and attractiveness. The fact that they were almost exclusively a pack of Alphas probably contributed to the notion that they were ‘supreme’ Alphas, which of course was supported by the fact that the leader of the pack himself was an Apex Alpha. She snorted internally. If only they knew how stupid all those Alphas could get. It wasn’t particularly uncommon for exceptionally brave Omegas to attempt to court Ushijima, only for him not to realize what was going on and point-blank rejecting them. 

“I suppose that’s fair.” He tilted his bento to her. “I’m having hayashi rice.” 

“Ooh, that looks and smells delicious!” She complimented. “Did you make it yourself?” 

Ushijima nodded. “My grandmother taught me.” He gazed at the food for a moment. “I spent a lot of time with her as a child. This is what she’d make me whenever I did well or had a bad day at school.” 

“Your grandmother sounds lovely.” She smiled at him, taking another sip of her tea.

“Would you like to try?”

“Are you sure?” She hesitated. The Omega was all-too familiar with the immense appetite of Alphas, and she didn’t want to take away from his meal.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.”

She snorted. “Always the blunt one, aren’t you?”

“Is that bad?”

“No, it’s refreshing.” Her mind wandered to Iwaizumi, who used to leave things left unsaid, assuming that others would know what he was thinking. Granted, after being with him for so long, he’d gotten better with communication. Ushijima eyed her, holding the bento out. “How about a trade?” She picked up her box. “It’s probably not as good as your grandmother’s hayashi rice, but you can try my teriyaki salmon.”

“Did you make it yourself?”

“Of course, you know I love cooking.” A small smile made its way to his face, matching hers; he was familiar with her cooking especially since she had brought onigiri to practice a few times since they had played the college team.

Ushijima nodded, “thank you.” They traded bentos. Behind the mouthful he had was a sense of warmth that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. The type of warmth that comes from care and love that speaks directly to the soul. It flooded all of his senses. Olive eyes glowed as his scent filled the room.  

“This is so good, Ushijima-san! Thank you for letting me try it.” She purred in delight at the explosion of flavor that bathed her tongue. It tasted familiar. A meal you come home to on a windy fall afternoon after being out all day. “I’ll need to get the recipe from you sometime. If you and your grandmother don’t mind, of course.”

Another curt nod as they passed the bentos back. “I’ll teach it to you someday,” he promised. “I enjoyed your salmon.”

“Thank you!” She beamed. “I’ll make you some of my curry next time. That’s one of my better dishes.”

“Thank you for bringing onigiri to our practices.” Ushijima nodded to her. “We all appreciate the effort.”

“It’s the least I can do!” The Omega wriggled happily. “I enjoy cooking and I’m always happy to take care of the pack.”

“What else do you enjoy cooking?”

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Anything really. My parents took me to France last holiday, and I’ve been experimenting with French dishes since then.” Her (e/c) orbs examined the Alpha. “Do you cook often, Ushijima-san?”

“Not particularly.” He closed up his bento, cleaning up. “I do not have time for simple luxuries like that.”

“I can imagine volleyball keeps you extremely busy,” she hummed, placing her empty lunchbox down. She pulled out a bag of cookies. “Would you like to have one?”

“What is it?”

“It’s a strawberry cheesecake cookie.” She bit one, a smile expanding on her face at the flavour. “It’s one of my favorite things to bake when I have free time.” (Name) pulled another one out, handing it to Ushijima. He took it carefully, examining it before nibbling it.

“Why do you enjoy cooking?” 

A melancholy expression crossed her face as she stared at the cookies. “I’ve always liked the idea of being in a pack, even before I presented.” She smiled slightly, a tear trickled down her right cheek. He froze, confused. His scent hummed as comforting pheromones pumped out. The Omegas in the background all keened, leaning closer with eyes fluttering shut as they inhaled. “As a kid, I would follow my mother around the kitchen, learning how to cook and generally just spending time with her. I loved watching her pour her heart out into a dish where you could just taste the love, y’know?” (Name) leaned back in her seat, fiddling with the bag. “My father was terrifying. You never knew whether or not he cared or loved you, and it was more often than not that he was upset.” A wry laugh and a tear escaped her left cheek. He watched with concern, his finger lifting the tear off of her face. She leaned into the warmth of his caress, eyes shutting as she let out a soft sniffle. “It was hard knowing what love was in that household, so I figured I’d make it obvious in all of my actions.” She lifted her face to his, blinking back the rest of her tears.

“I am sorry to hear that.” Ushijima’s hand slipped into hers, squeezing it. 

“It’s not your fault.” She cleared her throat, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “So, why do you like volleyball, Ushijima-san?”

He took another bite, hesitating at the sudden topic change. Ushijima squeezed her hand again, enjoying the soft warmth and hoping that his actions would comfort her. “My father used to play volleyball professionally and taught me as a child. My parents are divorced, and he’s abroad right now. It gives me a connection to him, and I enjoy the sport.”

She giggled, eating another cookie. “I’d enjoy it too if I were as good as you.” 

They sat in a pleasant silence as they finished the cookies, simply enjoying each other’s company as a thumb idly swept over her knuckles. The bell rang, and he let out a gentle sigh. His hand slipped away, gathering his stuff. “Thank you for having lunch with me.” With a slight bow, he got up to leave.

“I’ll see you at practice, Ushijima-san.” (Name) waved before the Apex Alpha disappeared out of the classroom door. 

****

She looked up at the sound of a door opening as the fresh scent of pine drafted in.  “Babe, I’m home!” 

“In the kitchen!” She called, using a spoon to stir the pot. Loud shuffling noises echoed the apartment before warm arms wrapped around her waist.

“What’s cooking, good lookin’?” He pressed a kiss to her jaw, his nose brushing against her neck. 

“You need to stop hanging out with Oikawa,” she replied, leaning back into his embrace. “Just making some ragout. How was practice?” 

“The usual.” Iwaizumi’s warm breath caused sparks of electricity to shoot through her veins. “Oikawa was still practicing when I left.” 

“I see.” She surveyed the pot. “Do you want to invite him over? There’s more than enough food for the three of us.” The Omega turned down the fire, letting the pot simmer with a lid. “Even with your monstrous appetite,” she teased, pecking his cheek.

Iwaizumi grumbled. “I just want you to myself.” 

“Should’ve thought of that before joining such a needy pack!” She chirped, turning in his arms to face him. “He’s your best friend, and I worry about him sometimes.” His eyes glinted as he frowned slightly. “You know I worry about both of you, but he’s an idiot so he ends up with both of us worrying about him all the time,” she chided. He huffed.

“Tch. Fine.” 

“I guess I better stop by the grocery store then,” she made a move towards the sink, only for his grip to tighten.

“Why’s that?”

“To pick up some milk-bread to entice him into coming.”

He let out a faint growl. “Just stay here with me.” Iwaizumi’s arms held her close to him. Her eyes fluttered shut, listening to his heart-beat. “I’ll give him a call and we can cuddle while we wait or something.”

“Aren’t you hungry?” (Name) pulled away, blinking owlishly up at her mate. He opened his mouth to argue, only for his stomach to grumble in response. “We could always eat without him.”

“You know he’s just going to whine about it.” Iwaizumi ran a hand through his hair, annoyance clear in his expression.

“Fine, then help me make some onigiri? You can bring it to the pack tomorrow for me.” 

He laughed, his fingers carding through her hair. “You really are too good to us.” 

“Only because I have you in my life, Haji.” Pine hummed like a freshly lit candle. “Now, go call that idiot of a best friend and I’ll start making more rice.” Iwaizumi released her, stalking towards his back in the living room.

“Oi, Shittykawa. Get your ass over here. (Nickname) made dinner and she wants to feed your dumbass for some reason.” The Omega giggled, hearing his best friend’s shrill cry of indignation even though he was not on speaker. She scooped the rice out of the rice cooker, preparing another pot for their dinner. It was more than common for them to always have freshly cooked rice, especially considering how often she was meal-prepping and making onigiris. It was fortunate that her parents understood her pack mentality, and would finance her grocery habits. Her pack would also typically step up and buy her ingredients or give Iwaizumi money. “Yes now, otherwise we’re going to eat it all and you’ll have to get your own food.” Iwaizumi pinched his nose, eyes squeezed shut. He almost always regretted calling Oikawa, but he knew that his mate would’ve bothered him even more if he didn’t do it. Iwaizumi ended the call, placing his phone onto the dining room table. “You ready?” 

He slipped into the kitchen, surveying the counter. “Do you mind making the eggs? I always like how you season it.” Her lip quivered as she sent him a soft, pouty expression.

“Don’t make that face,” he grumbled, lightly flicking her forehead. “You just have to ask and I’d do it.” He pulled on his Your Opinion Wasn’t in the Recipe apron. She glanced down at her own, giggling at the phrase printed on it: I’ll Feed All You Fuckers. Mattsun had gotten them the aprons as a gag gift one Christmas, but she loved them. 

“You’re the best!”

“I know.” 

She stood beside him, slicing strips of seaweed while he prepared the eggs. Containers of pre-made fillings littered the counter alongside bowls of seasonings and toppings. They danced around the kitchen with practiced movements after years of cooking together. He would reach for some seasoning, only for her to have nudged the bowl towards him already. She would reach for the rice, only for him to scoop out a portion onto the nori. Laughter and music filled the air as they simply enjoyed each other’s presence. 

“I missed this,” she admitted, carefully shaping one of the balls as she sprinkled more furikake flakes. 

 He bumped his hip against hers, tilting his face down so his lips brushed against her forehead. “I’ve missed you.” He placed his onigiri down onto the plate, leaning down to press his lips against hers. “I’m so lucky to have you in my life.” 

The door-bell rang, and she was quick to pop a spoonful of salmon filling into his mouth. “Yes you are,” she winked. Brown eyes widened, as she took off her gloves and apron and skipped over to the door. “Hey, Oiks!” 

“Thank you for having me! Ooh, that smells delicious.” Oikawa stepped into the kitchen, beaming at the tray. “You won’t even greet your guest, Iwa-chan? So rude!” 

“Oi, you’re lucky she invited you over for dinner.” Iwaizumi glared. “Otherwise you’d be hungry and at the gym still.”  Oikawa pouted, opening his mouth to whine more.

“Boys.” The Omega’s eyes narrowed. “Go set the table. And you,” she flicked Oikawa on the forehead causing the male to yelp, “stop overworking yourself. If I hear that you’ve stayed late again and that Iwaizumi left without you, I’m going to handcuff you to him.” 

“Kinky.”

“Oi!” A loud crack as Iwaizumi slapped the back of his head.

“Dinner table! Now!” 

Oikawa joined Iwaizumi at the table, helping him clear it and setting out utensils. “As sweet as she is, I always forget she has a scary side,” Oikawa comments. “She must get it from having you as a mate.”

Iwaizumi’s face darkened. “At least I have a mate.”

“You’re so mean!” 

“Boys!”

“Sorry.” They chorused together. Iwaizumi shoved Oikawa, muttering insults under his breath.

****

“Ushijima-san, that’s not right.” She tapped her pencil on her notebook, surveying the Alpha. He let out a sigh, looking up and blinking with exasperation. 

“What did I do wrong for this one?” 

They’d been sitting in the library for the past three hours, two of which had been spent solely on chemistry. It wasn’t that there was a lack of effort on Ushijima’s side. In fact, he had tried really hard to solve the problems by himself. He would just end up using the wrong formula or accidentally skipped a step here and there which caused problems. “You’re supposed to use this formula instead.” She pointed at the formula sheet she had provided him. He leaned in closer, his shoulder brushing against her back. The warmth seeped through his muscles, her scent easing the tension he felt from studying.

“I see...but why do we use that one instead?” As she opened her mouth to explain, the library doors were thrown open. They both looked up as familiar scents filled the room. Ushijima nodded as his pack-mates made their way to their table. “Hello Tendou, Semi.”

“Wakatoshi!” Tendou exclaimed, only to be shushed by the librarian. “We were wondering where you were.” He sat on the opposite side of Ushijima, leaning into his personal space. Semi rolled his eyes, sending the Omega an awkward wave as he took a seat beside her. They were seated at a circular table.

“Hi, (Name). Sorry to bother you.” 

“Do you wanna go get dinner off-campus?” 

“Tendou, that’s not what we’re here for,” Reon reprimanded, hurrying in through the doors to stop the middle-blocker. “Is it alright if we join you two? We all need to study.” Reon glared at the other two. 

Tendou let out an elongated sigh as Reon plopped his bag beside him, sitting directly across from the other Omega. “Sure,” (Name) smiled. “There’s more than enough room at the table. But I’m not tutoring you guys!” 

Tendou cursed, crossing his arms. “Why not? You’re tutoring Wakatoshi!”

“Because I’m tutoring Ushijima-san, and I don’t want to tutor you, Tendou.” 

“Semi-Semi! I’m not a bad student, right?”

“Tendou, you’re the one who always ends getting us kicked out of here.” Semi retorted, taking a seat beside the Omega as he pulled out his own study materials. Tendou crossed his arms, pouting. “Get your stuff out, Tendou.” 

Tendou let out a loud tch before reluctantly pulling out his pens and pencils.

“I am sorry about this,” Ushijima whispered to (Name), leaning down so his mouth was by her ear. An involuntary shiver coursed through her as she lurched back slightly.

“It’s okay, Ushijima-san.” She cleared her throat. “Anyways, this is what you need to do here.” She copied the problem down on her page, writing out each step and carefully explaining why she was doing such. 

“Tendou, stop it!” Semi cursed, glaring at the red-haired Alpha. She looked up, only to have a wad of paper bounce off her nose. Confused, she furrowed her brow. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Tendou?” The group halted, all looking at her. Semi looked impressed, Ushijima was impassive, a flicker of surprise crossed Reon’s face, and Tendou had an apprehensive look on his face. 

“Having fun?”

She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing dangerously. A shiver crept up Tendou’s spine despite being an Alpha. “And what are you here to do?”

“Distract you guys!”

“Tendou,” she warned. 

He deflated slightly, face darkening. “Study?” 

“That’s right.” She fixed him with a hard gaze. “So, what are you going to do?”

“Pull out my English homework and do it.”

“Well get to it.” Tendou sulked, proceeding to do as he stated. With a satisfied smile, she turned back to the other boys. She blinked. “Why are you guys staring at me?”

“We’ve never heard you curse before, (Name)-san.” Reon commented, meeting her gaze steadily. 

“Yeah, I didn’t know you had it in you,” Semi chuckled, ruffling her hair. 

(Name) batted his hand away from her head. “You guys realize who my Alpha is right?” She rolled her eyes. Ushijima stiffened slightly; all eyes except hers flickered to him momentarily. “He’s always cursing out Oikawa and the rest of our pack-mates.”

Ushijima cleared his throat, leaning down to look at the problem, his wrist brushing against her arm. “That doesn’t sound like a healthy pack environment.” 

(Name) raised an eyebrow, glancing over at the Apex Alpha. “It’s not like he does it to intimidate or fight them. It’s all playful. They’re all fond of one another.” She cleared her throat. “Besides, I don’t think you can talk, Ushijima-san.” Olive eyes shifted up to stare at the female Omega. “Your pack was literally built upon the mentality of who is the strongest volleyball player, not with genuine connections.”

“Hey now, that’s not right,” Semi interjected. She looked at the ash-blonde Alpha. “We might’ve met like that, but we wouldn’t have agreed to be in this pack if we didn’t genuinely like one another.” 

She blinked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be offensive.” 

“I understand where you’re coming from (Name)-san,” Reon added, sending the fellow Omega a pleasant smile. “From an outsider’s perspective, it can seem a bit forced. Just like how we might have a certain perspective about the Seijoh pack due to being outside it as well.” He leaned back. “But, based on your experiences with the pack, do you still truly think that?”

(Name) hesitated a moment. “No,” she admitted. “I do think that there are real bonds between you guys.” Her gaze examined each of the males sitting at the table in front of her. “To be honest, it does remind me of my pack. You guys are playful in similar ways, and I can tell that the bonds between you guys will last.” 

“You’re in the pack too,” Ushijima finally said, his eyes glancing down at the watch on her wrist before raising to steadily meet hers. The other males also eyed the accessory. Tendou’s eyes sparkled. Semi raised his eyebrow, and Reon simply kept the pleasant smile on his face. 

“I suppose I am, aren’t I?” Her gaze was down, staring at the maroon sleeve that sat in her lap from the jacket that hung on her chair. “Anyways,” she cleared her throat, “we have exams soon so let’s get back to studying, yeah?”  

****

“I don’t understand this!” The Beta complained, head plopping down onto his book.

“Kindaichi-kun, let’s start at the top again, okay?” Her pencil tapped against the book, carefully reading the instructions. “They just want you to solve for x, okay? Where do you think you should start?” Kindaichi peeled his face away from the pages, brows furrowed as he stared at the problem. Kumini was across the table, reviewing his English homework. Both first years were Betas. Laughter erupted from her living room, causing her gaze to shift. “Oi! You guys better be studying, or I’m not feeding you.”

“We’re studying!” Makki called.

“Don’t worry (Nickname)-chan! We’re working hard.”

“You’re hardly working, Oikawa.” Mattsun retorted, flicking through his history textbook.

“All of us are working but Shittykawa.” 

“Iwa-chan!” 

“Don’t lie to our Omega-chan,” Makki rolled his eyes.

“Stop arguing and do your work!” 

“Sorry.” They all chimed.

(Name) pinched her nose as she sighed. “I always wonder how you put up with them,” Kumini commented, not looking up from his work.

“Me too.” She replied before she glanced back down at the page besides her. “There you go, Kindaichi-kun! You’re getting the hang of it.” 

“Thank you for helping me!” 

The Omega giggled, ruffling his hair. “Of course, I told you, I’m always here to help.” She stood up, stretching. Her eyes scanned the rooms. In the living room, Iwaizumi was sitting facing her, his back to the TV as he worked on the living room table, pouring over his literature book. Oikawa was sprawled on the chaise sectional, his laptop sitting besides him as he jotted down notes on the notebook on his lap. Makki and Mattsun were sitting down at the table on opposite sides of Iwaizumi, facing each other as each focused on their own homework. She had been seated besides Kindaichi at the dinner table, their backs to the kitchen, with Kumini sitting across from them. Her eyes glanced at the clock, it was already 7 P.M.

(Name) let out a deep sigh, making her way towards the kitchen as she put on her apron. She was scheduled to leave for Tokyo tomorrow during lunch, and would be gone for the rest of the weekend. The Omega pulled out a cutting board, pulling out various ingredients and spices to start preparing dinner. “Do you need any help?” She jumped, looking up to see Oikawa standing in front of her. His elbows were on the counter, his head propped up against his arm.

“Don’t you have work you need to finish?” 

“I finished! Besides, I feel bad that you’re always the one cooking.”

“Yeah, cause we don’t trust your cooking,” Mattsun commented. Another page flip.

“Why did I even ask you guys to join my pack if all you do is bully me,” Oikawa grumbled, crossing his arms and pouting.

“Why don't you help me peel the veggies?” She offered, gesturing to the potatoes and carrots that sat in the strainer in the sink. “Just, please don’t hurt yourself, okay?” He washed his hands, standing by her side. “Don’t want Coach killing me for messing with his setter’s fingers.” 

“Maybe Shittykawa shouldn’t help then,” Iwaizumi replied, walking behind them to refill his water bottle from the fridge. 

“I can do this! Have some faith in me.” Oikawa rolled up his sleeves, washing his hands and grabbing the vegetable peeler enthusiastically.

“I will kick your ass if you fuck up.”

“I have some confidence that he will be okay.” She smiled, pecking Iwaizumi’s cheek as he stood behind her. One of his hands squeezed her hip before he headed back to his homework. 

“Some?!”

“It’s better than none,” she shrugged, washing the rice besides him. 

Oikawa gingerly picked up a potato, peeling the skin off. “Whoops!” He yelped as it shot out of his fingers. 

The Omega gave him a blank look. “Don’t make me regret inviting you over, Shittykawa.”

“Don’t use that nickname too!” Oikawa pouted. “Iwa-chan, don’t teach your mate your roguish ways.”

“I will end you.” Iwaizumi dead-panned, not looking up from his textbook. 

“When did it become ‘bully Oikawa’ day?” Oikawa muttered under his breath, scowling as he finished peeling the potato. The Omega took it out of his fingers, moving back to the cutting board in order to start chopping the vegetables.

“That’s every-day, Oikawa,” Makki retorted, causing Mattsun and Iwaizumi to burst into laughter. Kindaichi stifled his own laughter out of respect for his senpai. 

“Behave yourself in front of your kouhais,” (Name) scolded, scooping the potato pieces into the pot. A smile breached her face as she surveyed her pack-mates. She was used to such banter, and she was glad that the years hadn’t changed them that much. Kumini shut his book, stretching out. The Beta made his way over to the couch, plopping down and curling up into one of the blankets she had laid out. 

Kindaichi’s brows furrowed as he sighed in exasperation. “(Name)-san, I think I need some more help.” Kindaichi called hesitantly, face flushing pink as he avoided her eyes.

“Bring your work over here, Kindaichi. I’ll help you.” Iwaizumi waved him over, making room on the table beside him. “Oi, Mattsun, scootch over.” 

“Thank you, Iwaizumi-san!” Kindaichi scooped his things up, making his way towards his senpai. Her heart skipped a beat as she glanced between the carrots and Iwaizumi and Kindaichi. Iwaizumi really was the perfect alpha. 

Bonus

“Ushijima-san, are you okay?” Ushijima jerked, looking up. Standing in front of his desk was (Name). She placed a sports drink onto his desk. 

He cleared his throat, “yes I am. Why do you ask?” 

She raised an eyebrow at him. “I could smell you down the hall.” Ushijima frowned, sniffing the air. He hadn’t realised that his scent carried so much. “What’s going on?” She slid into the seat in front of him, straddling the seat so she faced him.

Ushijima shook his head. “It is nothing serious. Do not worry.”

“As your pack Omega and the manager of the volleyball team, I will worry. Whatever affects you will affect the pack.” Her face softened. “Please, Ushijima-san? I just want to help.” 

His frown deepened before he let out another sigh. “I am just stressed about school.” 

“School?” Her brow furrowed. “Do you need another study session?” 

“That might be helpful,” he admitted. 

“Do you normally get stressed out about school?” 

 Ushijima bite back a groan. “More often than I’d like to admit.” He took the drink, uncapping and sipping it. She had gotten him his favorite flavor. 

“Is there anything else I can do to help?” Her (e/c) eyes carefully surveyed him as she considered solutions for his problem.

“No, I’m sure I will be fine after a bit of help.”

“Whatever you say, Ushijima-san. If you think of something, please let me know okay?” She swung her legs over the chair, standing up. “Break is almost over, I should head back to my classroom.” As she moved towards the door, his hand shot out to grab her wrist.

“Actually…” He hesitated, a fear of rejection creeping up his throat. “Do you mind scenting something for me?” 

She blinked owlishly at the request. “Scent something?” (Name) looked down at his hand. It was trembling. 

“I find comfort in your scent,” he admitted, averting his eyes as he looked at the buttons on his blazer. “And I think it would help calm me down when I study.” Her face softened. Though scenting things was typically reserved for courting couples or unmated individuals, she supposed she could do the Alpha a favor. After all, she was his pack’s Omega. 

“Of course, Ushijima-san.” She took out a handkerchief from her pocket, placing it gently onto the desk. “Let me know if you need me to re-scent it, okay? Or if you need something else scented.” 

“Thank you, (Name)-san. I greatly appreciate it.” 

She stepped away, a pink flush filling her cheeks. “No problem!” She laughed awkwardly. “I’ll see you later for practice and we can talk about more study sessions then, okay?”

FUN FACTS

💟 The first time an Omega tried to ask Ushijima out, he ended up accidentally closing the door in her face. Another Alpha also tried to court Ushijima, only for him to think it was a joke and he told them off, saying that the joke wasn’t funny.

💟 The first time (Name) had made salmon, she’d accidentally undercooked it and gave her family food poisoning. Since then, she was extra diligent with her food prep. 

💟 Both Ushijima and (Name) were raised to believe that food was the language of love. 

💟 The first time (Name) had made them dinner, Iwaizumi had accidentally eaten all of the food leaving the Omega to make herself some instant noodles. Since then, she’d learn to make four times the portion just in case. 

💟 The Seijoh third-years have a competition to see who could give the worst present to the others. So far, Makki was in the lead.

💟 The Shiratorizawa librarian had placed multiple suspensions on Tendou to prevent him from being in the library. He was only allowed in the library with supervision by Reon or Ushijima. 

💟 The very first person to officially join Ushijima’s pack was Tendou. Semi was the second.

💟 Ushijima actually hadn’t told his pack-mates that he was courting (Name), but the third-years knew him well enough to guess as much

💟 The Seijoh pack has monthly study sessions which Kindaichi and Kumini always go to in order to see (Name). They miss their pack-mother but were too scared to admit it.

💟 (Name) has actually withheld food from the Seijoh boys before. They had to offer a group apology in order to get their ‘food rights’ back.

💟 Oikawa had accidentally burnt his finger-tips when (Name) was teaching him how to make milk-bread their second year. He was put on bench-rest for two weeks 1.5 months before Interhigh. 

💟 Sometimes the other third-years had a competition to see who could make Oikawa the most upset. When (Name) found out, they were lectured for over an hour. They still secretly did it behind her back whenever they had a chance though. She mostly didn’t want them teaching their underclassmen to be mean to one another and would sometimes secretly team-up with Iwaizumi and Mattsun.

💟 Ushijima spends so much time playing volleyball and working out that he sometimes forgets about his homework.

💟 Though scenting is an intimate thing typically reserved for mates, Alphas in packs are allowed to ask Omega members to scent things for them. That being said, Ushijima only asks (Name) to scent something for him and he asks her every week because of “stress”.  

AN: Tons of bonus content this week! I think this is one of the longest chapters I’ve posted for this fic :)  

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[whumpeeblog]

A coworker who is ten years older than me began touching me. It started with small fist bumps on the shoulder and got to the point where I was on the ground curled up in a ball with him on top of me “tickling” me and getting far too close to places he shouldn’t be. He also asked me to hang out several times and made some comments that scared me. He got more and more touchy each day, even grazing areas a couple times but not enough for the cameras to pick it up as intentional. Most recently, and I still don’t know for sure if it was intentional or not, he slapped my ass with a piece of merchandise while walking by. I wasn’t sure if any of this could be considered sexual harassment or if I was simply overreacting, so I went to my family. My boss is known for gossiping and not being able to keep discretion and secrets within the company, making me uncomfortable telling her. I called my sister and my mom and made them promise, as Christians, not to get involved but to simply tell me what they thought and if I was overreacting. I asked them how I could ask this 6’4, bigger guy to back off without hurting him or creating a huge scene at work. My sister saw him as a huge threat. She promised she wouldn’t say a word, but then went behind my back and messaged him on a fake Facebook profile. She threatened him and told him that if he touched me again or slapped my ass again, she would personally come down to the store and fight him. She also told him that if he told me or the boss about her message, she would mess him up.

Well I go into work the next day, only to be called to the office by my boss. She proceeds to bait me and lie to me by saying that another store was having sexual harassment issues and that there were going to be new rules in place. That’s when I said to her, “Well since you’re doing this, I needed to talk to you anyway. I didn’t want to do this, and I don’t want to name names...” She cut me off telling me that I have to name names. I told her that I was having issues with that guy. She then told me that she already knew. She said that the guy had come into her office crying and showed her the text that my sister sent. He was scared, and my sister believes that that’s because he’s been in and out of jail. Here’s the catch though. A few weeks ago, he was talking to the other guys. They didn’t think I could hear them, but they were discussing how he was leaving soon and had applied at other jobs. They were the only people he had told since he didn’t really have a good reason to quit. When he went in to show my boss the text and get the jump on me, he told the boss that “he’s not gonna be accused of rape and sexual harassment and that he’s leaving because of my accusations.” (Which is a complete lie, and only two people other than me know that). I explained my side of the story to my boss. I told her that I didn’t want to create a scene, which is why I went to my sister in the first place. I trusted her word as a Christian, and I needed to know if I was being a bitch and overreacting or if there was a way I could discreetly ask this guy to back off. Plus I’m scared of him. He has made it very clear that he could easily hurt me if he wanted to, but I didn’t tell her that cause it’s embarrassing to me. My boss said that she was upset that I went to my sister, and that “what happens at work stays at work. Nothing that occurs at work should ever leave the workplace and I should have come to her.” She said that the guy admits to tickling me, but that none of it was meant sexually and he doesn’t remember slapping me (there were no cameras in the place that he did it.) He only admitted to the stuff they have on camera. She then proceeds to say that even if what he did was sexual, “boys will be boys.” I told my boss that that’s great if it wasn’t meant sexually, but that he should not have been touching an eighteen year old female in the first place, sexual or not. His touch was not welcome and I never said he could touch me like that. I was too scared to tell him no. Plus, I didn’t want to hurt him. My boss then said that there were gonna be new rules thanks to me. No more joking, talking to each other at work, and everything is strictly business because any of those things could be taken as “sexual harassment.” It was like she was mocking me and saying that I’m being dramatic. I then asked her who knew details and who she was telling. She claimed that only she and two other people knew the details of the situation and that everyone else did and would continue to think there was just an issue between two workers and sexual harassment. I believed her and took her word for it. She claimed that no one would treat me any differently and that we would just sweep it under the rug and pretend it didn’t happen.

I went into work yesterday and was avoided like the plague by everyone. My boss watched me like a hawk all day and almost no one spoke to me for the entire day. The guy who had been touching me wasn’t there, but my boss spent the entire day accusing me of stocking stuff wrong and treating me like a criminal trying to prove my innocence.

After she left, I asked my coworker, who was one of my closest friends and who had also been avoiding me and almost ignoring me, what she knew about the situation. She told me that she knew everything. The boss had called each employee into her office individually, and showed them my sisters text. She had told them the entire situation with details and said that I was the reason that guy had chosen to leave and that it was my fault we couldn’t have fun anymore. I was left humiliated and still have to face that guy on Wednesday.

I am hurt and angry. My sister admitted to what she did and apologized. She felt guilty about lying to me, but said she saw me being threatened and went mad dog on the guy. My boss still doesn’t know that I’m aware of her lying to my face. But I can’t go into work with being avoided and stared at. They talk about me behind my back when they don’t think I’m around they’re treating me like the bad guy here. Am I wrong? Am I overreacting? Is this all my fault? I need opinions and help before this drives me insane. I’m being treated like the bad guy because a coworker touched me and I went to my family about it. Was I wrong in taking that outside of work? As far as I’ve always known, when a guy is physical with you like that, you have no obligation to keep it private at work, and I had every right to ask for my familys opinion before going to my boss who is known for her love of drama and gossip. What can I do to stop self loathing and to stop being self conscious going into work.