#meredith murmurs

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 22 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Now that Bradley has you with him, he never wants you to go. But the stress from Meredith and Penny still hangs between the two of you. And the only think that seems to make sense to Bradley could be taken from him.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, smut, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

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You were finally in Bradley's arms. Aside from your hangover and banged up knee, you seemed no worse for the wear. Just a little shaken up from those assholes taunting you last night. As he leaned back against his headboard, you were curled up against his chest wearing his favorite sweatshirt. 

"I love you," he whispered again, rubbing the bare skin of your back and waist beneath the sweatshirt. You hadn't returned the sentiment, but it didn't matter. You just snuggled a little closer to him every time he said it to you. 

When your stomach growled, you looked up at him and laughed softly. "Come on," he said, kissing your forehead as he withdrew his hand from your soft skin. "I'll make you breakfast."

Now you were looking at him with concern as you straddled his thighs. "You'll make me breakfast? Sorry, but I'm not going to eat anything you cook."

Bradley tipped his head back and started laughing. "You got me there, Princess. But I can get you a bowl of cereal."

You just shook your head and slid off of his lap, taking his hand in yours. "I'll make you breakfast," you told him, looking back at him over your shoulder as he followed you down the hallway. He'd follow you anywhere today. Do anything you wanted to do. As long as you kept him with you.

He turned on the coffee maker and pulled two mugs down as you bent in front of the refrigerator. Your bare legs and his oversized sweatshirt made him feel weak. You handed him some eggs and the gallon jug of milk. "Do you have cinnamon?" you asked as he set the milk and eggs on the counter. 

"You don't actually have to make me breakfast," he whispered as you kissed his chin. 

"I'm hungry for French toast," you told him, so he located the cinnamon for you. Then he watched you work, helping with everything you asked him to. And when the kitchen smelled like cinnamon, and there were slices of bread sizzling on the stovetop, Bradley handed you a mug of coffee. 

"Can you help me with something on my phone?" he asked softly, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you sipped your coffee and flipped a piece of bread. 

You set down the mug that said Aviators Look Down on Others and glared at him over your shoulder. "If you ask me to delete another dating app, I will rage. Do you understand me?"

"It's not that," he promised.

"Well, then what can I help you with, old man?"

Bradley couldn't help but smile at your words as he ran his mustache along the side of your neck. "Help me change this." He tapped on your contact name which was still listed as Babysitter. He deleted that word as he let his chin rest on your shoulder, making sure you were looking at his phone. Then he typed out My Princess before he opened his photo gallery. 

"It doesn't look like you need my help," you whispered as he scrolled through all of his pictures of you and Noah and the occasional one related to something at work. "Oh wait, yes you do," you said, pointing to the dirty pictures you had sent him. "You need to save those in a private folder, Daddy."

He was beyond delighted that you had just called him Daddy. "That's something else you can help me with," he murmured, scrolling further until he found the first selfie you sent to him. The one where you were wearing your purple crown. He set it at your contact photo and kissed your cheek

"Give me that," you told him after you flipped the pieces of French toast again. He handed you his phone and watched you move all the dirty photos he loved so much into a new folder that you labeled Princess. "And you can enter the passcode when you want to look at them," you said as you saved today's date as the four digit code.

"Why did you make it today's date?" he asked as you spun to face him and pressed his phone to his chest. He grabbed it as you let go and wrapped your arms around his neck. You kissed him hard, devouring his mouth as you sighed softly. Bradley tossed his phone onto the counter next to the mugs and let his hands slide up your sides beneath his soft sweatshirt. 

"Because," you told him between kisses, running your fingers up into his hair and looking him in the eye. "Today's the day you told me you love me."

"Baby," he moaned against your lips, reaching behind you to turn off the stove burners. 

You kept your body snug against his, even when you let your hands trail down to the bottom of his undershirt and whispered, "Daddy."

You peeled his shirt off, finally letting him feel your hands everywhere. "Please. Let me take you back to bed." He had never been intimate with you there, but he'd been dreaming about it for a long time. Hell, last night was the first time you and he had a real sleepover. The first time he got to hold you all night.

Immediately you started pushing him toward the hallway, and he hoisted you up into his arms as you squeaked. "I got you," he promised.

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

There had to be something wrong with you, because you couldn't physically stop smiling. Bradley had taken you to his bed, set you down gently right in the middle of it, and started kissing you everywhere. His sweatshirt was pushed up to your breasts, his big hands squeezing your sides while he kissed the spot just below your belly button.

You were panting softly, and you could tell how wet you were by the way your lace underwear clung to you. But he seemed to be in no hurry, so you just let him keep it up. Lips and mustache found your injured knee, and he kissed all around the bandage before gently guiding your leg over his shoulder. 

"I've been dreaming about this," he whispered against your inner thigh. When his fingers teased along the elastic of your underwear, you thought he was going to remove them, but he just kept driving you crazy instead. 

A soft laugh bubbled out of your lips. "You dreamed about rescuing me from frat boys and having your way with me?"

"No," he grunted, easing his large body over yours, while you kept your leg on his shoulder. You could feel his hard cock rub your core through both of your underwear, and you pressed up against him. "I dream about having you in my bed. Having you all to myself. Don't get me wrong, I love sharing you with Noah," he mumbled, pushing the sweatshirt up and palming your tits with his massive hands. "But when you're like this, you're all mine."

As your back arched off the bed, Bradley's lips met your nipple, kissing and caressing you like nobody else ever had. "Daddy," you whispered before your eyes fluttered closed. 

"All mine," he muttered, licking the valley between your breasts before sucking on one nipple and then the other.

You cried out for him, your hands grabbing at his biceps and shoulders before threading through his messy curls. 

"You're so fucking sensitive, Princess."

You definitely were for him. Because he knew how to touch you. He knew how to love you. He was good at all of it. 

"Bradley?" you gasped after he had worked your nipples into tender peaks. He whispered your name, the bristles of his mustache rubbing you just right. You were clenching around nothing. He hadn't even undressed you yet. And now you were in trouble, because he could tell how far gone you were as he whispered your name over and over again.

You rubbed yourself up against his cock as he pressed his lips to your ear and moaned, "I love you, Princess. I love you."

There was little doubt in your mind that you could cum for him just like this. He loved you. And you loved him.

You were soaking wet as he slipped his hand inside your underwear and groaned. "You make me insane," he informed you gruffly, wasting no time before slipping his middle finger inside you. 

"Bradley!" you cried as he stroked your clit with his thumb and fucked you with one, thick digit until you were propping yourself up on your elbows to get to his lips. You kissed him, and he devoured every noise you made. "I'm so close, Daddy." When you let your head tip back, his mouth found your breasts again. You were close to overstimulation as he removed his finger from inside you and rubbed his fingertips across your clit until you were nearly crying. 

It took you a second to realize that your legs were shaking as he sucked on your breasts. You were about to cum as soft grunts mixed with your deep, erratic breathing. "Oh," you gasped, and then he was mashing his lips to yours, pushing you back against the pillow. "I'm coming," you whined into his mouth. 

Then you were shaking everywhere, his fingers slowing down and applying less pressure until you moaned his name so loudly, you should have been embarrassed. Your panties were absolutely soaked, and it felt like you were laying in a puddle as Bradley tapped your clit with his fingertips. 

When you met his eyes and saw the desire there, you knew what had happened. "Did I squirt again?" you asked softly as you caught your breath. Bradley brought his damp hand up to his own mouth and licked his palm before running his index finger along your lips. 

"You did," he whispered, letting you kitten lick his fingers. You tasted good on his warm skin, and you were no longer embarrassed. Because he looked so turned on right now. You could see his cock straining against the fabric of his underwear, could feel him pulsing against you. When you sucked two of his fingers into your mouth, he started bucking against you, and you looked up at him.

"Don't look at me like that," he rasped, pushing them a little further into your mouth. "You already know you own me."

You moaned around his fingers before he pulled them free and kissed you. Then his sweatshirt was on the floor along with your soaking wet underwear. You watched the graceful way he removed his own underwear as you sat up. 

"Come here," you commanded, and he did as he was told, kissing you and wrapping his arms around you. You told him where to touch you, and he did. You told him everything you wanted, and he did that too. You were already a mess again as his thigh rubbed your core. Already whimpering his name.

"You gonna let me make love to you, Princess?" he asked, spreading your legs a little wider and coaxing you flat on your back. 

"Yes," you whispered when you felt him at your entrance. 

"A little louder," he said, pressing against you with delicious pressure.

"Yes!"

He was steady and meticulous, sure that you liked everything he was doing before he went a little harder. He checked in with you until you could barely answer him, because everything felt too good. Your fingers were digging into his biceps as your lips skimmed along his neck, licking at the salty sheen on his skin. He was chanting your name like a prayer as he moved with such precision, you weren't sure you'd ever be able to orgasm without him again.

Bradley was loving your body with his. He chased your lips for more kisses every time you needed to take a breath. His rough hands were so sure of what you needed as he touched you seemingly everywhere. And interspersed among the sweet sound of your name, he told you he loved you. He used his voice like a tool in tandem with his perfect body until you were squeezing his cock tight.

You felt wrung out and exhausted, barely able to control yourself as your fingers went loose on his arms. You sunk back in the bed, keening for him as your orgasm washed over and through you. And then you watched him, neck straining as his strokes grew shorter and more irregular. You pulled his mouth to yours as he came for you. He tasted so good as he let his hand gently grip the back of your neck, his thumb stroking your jaw. 

"I love you," he breathed against your lips. His voice sounded as broken as you felt as he collapsed mostly on top of you. You held him close with your hands in his hair, and his cock still buried inside you.

"I love you, Daddy."

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

Bradley smiled the whole time you and he argued about doing laundry. You were adamant that he wash your underwear along with the bedding, but he kept telling you he liked the way they looked on his bedroom floor too much to do that. 

Finally you scooped them up and said, "I'm sure if you really want to, we can soak them again," and then took them and his bedding into your arms. "It's not like you don't know how to make me squirt."

Then he watched you parade out of his room, your naked backside swaying beautifully as you went. He just stood there and exhaled as he ran his hands through his hair. He was certain he had the dumbest look on his face. 

You loved him.

"Good thing I like cold French toast," you said with a laugh as he sat down completely naked on one of the kitchen chairs. You were also naked, plating some breakfast which was definitely becoming lunch. 

"I like anything you cook," he mumbled, eyes glued to every inch of your body as you turned and set down a plate in front of him along with maple syrup and two glasses of orange juice. "Mind grabbing my phone?" he asked, watching as you picked it up from where he discarded it earlier. 

"Here you go, old man," you said quite loudly. "Can you hear me? Do you remember your pass codes? Or do you need a refresher?"

"You know, I have a bag of Skittles for you, but I think I'll just eat all of them," he said, pulling you down onto his lap and opening up a playlist on his phone. 

"You would never," you gasped. Bradley was laughing, but you actually seemed scandalized.

"No, I wouldn't," he promised, kissing your shoulder as you settled back against him. He played his favorite song, the one that reminded him of you while you cut up the French toast and drenched it in syrup. 

Bradley watched you lick some syrup from your fingertip as you said, "I made a playlist for Noah. A bunch of kid friendly songs. He loved it." You took a bite of food and turned to smile at him while you chewed. 

"That was sweet of you," he rasped as you fed him a bite. "He's crazy about you." Bradley thought back to Noah crying and saying he wanted you to be his mommy. 

"I love him," you said simply, taking another bite of French toast while Bradley wrapped his hands around your waist and caressed your soft skin. 

And it didn't take long until the food was eaten and you were straddling his lap on the chair. You were cradling his hard cock against your pussy while you kissed his neck and dragged your purple fingernails down his chest and along his abs.

"Feels good," he groaned, trying to sit still and enjoy everything you were doing to him. You looked gorgeous everywhere. Every tilt of your head and brush of your lips against his skin had all of his senses screaming for more. When you finally lifted your hips up and let him slip inside you, he was so far gone. You rode him so well with your arms around his neck and your fingers trailing through his hair.

"Oh," you gasped, eyes fluttering closed as you rubbed your clit against his abs. 

"You're so good, Baby," he promised, one hand guiding your hip and the other tracing your nipples. You were a dream. Everything he wanted. Perfect for him. Perfect for Noah. 

You leaned closer and kissed his lips, getting louder with each stroke of your clit against him. And soon you were whining his name and pulling his hair. He filled you with his cum that dripped all over the chair and coated your thighs when you stood. 

He just looked at you there, standing between his splayed thighs with your hands on his shoulders. "I never want to stop being with you," he mumbled, and you leaned down to kiss him.

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

You were a little embarrassed to admit to Bradley that when you got out of the shower, you wanted to take an afternoon nap. After you spent a few minutes picking on him for being old and drinking fiber in his tea with lunch, you yawned so long and loud that he led you to the living room. You were in his soft UVA sweatshirt again, and you stretched out on the couch with your head on his lap. 

The last few days had been wild. You vowed that you were never going to speak to Greyson or his friends again. No more college boys in any way, shape or form. Nobody but Bradley. 

He was currently drawing tiny circles along your neck with his fingertips. You yawned again before you whispered, "You know, I probably shouldn't even be here right now."

He just hummed in response, so you asked, "Where are things at with Meredith? Still scheduled for Wednesday?"

But Bradley was silent for a moment before he said, "I don't want you to have to worry about her. I'm doing enough worrying for all three of us. But yes, Wednesday. Unless Tracy calls and tells me otherwise."

"I'm still going to worry, Daddy. But I'm also going to support you. Noah needs to be with you. He needs his dad who took care of him and loves him. He needs to stay with you."

But those little circles on your neck and his rough fingertips had you drifting off to sleep, and you sensed that was what he wanted. He seemed reluctant to let you be consumed by this. So you slept for a few hours on his warm thigh, only stirring when you really needed to go to the bathroom. He hadn't moved at all, but his hand was resting on your bare hip, and he was watching sports highlights on mute on the TV with the captions turned on.

"Baby," he murmured when you popped your head up and turned to look at him. So handsome. You climbed onto his lap and rested your head against his shoulder. He kissed your forehead and told you, "Penny's bringing Noah back in about an hour."

Your heart soared. That would give you enough time to cook something for him for dinner, and then you could play with him a bit before his bedtime. Before you had to leave. And then your heart sank, because you didn't want to go home. And you didn't want to see Penny. You were still so upset about what happened when Bradley got blindsided by Helen.

"I'll be back," you whispered, standing and heading for the bathroom. You took a few minutes to yourself. There was too much going on. And you thought that if you could sort everything out without Bradley distracting you with his hands and his lips you could make more sense of things. 

You wanted to be here when Penny dropped Noah off. You didn't want to hide what was going on. You wanted to stay and have dinner with your boys. You deserved that much. 

You wanted to help Bradley with Meredith. If there was some way you could aid in court or help him prepare, you wanted to do that. He deserved that much. And Noah deserved everything. 

You sighed and washed your hands, and when you opened the door, Bradley was standing there. "I just remade the bed, and I'd love to spend some time snuggling with you." 

You went with him and curled up against his huge body. He held you close and asked, "When is your graduation? I need to make sure Noah and I can be there."

The first thing that popped into your mind was the scary thought that maybe Bradley wouldn't be the one making plans for his son much longer, but you squashed it immediately. "I'll add it to your phone calendar since I assume you're too old to figure out how to do that," you replied, kissing the tip of his nose. 

He smirked and squeezed your butt so that you were smiling. "I appreciate that, distressingly young girlfriend."

You gasped. "Is that what I am? I thought you said no titles."

"You're my girlfriend," he said with a nod. "Just deal with it, okay? It's been only you for a while now. Your crown lives on my bedpost. I haven't had any other partners. Noah and I are in love with you. You're my girlfriend. My Princess."

You couldn't stop the smile from taking over your face. "Technically I'm Noah's Princess, too."

He sighed and studied your face. "I'm hoping you'll be more than that someday. Now let me put some real clothing on before Penny gets here." With a kiss to your cheek, Bradley grunted and climbed out of bed. You watched his body as he pulled on a US Navy tee shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. 

"Okay, what are you doing?" you asked, crawling across the bed toward him.

He gave you a funny look. "Getting...dressed?"

"No." You pulled him closer by the drawstring on his pants. "As your girlfriend, I'm telling you that you can't wear gray sweatpants around anyone except me. Or like maybe your doctor or something. Because even with underwear, I can see the outline of your dick. It's delicious looking, but no, Daddy."

He blushed. He actually blushed. And you smirked as he yanked them back off again and tossed them at your face. "You wear them, then." You laughed as he pulled on some jeans, complaining the entire time. Then you got out of bed and stepped into his sweatpants. You were sure you looked ridiculous in his too large sweatpants and sweatshirt, but you had nothing else to wear, so you rolled the pants at the waist. 

And then the doorbell rang. And now you actually weren't sure that Bradley would want Penny to see you here. You were about to ask him if that was the case, but he took you by the hand. 

"Noah is going to be so excited that I didn't completely fuck things up with you." He pulled you down the hallway and toward the front door, and before you knew it, Noah and Penny were right in front of you. When he saw you, his face lit up, and he started trying to wiggle out of Penny's arms. 

"Princess!"

You scooped him up as Penny laughed and handed Bradley a bag. "Here's some artwork that we made today. Plus some dirty laundry. We had so much fun making macaroni art with Amelia."

She smiled at you. She didn't look surprised to see you at all as you hugged Noah and kissed his round cheek. 

"Thanks, Pen," Bradley mumbled, digging through the bag. 

"No need to thank me," she replied, wringing her hands nervously now. "I owe you an apology." She was talking to you. Your eyes went a little wide. "I didn't know the two of you were together. If I had known, I would have never tried to set Bradley up. I really shouldn't have done it anyway," she added softly. 

You turned to look up at Bradley. "You told her about us?"

"Yes," he replied, slipping his arm around your shoulders and kissing his son on the head. "Of course I did."

"I should have known, honestly," Penny said, looking at Bradley with a smile. "By the way he said he wasn't using the dating app. And how he seemed calmer. More grounded."

Your cheeks felt warm as you pressed your lips together. "Do you want to stay for dinner?" you asked. "I'm making spaghetti."

"Spaghetti!" Noah cheered, but Penny shook her head. "I need to pick Amelia up from her friend's house. But thank you." And then she was kissing Bradley's cheek and closing the door as she left.

You were alone with your boys. This was all you'd been dreaming about recently. Noah's arms were around your neck, and Bradley was guiding you toward the kitchen, and you had tears in your eyes. 

"I love you," Noah whispered, and then you started crying. 

"I love you, too, sweet Noah."

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

Bradley watched you tuck Noah into bed. You looked so good in his clothing and in his house. You looked perfect when you were with his son. He needed this to be his everyday life. 

You joined him in the hallway and whispered, "I'll get an Uber to take me home if you don't mind me borrowing your clothes."

"Stay," he replied softly. "Please, stay."

You bit your lip and started to slowly shake your head. "Tomorrow is Monday. You have work. I should go to campus and start on my job applications and final few assignments."

"You can do that from here. Use my computer. Please, stay."

You hummed softly. He would be more than happy to beg you not to leave, but you took him by the hand and kissed his wrist. "Okay. I'll stay. Leave me your computer and charger."

Then you turned toward his bedroom, pulling his sweatshirt over your head as you went. "Are you coming?" you asked him over your shoulder. He could see the silhouette of your peaked nipple in the dimly lit space, and he tripped along after you. 

"I'm coming, Baby," he rasped, and your soft giggle as you climbed into his bed had him reaching for you. The room was dark, and his eyes hadn't adjusted yet, but your voice alone was making him hard.

"Come get me, Daddy."

He grunted and slipped his hand down the front of the sweatpants, and you gasped. He took his time. He made sure you were reacting just the way he wanted you to. And when he had you close, he asked, "Does anyone else make you feel as good as Daddy does?"

Your moan was so loud in the silent house that he had to cover your mouth with his. "No," you panted. "No." 

Then he flipped you over onto your knees and yanked the sweatpants down. "Good girl," he whispered, burying his face in your pussy from behind. 

"Daddy," you whined, and Bradley had to push your face down to the pillow to keep you quiet. With your ass in the air, he finished you off as you gushed a bit for him. 

"Fucking hell," he growled as he lapped at your pussy and unzipped his jeans, pulling himself free. With one clean movement, he was buried deep, bottoming out inside you. "Soaking wet." His face was tipped back, staring at the ceiling, trying to keep his composure. 

"Daddy!" you whined, bumping back against him harder, and that was it.

"Not too loud, Baby," he warned, wrapping one hand over your mouth and planting one hand on the bed. He pressed himself against your back and whispered in your ear, "You want Daddy to be sweet or rough?"

"Rough," you whimpered against his fingers before he shoved them in your mouth and slammed into you until he was seeing stars. You were a whimpering mess as Bradley filled you over and over again, and then he came so hard, he was afraid he was going to hurt you. But you seemed fine as he collapsed on top of your back. 

"You okay?" he asked, panting like he'd just run five miles. 

"Yes," you gasped softly. "So good."

"Will you let me fuck you like a sweet princess tomorrow?" 

You moaned softly. "Whenever you want."

He kissed along your neck and grunted. "Daddy needs a good night's sleep, Baby. Tomorrow."

And not ten minutes later, Bradley was sound asleep as you ran your fingers along his chest and told him you loved him. He never wanted you to leave.

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Bradley is always in a much better headspace when he's with his little family. Don't worry, Meredith is on deck! Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

PART 23

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[undercovercameron]

stamina

summary: you have a tiny bit of an issue that can only be resolved through intercourse. no, really.

notes: hello everybody i have returned after a month and a half and this one just simply popped into my head today! i would say i have no idea why but ive been watching clips of the other zoey on tiktok and they’ve corrupted me… cabin in the woods with drew starkey? till the walls crumble. features: choking kink, explicit language, degradation, oral sex (f receiving), masturbation, and generally rough sex. enjoy my darlings

tags: rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count: 2859

You don’t know exactly when it started, but your little problem had become a real nuisance.

You just know the first time it happened, however long ago, made Rafe Cameron finally fall in love with you. Hey, it took months of him fighting with himself about you and struggling with a multitude of other family issues, but the day did finally come. It was glorious, you remember that. But this long repeated issue was kind of impeding your sex life. Well, it was affecting your sex life that actually had been affecting your sleep and caffeine and food patterns. It was a big ole circle. You even had been feeling faint due to the excessive cardio.

The issue wasn’t as much an issue as it was one of Rafe’s favorite things about you, turns out. And he wasn’t afraid to show it. Well, make you show it.

You two had dozed on the couch for a little more than an hour, your head pressed to his shoulder and your body curled around the side of his. He had an arm caging you to him, fingers splayed across the curve of your abdomen. Turns out, some documentary his younger sister recommended wasn’t as interesting as you two thought.

The TV makes a loud beeping noise, and Rafe jerks awake at the intrusion. His hand not pressed to your (now exposed) stomach rubs at his eyes, blinking rapidly. Christ. It’s late.

The fire beneath your TV crackles, and he can feel the slight warmth from it on his cheeks.

This was his Aunt Meredith’s house, and she was letting the two of you stay in it for a little while as a makeshift fall break. You’d slept three nights so far in this big wooden mansion, but you could hardly say you felt rested. You always were taking futile catch-up naps throughout the day in front of this lovely fireplace.

Rafe’s movement makes you phase into consciousness, eyes coming into focus as your ears adjust too.

“Hey, baby,” he murmurs, stretching both his hands up above his head. The hem of his shirt lifts, just a little taste. You blink at him. “What?” His face splits into a grin and his eyes close as his muscles flex and relax.

“You know what.” Your lips twitch and you look teasingly up at him.

“Mm, I don’t think I know what you mean.” His hand brushes the hair from the side of your face not facing him, and he pulls away slightly to thumb at your chin. “Could you explain?”

“No,” you sigh, pulling yourself up slightly with a hand pressed to the seat cushions. Your leg curls once again around one of his as you turn towards him. You relax against the back cushions, eyes on his face. “No.” Your eyebrows raise, challenging.

“I don’t think you want me to have to make you explain,” he mutters, sliding down to a little above your eye level. His eyes stay on yours.

“I don’t think you could if you wanted to.” Your eyes snap back to the TV, pulling your legs away from his. “I’m trying to watch this.” You grab the remote from the ottoman and turn it up. Rafe just watches you earnestly.

You're about sixty long seconds into “watching the documentary” with your feet up until you feel Rafe’s breath on you. His lips meet your forehead, ghosting a kiss to your skin, before sliding down to your temple. You try your best to remain focused. But his opposite hand from you (always his hand) slides up your waist to settle near your collarbone, fingers lightly pressing into your shoulder. His lips migrate to your jaw, and then your neck. You fight a shiver.

You feel yourself tilting your head around to satisfy this position, eyes falling closed briefly before snapping back open. You grip his wrist.

“Rafe,” you say, but what you thought was confident just sounds weak.

He hums, mouth pressing to your neck and getting into dangerous hickey territory, and your eyes just close. It feels so good, this man leaving you breathless and pliant. It makes you so weak.

“You know you want to,” Rafe murmurs, eyes moving up to your face, and he relishes in your intake of breath.

Your fingers find his jaw and cheek and you pull his mouth up to yours, finally kissing him like you need. He makes a noise into your mouth, triumphant, and his hands grip your hips tightly. He moves you, sliding you onto the long part of the L sofa, and follows you with his forehead pressed to yours and his lips so close but so far. You pant up into him.

He slides further between your legs, parting them with a hand behind your knee, and you let out a content sigh when you feel the weight of him. The weight of that.

His hand finds your throat and then he’s leaning over you, hips pressed to yours and kissing away your sounds softly. His hips rock forward into where the seam of your sweatpants is, and your moan is swallowed. You grip tight on the hand on your neck, squeezing your eyes tight. It shouldn’t feel this good, this quick.

You cant your hips up into his, sloppily matching his rhythm, and your cheeks flush when your heart beats heavily in your throat. His mouth parts from yours and slides wetly down to your upper chest, the neck of your slightly cropped sweatshirt pushed away. You just gasp above him, hips picking up. The slide of his pants is so perfect on your clit, and you feel your blood pumps at the place he squeezes you around your middle.

You recognize what he’s doing, now. His fingers press into your abdomen, pushing it up and down and up and down, and you push your hand on top of your mouth to muffle the embarrassing cries you’re letting out.

His head raises from your collarbone, lips wet and pink, and he tugs your wrist down.

“I need to hear you, baby.” And then he’s pulling back to shove your sweatpants off of you and to the floor between the couch and the ottoman. He dips back down, mouth and hand insistent upon you, and he digs a hand into the crotch of your underwear. Your hands flail for a moment, useless, and settle on gripping his shoulder and the arm that pins you to the cushions.

“Rafe,” you sputter, head pushing hard back against the cushions. Your hair is messy and probably tangled with this friction, but you don’t have even half a thought to care. “Please, Rafe, don’t stop.” Your back arches, trying to push your body tight against his. He tries not to grin above you, watching your face contort at his touch. His fingers slide in your slickness, an embarrassing amount, and your throat catches a breath. The tension in your abdomen twists.

“I thought you wanted to watch the show, sweetheart.” Two of his fingertips push past your slit easily and curl. He bites his lip above you, loving the look on your face. You squeeze your eyes even harder, fist clenching in his shirt. Your heart beats louder and louder until—

“And we’re going to practice your stamina, too.” His voice is raspy when he pulls away.

There it is. The issue. Your not-so-issue-but-sorta-an-issue issue. Yes. You had been having trouble—well, stopping. Your libido was extremely high, you had a very sexy man at your disposal who liked to please you, you were confident in your body, so why not?

Why not is because your body was sore constantly. Between your legs was the perfect amount of sore, but still sore. You had trouble sleeping and drank more coffee and energy drinks. Rafe, ever the giver, obliged you always. He liked to fuck. He really liked to fuck you. So it was a terrible, terrible cycle. You were really starting to wonder about your self control. So it makes sense that maybe you should consider working on it.

But Rafe deciding that right now? The second he finally fingers you? It makes your head spin.

Literally, as when you sit up your vision is flooded with spots.

“What the fuck?” You croak, sounding miserable, and your eyes look up at him, almost teary. (Hey— you really like what he does to you.)

“You’re fine, baby, you’re fine. I just want what’s best for you.” He pulls away from your neck, instead smoothing a hand from your sternum to your hips.

“What are you, a fucking counselor?” You grump, eyebrows furrowed, and he just rolls his eyes.

“Better start being grateful, Y/N. You know how I get.”

He settles onto his stomach, keeping your legs loose around him as he bends to kiss you. You kiss back, still annoyed but also still wildly turned on, and you can’t help but curl a hand around his neck and up into his hair. His lips part from yours and start their trek downwards.

His hands push your sweatshirt up when he gets to right above your belly button, and his touch is light on your sensitive skin. You close your eyes in the nice feeling.

His fingers curl around where your thigh meets your ass, pressing tight into the muscle, and you reflexively lift them up and settle them down onto his shoulders. Sneaky. His mouth finds your inner thighs then, biting into the flesh, and you successfully fight a shiver. His breath is hot on the crotch of your panties.

His fingers find the hem of the fabric, eyes settling briefly on yours before tugging your panties to the side and getting his mouth on you.

You immediately moan— figures. You push your head up slightly, wanting to see, and his head shakes between your legs, hair tickling your thighs as you whine. So hot it should be illegal.

One of Rafe’s hands crawls up your flesh to your chest, fingers finding the underside of your tit and cupping it. He squeezes right as his tongue curls into your seam and he shakes his head again. You nearly shriek but slap.a hand over your mouth, no punishment in your future with his hand on your tit and the other gripping your outer thigh.

Well, you were wrong for the second time tonight. First, thinking your loving boyfriend would give you an orgasm when you wanted one, and second when you assume the same very boyfriend wouldn’t do things simply to piss you off or edge you. Rafe reaches up with the hand previously on your thigh and grabs your wrist. He snags the other one and presses them tight against your lower abdomen, eyes fiery. Your blood surges hot in your veins and the tension in your abdomen resurfaces.

You just flex your legs and bring them further up, wanting your seemingly increasingly distant misery to end.

He hums in approval at that, the feeling making your pelvis vibrate; and you try desperately to suck in a breath. It feels so good, you don’t know how to last longer. Your head slowly tilts to the side, a little tired, and your glazed eyes meet the TV screen again.

Your third folly. Thinking Rafe Cameron would let you live any mistake down.

“Oh, you wanna watch it now?” He pulls away, spitting at your pussy, and an eyebrow quirks. You just still, not sure of the direction here. “Okay. Watch it.” He licks you once, twice, and pulls away slowly. You turn your head, wanting to gauge his reaction, but he pushes your head back towards the TV with his hand. You see in your peripheral him pushing down the waistband of his pants. Your eyes flinch ever so slightly towards him, and he smacks lightly at your outer thigh.

“Watch it, since you wanted to so bad.” He pulls his dick out from his underwear and spits into his hand. His gaze is locked on your pink face, waiting for you to react. He moves his hand tantalizingly slowly, knowing you can see the movement. You pant, catching your breath, and he just watches your chest heave.

His heart rate catches when he gets the full sight of you, open and wide in front of him with dirty panties and your sweatshirt rucked up to expose your bare chest. It makes him even harder.

“What are they talking about right now?” His eyes bore into the side of your face, hand moving steadily still.

“Uh-h, whales.” Your voice cracks and you swallow. He doesn’t laugh like you think he will, he just bends down and kisses the corner of your mouth.

“Doing so good.” It’s so quiet you think you miss it. He kisses you full on when you tilt up to him, neck straining at the angle.

He finally, finally pushes his weight onto you, dick pressed tight against your pelvis. You meet his mouth again and groan at the feeling, moving your body in a way you hope feels good. His jaw clenches, which is a good sign.

“You do it, you want it so bad,” he murmurs, lips hovering over your cheek bone. “Since you can’t ever have enough, baby.”

You exhale through your nose, concentrating, and push your hand down. You fumble for a second but eventually get your hips angled in a way to where he can sink into you. He does, pushing against your hips, and slides easily all the way to the hilt.

He groans openly, eyes closed for a moment, and you choke on a moan. So deep, so fast that it steals the breath from your throat.

On second thought, Rafe’s hand finds its place on your throat as the other braces against your hip.

“So wet,” he says through his apparent awe, bottom lip drooping slightly. You revel in the look on his face. He’s all pink and dewy, it makes you sweat. He pushes forward, a bruising strength in his hips, and you feel yourself be pushed up an inch on the couch.

He follows you and lowers himself slightly, keeping you in place as he jerks sloppily into you, overwhelmed by sensation. You curl your leg around his waist, fingers interwoven in his hair as he dips to kiss you. He pants into your mouth, hot and demanding. You just arch your back, feeling him squeeze hard at the flesh of your waist as you clench around him.

You do it again, loving the reaction, and bite your lip as he chokes slightly in surprise. His hips slow, the sounds of your hurried panting slowing as well, but he goes twice as hard. With the intent to bruise, you think. Probably. He would love that.

His eyebrow arches slightly before he’s burying his face in your neck and really giving you his all. You feel the muscles flex on his back where you press your hands, mouth open and wide and silent. Your eyes roll back into your head as he lets go of your neck and fixes his grasp on your hip.

“Rafe,” you gasp, barely getting a comprehensible sound out. “Yes, shit, baby.” Your man, finally treating you so well.

“Let me hear you,” he says, hot in your ear, and reaches down to rub that one spot he’s memorized the location of. He’s a little too familiar, as we know.

You inhale and exhale shakily, and then you’re silent and your head is pushing back into the cushions. Your body floods with feeling, from the tip of your toes to the top of your head. Your toes curl. You feel like you’re floating.

It’s on the come down that you moan shakily and it turns into a bashful laugh.

“Fuck,” you whine, and his thrust turns into his last as he buries himself up to the hilt and groans in a staccato. You feel him catch your shoulder slightly as he bites the cushion, muscles slowing.

“Fuck.” He desperately tries to catch his breath. He peels himself slightly from you, sitting up.

His vision comes back into focus, and it’s then that he notices the marks on your neck. He thumbs an especially red one, eyes scanning your face.

“Oops.”

“You’re an idiot.” But you smile.

“Hey, we traded,” he says, pulling away completely from you and standing up with a stumble. He winces as he pushes his shoulder blades to meet.

“How’s that?” You ask, thinking you’re humoring him. You sit up, bringing your now cold and damp panties back to where they should lie and pulling your shirt down. You’re just realizing how cold it is in here.

“My back hurts like a bitch, and you have hickeys. Plus I didn’t let you cum so we practiced that. Boom.” He gestures wildly and lets his hands smack back down to his sides. You just stare at him.

“You are the weirdest motivational coach I’ve ever met, young man.”

“Don’t call me a young man.” He turns towards the primary bedroom you’d been sleeping in and disappears into the darkness. “I fuck like I’m 35.”

[taylorsgfz]

Insomnia ♡

— taylor x gf !

summary: taylor suffers from a terrible insomnia and takes the opportunity to write a song about her girlfriend.

That Taylor Swift suffered terribly with insomnias wasn't news to anyone, not even for her most recent fans.

Usually, her insomnias reflected in miserably unhappy thoughts or in new songs for her albums. At that moment, laying next to you - who were sleeping peacefully - Taylor could only smile.

— This happens once every few lifetimes. — the blondie whispered and took her hand to your face to gently caress you.

And as most of her songs emerged, her sentence was the motto for a musical idea. That and the sudden urge to write about her girlfriend.

Taylor kissed your forehead while you were still sound asleep and got up. Benjamin, that was sleeping in your bed aswell, also got up to follow Taylor downstairs.

Olivia jumped from the couch hearing Taylor come down and Meredith lifted her head but was sleeping again in the next second.

The blondie went to the music room in her home and sat on the pouf with her guitar and her notebook on her lap.

She started to write the line she whispered to your ear minutes before and added some rhythm. The lyrics came up in her head and she would ocasionally get up to get to the kitchen and eat or drink something.

You eventually woke up in your room after not feeling Taylor's warmth beside you. You rubbed your eyes a little and yawned a few times before you could make yourself get up to check on your girlfriend.

Meredith got up when she saw you and started to ask for cuddles. Taylor felt a little jealous that Meredith clearly prefered you over her but she couldn't judge the kitty.

— Tay? — you called her when you didn't see any lights on.

Taylor didn't answer but after some efforts, you could hear the guitar playing in the sound proof music room. So you just followed the music while holding Meredith in your arms.

— Hey, babe. — Taylor smiled when she heard you.

— Did I wake you up? — she asked and tapped her lap a few times after dropping the guitar on the floor.

You and Meredith went to sit on her lap then.

— No no, I just can no longer sleep without feeling you by my side. And then I got worried so I wanted to check if everything was okay.

— Everything's fine, babe, I just couldn't sleep for the life of me and I had an idea for a song. — Taylor pointed at her notebook laying on the floor.

You grabbed the notebook and read the loose lyrics that were written. You were still a little sleepy to be able to interpret exactly what Taylor meant but you had no more doubts that song was about you when you read "'Cause the sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me, honestly who are we to fight the alchemy?".

— Hey, this is about me! — you proclaimed smiling and Taylor just laughed. Then, she planted a little kiss on your lips.

— Do you wanna hear how it sounds?

— Why are you asking? — you left Taylor's lap and put Meredith down. You sat beside her on the floor to hear her sing.

Taylor sang what she had wrote. Of course the final product would be slightly different but that was the sketch. You were quite emotional hearing your girlfriend sing about you with so much passion.

— How does it sound to you? — Taylor asked a little frightened.

You answered by grabbing Taylor's face to kiss her for a hot while. And then you just hugged her.

— I love you. — you murmured.

— I love you too, my love.

THANK YOU FOR READING ♡

[sebflix]

mile high club ; sebastian sallow (m)

pairing: auror!sebastian x auror!reader(f)

genre: one-shot smut, modern au, colleagues that basically get together after a one night stand

warnings: all characters are 18+! fingering, kissing, begging, dirty talk, unprotected sex, mirror sex, spanking, creampie, car sex mentioned, they have sex in a plane bathroom

word count: 6.5k

chapter synopsis: as an Auror assigned to attend a conference, you find yourself on the plane, only to bump into the one person you've been avoiding. a confrontation leads to an unexpected encounter in a cramped aeroplane restroom.

other notes: heavily inspired by meredith and riggs from greys anatomy, specifically the plane scene

links: ao3, masterlist

[read on ao3]

“Ladies and gentlemen, as we prepare for take off, please ensure that your seat belts are fastened, your seat back and tray tables are in their full upright position. Thank you.”

You close your eyes, trying to block out the shuffle of people around you as the final preparations for take off unfold. The rustling of bags, the click of overhead bins being opened and closed, and the low murmur of conversation as people find their seats and settle in.

Its not that you hate flying. But the turbulence, the unnatural way the plane shudders through the sky, always leaves your stomach in knots. The whole ordeal is laughable really. You’re a great flyer on a broom, travelling to all sorts of places. Yet here, in this uncomfortable seat, you feel queasy.

You inhale deeply, trying to steady your nerves. As an Auror, you've faced dark wizards, magical creatures, and more dangerous situations than most can imagine. But somehow, the mundane act of flying in a metal tube at high speeds unsettles you in a way few other things can.

Your boss has entrusted you to represent your department at a conference in Los Angeles. You attempted to get yourself reassigned, but both you and your boss knew you were the best person for the job. You exhale slowly, steeling yourself — not just for the flight, but for the challenges that await on the ground.

A wailing child abruptly pulls you from your thoughts, and you open your eyes to the sight of a young mother struggling to buckle her crying toddler into his seat beside you. The boy’s face is flushed with frustration, his small fists pounding the air as tears stream down his cheeks. His cries cut through the ambient noise of the cabin, drawing sympathetic glances from other passengers.

The mother, frazzled but determined, murmurs soothing words as she fumbles with the seatbelt, her hands trembling slightly. She finally manages to secure him and glances at you with weary eyes, offering an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, he's not usually like this. He just didn’t get a nap today," she mumbles, her voice tinged with exhaustion as she gently rocks her son in an effort to calm him down.

"That’s fine, I know how that goes," you reply with a reassuring smile. Memories flicker through your mind —countless times you’ve had to soothe nervous witnesses or comfort frightened children after an encounter with dark magic. The intensity of those moments is worlds apart from this one, yet there’s a familiar thread in the act of comforting someone in distress.

“It’s our first family trip together,” she continues with a weary sigh, trying to keep her son in the seat. “My husband planned it last minute.” She rolls her eyes, a mix of affection and exasperation in her expression. “He said it would be blissful and relaxing, but it seems like that’s not going as planned.”

You chuckle softly. “Sounds like he had the best of intentions,” you offer, your smile widening. “But I’ve learned that when it comes to travel, especially with little ones, ‘relaxing’ rarely goes as planned.” You catch the child’s eye, and with a slight wave of your hand, he quiets down a bit, curiosity momentarily replacing his fussiness.

She laughs lightly. “You’re telling me. I had this vision of us lounging on the beach, but right now I’d settle for just five minutes of peace.”

Just then, a bearded man approaches, interrupting your conversation. “Excuse me, sorry. Marianne, are you okay?” he crouches down beside your seat, concern in his voice as he looks at the woman next to you. “I can hear him all the way from my seat. Do you want me to take him?” He extends his arms toward his son, his expression a mix of sympathy and helplessness.

Marianne shakes her head with a tired smile. “It’s okay, Robert. Go sit back down. I’ve got it.”

“You both weren’t able to sit next to each other?” you ask, noting the strain in their exchange.

“Like I said, last minute,” she shrugs.

You glance at the man, Robert, and then back at Marianne, sensing how much easier the flight might be for them if they were together. “Well, do you want to swap seats? I’d be happy to trade mine with yours.”

Marianne’s eyes widen in surprise, and then her face brightens with relief. “Are you sure? That would be great!” she exclaims, her tone filled with gratitude.

“Absolutely,” you reply with a reassuring nod. “It’s no trouble at all.”

Here you are now, quickly squeezing through the narrow aisle with your bag in tow, weaving past other passengers and the occasional outstretched leg. You glance at the seat numbers as you move forward.

“38A, 38A…” You murmur to yourself as you navigate past a row of travellers adjusting their belongings. You finally spot your seat in the middle section: a row with three seats, two of which are already occupied. A young girl sits in the middle seat with her headphones on, lost in her own world, while a man occupies one of the aisle seat.

With a small sigh of relief, you begin to put your bags down, but your movement stalls as you catch sight of the man in your row. The brown, shaggy hair is unmistakable. He’s hunched forward, a book resting on his lap, his head bent down in concentration as he reads. His grey jumper fits snugly, highlighting the outline of his shoulders. You could just about see his light coloured freckles scattered across his cheeks, barely visible because of his hair, but familiar enough to make your heart race.

“Oh God.” you whisper, barely audible, as you recognise him. The hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end. The sudden realisation that you’re in the same plane as him fills you with dread. You consider retreating to your old seat and asking Robert to swap back, but before you can make a decision, a flight attendant approaches with a firm expression.

“Miss, please take your seat now. We’re preparing for take off,” she instructs.

Caught between panic and resignation, you take a deep breath and force yourself to settle into your seat.

As you hastily fasten your seatbelt, the man tilts his head from his book and up at your presence and does a double take. His eyes widen in shock, clearly stunned to see you here. For a brief, suspended moment, he gapes at you, his expression a mix of surprise and disbelief.

You lock eyes, a heavy silence settling between you as the plane’s engines roar to life. The vibration of the aircraft and the hum fills the space around you, but your focus remains fixed on him.

This is not what you needed today, of all days. Sebastian Sallow, your colleague, in the same plane as you. What are the chances. He works as an Auror in the same department and the history between you is anything but ordinary. Initially, you clashed with him at every turn when you first started working for the Ministry. You noticed how prone he was to make rash decisions on the field, in stark contrast to your cautious approach, and you found yourselves butting heads more often than not.

Despite the friction, you both made an effort to set aside personal differences for the sake of the job. Over time, what began as professional conflict gradually turned into a hesitant friendship. He became the one to crack jokes and lighten the mood, his relentless humour serving as a welcome distraction from the more sombre aspects of your work. Even the office became aware of it, your colleagues often teasing you about the dynamic. It doesn’t help that Sebastian shamelessly flirts with you openly, even though you brush off every word he says.

But not everything was smooth sailing. One night, during an especially tense argument, you stormed out of the office, stung by something Sebastian had said. His stubbornness kicked in, and he didn’t let you leave without a word. He followed you all the way to the car park, where the confrontation escalated into a heated exchange. What you didn’t expect is to end up in the back seat of your car with you laying against the seats as Sebastian pleasured you between your legs and sang praises about you being a good girl for him.

Since that night, you decided it was a one-time thing — just friends who happened to have sex once. Even Sebastian agreed with you. Despite the mutual understanding, you've been meticulously avoiding him at work. You’ve started taking different routes through the office, slipping out of meetings early, and making excuses to stay out of his way. It feels like he’s everywhere, a constant reminder of what happened that night.

Even though you manage to remain civil, the tension is undeniable. The occasional lingering looks he gives you around the office only amplifies the energy. Still, you’re determined to keep things strictly professional, no matter how challenging it is to dodge the pull he has on you.

Now, here you are, seated mere inches from him on a flight, the weight of unresolved issues looming large as the plane slowly begins to move along the runway. The irony of this unexpected reunion gnaws at you, adding yet another layer of discomfort to an already turbulent day. The heavens were clearly against your luck today, but you were grateful for the passenger seated between you both.

“Hello,” he says, still gaping at you in disbelief.

“Hi,” you reply curtly, the awkwardness hanging heavily between you.

“Where’d you come from?”

“4C,” you raise your brows with a hint of exasperation. “I was playing the good Samaritan, reuniting a family. Serves me right,” you mutter, shaking your head at how you got yourself in this situation.

You turn to him, still puzzled about his presence. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m going to a conference. What about you?”

“I’m going to a conference,” you say, and then burst into absurd laughter as the sheer coincidence hits you. “The National Conference on…”

“Dark Magic Defence.” he finishes for you, a look of disbelief on his face.

You both stare at each other, the absurdity of the situation sinking in. The realisation that your boss has placed you both on the same assignment at this event seems almost too deliberate. You had a nagging suspicion that she did this on purpose, perhaps having observed how the friction between you was affecting work.

“You didn’t mention you were going.” you say, attempting to sound casual but unable to hide your surprise.

He gives you a deadpan look. “Well, neither did you,” he replies, his tone flat, clearly alluding to the fact that the two of you haven’t exactly been on speaking terms lately.

A silence hangs in the air until you finally break it with a raised eyebrow. “You sure you’re not following me?” you ask, half-joking, half-serious.

He lets out an incredulous laugh. “What? You’re the one who just moved into my row! If anything, I should be asking if you’re following me.” The corner of his lips quirks into a smirk, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you retort, turning to face the front, determined to ignore him.

But you can feel his gaze lingering on you, practically burning into the side of your face. “It is a little suspicious, though,” he continues, his voice playful. “One minute there was some bearded guy sitting next to me, and the next thing I know, you’re here. Almost like magic.”

You shoot him a withering glare, ready to snap back, but the plane’s announcement interrupts you.

”Flight crew, please start readying the cabin.”

You bite back your retort, choosing instead to face forward and snuggle into your seat, trying to relax. But clearly, luck isn’t on your side today because his voice breaks your peace once again.

“Well, this might not be the worst thing in the world.”

“What’s not?” you ask, your patience wearing thin.

“Three whole days… far from home… no one around to bother us…” His voice drops slightly, just enough to make the innuendo unmistakable.

You can sense where this is going. “I told you, we’re done. No more messing around,” you say firmly.

“Not even a little messing around?” His tone is half-teasing, half-hopeful, as if he’s testing the waters.

“We agreed,” You give him a pointed look.

Just as he’s about to push the issue further, the girl in the middle seat pulls off her headphones and glances between the two of you. “You guys wanna switch seats so you’re sitting next to each other, or…?”

“No,”

”Yes,”

You both simultaneously answer. You lock eyes again, the tension now so thick you could cut it with a knife, as the announcement chimes. “Cabin crew, please be seated for take off.”

You give him one last glance before turning away, settling into your seat, gripping the armrests to calm your nerves as the plane’s speed quickens. As the plane takes off, you make a silent vow to avoid any more conversation for the rest of the flight.

If only it was that easy.

Sebastian, however, has other plans. Despite your best efforts to shut him out, he keeps yapping away, oblivious to your obvious attempt at ignoring him. He’s going on and on about the situation between the two of you.

"Look, I know things got complicated, but you can't just—"

You tighten your grip on the armrest, desperately trying to maintain your composure. Maybe if you focus on the hum of the plane in the background and pretend you’re somewhere far, far away, you can drown out his voice. You keep your eyes squeezed shut, your face turned slightly away from him, hoping he’ll take the hint. But he’s persistent, his voice lowering to a whisper that you wish you could unhear.

”You know what they say. Sometimes the universe gives you signs and this could be one of the signs.” he continues, as if you’re not sitting there pretending to be asleep. You can almost feel his eyes boring into you, searching for any sign that you’re awake and listening.

He leans forward, squinting at your face, as if trying to read your very thoughts. “I know you’re not asleep,” he hisses softly.

The girl in the middle seat, momentarily distracted from her music, pipes up, mistaking his words for hers. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“Oh, sorry. No, Millie. You’re fine. I wasn’t talking to you,” Sebastian responds, his voice dripping with awkward charm.

You keep your eyes tightly shut, resisting the urge to roll them in annoyance. Finally, you break your silence, your voice muffled but clear. “I’d be asleep if you’d leave me alone.”

Millie, clearly intrigued, glances between the two of you. “Why isn’t she talking to you?”

Sebastian looks at you, a pensive expression crossing his face. “Well, we got together. In her car.”

Millie’s interest piques, and she hums an enthusiastic “yes” as she listens, her curiosity evident. You open your eyes in bewilderment and glance at him in disbelief. You cannot believe Sebastian is spilling personal details about your night together to a complete stranger.

”And then we decided that it was a one time thing and stayed as colleagues, even though there’s clearly still sexual tension here and…”

”And nothing,” You interrupt him, shaking your head at the audacity of him. “For very good reasons.”

Sebastian, undeterred, presses on. “She thinks our relationship might impact our work.”

You interject firmly. “No, there is no ‘our’ relationship, because there is no ‘us’.”

A faint frown flashes across his face, gone in an instant, but not before you catch it. The sting of your words is evident, and a pang of guilt tugs at you, making you wonder if you’ve been too harsh.

Millie, now thoroughly entertained by this unexpected drama, looks between the two of you with wide eyes. You can almost see the popcorn in her imagination as she takes in the spectacle.

You groan inwardly, trying to maintain your composure. “This isn’t a debate, Sebastian. We’re simply not going to discuss this in front of a complete stranger.”

Sebastian smirks, clearly enjoying the confrontation. “Oh, come on. It’s not like we’re hiding anything. Millie here has already heard half of it.”

Millie nods enthusiastically, as if she’s about to offer an unsolicited opinion on your personal lives. “Well, it’s certainly an interesting story.”

Thankfully, the seatbelt sign dings off, and the cabin lights dim slightly as the flight attendants begin their rounds. You take this as your cue. Slipping your seatbelt off, you announce to Sebastian, “I’m going to stretch my legs.” You offer him a curt nod and stand up.

You make your way to the back of the plane, navigating the narrow aisle. As you approach the cramped restroom, you mentally brace yourself for a moment of solitude, hoping to clear your head and avoid further confrontation with Sebastian.

Just as you reach the restroom and begin to open the door, you hear a sudden shuffle behind you. Before you can step inside and lock the door, someone pushes in right behind you, pressing you further into the tiny space. You let out a surprised “Whelp!” as you turn around briskly at the intruder, only to be met with the unmistakable face of Sebastian.

He steps in quickly, reaching for the handle and shutting the door with a definitive click. The small restroom instantly feels even more claustrophobic with the two of you squeezed inside. You try and lean away from him, looking up at his face in puzzlement.

“What—what are you doing here?!” you stammer in shock.

Sebastian, looking unperturbed, simply shrugs. “Well, you said to come in here.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. “No I didn’t!”

“Yeah you did. You did that thing, with your eyes.”

“My eyes?” You’re completely lost.

“Yeah, you know, that look.” He mimics you with exaggerated movements, pretending to be seductive as he eyes you up and down. “And then you came in here, so I figured you wanted me to join you.”

You honestly can’t believe what you’re hearing. “I didn’t do anything with my eyes!”

He gives you a knowing look and leans his arm against the bathroom wall, his muscles tensing under his jumper. The cuffs are rolled up to his forearm, showcasing the prominent veins visible across his arm. You gulp, trying to ignore the sudden heat rising in your cheeks.

“Well, it looked like—” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Sebastian, there’s no room in here.” You dramatically gesture around the tiny space. He follows your gaze and seems to realise just how cramped it is. He shakes his head and lands his gaze back on you.

“Well, I still need to talk to you,” he insists.

“That’s literally all you’ve been doing!” you retort, vexed. You lean your head forward in defeat, eyes on the floor. “Talking!”

“Without someone sitting between us and you closing your eyes,” he adds with an exhale. You meet his gaze, your frustration bubbling inside you. You roll your shoulders back, preparing for the next round of whatever is going to spew out of his mouth.

“Well, make it quick. I have to pee.”

“Alright, so you’ve made it clear you don’t want us to be together or continue this.”

“Yes, I’ve been very clear,” you confirm, crossing your arms.

“Well, I need to be clear too. You and I…” He pauses, struggling to find the right words. “This thing between us, it’s something. And I can’t just keep pretending it doesn’t exist.”

”Well you have to.”

”I can’t.”

”Not my problem.” You shrug your shoulders at him.

”Can you?”

”What?”

”Ignore it.”

”Yes!” You groan and nod.

”Well I don’t believe you.” He smirks, a hint of playful challenge in his eyes.

“Well, believe whatever you need to believe to get out of here,” you snap.

At that moment, the plane hits a turbulent patch, jolting you both. You lurch forward and slam right into Sebastian’s firm chest. He instinctively wraps his arms around you, turning you both so you’re now pressed against the bathroom door. You look up at him, eyes wide with surprise and something else you can’t quite place.

“Why?” he begins, his voice low and intense.

You don’t respond to his question, so he continues, “Why do we have to ignore this? Back at home, fine, but there’s no one here to see us!”

You remain silent, trying to find your words. Your mind races, conflicted between desire and reason. Your heart pounds in your chest as the proximity between you both becomes almost unbearable. Finally, you say, “That doesn’t matter.” You’re trying to convince yourself as much as him, though the words feel hollow even as they leave your lips.

“Why not?”

You groan, tilting your head back against the door. “You know why.”

For once, he falls silent, his gaze locked on yours, as if he's trying to decide what his next step is. His eyes search yours intently, vulnerability flickering in them.

“Okay,” he finally states, his tone softening. “Then I’ll go.”

The tension between you is so tangible. You stay rooted in place, arms crossed, your eyes locked on his.

“But you might want to move so I can actually get out the door,” he adds, pointing to the closed door behind you.

You exhale slowly, your inner thoughts struggling. You want to move, to give him space and end this cramped, intense encounter. But a deeper part of you resists, drawn to the heat of his presence, the undeniable pull of the closeness.

“I know,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. You lick your lips unconsicously, and his gaze instantly fixates on them. His focus makes your pulse quicken, a flush spreading across your cheeks as you become acutely aware of every breath and movement.

“So what aren’t you moving?” Your voices are low, almost hesitant, as if treading carefully around the charged atmosphere between you.

The plane jolts again, and now Sebastian is just inches away from you, his eyes hooded with lust. The closeness, the charged energy between you, is undeniable. Your heart pounds so loudly you can hear it in your ears. The way he’s eyeing your every movement sends a shiver down your spine. You keep your gaze locked with his as you finally make a decision.

“Whatever happens, this never happened. Okay?” You manage to say, your voice trembling slightly as you give him a pointed look.

He simply nods, a slow smile spreading across his face as his captivating eyes remain fixed on yours.

You lean in, unable to resist the magnetic pull between you. Your lips meet his in a soft, tentative kiss. The contact is electric, sparking a heat that sweeps through you both. For a brief, suspended moment, the rest of the world ceases to exist as you give into him completely.

The initial softness melts away as the kiss deepens, igniting a passionate intensity that feels like fire engulfing you both. You drape your arms around him, pulling him closer, your bodies pressed tightly together. His hands grip your waist, drawing you flush against him, the heat of his touch magnifying the urgency of the moment.

His lips move with a fervour that matches the rapid thrum of your heart, as if he’s trying to capture every unspoken emotion between you. As your kiss, memories of the first time you shared together in the back of your car come flooding back. The familiar scent of his cologne mingled with the leather seats, and you can almost feel the cool night air from the slightly open gap of the window. Your fingers tremble as they did then, ghosting over his jawline, retracing the path they took so many months ago. He pulls you closer, one hand tangled in your hair, the other pressed firmly against the small of your back.

You respond with equal fervour, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. The small space feels even tighter now, the only sounds being the muffled hum of the plane and your shared, ragged breaths.

“Sebastian… I need you.” You say in between kisses, trying to catch you breath. He lets out a deep sigh in response to your words, then suddenly spins you around and lifts you up onto the small vanity counter. The cool surface of the vanity contrasts with the heat of his touch, sending shivers down your spine. You arch into him, desperate for more contact. He doesn’t detach for your lips, your tongues tangling together as his fingers swiftly unbutton your blouse.

Once he gets it off, Sebastian smoothes his palms over the surface of your skin, leaning forward to press kisses along the column of your neck. “God, you look so hot when you’re mad at me.” He groans, moving down to suck on the skin just above your breast. “You have no idea how much I missed you.”

You moan at the feeling of his lips on your skin. His hands roam your body, reacquainting themselves with every curve and contour.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you gasp, even as you arch into his touch.

"Do you want me to stop?" Sebastian murmurs against your collarbone, his breath hot on your skin.

Without thinking, you shake your head, unable to form words as his hands deftly unhook your bra. "No, don't stop," you manage to whisper. He captures your lips again in a searing kiss as his hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. You moan into his mouth, your core instinctively grinding against him as you wrap your legs tightly around him.

He groans and peppers kisses down your breastbone, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. Once he gets to your breasts, he sucks on your peaked nipple, eliciting a moan from your lips. Sebastian's free hand slides down to your thighs, playing with the hem of your skirt. He grows impatient, pushing your skirt higher. He glides his hand up and down your soft thighs, teasing you with feather-light touches. You shiver with anticipation as his fingers creep ever higher. Sebastian's mouth moves to your other breast, lavishing it with attention. You arch your back, pressing closer to him. His hand finally reaches its destination, stroking you through the thin fabric of your underwear. You gasp at the contact, heat pooling low in your belly.

"Tell me you want this," His lips part from your nipple, and his eyes meet yours with dilated pupils. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he waits for your reply.

You lean your head back and look at him. There’s a part of you that knows if this continues further, the chance of keeping things professional will be impossible. You should definitely push him away, and tell him that this will affect your boundaries at work. But the way one hand is slowly stroking the wetness seeping on your panties and the other is idly playing with your nipple, you lose all reasonable thought.

"I want this," you breathe out, your voice husky with desire. "I want you, Sebastian.”

His eyes darken at your words and he crashes his lips to yours once more. His hands push your skirt higher until it bunches around your waist. You gasp as his fingers brush against the hem of your panties.

"Already so wet for me," he groans, slipping his fingers beneath the fabric. You bite your lip to stifle a moan as he strokes you, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure. "I've missed touching you like this."

You whimper, clinging to his shoulders as he works you closer to the edge. The small space is filled with the sounds of your ragged breathing and muffled moans.

"Sebastian, please," you beg, desperate for more.

He obliges, sliding two fingers inside you as his thumb continues to tease your clit. You throw your head back onto the mirror, a wanton moan spilling out as his fingers pump in and out, building a delicious pressure. You try to keep quiet but the pleasure is too much.

“Try to stay quiet, baby. You don’t want someone to walk in, do you?” He teases against your ear, and you moan at his dirty words. He chuckles and reaches behind his pocket to grab his wand, pointing it at the door and muttering an incantation under his breath. He quickly puts his wand back, and focuses back on you.

“Now you can be as loud as you want.” He smirks and curls his fingers inside you as he reaches a spot that makes you close your eyes in pleasure. You're so close, teetering on the edge of release. You start to rock your hips against his hand as he groans at you tightening around his digits.

"That's it, baby," he murmurs against your neck. "Let go for me."

His words push you over the edge. Your body tenses as waves of ecstasy wash over you, Sebastian's fingers guiding you through your release. As you come down from your high, he pulls your fingers out of your core and brings them up in between you both.

Without a second though, he brings them to his lips and tastes your release. “Hmm, tastes so fucking sweet, just like I remember,” he teases. He hums lowly as his eyes locks with yours, licking his slender digits clean.

You stay fixed on the obscene image in front of you, mouth parted slightly as you feel a gush of wetness coming out. You grab the collar of his jumper and pull him into a deep, passionate kiss.

"I need you," you breathe against his lips. "Now."

Sebastian doesn't need to be told twice. He yanks you off the vanity and turns you around, bending you against the counter. You let out a mewl at the new position, pushing your hips outwards desperately.

He pushes your skirt upwards and yanks your panties down impatiently. You hear him fumble with his belt behind you, pushing his pants and boxers down just enough to bring his throbbing cock out. He positions himself at your dripping core, barely pushing the tip in. You cry out impatiently.

”I can’t believe you pushed me away for so long, when we could have been doing this.” He mutters, watching his tip glide between your wet folds.

”Please,” you begged hoarsely, “please,”

Sebastian leans forward to nip at your shoulder, chills travelling across your back. “Please what, baby?” He mocks as he pushes an inch further into you.

You moan at the feeling of being stretched, juices dripping between your legs. “Please fuck me already, Sebastian!” you gasp in fustration.

He pushes his full length into you without warning. You cry out in pain at the sudden fullness. Sebastian grabs your hips and starts to piston into you relentlessly, his thrusts deep and measured. You grip the edge of the vanity, your knuckles turning white as waves of pleasure wash over you.

"God, you feel amazing," he groans, his pace quickening. "So tight and wet for me." You feel a sharp slap as his hand connects with your cheek, followed by the warmth of his palm as he gently soothes the area.

You moan his name in response, pushing back against him to meet his thrusts. The small bathroom is filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your loud cries of pleasure.

“Yes, moan my name baby, let everyone on this plane hear how good I’m making you feel,” he growls, watching how he’s fucking you in the mirror, you chin against your chest as your breasts bounce with every thrust.

The way he’s rolling his hips into you makes you roll your eyes to the back of your head. As one of your hands snakes its way to your clit, he grabs it, pinning it behind you on your lower back. “Only I am allowed to make you come. Don’t touch yourself.” Your legs shudder in response as he whispers into your ear. You can only gasp as he pushes into you faster and faster.

“Three whole days…,” He chuckles and presses into the small of your back, forcing you to arch for him even more. “Three whole days of us in a hotel room, with you screaming my name and cumming on my cock like a good girl.”

“Oh god, Sebastian.” You moan loudly, the though of you and Sebastian spending more passionate nights together makes your cheeks heat up. You don’t doubt his words. He is a man that keeps his promises. You found that out about him the hard way.

Sebastian's grip on your hips tightens as he pounds into you relentlessly. "Yes, say my name, just like that," he growls, his voice husky with desire.

You brace yourself against the counter, your legs shaking as the pressure builds inside you, nearly tipping over the edge. He can feel you clench around him, desperately trying to milk his orgasm.

Sebastian fists a hand into your hair and yanks you back, forcing you to look at your reflection. You hardly recognise yourself, eyes rolled back in pleasure as drool trails down the corner of your mouth. He catches your gaze in the mirror as he keeps fucking you without slowing down one bit.

“Watch me fuck you.” He snarls, his thrusts going faster than ever. His face is next to yours, his muscular chest flushed against your back. He never breaks eye contact with you, kissing the skin behind your ear as he pounds into you again and again.

You can feel your orgasm building rapidly, the coil of tension winding tighter and tighter in your core. "I'm close Sebastian," you gasp, your fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth surface of the vanity.

Sebastian's free hand snakes around to rub tight circles on your clit, and you gasp at the added stimulation. You cry out and reach back to grab his exposed forearm, digging your nails into the skin in pleasure.

"Come for me, baby," Sebastian commands, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Let me feel you come on my cock."

His words push you over the edge and you cry out his name as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your inner walls clench around him, as your orgasm rockets throughout your entire body. Hot white clouds your vision as you delve into the euphoric feeling. Your nails dig into his arm so deeply, you’re sure you drew blood.

Sebastian stills behind you as he releases inside of you, grabbing your hips further into him as he comes. He fills you up completely as he thrusts shallowly to ride out his high. He deeply calls out your name, as if he’s claiming you as his.

You both try to catch your breath, still leaning against the cold vanity for a few seconds before you regain your senses. You try to stand up, but your legs feel unsteady, nearly giving way beneath you. Thankfully, Sebastian notices and keeps his arm snaked around you.

He pulls out slowly and steps away to grab a few paper towels to clean the mess between your legs. You blush at the intimate gesture as he leans down to soak up the cum dripping down your thighs.

“Thank you.” you whisper and push yourself up from the counter to grab your blouse. You both redress in a comfortable silence.

As Sebastian buckles his belt back on, you catch him staring at you, a teasing smile on his face as he watches you put your blouse back on.

“What?” You search his eyes, confusion written on your face.

“I just realised that we’re both now part of the mile high club.” He throws his head back in laughter. “I feel like we should high five or something.”

You stare at him blankly for a few seconds before bursting out in laughter. The laughter subsides after a while, leaving you both gazing at each other. A small smile rests on his lips as he takes in your features.

Your hair is slightly disheveled, likely from him pulling on it. Your lipstick is completely gone, and your makeup is slightly smudged. There's an aura around you, almost a soft glow that Sebastian can't seem to look away from.

“God you’re so pretty.” he breathes out, arms crossed together as he leans against the bathroom wall.

Your eyes widen at the abrupt compliment as you drift your eyes away from him in embarrassment. You think you look like a complete mess, yet he’s staring at you like you’re the most beautiful sight on Earth.

The tight space of the restroom seems to shrink around you, the reality of your situation settling in. You search his eyes, a mix of uncertainty and vulnerability evident in your own.

”Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Sebastian automatically reads your face, and moves closer to stand in front of you, his hand moving up to rest on your cheek. His thumb gently grazes the soft skin, watching you with concern.

"I... I don’t know about this," you murmur, struggling to articulate the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind. "We work together, Sebastian. This could make everything even more complicated."

His shakes his head, expression serious but reassuring. He reaches out to gently grab your face with his hands. “I get it. It’s complicated. But I do know that whatever this is between us, it’s real. We can figure out how to handle it, together.”

You nod slowly, feeling a mixture of relief and acceptance wash over you. “Okay. I guess...I guess we can try.”

A small, relieved smile tugs at the corners of Sebastian’s lips. “We’ll take it one step at a time. We’ve got this.”

As you both share a quiet, understanding smile, you feel a sense of calm settling over you. “Yeah, one step at a time.”

After a few kisses, you and Sebastian exit the cramped bathroom, carefully stepping out one at a time to avoid drawing attention. You walk back to your seats, each of you subtly smoothing out your clothes and trying to look as casual as possible.

As you approach your respective seats, Millie, who has just woken up from her sleep, takes off her headphones and glances between you both.

“You guys left for a while. Did you clear the air?” She asks with a raised eyebrow.

You and Sebastian lock eyes, a blush mirroring both of your faces as you mumble under your breath. “Yeah, something like that.”

hope you guys enjoyed it! all feedback is appreciated :)

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

Can I please have an imagine where the reader is the younger twin sister of Meredith Grey and ends up falling in love with Addison Montgomery. The two get together and keep it a secret for awhile (because your twin sister getting with your boyfriends ex wife is kinda weird). But one day the two are caught in an on-call room by everyone. A bit of angst with a lot of fluff please?

In the Shadows and Under the Sheets !!!Light NSFW!!!

Pairing: Addison Montgomery x fem!reader

Warnings: major mommy issues, secret relationship, brief on-call room sex hehe, light angst<3

A/N: first oneshot for McMommy Addison Montgomery hope you enjoy<3

As much as you loved your twin sister, part of you resented her. Your mother had encouraged her to go to med school. Your mother encouraged her to be a surgeon. Your mother encouraged her to be amazing, one of a kind, extraordinary. 

“You’d be more suited as a nurse,” she had said before you applied to every possible pre-med program in the country at seventeen. “Or maybe dermatology.”

Straight A’s since grade school, a perfect 1600 on your SAT, graduated Magna Cum Laude, and you’d only be fit as a nurse? Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Nurses are the backbone of the healthcare system. They leave and everything falls apart.

But to have your mother have so little faith in you–it hurt. It hurt more than you could possibly imagine. Maybe it was because you reminded her too much of your father–too soft, not hardcore enough for a surgeon. 

“Sometimes I wish I listened to my mom’s advice,” you mutter into the darkness of Addison’s bedroom. 

Addison, who lays beside you with her head on your chest, sits up. “What?”

“She–” you clear your throat. “She told me, before applying to med school, that I’d be better suited as a nurse–or in dermatology. That I’m too soft and that I wouldn’t make it as a surgeon.”

Addison brought a hand to your forehead, brushing aside stray hair. “You? Too soft?” When you nodded silently, she flashed a bitter-sweet smile. “Sweetheart…you are an amazing surgeon. Being soft isn’t a weakness. You need to have compassion and empathy if you’re going to be a doctor–especially if you do plan on going into pediatrics.”

The sound of your alarm startles you and press a reassuring kiss to Addison’s lips before getting out of bed and starting your morning routine.

__________

Addison sighed heavily as she scribbled down details of her most recent patient in their chart. You stare at her from afar, admiring the way her glasses sit, perched on the bridge of her nose, and the way she seems to drown out everything when she concentrates. How her skirt hugs her curves, how her hair is pinned up and exposing her neck…

“You seem stressed,” you murmur, standing beside Addison under the guise of discussing a case. 

She side-eyes you, trying to hold back a smile before going back to filling out her patient’s chart. “I’m…fine.”

“You sure about that?” you ask. “Because I have a very good way to help with stress and I think you’ll want to take me up on this offer…” You take the pen from her hand and grin, clicking it and placing it in the pocket of your white coat. “On-call room three. Five minutes.”

__________

You giggle as Addison presses kisses to your neck and removes your scrub top. You hold her close, running your hands up and down her body before unbuttoning her blouse and tossing it to the side.

“Still stressed?” you ask.

“I dunno,” she answers lowly. “If I am, do we get to continue?”

You laugh quietly, “We’d continue even if you weren’t stressed.”

Addison presses a firm kiss to your lips and you make your way down her body, placing soft, open-mouth kisses to her navel and nipping at her hips. You slowly drag her skirt down and continue with your kisses down her thighs as you toss it onto the floor.

You smile against her inner thigh and she jolts at your bites before letting out a soft moan. “God, you are gorgeous…”

She takes a deep breath and sighs as you get closer and closer to her aching core, “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”

You wrap your arms around her thighs to hold her still, and just as you were about to get started, the worst possible thing happened.

As the on-call room light turns on, you gasp and look up. “Meredith!”

She stands in the doorway with an awkward look on her face before shutting the door quickly. Climbing out of the bed quickly, you pull on your scrub top, “You didn’t lock the door, Addison?”

Before she gets a chance to respond, you rush out the door and find that Meredith is still there–waiting for you. “Mer, I–”

“No,” she says. “Don’t. You gave me crap for sleeping with an attending.”

“I know, and I’m s–”

“I’m not done. You gave me crap about sleeping with Derek and now you’re sleeping with his wife!” 

“Ex-wife,” you mumble. 

“It doesn’t matter!” she snaps. “You’re a hypocrite! How long has this been going on?”

You thought for a moment, counting back the months of seemingly harmless flirting and innocent touches before it turned into…not so innocent touches. “Um…a couple months.”

“I’m your sister! You were the first person I told after I got back together with Derek!” There was a moment’s silence between the pair of you before Meredith spoke up again. “Are you happy?” 

 “What?”

“Does…does she make you happy?” Meredith repeats.

“...Yes,” you respond. “Yeah, she does.”

“Okay…good.”

“Good.”

Answering a page, Meredith leaves you to your own devices and you return to the on-call room. You watch with a grin as Addison buttons up her blouse.

“What?” she says.

“Next time,” you smile, placing a soft kiss on her lips, “lock the damn door.”

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor Bound 6 - 26

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3, Honor Bound 4, Honor Bound 5, and the prequel Vera.

AO3

Masterlist

Contents: PTSD, past captivity, references to being unsure of reality, thoughts of murder, self-harm themes, bad reaction to discovering self-harm, harm reduction, recovery

~

Isaac felt better already, knowing there was a locked door between him and the rest of the world. He had locked it behind Vera and Tori as they came in with tonight’s dinner: a hearty shepherd’s pie with rich bites of tender chicken, carrots, and potatoes all in a mouthwatering gravy. Once he had locked the front door, he had walked to the back door and made sure – for the second or third time since he’d gotten home – that it was still locked. It was, but it didn’t hurt to be so sure.

Edrissa had gotten into the house through the unlocked back door and then held a knife to Gavin’s throat. Isaac would have to be stupid to not check, and recheck, and check again.

Isaac sat on one side of Gavin on the couch, and Gray sat on the other. Vera, Sam, and Tori sat sandwiched on the other couch. Now that everyone was finished with dinner, Gavin leaned against Isaac’s side, and Isaac’s arm was slung over his shoulders. Gavin wasn’t shivering for the first time since they’d left the house that morning. Isaac was sated on two large slices of shepherd’s pie.

And yet, he ached to be holding his gun. The concerned glances Vera was throwing him weren’t helping.

“Thank you so much for bringing dinner,” Gray said, finally breaking the silence. “Did you make the pie, or buy it in town?”

“Bought it,” Vera said with a chuckle. “I appreciate your faith in us, but after everything… um. Recently.” She gave a stiff shrug. “Neither of us have felt like cooking.” She smiled tiredly at Tori over Sam’s head.

Gray let out a huff. “Same here,” they said gently. “But we’ve all been… through a lot. I don’t think anyone’s expecting anyone else to be out there crafting gourmet meals.”

“Except Edrissa,” Vera said tightly. “Apparently she’s been, uh… helping Meredith out. With the pies at the general store. Spending most of her time there, actually.”

“Really,” Gray said. Their tone was perfectly even.

Isaac’s hand tightened into a fist as the image of her flashed through his mind – cowering behind Gavin in that bathroom, eyes wild and streaming, clutching herself, looking terrified, as if she was the fucking victim and not the one pressing a knife to a man’s throat hard enough to draw blood just seconds before.

To Gavin’s throat.

His jaw ached and he swallowed hard. He forced himself to release his fist and brushed his lips to Gavin’s temple instead. He felt Vera’s eyes on him the whole time. He cleared his throat.

Sam wet their lips and leaned forward, seeming to sense the tension. “We’ve been keeping things as calm as possible here,” they said with a glance at Isaac. “Mostly just… sleeping.” They laughed. “All of us. Mostly Gray.”

“I don’t appreciate the accusation,” Gray said good-naturedly. “Although, god, I’ve never slept so much in my life.”

“What about you, Gavin?” Tori said softly. She reached over the back of the couch and rested a hand on Vera’s shoulder. “How are you sleeping?”

Gavin relaxed further against Isaac’s side and drew in a deep breath, thinking. “Well,” he murmured. “Better than in… than with Schiester. That’s definitely for sure. But…” Isaac bit his lip and waited for the second shoe to drop. “…it’s… sometimes hard to tell where I am. When I wake up.”

Isaac’s heart twisted. He knew all too well the things Gavin said, and fucking believed, when he wasn’t sure if he was staring at Isaac himself or merely a figment of his own imagination.

“D-don’t you want to… to punish me? …you want to, right? It’s… Isaac, it’s… it’s okay. It’s not… real, I know that. You can do… whatever you want. I can give that to you… if you want. I know it doesn’t really help you… But it’s what I have. P-please don’t stop touching me. Please… Isaac… please, this… this feels better than… a-anything he does to me.”

Shame clogged Isaac’s throat. His fingers itched for his knife. Fuck.

“Yeah,” Vera was saying. “Yeah, that’s… that’s the hardest part, I think. After. The waking up and not knowing, for a while.”

Isaac’s head snapped up. Vera held Gavin’s gaze, and he stared at her with an understanding that Isaac had never shared. Even though everyone except for Gray had been held captive, tortured, collared – what Gavin and Vera shared now was different. They had both been taken, punished by a sadist, had their minds broken down by pain and time – and drugs, in Gavin’s case. They had been kept in a basement, shackled for use because it brought a madman pleasure.

And they had both been alone.

Isaac’s hand shook as he slid it into Gavin’s and squeezed.

“Does that ever go away?” Gavin murmured, as if he had forgotten anyone else was there. Tears shone in his eyes.

“Yes,” Vera answered immediately. Then, she said, “Mostly. Months or years go by, and then you’ll have a shitty day or a bad nightmare and you’ll wake up not knowing where you are again. But the thing that matters is, it passes. And you’re always, always out once it passes.”

“Unless I get taken again,” Gavin whispered as the tears spilled over. “Like you did. Twice.” He shuddered and muffled a sob against Isaac’s shoulder.

Isaac’s arms wound around him in a trembling embrace, pulling Gavin into his lap. Vera stared at the floor, chewing on her lip.

She was taken again three times, if you count the time she went in to save Tori and killed Joseph Stormbeck to escape.

Isaac bit his tongue and shook his head to clear the thought.

“Alright, scootch over,” Tori mumbled as she crossed the living room to drop into the spot where Gavin had been sitting, gently laying a hand on Gavin where he now sat shivering on Isaac’s lap. She pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it across Gavin’s shoulders. “There, better?”

Gavin nodded with his face pressed to Isaac’s neck. His tears streamed into the neckline of Isaac’s shirt. He wrapped Gavin up again, carefully tucking him in, and glanced at Tori inquisitively.

Tori nodded at Vera. “She’s a lot more sensitive to cold when she’s in the thick of it,” she said gently. “And he’s got goosebumps.”

“No shit?” Vera said. “Is that why you always get a blanket when I’m having a bad day?”

The corner of Tori’s mouth curved up. “Yes, dear, that’s why I always get a blanket when you’re having a bad day.”

Vera raised her eyebrows. “No shit,” she mumbled.

“Schiester k-kept the basement cold,” Gavin muttered into Isaac’s neck. “If I wanted blankets I had to… t-tell him things.”

All the blood drained from Isaac’s face. “What… kinds of things?” he croaked.

“Confessions,” Gavin whimpered. “I… I don’t think most of them were true. I don’t remember. I didn’t care. I was cold. Ziegler told me most of the things I admitted to weren’t true.”

“Who the fuck is Ziegler and are we killing them?” Vera said, sitting up straight and staring at Isaac. “Someone who knew you were down there?”

“Y-yes,” Gavin managed through a particularly violent shudder. “He… he didn’t… hurt me as much. And he… let me go.”

Vera’s eyes went wide. “Like—”

“Not like Ryan,” Isaac said sternly. Tears glittered on Vera’s eyelashes. “Just a guard who decided not to kill me when I was pulling Gavin out.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” Gavin said in a small voice. “He… he could have but he… didn’t.”

“But—”

“Fair enough, Gavin,” Vera interrupted. She shot Isaac a glare. “I get it. That can be enough to keep you sane. Just one person who doesn’t want to hurt you as much as the others.”

Gavin nodded weakly against Isaac’s neck. Isaac tried to meet Vera’s glare, but she shot daggers at him and he faltered. Tori’s hand moved in small, gentle circles on Gavin’s back.

“No one’s taking you again,” Isaac whispered against Gavin’s hair. His arms shook with how hard he squeezed Gavin. “No one. You’re safe, alright? You’re… you’re safe.”

As soon as Edrissa is dealt with—

I wonder if I could get to her before anyone realizes what I’ve done—

“You’re okay, Gavin,” Tori said gently, her hair mingling with his as she leaned in close. “We’ve got you.”

“Y-yeah,” Gavin heaved, and shuddered violently. His hand wrapped around Isaac’s wrist. “Yeah. I’m out.”

Edrissa’s the one who last made him question where he was. I’m going to fucking—

“What the fuck is that?” Vera snapped from her place on the couch.

Isaac’s head shot up and he glanced around the room, ready to neutralize the threat. He met Vera’s eyes and realized she was looking at him – no, not at him.

At his arm.

The sleeve was pulled up slightly on his forearm, exposing a scar left by Gavin’s knife – and the cut he himself had made over it, not five days ago. The angry line flared red in the dim light, and it was devastatingly obvious what it was.

Isaac dragged the sleeve down over the cut, obscuring his entire hand. “Nothing,” he growled.

“Isaac, fuck,” Vera breathed. She rose from the couch and stood over Isaac, staring down at him, looking stricken. “That…” Her hand shot out and she grabbed his wrist, pulling the sleeve up to reveal the line of cuts up and down Isaac’s arm.

Isaac yanked his arm out of Vera’s grasp, cringing back into the couch. Gavin slid off his lap and partially onto Tori. Isaac couldn’t even look at Tori; he could barely bring himself to look at Vera, who stared down at him in horror.

“It’s nothing,” Isaac pleaded with a broken voice.

“Vera, let’s respect Isaac’s desire for privacy,” Gray said, a little weakly.

Isaac could feel Gavin’s gaze drilling holes into the side of his head. He blinked back tears and swallowed hard against the shame strangling him. Slowly, he opened his mouth to speak.

Vera beat him to it. “I… told you not to punish yourself,” she said. She held her hands lamely out to her sides. “You said you wouldn’t—”

“No, I didn’t,” Isaac said through his teeth. “I never said that.”

Vera shook her head. “But—”

“I wouldn’t have said that,” Isaac said. His voice was fading, cracking under the pressure of Vera’s gaze. Having Gavin so close to him, feeling all eyes in the room on him, on his arms, safely hidden again under his long sleeves, was too much to bear. He swallowed again, hoping his dinner would stay down. “I never lied to you.”

“I n-never said you did,” Vera croaked. Her hands were in fists at her sides now. “I… how long?”

Isaac shook his head. He glanced at Sam, who stared right back at him. A quiet sort of pain pinched their mouth. “I… would really rather not have this conversation,” he said thickly.

“Yeah, I bet you wouldn’t,” Vera breathed. She sniffed and lifted her chin against the tears that glittered in her eyes. “Isaac… why didn’t you tell me?”

“What, and have you react like this?” He meant to snarl the words, but they came out weak and pathetic sounding.

She nodded slowly. “You’re right,” she murmured. “That’s… that’s fair. I’m sorry, I… This isn’t… how I should be reacting.”

“Let’s everyone take a breath,” Gray said softly. “Vera, do you want to sit down?”

Vera returned to her couch on stiff legs and fell to her seat beside Sam. Isaac could breathe a little easier, without her standing over him. Gavin crawled back onto his lap and wrapped his arms around Isaac’s neck.

“Sorry,” Vera said flatly. She drew in a deep inhale and let it out in a gusty breath. “Sorry. That’s… probably the last fucking thing you needed.”

“Yeah,” Isaac said. He shrank as Gavin laid his head on his shoulder.

“Isaac, can I touch you?” Tori said. Isaac jumped, but relaxed a little when he met her eyes. Her gaze was soft, sad, but not filled with horror. Not like Vera’s. He nodded, and she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I’m really sorry,” Vera whispered. “That was… I wish I could take that back.” She wiped her eyes and sat up, taking another deep breath. “That was shitty of me.”

“No,” Isaac grumbled. His arms stung as if all the cuts were brand new. He longed to scratch at the ones that itched, but he couldn’t bear to draw any more attention to them. He swallowed tightly. “I should never have…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

“No.” Vera held up a shaking hand. “Don’t… don’t do that.” She raked her fingers through her hair and stared at the floor. “Um…”

Isaac couldn’t bring himself to say any of the things that were echoing through his head:

I know this hurts you. I know I did it because I’m weak. I know I would never have had to do it if I had just kept my family safe in the first place. I know…

He knew right where his knife was, too. Gray had taken the one he usually used, but he had another in his pack. All he would have to do is—

“Boy I wish someone else would say something,” Vera said with a broken laugh.

Gray leaned forward with a warm glance toward Isaac. “Did you hear Sam is going to be staying with us?” they said, without missing a beat. Isaac could have cried with gratitude at no longer being the subject of discussion.

Tori beamed and glanced at Sam. “I didn’t hear that! That’s so great.” Her voice was tighter than Gray’s, but it was still light. Isaac felt a wash of gratitude for her, too.

“Yeah,” Sam said. They sounded so tired. But happy, too. “Yeah, I talked to Zachariah about it and… I’m going to be staying here for a while.” They grinned at Isaac. “The foreseeable future.”

“That’s awesome,” Vera said, with only a little flatness to her voice.

“We’re definitely happy about it,” Gray said with a smile.

“It’ll be really nice to… to have you here, Sam,” Isaac croaked. He rearranged his face into what was probably a smile and willed the darkness in his chest to dissipate. “It’ll be nice to be together.” His arms tightened around Gavin as he said it.

Sam nodded, their expression brightening further. “We were worried about where I was going to sleep, but…” They patted the couch cushion next to them. “Turns out this couch is extremely comfortable. After how long we spent on the road, just about anything feels good.”

“You slept on my floor on an air mattress for months,” Tori said with a laugh. “Anything is better than that.”

“Even sleeping on the ground during winter?” Sam said with a mischievous smile. All at once, the exhaustion around their eyes faded away, and they looked like themself again. They looked like the Sam Isaac had always known.

“Depends on the winter,” Tori said. “In the south it wasn’t bad.”

“I’ll take the air mattress,” Vera interjected, raising her hand. “If I get a say.”

“Yeah, because it was on my floor,” Tori shot back with a conspiratory grin.

Everyone laughed at that, even Isaac. He felt the cold fist around his heart loosen a bit, then fall away entirely. As he looked around at the people he loved, feeling Gavin’s warm weight in his lap and Gray’s shoulder brushing his, he could breathe a little easier. He could survive another few minutes without his knife.

Perhaps he could go without it entirely, tonight. It would still be there in the morning if he needed it, and he figured he would. But… maybe then he could just hold some ice instead, if he didn’t need it too badly. What he knew for sure, though, was that he didn’t need the knife tonight.

With his family around him, alive, safe… he could go without the knife for a little longer.

Continued here

@womping-grounds ​, @free-2bmee ​, @quirkykayleetam ​, @walkingchemicalfire ​, @inpainandsuffering ​, @redwingedwhump ​, @burtlederp ​, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog ​ , @whatwhumpcomments ​, @whumpywhumper ​, @stxck-fxck ​, @whumps-the-word ​, @justplainwhump ​, @finder-of-rings ​, @inky-whump ​, @orchidscript ​, @inkyinsanity ​, @this-mightaswell-happen ​, @newandfiguringitout ​, @whumpkitty ​, @pretty-face-breaker ​, @pebbledriscoll ​, @im-just-here-for-the-whump ​, @endless-whump ​, @grizzlie70 ​, @oops-its-whump ​, @kixngiggles​, @1phoenixfeather ​ , @butwhatifyouwrite ​, @carnagecardinal , @whumpifi , @squishablesunbeam

[criticsstuff]

Counting the seconds (Series)

Addison Montgomery x freader

Chapter 1: seconds

Words: 1444

Summary: Back in Seattle you’re not just dealing with a tumour, you met a amazing woman that is eventually going to change your life.

Warnings: in this chapter none but swearing, later I promise you smut, angst, cheating and more.

Updates: Weekly

A/n: This is my first fanfic and English is not my first language. I’m sry if something isn’t perfect. Anyway my first project will be a series obviously. I just thought I’m going to start with something big. And I’m open for requests ;)

Navigation Part2 Part 3 Part4

—————————————————————

Rain pooling down the drained window like the tears you kept in, now freely falling. Too long you were standing there, just staring at the wall, the floor, the ceiling. Funny isn’t it ? How fast time can run, chasing the long gone minutes.

Shit, I don’t wanna be late- you thought. You grabbed the few things you haven’t packed jet and stumbled out the door.Your flight to Seattle in 2 hours is leaving your throat dry. But to be totally honest you’re excited to see them again. Mer and Arizona were pushing you to visit them again. Yeah, anyway now you’re the one pushing with a tumour housing in your brain.

Lifting your large luggage off the ground and on the treadmill, to finally get checked in, is the last thing you do before you sit on the plane and lay your safety belt on. 6 hours feel long, so high above the ground. You’re not willing to stay awake the whole flight, so you shut your eyes, slowly drifting off as you hear the soft humming of the plane getting quieter.

****

After being undisturbed for almost the whole flight you finally wake up. The tall, slightly scary looking man sitting next to you, wasn’t too thrilled by the crying toddler a few seats ahead and decided to murmur and huff complaints in his beard. You use the left time to think about Seattle, to be more concrete you think about the people in Seattle, your people.

You haven’t seen them too often, after Derek died. It just hadn’t felt right to come and visit, you should’ve, now that you think about it. The distance being so short, makes you miss them even more. But this time you visit not just as a friend, you’re a patient. The word never scared you -patient- it sounds so small. Now you’re the patient and it scares the hell out of you. Why?

The plane is about to land and you’re about to see your friends. Stepping of the plane, you lift your head and take a deep breath , inhaling the fresh air seeping trough your lungs. It feels okay to be back, maybe even great.

You pick up your luggage and leave the airport to get a taxi. You already talked to Meredith about your visit and she gladly offered you to crash at her house. Not wanting to spend your first day back in some random hotel, you accepted thankful .

The ride was calm and you thought about ways to don’t make the reunion awkward. You couldn’t blame Mer to be mad. You just left and barely even called. As the taxi neared the location you couldn’t shake off the nervousness climbing up your throat. Too long you were gone, too long you missed mer.

You paid the taxi driver and left the car, headed to her front door, gulping down a not exisiting knot. You counted the steps you made and took one last long breath before you knocked. It didn’t took long for the blonde women to walk down the stairs, straight to the door.

She looked at you, she nearly stabbed you with her sharp stare. Probably you would’ve end up running if she hadn’t stopped looking at you like that . Instead of the nearly cold stare she offered you one of her smiles. „Well, look who decided to actually visit.“ she grinned at you, taking your wrists pulling you in a warm embrace. „I missed you.“ you murmured in her hair hugging her even tighter.

„No need to strangle me!“ she laughed pushing you inside. „You can have your old room back.“ she said practically dragging you and your luggage up the stairs. You missed this. You couldn’t wait to see the others. „I will probably spend the whole time in the hospital.“ you mentioned tapping on your head. To point out the thing with the tumour chilling in your brain.

„Yeah, probably.“ she whispered turning around to look at you. You just looked at each other sharing unspoken words. You were both scared, even if you wouldn’t say it out loud. You shake your head trying to throw the odd feeling away.

„Anyway, today is the day. So hospital is my next stop, do you mind coming with me later?“ you asked trying to lighten the mood. „Of course, I have a shift later so it’s perfect. How about we two catch up ?“ she ask throwing herself on your bed. You smiled, laying next to her.

****

There you were, walking trough the hallways of the grey Sloan memorial hospital, with Mer on your left and Arizona on your right side. In every step you made, laid fear. Would you walk out again? Would you survive? You were promised on of the greatest neurosurgeons, one that ist going to help you. And hopefully save you.

„Here we are. You can settle in and Dr. Shepherd will be here in a bit.“ Arizona told you smiling. „Thank you, see you two later.“ you said reaching your bed and laying your stuff on it. They walked out, looking happy to have you again, even as a patient.

You took your clothes and put them in your wardrobe, feeling kinda weird. Obviously you aren’t used to live in a hospital. Finished with organizing your things you sat on the bed, staring at your hands. Damm it, why would you of all people get a tumour?

Clicking heels break your thoughts, urging you to look up. A woman with dark long hair walked in, smiling , with a nervous looking man by her side. “Hello there. Deluca would you mind presenting?”she questioned even if it wasn’t a question. “But make it simple.” you said, not wanting to hear more than needed.

He nodded “ 28, female, with a tumour in her head. Here for a final removal of the tumour.” presented the young man fast, holding your chart in his hands. “So Y/N the plan is that I will observe your tumour over the next couple of days. We will make daily tests to make sure we don’t miss anything and after that you can say your final goodbyes to the tumour.“ Dr Shepherd told you looking at the charts.

„Sounds good“ you said trying to smile not really happy with your long stay at the hospital. „Can you change, I would like to do a Ct.“ she added, looking at you with kind eyes.

****

After spending two days in the hospital, you got bored staying in your room all day. Deciding to stop sulking around you got up and found things to do. Currently walking down the hallway with Mer, to kill your boredom, you saw her.

Orange locks effortlessly laying on her shoulders, confidence laying in her step as she made her way towards you. Addison Montgomery, yeah you knew her. Well you never really talked but, the beautiful woman was well known across your friends. You stopped, not daring to come one step near her. So as she stopped in front of you and Mer, piercing right trough you with her daring eyes, she knocked your breath right out of you.

„Hey, Addison“ Mer smiled at her. But Addison was still looking at you tilting her head with a curious smile. „And you are?“ she questioned. You couldn’t stop looking at her, she was literally perfect. She raised her eyebrows, wondering why you wouldn’t answer. „That’s Y/N, you might have seen her before. She is a really good friend of mine.“ Meredith answered for you, chuckling at your loss of words. At that you took your self together trying to get at least one word out, not wanting to look like a complete fool. „What she said.“ you said looking anywhere but at her.

Addison smiled clearly amused by the strange behaviour you showed. „What are you two up to?“ she asked still smiling, lifting her hand to push a strand of hair out of her face. „Walking.“ was all you said trying to find a way to leave this conversation as fast as possible. „Yeah, I see that.” she remarked holding her laughter back. „Y/n here, is bored so she forced me to go on a hospital walk with her.” Mer mentioned looking at you, acting annoyed to tease you. „How about you go on walk with Y/n ? I’m sure she wants to get to know you.” she asked Addison, clearly trying to kill you.

Before anyone could say a word, you turned around. „You know what, I forgot I’m pretty busy dealing with my tumour. I have to go!” you announced, already running of. Leaving the two women stunned behind.

[world-of-aus]

More than Business

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Baker!Reader

Authors Note: I was not expecting the first part to get as much love as it has but  I can’t thank you all for the excitement you showed on that first piece. Hoping you all enjoy this second part as much as the first, there will be a third and hopefully final piece to this installment. As always happy reading buns!

Warnings: Pinch of angst, fluff

You’re stifling back another yawn as you go to open the wooden case that holds your pastries. “You alright there sugar, you look about ready to drop and it’s only 8 a.m.” You shake your head, pulling on a smile as you will the sleep from your eyes, “just a long morning,” you answer as you reach for the baked treat with the tongs you had in hand, “wanted to display the newest pastries out front this morning – spent most of the morning moving the other pastries around because of it.”

The elder lady is laughing softly from behind you, soft hand meeting your back as she rubs it comfortingly, “well it looks lovely, and it’ll have business booming for you with the way you chose to display this newest release.” A genuine smile pulls at your lips as you place the tongs back in their place, shutting the wooden cabinet as you pass her the bag of chosen pastries. “I hope so, but if sales don’t go as planned, I’ll be sending you and Willie some as I close shop, hope you don’t mind.”

She’s mirroring your grin as you she moves the two of you to the next display, “as if Willie could ever turn down any of your pastries, you know it’s a battle to tell that man no to any baked goods from here even though he’s well aware I stop by daily.” You're laughing softly as you repeat the action of grabbing the tongs, opening the case and pulling the amount of baked goods she requests. “Well, I’m hoping he’s going to be thrilled with any extras I send your way.”

She takes the bag from your hands as you walk the two of you up to the register, “he’s gonna have a field day,” she laughs as you weigh her bag reading her the total. “You should be charging more,” she says as she dips into her coin purse, “lord knows these treats are worth more than you charge.”

Warmth floods you, as you take her change, “oh I don’t know,” you murmur, as the register opens change sliding into its place, “I sometimes I feel I overcharge.” Meredith waves a hand at you dismissing the statement, “nonsense, with the fees from the 107 and how slow business can be some days, you deserve to price according to your work and your work is worth it sweetheart.”

You pass her her bag with a warm smile on your lips, “I’ll consider it, but with the money I bring from the other shop I don’t see it in my future anytime soon.”

Meredith is laughing her hand falling over yours, “well at least consider a tip jar, it’ll help you with those ridiculous 107 fees.”

The smile falters at the mention of the 107, mind drawing a picture of the broad eyed brunette, “they’re not too bad,” you find yourself saying, “I can respect the care they have for their people even if it costs a little extra to do so.”

Something flashes in the elderly lady’s eyes, “they do care for us don’t they,” she hums, “well still sweetheart consider the tip jar, any amount helps you know, times can be tough.”

And you did know, you knew how hard it could be for some of the other business owners to gather the remaining amount as the time for the fees drew closer and closer. You decided then as you bid Meredith a farewell that you would set out a tip jar. A tip jar not for your store, but for the other stores who needed that extra hand when it came time.

After Meredith leaves to tend to her flower shop with her husband Willie the shop is at its usual business of a flow of your regulars. Each one taking their usual along with the new bake that waits for them at the front of the shop by the register.

“Goodness y/n you’re going to have me rushing over here before your bakery closes for the evening these are wonderful!” Your smile is bright as you take in the delight of your neighbor, “please stop by, I’ll have some saved for you free of charge.”

You laugh at her surprise, “now y/n, I couldn’t let you give me these free,” she argues but you wave her off, “really it’s no trouble, I’d rather these go home with someone then in a trash bin at the end of the day.” And although you can see the argument that sits on her tongue, she thanks you anyway, leaving her extra change in the tip jar before promising to see you later in the evening.

The tip jar slowly fills as regulars drop their extra change along with their warmest welcomes and promises to see you tomorrow filling not only your jar but yourself with their kindness.  The hours tick by and before you know you’re flipping your sign and your lock for lunch, the thirty minutes giving you time to relax and enjoy yourself as you decide which pastry and drink, you’d like for lunch.

Your thoughts of lunch are forgotten at the sound of a knock at your door. Your brows furrow as you turn your head, heart catching in your throat as you meet the familiar ocean greys. He offers you a small smile through the glass door, mouthing if he can come in.  

You’re twisting on your feet before you can give it a second thought. Fingers twisting the lock as your hand wraps around the knob pulling the door open. “Bucky,” you greet, “is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine sweetheart, can I come in?”

You’re unsure what to say, the 107s leader never had reason before to come in outside of coming for their money at the first of the month, you wonder what’s gone wrong, were you short? Surely Steve and Sam had double counted the amount you were sure was there.

“I promise everything’s okay,” Bucky says as if reading your worry, “just came to talk.”

You want to say that he’s never come to just talk but you bite back your tongue choosing to hold the door open instead as you offer him room to come in. “Look if this is about yesterday evening Buck,” you begin as you walk further into the shop with the brunette, “there really are no hard feelings, I should have known I just -”

He’s turning on you then closing the last foot of space between the two of you, a shake to his head as he looks down at you, “you didn’t deserve my behavior in your office yesterday and for that I’m sorry. The first time we met you welcomed us – welcomed me with a kind smile, sweet words, and an even sweeter pastry, despite knowing what we were here for, despite our name you never looked at us any differently, never cowered away from me in fear.”

“Ma said it was never polite to judge a book by its cover, everyone’s got a story and I had yet to know yours.”

In that moment Bucky can’t believe you’re real, can’t believe he gets to know you and your kind heart. “I know you say everything’s okay, but I need to make it right. I hurt you last night y/n, and you didn’t deserve that, you’ve done nothing to deserve that behavior.” You’re the one shaking your head now, hands coming up to cross over your chest, a form of comfort as you choose your next words. “But you weren’t wrong Bucky, your visits have only ever been purely business, a simple transaction; you had never given me any reason to believe there was something more there aside from what I wanted to believe, what I let myself believe.”

“Do you really believe that, that it's just been business, a transaction?”

You want to say ‘no’, that you don’t believe it's just been business, but the uncertainty, the rejection has you biting your tongue. “We’re not friends outside of the business we do every first of the month Bucky, to an onlooker they might at most call us an acquaintance if they were to see our interactions, but I don’t think they would call what we do more than business.”

Bucky knows that you don’t believe that, can catch it in the way your gaze leaves his to instead look at the wooden floorboard of your shops. “Does it really matter what others think?”

“Does it,” you throw back, “it sure seemed like it mattered to you the other night.”

Bucky deserves it, despite the non malicious way your words came out he knows he deserves it, because he hurt you and despite this you’re still so kind to him. You don’t allow him a chance to get a word in as you shake your head rubbing lightly at your eyes.

“I’m sorry, look why don’t you join me in my office and we can talk about what you came here for over a pastry and your choice of beverage, I only have,” you looked at the grandfather clock, “22 minutes before I have to flip my sign over for the afternoon and I’d really like to eat something before the rush whaddya say Barnes you willing to sit and eat something with me, forget about the other day?”

Bucky knows there’s no forgetting that pain he saw flash across your features but he’s willing to start somewhere. “You going to let me pay for my meal?”

That draws a genuine smile out of you, “no can do Buck, but you can leave a tip in the jar if you’d like,” you say pointing to the tip jar sitting on display at your register.

“Everything okay, you in some trouble?”

You’re shaking your head with a laugh, “nothing like that, it’s not for me,” you say drawing a look of confusion from the brunette, “Meredith mentioned me putting one out despite my protests that financially I was okay, business might not be slow for me but it can for the other businesses on the block – it’s my way of giving back and lending a helping hand at the first of the month.”

“No one's mentioned struggling,” he murmurs, “I’d be willing to cut rent if I knew - if I have to get cheaper supplies to keep their shops up and running, we’d find a way, is this happening with all the shops?”

“Meredith was the first to voice something like that and I mentioned to her that despite the price it was a price paid to take care of your people – despite your grumpy demeanor,” you add with a smile. You’re moving around the shop then grabbing two pastries and two beverages, “c’mon Barnes, this way,” you say leading the way into your office, his hand shutting the door behind the two of you.

The two of you take the seats in front of your desk, your hands placing the sweets and drinks down on your desk as the two of you get comfortable.  

“So, Barnes, what did you want to talk about?”

He reaches for his pastry wanting to busy his hands as he tries to find the words of the plan he had shared with Steve and Sam earlier this morning. “Our conversation last night really had me thinking,” he begins, “that can’t be good,” you tease. He shakes his head giving you a look that has you hiding your grin behind a bite of the pastry. “Like I was saying,” he continues, “our talk last night, and the moment you shared with Meredith has me thinking, I don’t want my people to fear me, it shouldn’t be me they fear, I should be the one they’re able to come to, talk to about problems they face. I should be the one they come to when something goes wrong. Who am I if they fear me just as much as the others, who am I if the people I'm meant to take care of are they very same ones that cower from me in fear?”

“I don’t think its entirely because they fear you buck, do I think you intimidate them yes, but I don’t think it’s fear.”

Bucky reaches for his beverage next, needing to clear his throat, “fear or not, I don’t want them thinking they can’t come to me, that they don’t have a friend in me.” That has you smiling, an uptick to the corner of your mouth, “so what exactly are you going to propose to change this?”

“The guys and I have been talking with the holidays rolling around we thought we’d give something back to our community.” “Oh,” you question with a brow raised, “we were thinking we could bring everyone together and host a fall carnival of sorts.”

“I think everyone would enjoy that, would the 107 be hosting?”

“We would be,” Bucky nods, “but this is where you come in, I need your help.”

“My help, how?”

“I know it’s going to take some time for everyone to warm up to the thought of us like you have, so I was hoping you could help me spread the word. I’m hoping we can get all the businesses on the block to set up a table or booth courtesy of us to help them bring in more money.”

Your smile warms the brunette, a smile of his own pulling at his lips, “I’d love to spread the word, does this mean I'm getting my own booth?” Your brow raises at the smirk that tugs at the corner of Bucky’s mouth, “actually sweetheart, how good of a teacher are you?”

You let out a laugh, “uhm last I checked I was working in a bakery not a preschool, so I'm not sure how good of a teacher I'd be.”

“You think you’d have enough patience to show 8 bikers how to bake?”

“Is your baking as good as your driving,” you question, “my ma taught me a thing or two in the kitchen,” he answers, “well then it might not be such a lost cause,” you tease, “though the other seven, well I can’t speak for them.”

“So you’re in?”

Your smile is warm, “you can count me in Buck, I think it’ll be a nice change for all of us.”

He matches your smile, “I think so too.”

“So, you think this’ll work,” Bucky questions as he steps out onto the pathway, your sign flipping from closed to open.

“You can count on me to spread the word,” you offer with a warm smile, “but you should really try and stop in more often with the other shops, don’t let them judge your story by its cover, let them read it, let them see the you I see.”

Both your attention is pulled from one another by one of your regulars coming along, her eyes wide as she takes in the man before you. He offers her a smile, “good afternoon Alice, was just getting out of y/n’s hair, your pops still have that pasta special on Tuesday’s?”

The teenager nods not quite finding her voice at her first ever interaction with the biker, “Perfect I'll see the two of you later today if you can let your old man know I’ll be stopping by.” He’s turning to you then, “mind if I stop by later with the boys to grab some pastries from you, the ma’s will be visiting the club tomorrow, I'll even bring you a plate of pasta for the lunch today.”

“It was on the house Bucky, but I wouldn’t mind a plate of pasta from my favorite diner,” you say as you beckon Alice over, the teenager closing the distance between the two of you as she steps into the offered open door.

“Well then I'll be seeing the two of you later, you have a great shift sweetheart, Alice,” he nods in farewell.

You and Alice are seeing the man off, the loud rumble of his bike sounding through the block before he’s kicking off the curb and off onto the street. You two watch as he disappears off into the distance before you’re ushering the two of you into the quiet of your shop.

“The usual,” you say as you grab a paper bag for the girl, “I thought the others were just talking but Bucky Barnes was really here, is everything okay, did you run late on rent, I can talk to my dad, the others we can figure something out.”

You look at the girl over your shoulder a smile on your lips, “No, I gave my rent like all of you, Bucky was just here to tell me about a fall festival the 107 wants to host for the block.”

“Fall festival, the 107, are you sure we’re talking about the same biker group.”

You laugh softly as you turn back to your display grabbing the tongs from the side, “they’re not as scary as everyone makes them out to be, in fact they’re all a couple of sweethearts once you get to know them.”

“And how well do you know Bucky?”

You’re looking at the girl over your shoulder, dropping two extras of her favorites into the bag, a grin on the girl's face. “It’s not like that Alice, he’s just a -”

“Just a what,” she encourages, you’re looking down in thought before meeting her eye, “just a friend.”

The look that crosses the girls' features Is thoughtful as she asks her next question, “is that why the 107 lingers around here longer at the first of the month, because its more than just business?”

You’re turning toward the girl, handing her the bag as she moves over to the next case, “it’s still a transaction between two people but, yeah,” you nod, “it's definitely more than just business, just like when you come in.”

Alice smiles, “do you really think the 107 is going to be able to put on the fall festival you know with all the talk that surrounds them?”

“I’ve come to learn that actions speak louder than words, so yeah, I'm hopeful they will.”

“I hope so too, Mr. Barnes seems like a nice guy, under all that tough exterior,” Alice says as she follows you to the register.

He is you think, he really is.

[borathae]

↳ Index [Chapter 33 - Avenir]

• Avenir (French, future)

Warnings: Yoongs & OC are the only couple ever, he tells her about the vampirism cure, they have a really deep & honest conversation afterwards, Jimin is a sweetie in this chapter

Wordcount: 7.6k

a/n: fjadsfjasjfas 

“___ I have to talk to you.” 

“Oh no. Oh god, what happened?”

“Hm?”

“You, you addressed me by name and told me that you need to talk. That’s basically double bad.”

“No, I actually need to talk to you.”

“Okay?”

“Just”, he intertwines his fingers with yours, “come with me please.”

“Yoongi, you’re scaring me. Did I do something?”

“No love, you didn’t. I did.”

“You did?”

Yoongi nods his head, closing the door to the secret study behind him. It is located upstairs behind a bookshelf and up until recently, you had no idea that it even existed. You only found out about it because you caught Taehyung and Yoongi disappearing inside it and you followed them. They stared at you as if you were a ghost and then babbled all about how it was too dangerous for you to be here.

“What are we doing here? I thought I wasn’t allowed in here because of the curses and stuff.”

“I lied. Partially. I was keeping something from you. You still shouldn’t touch anything.”

“Okay, sounds very confusing”, you murmur, studying his face.

“Just-”, he stops talking and sits down in front of the desk, pulling you on top of his lap instead.

“Oh? That’s comfortable”, you say, rubbing his shoulder softly. You are sitting on him sideways, feeling very safe that way.

“Mhm”, he agrees but looks anxious.

“What’s the matter, love? What’s so secretive that you couldn’t tell me until now?” you ask him, caressing his cheek. 

He leans into the touch, placing his hands on your hips safely. 

“I have to tell you something, which I kept from you. I, I thought that it would be best if I did, but I need your advice.”

“Okay, talk to me.”

“___, I found a cure for vampirism.”

Yoongi almost tears up when your touch stops and soon retreats. So you are disappointed in him. He fucked it up. He is so sure of it.

“You found a cure for vampirism?” you make sure with your eyes widened in bafflement.

He nods his head.

“When? How? Where?”

“Back at Meredith’s place. She had one of Nilrem’s spell books and on its last page it contained a spell for removing vampirism from a person.”

“Nilrem? Isn’t he your former teacher? The one who created the curse in the first place?”

“Yes. I think he wanted to reverse it and I think that is why he created the spell.”

“Well, that is phew”, you breathe out loudly, “a lot to take in. Why did you keep it from me? You know that you could have told me.”

“Because I was scared.”

“Scared? Scared of what?”

“Of your reaction.”

“Really? But it’s awesome news. We could use it on Namjoon and render him useless. It’s great news.”

“Yes”, he whispers in awe, “yes, this is exactly what I was thinking as well…wait, you aren’t against it?”

“Why should I be? I think it’s a great idea. Who knows, maybe Namjoon manages to escape his prison and then all the effort would have been for nothing. We can’t kill him either, so stealing his powers is the best solution. He’ll be rendered harmless and even if he escapes, he won’t be able to do much damage.” 

“Yes, this is exactly what I was thinking. I- holy shit.”

“What?” you laugh softly.

“You actually understand. I, I was so scared that you wouldn’t and that you’d call me cruel for even thinking that.”

You smile, finally cupping his cheek again, “No. You doofus, next time tell me immediately instead of boggling your little mind with what I could think”, you tell him, caressing his temple, “we’re a team, remember?”

“Yes, I. Fuck, I’m not used to it”, he confesses, “I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner. I know I should stop being such a brooding loner, but I’m just not used to…having…someone to share stuff like this with.”

“It’s okay. I think the brooding loner vibe is kinda hot.”

Yoongi scoffs and chuckles, cocking his right eyebrow up.

“Hot?” he says.

You turn on his lap, now facing him completely with your legs tangling on each side of his hips. You hook your arms behind his head.

“Mhm-hm yeah, hot. Makes me wanna push your buttons until you break and show me where you like it”, you say in a raspy voice, dancing your fingers up and down his neck all whilst giving him a seductive little smirk.

He tilts his head back slightly, revealing his neck to your eyes.

So pretty and pale and so empty. You move closer, dragging your tongue up his neck before placing a needy kiss to his jawline. His breath hitches in his throat, his thighs press together instantly.

“Like this”, you breathe.

“Mhhm”, he hums, nodding his head in understanding.

“And like this. Do you like that?” you coo, kissing your way up to his ear.

“Yeah”, he sighs, letting his head tilt back as his eyes fall closed. He exhales shakily as your lips dance over his ear, making the softest of sounds when you bite down gently. 

He visibly shivers, rubbing his thighs together for just a second. 

“Princess…” his voice is breathy.

“Yes love? Do you like it? Mhm?” you ask him, trailing your kisses down to his neck. Just slightly behind his ear, right where he shivers the most as a result. 

“There is more”, he gets out.

“Yeah? Show me”, you encourage him, giving his thighs a little grind.

His hands touch your hips, holding them safely.

“I meant the spell”, he says, lifting his head with a heavy heart. He almost whines when your lips leave his neck, giving your hips a soft squeeze of desperation. 

Your eyes lock. 

“As much as I would love to let you push my buttons, I have to tell you more.”

“Yes okay, tell me.”

“Okay so, uhm”, he lowers his gaze even before he starts talking, “I could…I uhm….if it works on Namjoon and doesn’t kill him, I could use it…on…myself.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t even make a sound. And Yoongi feels like throwing up, which is quite ironic given how his vampire body can’t throw up, but in this moment he feels sick in anxiety. 

He lifts his gaze shyly, meeting your shocked eyes. 

“Please say something”, he whispers, making himself smaller.

“Why would you use it on yourself?”

“I, I don’t know.”

“You can’t”, you press out with a trembling lower lip. 

“Don’t cry please”, he begs, reaching out to caress your lip.

You move away, wrapping your fingers around his wrists.

“Yoongi, what the hell? Why would you even consider this?”

“I don’t know, I just…I’m sorry, please forget it.”

“No. No, I can’t. Not when you tell me something like that.”

Yoongi looks to the side. 

“Yoongi”, you shake his wrists softly, “my love, talk to me.”

“I just. I just thought that maybe we could have it.”

“Have what?”

“The thing we had in my memories”, he says, locking his gaze on yours. His eyes are slightly glassy. 

“The thing we had?”

“When I had a pulse and we kissed that, that deeply because we knew that our days were numbered and we shared one lifetime. Just one lifetime together. You and I.”

“Oh Yoongi”, you whisper, cupping his face.

He closes his eyes, leans into your touch before he turns his head and nuzzles his nose into your palm. A soft kiss follows, tender and filled with love.

“I understand what you mean. It must be exhausting to have so many lifetimes behind you and to never find peace.”

Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, whimpering softly. 

“But Yoongi, don’t you want to spend a little more time with me?”

At that he opens his eyes, looking at you with held breath.

“I want to know how it is to be a vampire”, you confess, “I want to be like you and live longer than humans and, and when that day comes, I want to know that I will have you by my side until forever.”

“Why would you give up your life? I don’t understand why you would want to live longer than you need to.”

“Because I just…growing old is scary. We’ll live with the knowledge that one day we won’t see each other anymore. What if you take the cure and then you’ll die before me? Then I’d be heartbroken.”

He lets out a quick laugh, “and I should accept when you die before me?”

You shake your head, “that’s why I’ll turn into a vampire when the time is right, so you won’t lose me and I can keep this sexy body.”

Yoongi tries and fails not to laugh. 

“You’re always sexy. I’d want you even if we’re both old and grey.”

You snicker, squishing his cheeks softly.

“I know. I’d want you too”, you say. You begin combing your fingers through his hair, painting tranquillity on his features.

“But no more talk about giving up your powers. At least not until we captured Namjoon. You need to keep your powers to fight him and keep us safe. Yeah?” you make sure. 

“Yeah I guess…” Yoongi murmurs and lowers his head.

“Tell me. What’s still on your mind?”

“I just want to”, he pulls you closer so he could hide his face in your chest, “I want to know that I have an option. Not being able to die no matter what you try, sounds like a dream at first, but when you”, his voice begins trembling, “when you lose everyone you love over and over again until loss becomes a fucking routine and when you see people finally finding peace through death over and over again while you have to get through everything even if it hurts so much you don’t want to go on anymore, you realise that not being able to die is a curse.”

“I understand”, your voice carries immense comfort for him, “I really understand why you feel that way. And I get it. Even if I became a vampire and most death becomes harmless to me, I could still end it by ripping my heart out. So in a way I still have a safe switch, but you don’t.”

“Yeah.”

“So I understand why you’re so happy about this supposed cure and I’m really happy for you too because I want you to have the option to find peace”, you speak with unconditional love in your voice, caressing his cheek and temple the entire time, “I know how much you had to suffer in the past and I really don’t want you to think that I want to take this chance at peace from you, but Yoongi let’s not use it so hastily.”

You tilt his head up.

“We don’t know what it does. Maybe it kills you instantly or maybe it kills you painfully. Or maybe you don’t die, but live your life in pain. Maybe your life catches up on you and you die in a few days, you know like in the movies when an old witch gets defeated and then becomes a million years old.”

He scoffs, “I don’t think that this would happen.”

“But if it does? Then you’d be a wrinkly old witch before turning into dust and I don’t want this fate for you.”

He chuckles, rolling his eyes at you fondly. You giggle, giving his nose a soft tap.

“So let’s use it on Namjoon first and see how and if it works. And if it does and it is safe, then we can keep it in the back of our heads for darker days.”

You wipe the tears from his lashes.

“I’m not asking you to give it up. Hell, I’m happy for you that you finally found something that could finally bring you peace, but Yoongi I refuse to believe that living with me doesn’t bring you peace.”

“It does”, he says without hesitation.

“See?” you smile, “your life isn’t as dark and lonely anymore as it once was. You have me now and you know damn well, that I want to work my ass off to make living worthwhile for you.”

“You do”, no hesitation, “you make it worthwhile.”

“Well, that’s good to hear”, you caress his cheek with so much tenderness that Yoongi does everything in his power not to close his eyes. He can’t. Not yet. Not when looking into your love-filled, beautiful eyes brings him so much reassurance that whatever he may say, he can count on you. 

“Please don’t work so much for me”, he whispers.

“What do you mean?”

“You shouldn’t work for me. So much. Don’t do it. I don’t want to be of so much work.”

“Who says that I don’t love doing it? Yoongi it’s not work, I love showing you nice things. It’s not exhausting and you’re not exhausting.”

“But what if you. What if you grow tired of it? Or, or me? Then we’ll have eternity hating each other.”

“Well, do you want to hate me at some point?”

“No”, he says immediately, shaking his head, “I could never hate you. I don’t want to.”

“Then rest assured that I feel the same.”

He flusters, looking to the side.

“I won’t ever grow tired of you, my love”, you say softly, tracing the slope of his nose and forehead, “I told you, you are the most exciting person in my life. And I mean it, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“You too”, he presses out. He cups your face and pulls you close so your foreheads rest against each other, “you’re the best goddamn fucking thing.”

You chuckle at his harsh way of saying it, melting on the spot.

“You’re so cute. I’m so happy that I am. Yoongi give me a kiss.”

He leans in without hesitation, kissing you softly. His thumb is caressing your cheek as he does while your own is touching his temple.

Yoongi breaks the kiss after a moment, rubbing his nose against yours.

“I’m sorry”, he whispers.

“For what?”

“For bringing all of this up. I’m so unfair for burdening you with my shit.”

“It’s only a burden if it was forced upon me. My love, I choose to carry your worries. You don’t burden me.”

“Ah god”, he presses out, squeezing your head, “god, fuck”, he grunts then whimpers softly, “why are you so good?”

“At what?”

“At functioning?”

“I don’t think I’m that good, I just try to live.”

“I can’t do it. Any of it. I can’t be emotional or honest. It’s, it’s so hard.”

“Yoongi, you’ve been sharing your feelings with me for the last twenty minutes. You’re better at it than you may think.”

His breathing slows down, his hands finally stop squeezing your head. 

You chuckle softly and tilt your head to kiss his forehead. The breath Yoongi lets out sounds as if he just shed a million pounds of trouble with it.

“I don’t want to die”, he confesses.

“Mhm”, you kiss his forehead a second time.

“I really don’t want to die. Not when I have you. And, and I want to enjoy life with you.”

You smile, kissing his forehead a third time.

“Me too Yoongi.”

“But I just…I want to know that if I wanted to, I could…die. That’s all I wanted for three millennia. To know that I can also end.”

“I understand, this is totally valid and you are allowed to know that. This is why we will test it out on Namjoon first and then watch what it does. And if it is safe?” you tilt his head up, “well, then you can finally rest assured that shall the day ever come where you don’t want to anymore, you can finally close your eyes for good, but for now”, you reach for his eyes.

Yoongi closes them and sighs when you run your thumbs over his lids softly.

“For now I want to look at those pretty eyes for a long, long time.”

Yoongi opens his eyes, blushing slightly.

“You’re so cheesy”, he mumbles.

“I know”, you snicker.

Yoongi lets a pretty smile wash over his face. He places his hands on your waist, caressing you softly.

“Thank you”, he says, “you always know what to say.”

“Of course”, you assure him, pinching his rosy cheek, “we’re a team.”

“Yeah, we’re a team”, he says, smiling brighter.

He sighs in relief and drops his head against your chest.

“Fuck, I’m so exhausted now”, he confesses and chuckles, “talking about your feelings is tiring.”

You laugh, ruffling his hair, “yeah right? But you did it and that’s great. I’m proud of you, Yoongi Boongie.”

“Mhm”, he nuzzles, “princess, god I wanna sleep”, he laughs, “can I nap just like this?”

“But that’s uncomfortable. Let’s go somewhere we can lie down.”

“But walking”, he whines, making you laugh. 

“Fine, you doofus then let’s nap on this terrible chair”, you say, snickering.

Yoongi lifts his head because he wants to see your smile. He beams up at you so much that his eyes turn into pretty, little crescent moons.

You reach out with your tender hands and cup his face, caressing his cheeks as the sound of your sweet giggle makes Yoongi fall even more for you.

“Why are you laughing?” he asks, hoping that the answer is a good one.

“No reason, I’m just happy”, you answer him, painting the goofiest grin on his pretty face.

“Me too”, he says, rubbing your back, “give me a kiss, my princess.”

You giggle and give him a big smooch. You pull back, let him chase you and smooch him again, basking in the lazy yet oh so happy chuckles and the soft sighs of approval he lets out. One more time because it is so much fun.

“Stop pulling away”, Yoongi complains in a whine.

“I’m not, just try harder”, you tease him.

Yoongi pulls you closer rather roughly, making you squeak and laugh.

“Don’t make me actually try”, he warns.

“Or what?”

“I’ll kiss you until you’re sick of it.”

“Oh no, that sounds terrible. How could you?” you gasp dramatically.

Yoongi smiles lazily, hooking his fingers behind your neck.

“Com’ere”, he whispers, “lemme kiss.”

You let him pull you closer, sighing happily when your lips finally touch.

“Ahem.”

Yoongi breaks the kiss. You both look to your side where someone so loudly cleared their throat.

Hoseok is gawking at you with big eyes.

“We uh..got news of…okay very off topic, but that’s how you guys are in private?”

“What do you want Hoseok?” Yoongi says, having his public voice back on.

“You guys are disgusting in private. Eww you are so whipped”, Hoseok teases, pointing his finger at you as he laughs loudly.

“Are you twelve?” Yoongi hisses with his cheeks burning up in embarrassment.

Hoseok snickers, “sorry, sorry I just had to say something. Goddamn, I won’t forget that ever again. You guys chasing each other like two love drunk idiots.”

“Hobi come on, get to the point”, you say with fondness in your voice.

“Ah yeah the point”, Hoseok stops laughing, wiping imaginary tears from his eyes, “the point is that you guys are two nerds. Hah!”

You can’t help but snicker. You must give it to him. He is a complete idiot.

“Hoseok”, Yoongi grumbles, “get to the point.”

“Okay, okay yeah sorry I just had to make one more joke”, he says and straightens his back, “I feel awful for being the reason for breaking up you guys’ cute yet very major nerd moment date, but we got a call from Fredrick.”

“What does he want?”

“His informants heard rumours of Namjoon not far from here. It’s just an hour drive and if we drive now, we could surprise him.”

You and Yoongi exchange a look.

“Holy fuck, that’s great news”, you say.

“It’s incredible news”, Yoongi stands up with you in his arms, sitting you down on the table, “I have to go.”

“I know, I’ll prepare the ingredients for the, you know, spell in case you’re successful.”

“Understood. Don’t touch anything you don’t know the purpose of, it could be dangerous.”

“I won’t. Good luck, love.”

He nods his head and breaks away from you.

“Let’s go”, he says to Hoseok and places his hand on his upper back in a brotherly tap.

“I really hope that we’re successful. Honestly I miss knowing that I can have a chill day without Namjoon appearing outta nowhere”, Hoseok says, opening the door for Yoongi.

The latter turns in the doorway, locking eyes with you. You give him a reassuring smile.

“Hyung? Are you not coming?” Hoseok asks him when he doesn’t budge.

Within a second Yoongi is by your side again.

“What-”, you can’t finish your question when Yoongi cups your face and pulls you into a deep kiss. The kind of kiss that steals your breath away and which leaves you dizzy once he pulls back.

“I love you”, Yoongi whispers, gazing at you as if it was the last time he will ever lay eyes upon you.

“I…love you too”, you breathe, feeling oh so flabbergasted.

And with that Yoongi finally breaks away and hurries outside. He gives you one last look over his shoulder and disappears.

With your heart racing in your chest, you look at Hoseok for just a second. He is grinning.

“Nerds”, he says, closing the door afterwards.

So now you are alone. You touch your lips. They still tingle from Yoongi’s kiss. Next your cheeks, which he held oh so safely. His touch still lingers on your skin like a warm reminder of good moments.

“Well damn”, you murmur, touching your chest where your heart is racing unbearably, “you’ve really got it bad, don’t you ___?”

“What are you doing?”

It has been around twenty minutes since the others left and you are still hunching over the book, looking at pictures because you realised that you can’t read the language it is written in. You lift your head upon hearing someone call out for you.

Jimin is standing in the doorway, wearing a full set of clothes for once. His hair is down, making his face appear younger and his cheeks softer. He does that often these days. Show himself in cozy attire. Good. You hope that he can only have comfortable days from now on.

“I could ask you the same thing. Shouldn’t you be with the others?”

“No, I’m not risking anything. You will not see this handsome face”, he points at his own face, “anywhere near Namjoon until the day he is behind bars and I can throw rotten eggs at him.”

You snort, “sounds like a good plan, do tell me when you plan on doing it, I’ll join you.”

“Will do”, he says, studying you from head to toe afterwards, “what are you seriously doing though? Isn’t that Yoongi’s spell book?”

“Yeah, I realised that I can’t read it, so now I’m looking at pictures.”

“Hm.”

Jimin pushes himself off the doorway and struts to you. He sits down on the desk, looking into the book.

“Huh”, he says.

“What is it? Can you read it?”

“Would you look at that? This is beyond interesting”, he murmurs as his eyes dance over the letters.

“What is it?”

“I have no fucking clue what that says”, Jimin says and snickers.

“Idiot”, you hiss, hitting his knee softly, “I thought that you could read it.”

“Nah honey”, he says, leaning back on his hands, “I may be old, but that language has more than two millennia on me, I have no idea what it says. The pictures look pretty though.”

You roll your eyes, “very helpful.”

He shrugs his shoulders and gives you a boyish grin.

“So what are you going to do now? Look at pictures all night long?” he asks.

“Yeah? Maybe I can find something that will help us.”

“I doubt it.”

“Thanks?”

“Not your brain, just that this book is any useful.”

“Thanks again? Did you just admit that I’m intelligent?”

“I never claimed the opposite. You have brain, which kinda annoyed me back in the day.”

You scoff, “well, thank you.”

He rolls his eyes, “you are welcome. Don’t act too flattered though.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

He scoffs then chuckles, looking at you with a sort of friendliness in his gaze. He jumps off the table, strutting to the bookshelves behind you. You turn with the chair, watching him.

“There’s so many books I have no interest in ever reading here”, he murmurs.

“Do you not like reading?”

“Not really? It was always kind of pointless to me.”

“Well, then you haven’t found the right books yet.”

“Really?” he asks and snorts.

“Mh-hm”, you nod your head, “reading is fun. You can broaden your knowledge on stuff, lose yourself in different worlds or find similarities to your own life in sentences or characters.”

“Yeah, I see it, but I don’t need it. Sorry, hun.”

“Fine, whatever. I’m telling you, there will come a day where you will find joy in it.”

“Oh, I do find joy in it.”

“Really?”

“Yup. Back in the day, I loved reading Tae’s plays. He always has the most thrilling ideas.”

“Plays, you say? How come he never talks about his plays?”

“I think Namjoon forced him to give it up. He doesn’t talk about it, not even to me, but Namjoon has a liking for ruining people’s hobbies.”

“Well, that’s just terrible.”

“Yeah, he’s an asshole.”

“Did he ruin something for you too?”

“Other than my entire life? Sure, there’s lots of stuff he ruined for me.”

“Do you want to share them with me?”

“Ew”, he scrunches his nose up, “ew, why do you care for that? What are you doing?”

“Tzt”, you roll your eyes, “idiot, am I not allowed to ask my friend what his hobbies are?”

“Eww, I’m your friend?”

“Well now you aren’t anymore, you weirdo.”

Jimin touches the side of his neck, averting his gaze to the shelf in shyness. You click your tongue, turning with your chair afterwards.

You managed to flip two pages of Yoongi’s spell book when Jimin speaks again.

“Taehyung and I wrote a ballet once.”

You lift your head, listening to him with your back turned to him. You feel that if you looked at him, he would retreat back into his shell again.

“It was the best story he ever thought of and he wanted me to be the danseur noble. So I created the dance while he thought of the story and then together we worked on the music.”

You have to smile. It is rather sweet to imagine the both of them creating melodies together.

“It took us three years to finish, but then…”, Jimin becomes quieter in his speech, “…Namjoon interrupted our casting. He killed everyone in the room and broke my legs before he shattered Taehyung’s hands. He told us to remember our places and then afterwards Tae and I stopped wanting to perform the ballet.”

“Well fuck”, you press out, “I should have expected such an outcome and yet each time you tell me what this fucker did, I am surprised.” You turn with your chair. “I’m sorry Jimin, that must have been awful.”

“I was used to it, I guess”, he looks to the side in embarrassment, “at least I tell myself that. It makes it easier.”

“I can imagine.”

He takes a deep breath, releasing it in a chuckle afterwards.

“What are you doing to me? Are you some sort of witch? Why do you always make me open up about my feelings when we’re talking?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I just seem trustworthy”, you joke, making him laugh.

“Yeah maybe.”

He steps closer and for a moment you think that he might reach out and pat your shoulder. But he doesn’t, instead he turns his back to you.

“Either way, I’m leaving you to your stuff”, he says, leaving the secret study in quick steps.

Except that he doesn’t really. Just ten minutes later and he is back with tea and biscuits.

“You’re back already?” you ask him.

“I just figured that, I don’t know, you always drink when you’re like reading and stuff. I don’t know”, he places the tray on the table next to you, “here.”

There is one cup on the tray. You never realised that Jimin watched you read or that he watched you long enough to realise that you always drink tea when you do.

“Thank you, Jimin wow. That’s so nice of you.”

“Yes, I know”, he says, shimmying from one foot to the other. It seems that he is waiting for something.

“Why don’t you grab that chair over there and join me for a cup? Maybe we could look for clues together.”

“Sure, if you want to”, he tries to sound nonchalant, but it’s not really helping when he pulls out a cup from the pocket of his hoodie as if he was just waiting for you to invite him. He places it on the tray without making eye contact, then hurries to grab the chair by the window.

He places it next to you, sitting down with one foot standing on the chair and the other resting on the pillowy seat. You prepare a cup for the both of you.

“Do you want some cream in yours?” you ask him.

“Yes, that’d be nice. Thanks.”

He drinks it without looking at you, setting it down. He clears his throat.

“Good. I made it just right.”

“You really did. It’s very rich in flavour”, you say, turning your attention back to the book.

Jimin watches you for a moment, fumbling with the biscuit in his hand. It is covering his fingers in crumbs and the greasy residue of butter.

“Are you educated in witchcraft?” he asks.

“Me? No, I have no idea. You?”

“Just the basics. I picked up a few things when I was living with the witches in Paris.”

“I see. Well, then you know more than me. Although, I do know many spells that could kill you guys.”

“Why?” he gasps.

“I learned them back when we started hunting Namjoon. I thought that they might come in handy.”

“Sounds logical. You creep.”

“Hey”, you nudge his leg, “be careful I could just snap my finger and turn you into a frog.”

He snorts, “sure, I’d like to see you try. You’re human remember?”

“I know. Boring, am I right?”

“I think it’s kinda cool. I always wanted to be human.”

“That seems to be a shared topic tonight”, you mumble.

“What?”

“Nothing, I was just mumbling nonsense”, you dismiss him, drinking some tea, “but enough about that. We have spells to find.”

“What are we looking for anyways?”

“I don’t know, something that could stop Namjoon.”

“Ripping off his head will stop him for a while. Easy.”

You chuckle, “sure. If we can get close enough to him to do that.”

“Yoongi will. He’s stronger than Namjoon.”

“Really?”

“Well, at least a little. That’s what he told me. It’s because he’s a Gluttonous Ripper and Namjoon’s just a Glutton. And I think he was also like the first ever vampire so he’s older too. You know. The strength adds up. Yoongi’s like unstoppable basically.”

“It makes sense. Maybe that’s why Namjoon hasn’t tried to attack us yet. Or why he never tried to actively eliminate Yoongi.”

“That, but also Namjoon is hated way more than Yoongi and barely has people helping him. Yoongi would just have to snap his fingers and people would want to help. Namjoon not so much. Even if the old grumps likes to pretend that everyone hates him just as much, they really don’t.”

“You think so?”

“Of course I do. The community knows what he did for us. As do the witches and werewolves. They’re not blind to all the sacrifices he made. Trust me, I talk to a lot people. Why do you think I’m still alive?”

“Thea?”

“Yeah, besides her. It’s because I always pulled the I’m friends with Min Yoongi card when I got myself into trouble.”

“You’re such a sneaky bastard”, you say, stifling a laugh.

“A sneaky bastard, who knew how to survive”, he says with a lifted finger.

“True that, I can’t deny it.”

Jimin smiles and you retort it.

The air feels comfortable between you and him. It’s a nice feeling to experience.

“Now, let’s actually get this started”, he says and stands up. He places his hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, “I’ll check the shelves.”

“Good idea. I’ll check the rest of the book.”

You spent the next hour in silence. It is a comfortable silence. It is the kind of silence, you thought to never be able to share with Jimin. You like that you can however. It is better to spend time with him that way, instead of always wanting to rip each others’ heads off.

The both of you finish the tea in the time of silence. You get another cup and more biscuits as well. He thanks you for it and then returns to rummaging around the piles of books.

The can has been significantly emptied when Jimin officially returns to the table, placing a book on top of it. He sits down again, reaching for his cup of tea.

“What’s that?” you ask him.

“A spellbook, it’s in Latin”, he says, crossing his legs nonchalantly, “maybe you could like it.”

“That’s a good find. Thank you, Jimin.”

“Sure, no biggie.”

He watches you for a moment, finding it peculiar that you furrow your brows when you concentrate. He isn’t judging it, he just finds it funny because it makes you look angry at the book. He eats one of the biscuits and sips on his tea.

“Anything interesting yet?” he asks.

“No, just Latin I’m too dumb to understand”, you murmur, reaching for your cup without looking.

Jimin pushes it to you so you wouldn’t miss it, handing you a piece of biscuit seconds later. You accept it absentmindedly, dunking it into your tea and forgetting it right there.

“Geez, take the cookie out, you’re drowning it”, Jimin says, pulling your hand away.

“Huh? Oh dear, I totally didn’t notice that.”

“I couldn’t tell at all. Ew, soggy biscuit.”

“It’s good stuff, don’t judge it”, you say, eating it most deliciously.

“If you say so”, he murmurs, scrunching his nose up.

“You go look for another book, instead of judging me.”

“I’m not judging you, on the contrary.”

You turn with your chair.

“Really? What’s that supposed to mean.”

He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.

“Nothing really. Do you think the others have reached Namjoon by now?”

You check your watch.

“It’s been more than hour. They should have arrived by now. Let’s hope that they’re okay.”

“They’re definitely fine. They all know how to fight and they have Yoongi.”

“Yeah, I guess. I’m still really worried.”

“Why?”

“What if someone gets hurt?”

“Then they’ll heal. Don’t worry.”

You sigh in defeat, “I guess. Gosh, I always get so worried when they leave to fight. I should stop that, it’s not like they can get hurt. And Yoongi will keep them safe.”

Jimin nods his head, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Exactly, he’ll keep them safe.”

He stands up again and returns to the bookshelf. He wouldn’t tell you, but he enjoys today’s evening. Your scent doesn’t annoy him anymore and your heartbeat doesn’t make him angry anymore. As a matter of fact, he finds the sounds of it rather relaxing. Just as he finds the sounds of you flipping the pages or setting your cup of tea down relaxing.

He also wouldn’t tell you that ever since he swore to be better for Tae, he turned his emotions back on. Because admitting that would mean that he would also have to admit that you were right. Feeling is nice if you are surrounded by good people. It is just incredibly hard to accept that he was indeed surrounded by good people these days. The thought of Namjoon still lingers in the back of his mind and sometimes he catches himself in the act of being rude to someone without even wanting to.

He tries very hard not to this evening, because you have been so nice to him. You let him hang out with Taehyung and you show no signs of disgust over their bond. You talk to him nicely even after all the awful shit he pulled with you. And you called him your friend.

Jimin sneaks a glance at you. You have one leg pulled on the chair, hunching terribly.

He smiles.

You are the second person after Taehyung to call him a friend. It feels nice to be called a friend for once. Enemy sounds so familiar, but leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Friend sounds unfamiliar, but leaves sweetness behind. He likes it a lot and he hopes that he can hear it a lot from now on, because he wants to be friends with you and the others.

“Jimin, look.”

“Yeah? Found something?”

He takes the space behind you, placing both of his hands on your shoulders. It makes you sneak a glance up at him because of the unfamiliarity of it. He doesn’t seem to notice, looking at the book. So you don’t call him out on it, turning your attention to the book instead.

“It’s a spell about magical barriers. It says you need sorbus aucuparia to keep mythical creatures out.”

“Okay? And now for dummies please.”

“Mountain ash. It says that you have to grind up the bark of it and then sprinkle it on your threshold whilst repeating these words.”

“Sounds a little like nonsense to me. I never heard of mountain ash being able to stop us.”

“I mean, in theory every good piece of wood is able to stop you.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, good god”, he says and squeezes your shoulders.

You snicker.

“Tzt, just keep looking”, he says, abandoning your shoulders for the sake of finding something interesting.

The second can of tea gets emptied by you and him. The plate of biscuits soon is empty as well. Jimin finds two more books, which you now read on the sofa in the sitting room next to the kitchen. The one with the red satin sofas and huge marble statues of Alpha in each corner of the room. Taehyung made them over the span of ten years. Namjoon’s statue was covered by a heavy piece of fabric these days. Jimin reads too, resting on the sofa with his legs dangling over the headrest and his head almost falling off the edge.

Every now and then, the sounds of pages flipping cuts through the silence.

“Urgh boring”, Jimin breaks said silence with a loud groan.

“What?” you ask, lowering your book.

“Reading is so boring. Can’t we do something else?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Just anything other than reading. Let’s watch a movie.”

“Sure, with what television?”

Jimin drops his head over the edge of the sofa, scanning his eyes over the upside down room.

“Urgh, uncool. Why do we not own a TV? What’s wrong with us? We have to buy one soon, it’s ridiculous. We’re living as if we’re still in 1834. Urgh, I’m so bored”, he whines with a huge pout on his lips.

“Just read your book”, you say with amusement lacing your voice.

Jimin lifts his head and drops it on the sofa in a weird angle.

“Let’s go to the movies together.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, duh.”

“What if the others come back in the meantime?”

“We’ll just leave a note or something.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on ___, don’t be so boring.”

“I don’t know”, you whine, “I kind of want to be here when they return so we can make sure that they’re all okay.”

“They’re going to be fine. They have Yoongi, remember?”

You roll your eyes, “you can’t convince me that easily.”

“Urgh ___”, Jimin whines, “come on, let’s go to the movies.”

“Let’s just wait for a little, maybe they’ll come back soon.”

“___!” someone screams your name.

“See? As I told you.”

Jimin rolls his eyes, “fine, you win this round.”

“___!” Jungkook is screaming.

“I’m here!” you call out, hurrying out of the sitting room.  

“___!” his voice is breaking at the end.

“Kook! I’m here!” you tell him, making it easier for him to find you by running to where he calls out from.

You collide with him on the hallway.

“___”, he presses out with tears streaming down his face.

“Jungkook holy fuck, what’s wrong?”

“___ we captured Namjoon.”

“What? You captured him? Holy shit, Jungkook this is awesome”, you laugh, falling around his neck.

Jungkook sobs, squeezing you so tightly that you can barely breathe.

��Kook, careful your strength”, you warn him in a chuckle.

“___ I’m sorry”, he chokes out.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re all happy here. So where is he? Where are the others?”

“Oh god”, Jungkook presses out and sobs loudly next to you.

“Gosh Kook, stop crying you’ll make me cry too”, you say, wrapping your arm around his waist.

That is when it happens. Namjoon sets foot into the estate, guided by Hoseok and Seokjin and with the Unbreakable Shackles around his wrists. The guys are covered in the remnants of the fight, carrying a grim expression on their face. Namjoon lifts his head and locks eyes with you and Jimin. His lips curl into a menacing smile.

He laughs.

He laughs loudly and happily and as if he won.

“What the fuck?” you say, eyeing him with shock.

“Fuck yes. I knew you fucking pigs weren’t dead”, Namjoon says and laughs louder, throwing his head back, “oh life’s fucking great. I’m going to rip you to shreds, Park Jimin.”

Jimin is hiding behind you and Jungkook, entire body trembling in fear. He is even grabbing a piece of your jumper, twisting it with shaking fingers.

“Stop hiding, little piglet. Oh, I’m going to fucking hurt you”, he growls.

Jimin whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Shut up, you cunt”, you spit, making yourself bigger in front of him. Namjoon’s black eyes flit to you.

He growls demonically, “come here little one, if you’re brave enough. Nobody’s going to protect you now”, he challenges you, snapping at you with bared fangs.

“What the hell is his problem?” you murmur, cocking your eyebrow up in judgement.

“___, I’m so sorry”, Jungkook presses out, whimpering painfully.

It only makes Namjoon laugh harder.

“Shut the fuck up”, Hoseok hisses, pushing Namjoon roughly “fuck, you’re giving me a headache.”

They pass by you. Namjoon rips himself free of Hoseok’s grasp, jumping at you instantly. Not that he can actually reach you, Seokjin catches him by his hair before he can, tugging him back roughly. But Namjoon fights him, he fights him to the point that all the tugging on his hair contorts his face into a grimace of distorted sanity. He is dripping black saliva from his sharp fangs, staring at you with obsidian eyes.

“You lost”, he growls and laughs, “you fucking lost.”

“Tzt”, you scoff, “says the one who is currently rendered useless. Look around you Namjoon, you are the one who lost.”

“Hah!” Namjoon exclaims loudly and laughs.

The sound of it twists your stomach in disgusted fear.

“Shut up”, Seokjin hisses, finally managing to tug him away, “walk. Asshole.”

“I may be useless right now!” Namjoon screams, “but you are the one who lost everything! I fucking won!”

“He’s crazy”, you murmur, turning to Jungkook, “what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“___ he-”, Jungkook whimpers, “cursed wood.”

“What?”

“He keeps healing and, and not healing. And- oh god.”

“What do you mean?”

Taehyung and Emma stumble into the estate and in their middle Yoongi is fighting and writhing in their arms. His skin is grey and in his mouth a cloth is stuck so he wouldn’t bite his own teeth out.

“Yoongi?” you gasp, running to his side, “holy fuck, what happened?”

“___, he had cursed wood. Namjoon he, he knew that we were coming. He, he had cursed wood grinded up and hit Yoongi with it. And, and he i-inhaled it an-and it’s, it’s- oh god”, Jungkook can’t finish his sentence as sobs rip through him.

“What?”

“Argh!” Yoongi screams up and fights himself free from Taehyung’ and Emma’s grasps. He falls to the ground, convulsing painfully. The cloth falls out of his mouth.

Yoongi screams. He screams like you have never heard a man scream before. Black blood gushes from his mouth and nose, muffling his screams all while he is choking on them.

“Yoongi?” you press out, “holy fuck, what is happening? Yoongi?”

The blood is streaming out of his eyes as well, turning his vision dark. His screams become muffled by the blood, his fingers reach for you.

“Oh god, it’s okay. Hey, it’s okay. I’m here”, you promise him and hold his hand.

Yoongi shatters it. He didn’t want it to happen, but he is in too much pain to have control. It hurts like you have never ached before and yet you can’t let go. You squeeze him right back, crying under the pain and the worry.

“Make it stop”, he begs and coughs for air, “it hurts, please”, he begs, convulsing again and again and again until the convulsing stops.

His hands stops squeezing you, his body stops twitching.

“Yoongi?”

You touch his face.

“Yoongi? Hey, Yoongi?”

You shake him.

“Yoongi?”

You shake him again.

“My love?”

The panic twists your stomach.

“Yoongi, wake up please. Please wake up.”

His hand slips out of your grasp.

“Yoongi! Please wake up! Yoongi! Please! Why aren’t you waking up?! Yoongi!”

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 36 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is finally happy, and he knows it's because of you. The way you want to try new things with him in bed makes him feel wild. And the way you love his son makes him feel calm. But when you read a piece of mail before he's ready for you to see it, your reaction has him feeling something new.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, smut, anal sex, butt plug, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Bradley anxiously awaited for his appointment with Tracy to begin. He wasn't sure if it was a good sign or a bad sign that she asked him to stop by on his way home from work, but he was here now. And he had his checkbook with him. 

"I owe you some money," he said when she finally called him back.

"Sure, but we have other things to talk about," she said, ushering him over to her conference table while she opened up a Red Bull.

His stomach lurched. "It is about Meredith? Is it bad?" He was finally starting to be able to enjoy every day he spent with you and Noah. He didn't have to worry about things constantly, because you were happy to help him with his son and his house. When he got home with Noah the other day, you were changing that lightbulb on the front porch that he'd been meaning to get to. And you kept trying to help him pay his mortgage. 

"Yes, it's about Meredith. Just have a seat."

Bradley sat and looked at her expectantly. "Has she been released or something? Do I need to call my girl?"

"No, no," she said, waving him off as she took a sip. "She's been sentenced."

Now Bradley's heart was really pounding. Tracy had told him that Meredith would most likely get five to fifteen years for the fraud charges. Five would be devastating, simply because Noah would still be a minor when she was released. Fifteen would be ideal. Noah would be over eighteen and a legal adult. A fight for custody or money would be a moot point. And well, if Bradley had another child with you, that would have nothing legally to do with his ex at all. 

"Please tell me this is good, Tracy. I just want to solidify my life right now exactly as it is. No more messing around with protective orders and broken windows. My kid is happy, and I am happy."

She smiled and said, "You're about to get even happier. Fifteen years." 

Bradley was out of his seat with his fist in the air immediately. "Hell yes! Any chance at parole?" he asked. 

"There's always a chance. We'll keep an eye on things." 

She and he talked for a bit after that, and he felt his body ease back comfortably in the seat. Bradley wrote out a check and left it with Tracy, and then she handed him a folder full of information on adopting a stepchild in California. And a second folder with a preliminary copy of his updated will.

When he got home with his checkbook in his hand, he found you and Noah in the kitchen, and both of you were wearing more peanut butter than the carrots on the cutting board in front of you were. But you were laughing, and so was he, and the house smelled like dinner was cooking.

"I'm home," Bradley said from the kitchen doorway, and you spun in surprise. 

"Hi, Daddy," you said as you rushed for him with your messy hands held out at your sides. "You're already done with Tracy?"

"Mmhmm," Bradley hummed, leaning down to kiss you as Noah brought him ants on a log. "Fifteen years," he murmured, and you leaned in for another kiss with a soft, pleased laugh. 

"Really?"

"We can talk more later," he said, keeping one arm around your waist as he lifted Noah up and opened his mouth for the messy carrot stick. He kissed Noah while he chewed and then said, "Thanks, Bub. Did you have a good day?"

"Yeah. We did a puppet show," he said before squirming out of Bradley's arm to go make a bigger mess. And that left Bradley holding you and his checkbook. 

"Casey asked me to say hi to you when I picked Noah up," you whispered with a little grin on your face as you reached for the checkbook. "I told her I would if my mouth wasn't otherwise engaged this evening."

Bradley snorted. "You didn't."

"I did," you confirmed, waving his checkbook in the air between two fingers before tossing it onto the counter. "Who are you writing checks to, old man? I already told you, everyone uses payment apps."

"Tracy," he said. "I'm pretty sure she's older than me."

"Nobody is older than you, Daddy," you whispered, and Bradley took your wrists and guided both of your hands to his mouth. He watched your lips part silently as he licked the healed scar on your palm before sucking your thumb into his mouth. You squeaked as he cleaned the peanut butter from each of your fingers individually as you stepped a little closer to him. 

"Who you calling old?" he asked before kissing your palm and squeezing your hip. He made a show of switching to the other hand as you rubbed your core against the front of his pants. Your eyes rolled back as you moaned for him. "Shh," he scolded. "Behave." 

But you were only wearing thin scrub pants, and Bradley didn't actually want you to behave. One glance at Noah proved that he was absorbed with emptying a large canister of raisins onto the counter, so Bradley finished with your hand and then palmed both of your butt cheeks at the same time. He squeezed, really enjoying the feel of you as he whispered, "Are you wearing it?"

"No," you gasped. "I just got home from work!"

Bradley shrugged. "You've been wearing it around the past few days. Here and there."

You glanced at Noah over your shoulder before you whispered, "It makes me horny. I can't wear it to work! I'll get fired!"

Bradley chuckled and then he tightened his grip on your ass and said, "Go put it in."

Your teeth immediately sank into your lip. "Now?"

"Yeah," he replied softly. "Like my good girl."

You scampered off to the bedroom, saying, "Take the casserole out of the oven," as you went.

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

You knew to take your time with your silicone plug now. Use lots of lube and relax. As soon as you finished inserting it, you were practically moaning for Bradley to put his cock in your pussy. You were kind of addicted to the way it felt when he and the toy were both inside you at the same time. With a few deep breaths, you eased your underwear and your scrub pants back up your legs and made your way back to the kitchen. 

Bradley and Noah were sitting at the table with the casserole dish, and when you met your boyfriend's eyes, he was grinning. "Well?" he asked, reaching for your hand. 

"You know it, Daddy," you replied, and even though you weren't trying to, your voice took on a needy edge. 

He grunted softly, his eyes half lidded now as he patted the chair next to him. Noah was already eating his dinner, and thankfully he didn't seem to notice the way Bradley was looking at you like you were for dessert. You eased yourself onto the seat and whimpered softly as Bradley leaned in and pressed the softest, sweetest kiss to your lips. 

"I love you, Baby," he murmured before brushing your cheek with his nose. "I can't wait to take you to the lake house next weekend. We'll pack your little toy."

He started kissing along your neck, and you didn't think you'd make it through dinner at this rate. Your nipples were hard, and he was barely even touching you. Desperate for a distraction, you tried to reach for the casserole without rolling your hips too much.

"Daddy?" Noah asked. "Can we get a dog?"

"A dog?" Bradley asked, his attention shifting slightly from you to his son. "I already got you a Mommy, isn't that enough?" You snorted with laughter, but Noah was undeterred. 

"I want a dog."

"Noah, if we get a dog, somehow it will end up being my responsibility. Maybe when you're older," Bradley said. But he was pouting, and he looked like he was going to cry. 

"Daddy," you whined softly with a little grin. "I always wanted a dog, too." 

Now Bradley was looking back and forth between you and Noah, before settling on you. "Are you really going to do this to me right now? You could probably get away with murder at the moment, Princess."

"Isn't that always the case?" you asked sweetly as you shifted a bit in your seat and served yourself some dinner. 

Bradley groaned and held his forehead in his hand. "Can we talk about this later?" he begged, glancing at you between his fingers. But you were busy smiling at his son. 

"We'll work on it, okay sweet Noah?" you whispered. 

"Okay," Noah agreed softly before he started eating again.

But teasing Bradley about the dog definitely backfired on you later on the couch. Noah wanted to watch a Disney movie, so Bradley sat in the middle of the couch with your head resting on one thigh and Noah's on the other. The Princess and the Frog was playing, because Bradley insisted you deserved a princess movie. And everything was perfect. His hand was heavy on your side, stroking you through your clothing in the most delicious way.

When the movie was nearly finished, Bradley murmured, "Noah's asleep," as his hand skimmed along your hip. Then inch by inch, his fingers worked their way along your butt until he was cupping you with one big hand. Then you felt him prod you through your clothing, running one long finger across the base of your toy. 

"Fuck," he grunted as he very gently pressed it further into you. Full. You were so full. After days of wearing it for an hour here and there, you thought maybe you were ready for more. 

You looked up at Bradley over your shoulder and wiggled against his hand. The way he slowly shook his head and licked his lips made you feel like you were in control of this. But you supposed you always were. Then he eased his hand up to your lower back and teased at the waistband of your pants and underwear before dipping it inside. 

Rough skin on yours had your eyes fluttering closed. "Look at me, Baby," he whispered, and you clenched for him. "Look at me while I touch you."

You did as you were told, but he subtly let you know you were still in charge. His brown eyes were sincere and open as he cupped your rear end, moving the plug incrementally. Pushing, pulling, tugging and teasing. When you whimpered, he pushed his fingers forward to your pussy. 

"Daddy," you gasped as he pushed his rough fingers through your folds.

He spanked your pussy lightly until you were afraid you'd start getting loud. "Go get yourself in bed," he instructed. Then he withdrew his fingers and licked them clean. When you rolled onto your belly, your cheek and hand rubbed against his cock in his pants. "I'll come take care of you in a minute."

"Yes, Daddy." You kissed Noah's cheek and then leaned down to taste yourself on Bradley's lips. Then you ran into the bedroom and tossed all of your clothing into the hamper, replacing all of it with a new matching bra and thong you paid for with his credit card. "Damn it," you whined. The toy was making you squirm for release, and you were half tempted to touch yourself. You were nervous, but only slightly, because you knew Bradley would do whatever you told him to. So you grabbed the lube from your drawer and settled onto your beautiful, new bed. 

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

Shit. You were already touching yourself when Bradley walked into the bedroom. Black lingerie, your purple plug peeking out, and you on your back with your fingers in your pussy. "Jesus Christ," he groaned, ripping his shirt off and tossing it on the floor. You looked so young and innocent, even with your ass full of that toy. Bradley couldn't believe the words he was about to speak out loud. "Will you let me fuck you in the ass?"

Wide eyed and writhing around on your back on the bed, you nodded at him. "Yes." He was determined to do this just right. He never wanted to hurt you. He always wanted you to feel good when you were with him. Carefully he removed his jeans and joined you on the bed with his cock hard in his briefs. 

"You've been teasing me with that toy all night," he whispered, pressing a feather light kiss to your lips and pulling away so you'd chase him for more. "Time to see if you can handle something a little bigger."

You whined for him as he kissed down your body. "You're a lot bigger," you gasped when he nibbled on you through your bra. "You'll go slow?"

Bradley hummed against your skin, stretching up to kiss your neck. "I'll do whatever you want. Anything you want. And if you tell me to stop, I'll stop."

"Okay," you whispered. "Just go slow."

He could hear the slight edge of apprehension in your voice, so he took your face in his hand and kissed your cheek. He wanted to be sure this was a good type of nervous, not a bad one. "You are under no obligation to do this, Princess. You already give me more than enough." 

"I know," you replied, meeting his lips with yours.

But he pulled back and forced you to look him in the eye. "Tell me one more time that this is what you want. And tell me that you trust me."

You nibbled on your lip before you said, "I always trust you. And I want to try this. Now make me feel good."

Bradley was grinning as he slipped his hand down your belly and tucked it inside your black underwear. The swirl of his fingers on your clit had you gasping, and soon he pulled your underwear off. You were already wet when he put his mouth on you, and then Bradley thought about edging you to make you squirt for him. But your fingers were rough in his hair, and he knew he would be too far gone to be as gentle as possible if he did that. So he took his time, burying his nose and mouth in your sweet pussy, and licking you everywhere until you came for him. Then he licked all around that plug and admired the tight pucker of your hole wrapped around it.

"Fuck," he gasped, placing a kiss to your inner thigh. He was going to find out just how tight you were. As you rode the little jolts of pleasure still going through your body, Bradley carefully wrapped his arms around your back and got you onto all fours. "Try it like this?" he asked, caging your body in beneath his.

Your words were a little incoherent as you bucked back against him, and he could feel the base of your toy against his cock through his underwear. Oh hell, he needed to pull himself together. He needed something familiar to calm himself down. Bradley unclasped your bra and pressed his chest to your back, watching the strap slide down your arm. Your hips were rocking back, and he moved in unison with you, planting his left hand on the bed and rubbing your tits with his right. 

He kissed along your spine and moaned, "You'll put me in an early grave, I swear it." Your soft giggle had him dragging his lips along your shoulder until he was kissing your neck. "I love you, Baby."

"I love you too, Daddy," you whispered, and it was the sweetest thing. So Bradley stood on his knees behind you, admiring the way you and that toy looked as he spread your legs wide. When he slid his underwear down, his cock bounced up to tap you, nudging the plug and making you groan. He didn't know how this was going to work as he pumped his hand along his girth before slipping himself into your pussy. And that was the familiar thing he needed, clearing his mind as you whined, "I feel so full. My toy and my Daddy."

Bradley smirked and rubbed himself against the base as held your hips. "Just wait," he warned playfully. The pretty curve of your back had him running his hand up and everywhere along your silky skin. Your hair smelled like wildflowers when he kissed your back. And then you were begging him to do it. 

He reached for the lube and drizzled it all over you before coating his cock liberally. Then he fucked your pussy with steady strokes as he carefully eased the toy out of you as you gasped. Your perfect hole gripped along the plug, and Bradley had to count to ten to calm himself down. "Baby," he groaned, tossing the toy aside. "You ready?"

"Yes."

His cock was shiny and slick, resting on his palm, and then he was pressing himself to your asshole, convinced you were going to tell him to stop. You were so tight, he had to bite down on his lip as he pushed. And then you were whining, "More. More," as you squeezed the tip of him so much, he was afraid he'd black out. 

"Princess," he growled, head tipped back as he pushed slowly. So slowly. He was dizzy from it, the slow pace driving him to the edge. "So tight. Holy hell." And then you turned to look at him over your shoulder. Your eyes were glazed over with need, and your lips were parted softly. 

"Feels good," you gasped, and he reached out to run his thumb along your lip. You kissed him. You were perfect. He pushed himself a little deeper, and you kissed his thumb again. He looked down to see himself buried inside you as you licked his thumb. 

"God damn it," he cursed, and you squeezed him a little tighter. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He dipped his thumb into your mouth and whispered, "I can't last like this. Too fucking good. So tight." He was shaking his head, but you were nodding and swirling your tongue along his thumb. He withdrew an inch and thrust, and you started keening. 

If Bradley managed even ten strokes inside your ass, it was a miracle. He went slowly, but it was too much. And you were loud, spurring him on with his thumb tucked between your lips and pressed to your tongue.

Every time you tightened around him, he knew he was going to cum. He was just biding his time for a few more seconds, and then it was too much. He tried to keep his movements steady and fluid as he came inside you, but they were a little jerky. He was grunting your name over and over, trying to get himself under control. "Are you okay?" he asked, voice rough as he slipped his thumb out of your mouth. 

"Mmm, yes," you moaned. "It only hurt a little, and then it felt good."

Bradley brought both hands to your hips and stroked you as he started to gently withdraw from your body. And then his jaw went slack as you were puckered around his tip. It was going to look so pretty, he just knew it. 

"Baby," he whined when he pulled himself free. His white cum was at your opening, and he watched that first droplet as it slid down to your pussy and dripped onto the bed. You were oozing with his finish, and he was transfixed. 

You said his name and made to roll over, but Bradley kept you still with his big hands on your thighs. "Shh," he coaxed as another long drop fell to the bed. And then he licked you clean as you mewled and whimpered. He lapped up every bit of his cum as it leaked out of you, and he cleaned up your pussy as well. 

"Bradley," you whispered as he gently rolled you to your back. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he settled on top of you, careful to keep his full body weight from hurting you. The fucked out, exhausted expression on your face made him smile.

"You did so good, Baby."

"I know," you agreed. "I liked it."

His lips were ghosting over yours as he asked, "Do you need anything? Want me to get a shower ready for us?"

"In a couple minutes," you replied easily. And then Bradley rolled you both to your sides and snuggled you against him with one big hand on your ass.

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

You were just trying to get through your day at work on Thursday. You just needed to make it to Friday morning when the three of you would be driving up to the lake house to meet Mav, Penny and Amelia. But two of your coworkers were out sick, and you had to pick up all the slack. You even had to text Bradley and let him know you wouldn't be able to pick Noah up or start dinner. 

Bradley Daddy Bradshaw: Take your time. I'll make sandwiches for dinner. See you at home.

Once you had all of the exam rooms cleaned and disinfected, Dr. Kelly found you and said, "Go home. Enjoy your long weekend with your family. That little Noah is the cutest thing."

You laughed and nodded. "Oh, he knows he's adorable. It's getting to be a problem. See you next week." 

Then you made your way to your car and thought about how you and Noah were most definitely going to wear Bradley down, and soon enough you'd have a dog at home. You'd even been working on a shortlist of names for when that fateful day arrived. You picked up a few pet themed coloring books on your lunch break, and when you pulled into the driveway, you took the bag from the front seat. 

The mail truck was just pulling up to your house; he must have been having a late day, too. You walked to the curb to meet him, and he handed everything to you with a wave. As you walked up to the porch, you picked your envelopes out of the stack and left Bradley's separate. Great, your student loan statement was here. You couldn't wait to see how your last payment barely put a dent in things. 

"Hi," you called out as you walked through the living room. "Sorry, I'm so late." But when you looked into the kitchen, Bradley was still in his uniform, calmly making a turkey and cheese sandwich and cutting it into little triangles while Noah colored. 

"Nothing to be sorry about," Bradley rasped, and you kissed his shoulder through his shirt. "I'll make your sandwich next." But you'd already moved on to Noah, smothering him in kisses while he laughed. 

"Check out this dog themed coloring book," you said loudly, earning a glare from Bradley as you set it down in front of Noah. "Isn't this little brown puppy on the cover just adorable?"

"I want a dog," Noah whined as he opened the cover and got to work. You were betting you'd have a dog by next month. 

"Relentless," Bradley groaned, and you wrapped your arms around him from behind. "Did you have a good day?" he asked. "Ready for the lake?"

"Yes. And definitely." He tried to hand you a sandwich on a plate, but you said, "Let me go through my mail first before I forget. I want to make sure I log in and make my student loan payment tonight before we leave in the morning." You took the sandwich from him and noticed that he looked a little timid now. "What's wrong?"

"Well. Nothing's wrong," he said quietly as you bit into the sandwich and then set it down again to open up your envelope. But he had you distracted, and you realized too late that you had opened a piece of his mail from Tracy by mistake. You skimmed along the page and you gasped as tears welled up in your eyes. 

I, Bradley Bradshaw, a legal adult of sound mind and competency, do hereby declare this to be my last will and testament (hereinafter, “Last Will & Testament”) and do hereby revoke any and all wills and codicils heretofore made jointly or severally by me.

In the event I shall die as the sole parent of minor child(ren), then I appoint as guardian over minor child(ren)

You stopped when you read your name and dropped the papers to the floor as you burst into tears. "Bradley," you gasped, and he looked up from where he was putting mayonnaise on a slice of bread. You bent to pick up the papers, but you were so emotional, you could barely see, so you just sat on the floor next to them and looked up at him. 

"What's wrong?" he asked, kneeling down and cupping your face in his hands. "Princess, tell me what's wrong."

You swiped at your tears with your hands and whispered, "You trust me that much?"

"What are you talking about, Baby?" he asked, and then he reached for one of the papers on the floor. "Your student loans?"

He was about to realize what you had read, so you quickly said, "I didn't mean to open it, I tore into the wrong envelope. I thought it was my student-"

Bradley silenced your sentence with a kiss as you sobbed. When he released your lips, you could still feel his nose on your cheek as you tried to get your breathing under control. "Yes. I trust you that much. If something happens to me, I know you'll take care of Noah."

You threw your arms around his neck and pushed him back onto his butt and climbed into his lap. "I would. I really would."

He held you close and softly said, "I was planning on telling you this weekend. The paperwork isn't finalized yet, but I can call Tracy's office and have it completed at any time."

You kissed him and said, "Call first thing tomorrow morning."

"Okay. I'll call first thing tomorrow morning." He was smiling as you let your forehead rest against his. 

"Why are you on the floor?" Noah asked, leaning over the table to look at you both. 

Bradley scooped you up as he stood and set you down on your feet, but you kept your arms around him. "Mommy was just being silly, Bub. How about you put the crayons down and eat your sandwich." Then he kissed your hair and said, "You better eat your sandwich, too."

You took your plate and the mail to the table and sat down across from Noah. You watched him sip his milk through a straw cup and then eat all of the cheese out of the sandwich first. He was perfect. And you'd never have to be without him. Bradley trusted you with his child more than anyone else. And you knew he wanted to have another one.

As he sat down next to you with his own sandwich and a beer, you opened your student loan envelope and started to read. But you could feel his eyes on you as he sipped his Heineken. 

"You okay, Daddy?" you asked softly, wiping at at stray tear.

"Just read your mail," he replied. When you looked back down at the paper in your hands, you saw that instead of nearly ten thousand dollars, your balance due for nursing school was zero.

"What did you do?" you gasped, looking him in the eye. 

He just shrugged and bit into his own sandwich, smiling as he chewed. "Paid off your loans. Your interest rate was so high, you'd still be paying on them by the time you're my age. Which is dumb when I have the money to take care of it now."

"Bradley!" Your eyes were welling with tears again as you said, "You didn't have to do that!"

His voice was stern as you crawled into his lap again. "I trust you with Noah, one hundred percent. The money doesn't matter as much as that."

You let your head rest on his shoulder as you straddled his thigh, and his big hand was rubbing your back. "You still didn't have to," you whispered. "But thank you. And now I can help you with your mortgage and bills instead."

"You just save your money, and we'll figure it out later."

But you already knew you'd talk him into letting you pay for something. And the rest could go into a savings account for school for Noah. And anything leftover could be used to plan for the exciting future you were going to experience with the two of them. 

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

Daddy keeps on winning now. And Princess doesn't have to worry about the things that shouldn't matter. Next up, the lake house. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 37

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[april-is]

April 26, 2024: Origin Story, 1993, Adam Falkner

Origin Story, 1993 Adam Falkner

Your grandma says you look just like your cousin Frank, mostly in the eyes when you grin. They chuckle at the dinner table when there is Frankie in your hair, towhead cowlicks bolting into sky

like strands of snapped hay. No one stays long on the subject, really – just the way he lives in your laugh, your funny faces, how he smokes like a ghost from your whistle. Once, your nan

had to grip the back of a chair to keep from buckling. And he’s not dead. He just moved. They told him he had to. So he bought a blue ‘82 pickup & went to New York to “get AIDS

and die.” Which he did. But not before filling his lungs with sky the size of God country & the new-fashion baptism of a sequined, hungry life. Not before flashing

through a decade of open-mouth laughter & living room play readings, crowded apartment holidays & finally, the big breaks. Not before the coke parties & park muggings & good news to share

with the boys & dinners at diners that let you run a tab & hard news to share with the boys. Not before beach houses wind-whipped with salt & memory, where they sit arms pretzeled to watch

the sun steal into the other life. But that’s later. It is 1993. You are nine-and-a-half but going on knowing. It’s the fourth of July & everyone is here except everyone who never is. Your giggle

lingers like grease on the walls as you float the hallway, dull murmur carrying on from the kitchen & there—frozen on the dresser, like a trophy & a prayer. He kisses you back.

--

Do me a favor? Take a quick 1-question poll on the future of these posts.

Today in:

2023: For the Dogs Who Barked at Me on the Sidewalks in Connecticut, Hanif Abdurraqib 2022: Demeter, Midwinter, Mairead Small Staid 2021: from A Pillow Book, Suzanne Buffam 2020: Letter to My Great, Great Grandchild, J.P. Grasser 2019: After the First Child, the Second, Mary Austin Speaker 2018: A New Lifestyle, James Tate 2017: Anchorage, Joy Harjo 2016: Poem to First Love, Matthew Yeager 2015: Ode to the Reel Mower, Jim Daniels 2014: So Much Happiness, Naomi Shihab Nye 2013: Habitation, Margaret Atwood 2012: About Marriage, Denise Levertov 2011: In Praise of My Bed, Meredith Holmes 2010: Black Swan, Brigit Pegeen Kelly 2009: In Me as the Swans, Leslie Williams 2008: Gnosticism V, Anne Carson 2007: American Names, Stephen Vincent Benet 2006: since feeling is first, e.e. cummings 2005: The Second Coming, W.B. Yeats

[training4theapocalypse]

A Nest of Vipers Ch7. (Cormac McLaggen x Original Female Character - Slytherin)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 6.6K

Warnings / Tags: Canon atypical descriptions of violence, parental abuse, pure-blood supremacy, tragic romance

Summary: Una and Cormac's activities at Slughorn's party last night have caused a stir. A scandal from Una's childhood comes back to haunt her.

A/N: Please take heed of the warnings because, damn, Una is actually pretty normal all things considered.

Masterlist

Chapter 7: Scandal

The usually frantic corridor of the Hogwarts Express felt less chaotic to Una as she walked down holding Cormac’s hand. Perhaps she was achieving a thus far unprecedented sense of inner peace. Or maybe it was just because the crowd was parting and hushing each other as they passed. 

Last night’s events at Slughorn’s Party had spread like fiendfyre - Una Montague and Cormac McLaggen were caught cheating with each other and thrown out. Then to top it all off, Una had been attacked by Ginny Weasley for stealing Hermione Granger’s date. 

It was the scandal that everyone was talking about on the train ride home but Una was on top of the world. Ginny might have been popular amongst her Gryffindor classmates but she was notorious for her fired temper throughout the rest of the school. Una had even received sympathy for her twisted ankle from the Hufflepuff prefect, Zacharias Smith, who had been on the receiving end of the Weasley girl’s hexes more than once. 

Una stopped outside a compartment when she saw Sabine and Meredith sitting inside and Cormac almost walked right into her.

“Woah,” he said, realising that she was intending on sitting with them. “I’m not going in there.”

Una laughed. “Oh, come on. I need to patch things up.” But Cormac stood resolutely still. “You’re not scared, are you? They don’t bite.”

“Sure about that?” asked Cormac and they both glanced through the compartment window to Sabine and Meredith, who looked as if they might as well have been sharpening their fangs. 

“Alright - I’ll find you again before we get to London,” she said. “I need to smooth things over first.”

“You’re welcome to come and sit with us, y’know, if the ‘patching up’ doesn’t go to plan.” 

“And Eddie Carmichael would be happy about that?” asked Una, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, he definitely doesn’t bite if you change your mind.”

Una smiled and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. Cormac pulled her close by her waist and kissed her back, his tongue slipping into her mouth unashamedly. They broke apart and Cormac squeezed her hand as he made to walk away but Una pulled him back for one more. 

“You’re making it very difficult to leave,” murmured Cormac, his lips smiling against hers.

“I can’t help it. It’s so unfair I won’t see you for two weeks after this.”

“Think of all the time we’ll have in detention next term,” he said, grinning.

“As if Snape will let us be in detention together,” groaned Una. “Detention. I can’t believe I need to tell people I’m doing remedial Defence Against the Dark Arts. As if everyone wont guess that I’ve got detention anyway after Snape paraded us in front of everyone.”

“It was worth it,” said Cormac as if that settled it. “Come and find me when we get to King’s Cross, yeah?” He pressed a kiss on her forehead and this time turned and walked down the corridor to find his friends Eddie, Leanne and Katie.

Una let out a happy sigh as she watched him walk away. Things were finally going her way. But the sigh dissolved in her throat when she saw Sabine and Meredith glaring at her from behind the compartment window. Sabine mimed shoving a finger down her throat as if she was being sick.

She slid the compartment door open and sat down. 

“PDA much?” shot Sabine.

“Thanks for ditching me at breakfast,” said Una sarcastically, ignoring her comment. The pair had left the dormitory before she was even dressed this morning.

“You seemed pretty cosy at the end of the Gryffindor table with Cormac McLaggen and Katie Bell,” Sabine sneered. “And that seat is taken.”

“By who?” asked Meredith obtusely.

“Anyone except her,” snapped Sabine while Meredith recoiled in fear.

“Well, I don’t see anyone else clamouring to share your compartment,” said Una. “Come on, Sab. It doesn’t have to be like this. You don’t see Blaise and Draco telling Graham to piss off.”

“That’s because Blaise and Draco are idiots. I told you what would happen if you went with Cormac so why don’t you go and find his friends and sit with them?” Sabine grabbed her magazine from the empty seat between her and Una and snapped it open, holding it in front of her face.

“I suppose I could…” said Una. “You know, it would be a pretty unstoppable group if I did.”

Sabine just tutted and turned a page of her magazine.

“I mean Carmichael is in Ravenclaw, Cormac and Katie are both in Gryffindor and their friend Leanne is in Hufflepuff. Who knows what kind of information would just slip out before it gets to us on the usual grapevine? I mean, think about it - if it wasn’t for Cormac, I never would have found out about what the Weasleys did to Graham.”

Sabine lowered her magazine slowly. “And what kind of information would you give them?” she asked, raising a perfectly threaded eyebrow.

“Only the type of information we choose to divulge. Information that would directly benefit us... Or me, I suppose if we’re not friends anymore,” Una pouted playfully.

Meredith looked between Sabine and Una as they stared each other down. “Sab, please, I hate that we’re all fighting -”

“Shut up for two seconds, Meredith,” groaned Sabine. She pursed her lips, surveying Una for a moment. “You know what, Una? You really are a conniving bitch.” 

“Maybe… but you know, there’s no one else I’d rather connive with,” sang Una, scooting closer into the empty seat as Sabine’s lips curled into a small smile. Could she actually be pulling this off? Just the right amount of flattery with a subtle threat seemed to be working. And she should probably get in Meredith’s good books too, for good measure. 

“You too, Meredith,” she added and Meredith’s face cracked into a smile.

“If you backstab us, I’ll tell your parents about Cormac,” said Sabine casually, leaning her head on Una’s shoulder so they could both read her magazine.

Her parents. They’d never approve - would they? Cormac had all the appearance of being well-off but he had mentioned that his dad and his uncle both worked at the Ministry. Surely, if his family worked, they couldn’t be from old money like the Montagues. 

And the name ‘McLaggen’ wasn’t on the old tapestry in her father’s study detailing the lines of the sacred twenty-eight pure-blood families. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t though - he could be from a pure-blood family that was extinct in the male line. But she didn’t want to ask Cormac this - she didn’t care if he was a pure-blood at all but her parents on the other hand absolutely would. And Sabine knew it.

But Una pushed that thought to the back of her mind. She’d cross that bridge when she came to it. For now, Una had it all. Her best friends were speaking to her, she no longer hate to date Cormac secretly and her plans for revenge against the Weasleys were primed and ready to go after the holidays - everything was coming together nicely.

“Fair enough,” agreed Una, looking at the magazine. “Please just be cool when you see them at the Minister for Magic’s Christmas lunch,” she said. 

“Ugh, I’m not going,” Sabine huffed. “My mother is engaged again - we’re spending Christmas with her husband-to-be.” She lifted her head and looked at Una. “You can tell your new friends that - if you need a piece of gossip to get them on-side.”

Una nodded.

Meredith, feeling left out, got up from her seat and plopped down on Una’s other side. “I won’t say anything about Cormac. I promise,” she added unnecessarily, overestimating her own self-importance in Una’s plans.

“Thanks, Meredith,” said Una, taking pity on her and deciding to throw her a bone

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cormac McLaggen continued down the train looking for Katie, Eddie and Leanne. To his horror, Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger emerged from the compartment next to theirs just as he was about to slide the door open.

“Oi, McLaggen,” said Ginny, and Cormac’s hopes of slipping in quietly evaporated as her sharp voice cut through the air.

He turned slowly, forcing a neutral expression. “Alright?” he asked. 

“Alright?” repeated Ginny angrily, while Hermione’s jaw tightened. “Your little girlfriend should have been expelled.”

Cormac laughed derisively. “Una? You’re the one who should be expelled. You attacked her.”

The compartment door opened, revealing Eddie, Leanne, and Katie, with Graham Montague looming behind them. He hadn’t seen Graham since last night and was now wondering if he should have asked Una if her hulking brother was the overprotective type.

“What’s going on?” asked Katie.

“Look,” Cormac began. “Hermione, I’m sorry for ditching you last night. That was poor form. But there’s no excuse for the pair of you attacking Una -”

“Oh, really?” asked Ginny, rolling her eyes. “I didn’t think you were the type to excuse that sort of behaviour… unless she didn’t tell you what she said to Hermione?”

Una hadn’t mentioned anything about provoking them.

“She -” Hermione swallowed. “She called me a Mudblood.”

There was an immediate uproar of dissent in the corridor as everyone started arguing and clamouring over each other. Eddie, who was muggleborn and never liked Una anyway, was immediately outraged. Katie and Leanne were shocked. And Cormac felt slightly dazed, stunned silent by the accusation.

“Woah, woah, wait a second,” said Graham. “Una would never say that.”

More than anything right now, Cormac wanted to believe him. But Graham, after all, was -

“Well, obviously you’d defend her. She’s your sister,” Ginny retorted.

Graham’s defensiveness grew. “I swear, she isn’t like that. She hates that word.”

“I know what I heard,” Hermione insisted. 

“So you can stop covering up for her -” said Ginny.

“He isn’t covering for her,” said a quiet voice behind Ginny and Hermione. Blaise Zabini had arrived in the corridor and was looking intently at Ginny. “Una tells people off for saying that sort of thing in the common room.” 

Ginny glared at him. “Stay out of this, Zabini.”

“I’m serious,” he said, addressing Cormac directly. Ginny and Hermione also looked at Cormac expectantly.

“I think,” said Cormac carefully. “You were looking for an excuse to pick a fight and misheard her.”

Ginny groaned in fury, and Blaise touched her arm. “Weasley, listen to me -” he started, but she shrugged him off indignantly.

“Why am I not surprised you’re covering for her?” she shot. “You lot are all the same.”

Linking arms with Hermione, the two of them pushed past Blaise and marched away down the corridor, in the direction of the trolley witch.

Blaise closed his eyes and sighed before turning his attention to Graham. “Montague, Draco is looking for you. We’ve saved you a seat in our carriage. Are you coming?” 

“Get in here, everyone’s staring,” Eddie urged as more curious faces peered around the surrounding compartment doors.

“And you’ve got some explaining to do, Cormac,” said Katie.

“Ugh. Yeah, I’m coming, Blaise,” said Graham, squeezing Katie’s hand in farewell. “I really don’t want to hear McLaggen explaining anything about my sister.”

Comac drew his shoulders back, standing aside to let Graham pass. Should he say something? Apologise for snogging his sister? But Graham just gave him a curt nod as he exited.

“Montague, I -”

“Look, McLaggen, I’m not exactly thrilled you’re dating my sister but if you’re waiting for me to say something like ‘If you hurt her, I’ll jinx you,’ don’t hold your breath. It’s not gonna happen. She can handle herself - I mean - not  -” He sighed before adding in a low, solemn voice, “I grew up with Una and I know her. Really know her. She’s not what people like Granger or Weasley think. She wouldn’t say that word.”

Cormac felt the deep worry sinking like a stone in the pit of his stomach lighten considerably. Graham Montague had a point. Eddie might argue that Graham was biased, but somehow Cormac didn’t think so. As he watched Graham walk away with Blaise, Cormac’s mind raced. Could Una really have said something so horrible?

There was an irritating niggling feeling in the back of his mind as he remembered how Una had taunted Myrtle in the bathroom. The vicious things she had said to get a rise out of her. He himself had called Una a bully that night. He’d even once jokingly told her he thought she might be evil. 

But being mean to Myrtle was nowhere near as bad as calling someone ‘mudblood’. And she had been sorry about what she’d said to Myrtle, hadn’t she? And after that Una had been so vulnerable with him - opened up to him. He couldn’t reconcile that image with someone who would use such a hateful word.

He glanced at Eddie, who was still fuming, and at Katie and Leanne, who looked concerned and confused. This was a mess, but the sincerity in Graham’s eyes and Blaise’s calm assertion gave him hope. They knew Una better than anyone, and they were adamant she wouldn’t do something like this.

Taking a deep breath, Cormac made his decision. He believed the people who knew her best. He had to trust them. 

“Look,” he said to his friends, “Let’s get inside. I don’t believe Granger and Weasley.”

Eddie opened his mouth to protest, but Cormac held up a hand. “Graham and Blaise know her better than you lot.”

“Graham wouldn’t lie,” said Katie slowly. “But I know Hermione and Ginny. And I can’t see them attacking her for no reason.”

Leanne pursed her lips. “Ginny smashed into the commentator’s box just because Zacharias Smith’s commentary about Gryffindor was less than complimentary. And I heard Hermione sent a swarm of birds after Ron Weasley just for snogging Lavender Brown.”

“Sounds like I got off lightly, then,” said Cormac, trying to deflect the subject to something less serious.

But as they all filed back into the compartment, Cormac couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling gripping him. He hoped he was right to trust his instincts. For now, though, he had made his choice. He would find out the truth from Una when he saw her again after the holidays.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On Christmas morning, Una stood in front of her ornate bedroom mirror smoothing down the front of her dress - a short, black velvet number adorned with pearls along its sweetheart neckline. 

“You can’t wear that to St Mungo’s,” said Una’s mother, startling her. Una hadn’t even heard her stealthy footsteps enter the room which was no small feat in her high heels.

“You - you bought me it,” Una stammered as she watched her mother’s reflection approach. Morgana Montague, with her features drawn tight in perpetual scrutiny, examined Una’s choice with evident disapproval. 

“To wear to an event where you might find a husband - not to visit a hospital,” she said, rolling her eyes, lined with dark eyeliner. Morgana Montague was a beautiful woman when she smiled, not that ever Una saw it, for when she spoke to Una, her face was always twisted with disdain. 

“I thought it might be nice to wear to the Minister’s Christmas party… It’s just that I won’t have time to get dressed into something else if we’re going straight from St Mungo’s,” said Una in what she thought was a reasoned argument. 

Her mother disagreed.

“Well, whose fault is that?” her mother sniped, priming herself to dredge up the event that hung over their family like a dark shadow. “Whose fault is it that our entire family needs to spend every Christmas morning visiting the Marchbanks boy in the hospital?”

“Mine,” she said resignedly. “I’ll change.”

“We won’t have time for that - you’ll make us all late. Just put on some tights and a jacket to cover yourself up. We don’t want the healers to think we’ve brought him a prostitute as a Christmas gift.”

That stung unexpectedly. She hadn’t spoken to her mother since summer - she’d almost forgotten how her cruel comments could come from nowhere like a slap in the face. Una felt tears welling up in her eyes. Stupid, she thought. Don’t ruin your makeup.

“Oh, don’t pout, Una,” said her mother, putting her hands on her shoulders as she stood behind her and watched her face fall in the mirror. “It’ll all be over within an hour or two.” Of course, her mother thought her tears were from guilt about what happened to Everett Marchbanks all those years ago, rather than her own cutting words. “His family are still content to believe it was an accident,” she added, seeing only what she chose to in Una’s reflection.

Una bit her bottom lip.

Una’s mother’s eyes met her own. “Your father tells me you’re doing very well at school now. And I suppose that means you’re much more in control of your magic these days.”

“Y-yes. I told you I was made Head Girl. I wrote to both of you -”

“Well, someone who was made Head Girl shouldn’t accidentally blow someone up if she were to be betrothed again.” Her mother smiled. A different smile than the sort she reserved for Una’s brother. “The consequences would be much more severe now that you’re of age.”

“Mother, you promised after what happened last time that you wouldn’t.”

“Una, you’re eighteen years old and you still haven’t met a boy from a decent family. Tiberius Ogden is bringing his nephew to Rufus Scrimgeour’s party this afternoon and -”

“Tiberius Ogden?” asked Una in disgust. “From the Wizengamot? Isn’t he about a hundred? How old is his nephew?”

“Do not interrupt me,” her mother hissed in her ear, her grip tightening on her shoulders. “Tiberius is a friend of your father’s and he’s very sympathetic about what happened. No other families have dared offer their sons as a suitable match after they heard about what you did to Everett Marchbanks.”

What kind of horror must Tiberius Ogden’s nephew be if he was unmarried and willing to be matched with her? Una shuddered to think.

“Mother, please, I’m begging you. I don’t want to be bartered like livestock -”

“You should be grateful.” Her mother cut across her, her tone sharp as steel. “Meredith’s mother was just telling me that Meredith was desperate to secure a betrothal. You know, there aren’t many pure-blood families left.”

“I don’t care about that,” said Una, picking up her lipgloss from the dresser. The little talisman that made her feel in control. Made her feel powerful. How would she break it to Cormac if she came back from the Christmas holidays betrothed? “Tell Meredith’s mother she can have Tiberius Ogden’s ugly, old nephew - ow!”

Una’s mother grabbed a fistful of her hair from behind and pulled her head back, forcing her to look her in the eyes. She wrenched the lipgloss from Una’s hand and threw it with such ferocity against the mirror that it cracked.

“Listen carefully,” said Una’s mother venemously. “If you don’t have a suitable match by the time you graduate you have two choices. Either you’re no longer a member of this family - and that means no inheritance and no trust fund. Or -” She let go of Una’s hair roughly and walked towards the door. “- I will inform Mr and Mrs Marchbanks that you’re willing to fulfil your obligation to Everett”

“You expect me to marry someone who’s a permanent resident in St Mungo’s?” asked Una, horrified. “He’s lost his mind - he’s -”

“And I ask you again: whose fault is that?” repeated her mother, turning around to look at her. 

Una said nothing. Instead, she sniffed and opened her chest of drawers to find a pair of tights. 

“Una?” called her mother in a voice so gentle that Una’s shoulders relaxed, hoping beyond hope that maybe she’d changed her mind. She looked up into the mirror to where her mother stood by the door. She held her breath, waiting for her mother to take back her harsh words. 

“Forget the tights. You’ll want Tiberius’s nephew to get a good look at you.”

And with that, she shut the door, leaving Una to stare at her distorted reflection in the fragmented mirror.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is it too early for Firewhisky?” grumbled Cormac, eyeing up the drinks cabinet as they walked into the reception room of the Minister for Magic’s official residence.

“Oh, come on, m’boy. It won’t be too terrible,” said his Uncle Tiberius, slapping him on the back.

“It’s already terrible. I’m wearing a shirt for Merlin’s sake. I’d much rather be spending Christmas in my pyjamas.” Cormac looked around the room, observing all the Ministry types and wondering if they too would rather be spending Christmas at home than mingling with their higher-ups. “I don’t get why you brought me instead of Dad.”

“Well, er…” Uncle Tiberius looked around shiftily. “I’ve been meaning to tell you. You’re here to help me get Ministry approval for our next hunting trip.”

“Oh no. No way. What, do you want me to ask for sponsors or something? On Christmas Day?! I’d rather empty my own vault at Gringotts if money is the issue -”

“Keep your voice down,” hushed Uncle Tiberius, putting his arm around Cormac’s shoulder and taking him aside. “Gold isn’t the problem. But a culling licence for Nogtails is - and I need you to get old Ulysses on side. He’s a Ministry benefactor and, more importantly, friendly with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“Well, these sorts of things can’t be bought with money. They’re bought with favours and I said I’d do him one…”

Cormac had a feeling where this was going and he didn’t like it one bit. “Get to the point, old man.”

“He’s trying to marry off his daughter into a pure-blood family and -”

“Oh, right. No big deal. Just get married to some pure-blood supremacist hag. Cheers, thanks, Uncle Tiberius.”

“You don’t have to marry her. But I did promise you’d at least have a conversation with her. Apparently, she’s very beautiful.”

“Sure, that’s why her parents are desperate to find her a blind match,” Cormac heaved a sigh. “And I have a girlfriend, by the way.” He added, and thinking of Una sent a pang of longing through him.

“Well, your girlfriend might be old news when you see Ulysses’s daughter.”

Cormac dragged his hand down his face. This was unbelievable. “You feel good about whoring me out for a hunting licence?” Uncle Tiberius just grinned. “Fine - I’ll endure one conversation. That’s it. But I am actually going to need a Firewhisky then.”

“That’s the spirit, Cormac.”

“Spirit is right,” said Cormac, pouring two large Firewhiskys from Rufus Scrimgeor’s drinks cabinet. “You know the whole concept of arranged marriages is messed up, right? I can’t wait until these old traditions die out.”

“Well, they worked out for your great-aunt and me,” said Uncle Tiberius, looking delighted despite the joke at his expense and raising his glass slightly in a toast. “And don’t hold your breath waiting for old traditions to die out. I’ve got plenty of years left in me.”

Cormac drained his Firewhisky in one and winced. “I wouldn’t be so sure, Uncle. Try and set me up again and you may just have a suspicious hunting accident.” His eyes searched the room as he swirled the ice around the bottom of his empty glass, not entirely sure what he was looking for. “What’s the spinster’s name anyway?”

“Quiet - there’s Ulysses there,” hushed his Uncle nodding and Cormac froze. Uncle Tiberius laughed at his stunned expression and waved to the family of four who had just entered from the other side of the room. “See? I told you she was a looker,” he said out of the corner of his mouth.

Across the room, Cormac watched Graham Montague elbow Una in the ribs and point to where he and his Uncle were standing. Una’s eyes widened as she and Graham followed two people, who Cormac assumed to be their mother and father, in their direction. 

“Tiberius!’ said Ulysses Montague, a short, amicable sort of man who let go of his regal-looking wife to shake Uncle Tiberius’s hand. “Good to see you. You know my wife, Moragana, of course. This is my son, Graham - he’s the Slytherin Quidditch Captain. And this is my daughter, Una.”

Cormacs brows knitted together slightly. He didn’t fail to notice the lack of plaudits before Una’s name.

“Well, this is my nephew, Cormac,” said Uncle Tiberius and Cormac extended his hand to Graham. 

“We meet again,” said Graham, shaking his hand. 

“Of course! Cormac plays Quidditch too. You must have crossed paths on the field,” said Uncle Tiberius but Graham just grinned.

“McLaggen hasn’t had the pleasure yet. How many games have you had this year?”

“The same as the amount of goals you scored in your last game, Montague.”

Cormac turned his attention to Una. “You know they’re trying to marry us off to each other, right?” He asked.

“Cormac,” groaned Uncle Tiberius behind him.

“So I’ve heard,” said Una quietly. He thought that his question would amuse her but on the contrary - she looked anxious.

“Do you two know each other too?” asked Una’s father and Cormac didn’t miss the way Una’s mother observed them shrewdly. But there was something else there when she looked at Una. Something worse. Something like disgust. 

Una’s eyes widened in what Cormac understood to be alarm.

“Hardly,” said Cormac, quickly correcting his misstep. “We have a few classes together.”

Graham Montague raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“Cormac, why don’t you show Miss Montague the library while I catch up with my dear friend, Ulysses?” asked Uncle Tiberius jovially. “I hear the Minister has a fine collection of books on hunting Nogtails.”

Una looked at her mother, waiting for permission and Mrs Montague’s jaw tightened for a moment. “Graham - go with them please,” said Una’s mother sharply. “It’s not proper to have them meandering off on their own.”

And so, Una, Cormac and Graham left the reception room and entered the polished marble foyer. The double doors shut behind them, muffling the hum of distant conversation.

“Honestly,” said Una scathingly. “A chaperone. What does she think will happen?”

“The same thing that happened at Slughorn’s party?” suggested Graham.

“She doesn’t know about that. And besides that was different -“

“Gross - don’t tell me any more. Just - come and find me before lunch is served. I’ll get it in the neck from Mum if she thinks I’ve left you alone.”

“You can come with us if you want?” offered Cormac but secretly hoping he’d say no. 

“Not a chance. I’d rather jump off the Astronomy tower than watch you two snogging.”

“Graham, we’re not -“

“I’m going to see if Albie Selwyn is here yet. He might have cigarettes,” said Graham cutting across and waving his hand dismissively behind him as he left.

Una and Cormac began walking to the library, the footsteps creaking on the antique hardwood floorboards of the Minister’s residence. “So… you never told me you’d be coming back from the Christmas holidays betrothed,” he said, with a sideways glance.

“You’re one to talk,” said Una. “I only found out this morning.”

“So did I,” admitted Cormac. “I didn’t even know arranged marriages were still a thing.”

“Lucky you,” grumbled Una. “My mother -” She stopped abruptly, already feeling that she’d said too much. 

“What about her? You can tell me.”

“Not here,” she said, looking around edgily. “I don’t want to be overheard.”

They continued walking and, when they found the library, Cormac shut the door behind them. The stately room was walled with towering bookcases and had a grand piano in front of the large bay window. It was snowing outside and cold winter sunlight danced on the lid of the piano. Una’s shoulders immediately relaxed when Cormac pulled her into an embrace. She slumped her forehead against his chest and Cormac felt tears against his shirt as she let out a shuddering sob.

He made a soothing noise and held her tight. He had known something was wrong the second she and her family had been introduced to him.

“I’m - I’m so relieved it was you,” she choked in a muffled voice. “Cormac - you - you have no idea what it’s like.”

“It’s okay. I’m here,” he said quietly, now feeling guilty about joking about their situation in the foyer.

She took deep breaths before pulling back. Cormac studied her mascara-streaked face. The dark trails cut through her skin like spilled ink on paper.

“Your shirt,” she said, her voice strangled with hopelessness. “I’m sorry. Here - ” she fumbled, looking for her wand in her handbag. “Scourgify,” she added, pointing her wand at his white shirt and the black makeup stains vanished. Una wiped under her eyes and sniffed. “I didn’t mean to go to pieces like that. I’m fine. It’s just been a rough day.”

“Unes, what’s going on?” asked Cormac, his concern deepening. He’d never seen her cry before. Una was formidable. If something had brought her to tears, it had to have been serious.

“It’s a long story,” she said. “And you’d think the worst of me if you heard it. Everyone does. Well… except Graham. But he’s the only one who doesn’t think I’m a fucking terrible person.”

Cormac said nothing for a moment. He thought hard about what happened on the train and was certain at this moment that Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley, like Eddie Carmichael, like everyone else, were blinded by their preconceptions of Una.

“I don’t think you’re a terrible person,” he said simply.

Una sniffed and sat down on the piano bench. “Maybe we should keep it that way. Let’s talk about something else.” 

She stared at the floor but Cormac crouched down in front of her and held her hand, putting himself in her line of sight. “Try me,” he said gently. She bit her bottom lip worriedly, just like she had done when her mother glared at her earlier. “Is it your parents? Una, we can just tell them where to stick their betrothal.”

Una snorted a dismal laugh. “Yeah, right. You might be able to say stuff like that to your uncle but my mother would… My mother is a difficult woman.”

“Graham told me at Slughorn’s party that they tried to set you up with someone before and it didn’t work out,” Cormac said slowly, recalling the confusion he had felt during that particular conversation.

Una paused. “Cormac, I almost killed him.”

Cormac’s words of reassurance were momentarily erased from his mind in shock. 

“See?” said Una with a pained smile. “I told you it was bad.”

He needed to understand. His heart pounded in his chest. “Una… how? What happened?”

She sighed heavily. “It happened when I was eight -”

“Then it wasn’t your fault,” said Cormac immediately. “Kids don’t have control of their magic.”

“Oh, I had control alright. But I’d never shown any signs of magic until that point. My mother and father thought I was a squib. Graham had been showing signs of magic since he was a toddler So they called out experts from St Mungos, my dad even used his connections to have the Head of the Department of Mysteries come and take a look at me. They said I was a late bloomer. But my parents didn’t listen. They were so worried about their reputation. Having a squib in the family would taint their bloodline,” she added bitterly.

“But you do have magic,” said Cormac, his voice filled with conviction. “Loads.”

“But they weren’t to know that. So, to secure my future, they betrothed me to a boy a year older than me, Everett Marchbanks..”

Cormac frowned. He had heard of the Marchbanks family but never an Everett. “Was he in the year above us?”

Una shook her head. “He never got to go to Hogwarts. You see, my parents kept my lack of magical abilities hidden. But Graham knew. And he was only seven so he wasn’t great at keeping his mouth shut. And Everett found out.”

“And he told his parents?” asked Cormac.

She shook her head again. “Nope. One day, we were over at the Marchbanks house. Graham and I were playing in the garden and Everett came out and told him our parents were looking for him. Everett and I were alone outside and he -”

Una took a deep breath and Cormac squeezed her hand reassuringly. 

“I didn’t really understand what being betrothed meant. But he did. He said he didn’t want a squib for a wife and would make me his house elf instead. He told me to eat dirt. I refused, of course. That made him angry. He called me names, and I called him plenty back.”

“I bet you did,” offered Cormac with a small smile but Una didn’t return it. She continued.

“But then… Then he pinned me down, grabbed a handful of dirt and tried to shove it in my face. I opened my mouth to scream for my brother and he shoved it in my mouth. He pinched my nose and covered my mouth, forcing me to swallow it.” 

Cormac felt his pulse quickening, his stomach turning at the awful image Una was painting. His heart ached for her, a mixture of horror and pity washing over him. 

Una squeezed her eyes shut. “And I did. It was - it was disgusting. I vomited immediately, thinking it was over. But then he shoved another fistful into my mouth. I started choking. I couldn’t see anything through the tears and the dirt falling into my eyes.”

A mixture of horror and pity washed over Cormac, he had to make a conscious effort to breathe. “Una - that’s awful. I’m so sorry that happened to you. You need to remember, though, that kids have magical accidents all the time. Especially if they go through something traumatic. If you did something uncontrollable when he was choking you, nobody could blame you.”

“It wasn’t uncontrollable. I didn’t even hear Graham shout Everett’s name until he was pulling him off me. I was sick again. On my hands and knees - retching until there was nothing left. And when I looked up, my parents and Everett’s parents had come out to see what the commotion was. And then I saw her face. My mother. She was furious. But not at Everett. She was looking at me - disgusted by the mess all down the front of my dress.”

Cormac was horrified. He felt a surge of anger towards Una’s parents. How could they have been so blind?

“And so I stood up. And I felt it. Magic. For the first time. I really felt it. Rising up inside me like it was boiling. And I saw Everett. He took one look at my mother then back at me and smirked like he knew I was in trouble. And then…” Una looked up from the floor. “I remember all I wanted was to hurt him. I'd never wanted to hurt anyone or anything before. And I just exploded. I don’t remember how - I can only remember a bright, searing light and the next thing I remember was Everett’s mother sobbing over his body. He was unrecognisable.” 

She sat up slightly, her voice trembling. “But I do remember one thing. It felt good. Really good. I meant to hurt him. Badly. And I did. I didn't feel any guilt... I felt powerful. Powerful because I fought back.”

Cormac’s heart was pounding, his mind reeling from the weight of Una’s confession. He felt a wave of horror at what she had done, mingled with an overwhelming pity for the child who had been so brutally mistreated and pushed to the brink.

“He deserved it,” said Cormac.

“No, he didn’t. It was stupid kid stuff -”

Una, it wasn’t just kid stuff. It was fucking sick,” Cormac insisted, his voice low with intensity.

“My mother knew I meant it. My father blamed her for a while - it was her idea to betroth me so young. They haven’t mentioned marriage for years, until this morning.”

“Why do they care about you getting married now? I mean, you’re only eighteen.”

“The same reason your family cares.”

“Well,” said Cormac, realising that his problems from this morning paled in comparison to Una’s. “My uncle only set this up because he wants your dad’s help getting a hunting license.”

Una laughed unexpectedly. “Wow,” she said. “Well, my parents want me to marry into a traditional family.”

“A pure-blood family,” confirmed Cormac with a tight-lipped smile.

“Yep. And the whole awful ordeal with Everett spread pretty quickly amongst the sacred twenty-eight. And none of them wanted to put their sons at risk with someone like me. So that only leaves minor houses - the ones whose names became extinct in the male line.”

“Like mine,” finished Cormac.

“Yep,” said Una bitterly. “And my mother told me this morning that unless I find a marriage match before I leave school, she’ll force me to honour my obligations to Everett.”

“Where is he now?” asked Cormac.

“In St Mungos. Permanently.”

“Una, they can’t just force you to marry him.”

“They’ll disinherit me otherwise.”

“Fuck their inheritance. You’ll make your own way.”

“It’s not the money I care about. It’s Graham.”

“Look, I don’t know Graham but from what you’ve told me, he’s a decent guy. He’d understand.”

“They’d disinherit him too. And he missed so much of last year when he was in the hospital wing that he’ll be lucky if he leaves Hogwarts with a handful of O.W.Ls. - who’s going to give him a job? And besides, I don’t want to force him to choose between them and me.”

“Fine. Let’s tell them we're getting married then,” Cormac said fiercely. Instinctively. He couldn't not.

Una blinked at him. “Cormac, that’s very gallant of you but we hardly know each other. I mean, what are we? Are we even boyfriend and girlfriend? I can’t let you do that.”

“You can,” Cormac insisted. “And maybe we don’t know each other well.” He pressed his lips to the back of her hand. “But I know how I feel about you. You're my girlfriend and I care about you enough that I don’t want you forced into a marriage with Everett Marchbanks.”

A bell rang some distance away and the door to the library opened.

“Oi, you two. You were supposed to come and meet me - woah, Una, are you alright?” asked Graham as he stumbled into the scene before him. Una’s face, streaked with tears and Cormac kneeling in front of her.

“I’m fine. I just - I was telling him about Everett Marchbanks.”

Graham’s face darkened. “It’s been ten years and I still want to punch his stupid face. Even if he’s only got half of it left.”

“Well, we’ve worked out a solution,” said Cormac.

“A solution to what?” asked Graham but Una stood up abruptly.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said and shot Cormac a warning look as he got to his feet too. “Thank you for the offer, Cormac, but I can sort this out myself.”

“Sort what out?” asked Graham, increasingly perplexed.

“None of your business,” said Una, pulling a compact mirror from her bag and touching up her appearance with a tissue. She snapped the mirror shut and swiftly moved past him, bumping his almighty frame with her small shoulder as she exited the room.

Graham stared after her incredulously. “She’s always like this. Never walks anywhere - just stomps ominously.”

“I heard that!” called Una from the corridor.

“I hope you know what you’ve let yourself in for, mate,” said Graham, clapping Cormac on the shoulder in condolence. 

Cormac straightened himself up and followed Graham from the room. He wasn’t sure what he was letting himself in for. Not really.

But he had a feeling he was about to find out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[eddysocs]

Tender Persistence — Meredith Grey x OC

Summary: Meredith is fighting to work through her flu symptoms, but her ever present intern Eva isn’t about to let Meredith stay at Grey Sloan while she’s sick.

Word Count: 760

Warnings: None

The day had been a whirlwind. A seemingly endless cascade of surgeries, patient consults, and paperwork kept Meredith Grey on her feet for hours. But it wasn’t just the hospital chaos weighing her down. It was the dull ache in her body, the persistent throbbing in her head, and the scratchiness in her throat that she had been trying to ignore for days.

Meredith knew she was running on fumes, but she wasn’t one to back down from work, no matter how terrible she felt. As the day wound down, the symptoms finally caught up to her. A dizzy spell hit her just as she was wrapping up a patient’s chart. She braced herself against the counter, willing the room to stop spinning. But before she could regain her footing, a familiar voice cut through the haze.

“Dr. Grey, are you alright?”

Eva Santorini, the intern most frequently on her service, watched her with concern in her eyes, and though Meredith knew she had no ill will, it felt like a look of pity. Eva had noticed Meredith’s fading energy and the flush in her cheeks that had nothing to do with stress. Now, her worry was confirmed.

“I’m fine,” Meredith muttered, straightening up and attempting to act normal, though her legs felt like jelly.

Eva crossed her arms, unimpressed. “You’re clearly not. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard, and it’s catching up to you.”

Meredith brushed her off with a weak wave of her hand. “I’m just tired. I need to finish this chart and then—”

“This is non-negotiable, Meredith.” Eva’s voice held firm as she addressed the attending by her first name. “You’re going home, and I’m taking care of you. No arguments.”

Meredith tried to protest, but a cough racked her body, and she could only wince as her head pounded harder. Eva didn’t wait for another excuse. She grabbed Meredith’s coat and bag, taking her by the arm with a gentle but unyielding grip.

“You’re burning up,” Eva murmured, brushing her hand against Meredith’s flushed forehead as they made their way to the elevator. “I can’t believe you’ve been working like this.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Meredith mumbled, though her voice lacked its usual conviction. She leaned a little more into Eva, allowing herself to show a little vulnerability if only to take the edge off the chills running down her spine.

The ride to Meredith's was quiet, the tension from earlier melting away as Meredith finally surrendered. By the time they got to the house, she was too exhausted to fight back anymore. Eva helped her change into comfortable clothes and guided her to bed, pulling the blankets up around her.

Meredith closed her eyes, already feeling a bit better just by being home. But when Eva disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a tray of soup, water, and medicine, she couldn’t help but attempt a weak smile despite her feverish haze. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” she croaked.

Eva settled beside her on the bed, smoothing the damp strands of hair away from Meredith’s forehead. “Of course I did. You’d never do it for yourself.” At that Meredith frowned, but they both knew she was right. Eva held out the medicine. “Take these. And don’t even think about sneaking out of bed for work calls.”

Meredith swallowed the pills, the genuine caring in Eva’s voice making it easier to accept the help. For someone so used to holding everything together on her own, it was a rare relief to let someone else take the reins, not that she’d ever tell Eva that.

The evening passed in quiet companionship. Eva stayed close, occasionally checking on Meredith’s temperature or simply sitting nearby with a book she’d pulled from her bag to pass the time. As the fever began to break, Meredith reached out, placing her hand atop Eva's, startling her a bit with the contact. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but no less sincere because of it.

Eva’s expression softened as she squeezed her hand. “You don’t always have to be invincible, Meredith Grey. Everyone has their limits. Even you.”

With a tired nod, Meredith allowed herself to relax fully for the first time in days. She let the exhaustion pull her under, and as she drifted off to sleep, the thought lingered. Sometimes, letting someone care for you wasn’t a sign of weakness. It was simply trusting the people who cared enough to know what you needed, even when you were too stubborn to admit it.

For @sicktember

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @kmc1989, @curious-kittens-ocs, @fanficanatic-tw, @gcthvile, @kenjioharashotspot, @immyowndefender

[peridotglimmer]

🧡 for meddison?

🧡 kissing in bed / lazy kiss / cuddling

They're soft <3

--

"Hi." A messy head of blonde hair mumbles the greeting against Addison's bare shoulder, followed by a gentle press of dry, warm lips to her skin. Meredith is wrapped around her, holding her, still holding her, ever since Addison broke down in tears last night.

"Hi," she rasps in return. Her voice is still raspy, still coloured by emotion.

"Feeling better?"

"Not really," Addison admits honestly.

If this had been Derek, he wouldn't even have known you were scared or upset in the first place, her brain adds in for her.

"That's okay," Meredith murmurs, placing more tender kisses against Addison's skin. "I'll just hold you until you do."

[world-of-aus]

More Than Business II

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Baker!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, no really just fluff.

Author’s Note: There will be one more part to this little series before we wrap up Biker Bucky and his sweet Baker. Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoy this latest update, all other parts can be found on @worldofausupdates​! Enjoy buns.

Your bakery was its usual buzz, despite the open after hours.

“Well now hold on a minute,” one of you regulars Santiago, owner of ‘Santiagos Satin’ blurts out, “if y/n say’s we can trust the 107, and they’ve given us no reason not to shouldn’t we be less wary of this offer they’re laying down for us, surely there’s a reason Mr. Barnes is wanting our help, this could be big for all of us!”

“Santiago’s right,” Marie, owner of ‘Maries Mazing Muffins’ agrees, “think of the business this could bring in for all of us, especially with the people the 107 are likely tied to, we could see many of our business boom because of this festival!”

The buzz in your bakery grows, the various business owners that make-up the block all sharing their thoughts over one another. “What do you think y/n,” Meredith chirps up quieting the others, “do you think we can trust Mr. Barnes and the 107 – you think joining this festival would be a wise investment?”

Your bakery grows quiet all eyes on you as they wait for your answer, “In order to trust you must give trust, and I think James and the men of the 107 have earned our trust. Like Santiago mentioned they’ve given us no reason to be wary of them, and Marie drove a good point this could be the turning point for a lot of the businesses on the block.” You can still see the wariness in some eyes so you continue, “I can understand the uneasiness; but then tell me, when have the 107 ever given you reason not to trust them? Marie when your sign was scattered in broken shards all over your walkway who was there the next morning to clean up and ensure you had the fees to cover a new sign? Meredith, when someone came into yours and Willie’s shop and ran off with the roses from your stand out front who strolled in minutes later with the teen and your roses? Alice, when you and your dad’s one working iron stove went out who pulled through and had a delivery out front within the thirty minutes of it breaking?’

You’re finally seeing a reaction as many of their gazes fall to the ground, a sudden guilt creeping over their features as they let your words settle over them. “She’s right,” Alice speaks up, all eyes falling to the teen, “Mr. Barnes and the 107 have really only offered us there help but we’ve been too blind to it because of the fee collection at the beginning of every month, it feels like they’re stealing from our businesses when really they’ve been collecting on our behalf, they’ve fixed every expense for us without being told too.”

The quiet murmurs of the others begins to rise through your shop, the other tenants on the block all chiming in their thoughts with one another. “So what,” Alice’s dad starts, “what’s the plan here, what do you expect we do y/n?” As if giving your response the quiet rumble of several bikes rattle through your shop, the quiet murmurs becoming loud as the other business owners eyes drift to the windows of your shop before drifting back to you in a questioning worry.

Your smile is sheepish as you step towards your door, “I’m sorry to spring this on all of you, but you’ve only heard their story from others in passing, you’ve only grazed the cover page.” The key clicks in place, lock turning, knob going along with it as Bucky pushes your bakery door open, soft smile grazing his pink lips as the others of the 107 trail in behind him, their smiles just as welcoming as their leaders.

Their forms loom behind you, bright smiles pasted on all their lips as they look over their tenants. Bucky steps forward then strong arm falling over your shoulder as he brings you closer, you silently pass the floor over to Bucky then, fingers squeezing his side reassuringly. The brunette clears his throat before he speaks to the quiet room, “I know many of you are unsure of us, and it may feel like what I’m asking is already a lot to what we ask for at the beginning of every month but I find I need to ask anyway. The group and I are asking you all to come together with us and help us put together a fun festival for not only the people in our town, but for the neighboring towns as well. We’re hoping with your help we can showcase parts of our town that make it special, that make it ours, and I believe that by hosting a festival such as this one, it’ll have more people dropping in, bringing in more sales that will drive all the shops in our area.”

The soft murmurs begin again, “pardon Mr. Barnes,” one of the tenants pipes up from the back, “but aren’t you in the least bit worried that the extended invitation may fall into the wrong hands?” You can feel the moment he tenses beneath your fingers, but he masks it well as he pulls on that warm smile, “it’s been a thought of ours,” he answers as he looks over to his brothers, “but we’ve been in talk with the others from the towns neighboring us, and have come in agreement, that our people will be safe during this festival, security will be high, we know the risks that come with lowered guards.”

“And do you know those you’re hiring for security?”

“It’ll be your very own amongst the other clubs joining us,” Bucky answers. The murmurs grow, “this festival isn’t for us, but for all of you, it’s our way of giving back to all of you for all the times you’ve given to us,” Bucky meets your gaze then, “we want you all to feel like your family, like you can come to us should a problem arise, we don’t want you to fear those who are here solely to make sure your protected and cared for.”

The murmurs grow to quieted conversations as their tenants check in with one another, you watch as they come to their conclusions. “Do we have a deadline for booths,” one chimes in, “we can’t just put anything out you know,” another adds, “if we’re to represent our town and what it stands for we need to gather and prepare our best.”

Grins spread through your bakery your own pulling at your lips as you can’t help but to jump in place. “Whatever you need,” Bucky chimes in over the excitement growing, “the 107 and its members are here to serve you.”

An unexpected but welcomed cheer sounds through your bakery, your hands squeezing Buckys sides as you watch two family’s come as one before you. Your gaze meets his warm one, “told you it would work,” you grin before you’re looking back into the intermingled crowd.  

“Everyone,” you speak up, “please feel free to help yourselves to some baked goods and refreshments – on me,” you add despite the groans of protest from your neighbors. Bucky leans into your side voice low amongst the loud mingling chatter, “can I see you in your office?”

“Told you it would work,” you say as you lean up against your desk hands hoisting yourself up onto the wooden oak. Bucky’s shutting the door behind himself, “and I have you to thank for it, I don’t think I would have had the same reaction if it wouldn’t have been for you asking everyone to meet here and asking them to hear us out.”

A smile pulls at your lips, legs crossing as you watch him close the distance between the two of you, “give yourself credit Barnes, I’m only responsible for hosting this meeting, everything else laid out was all you.” A mirrored smile pulls at his lips, soft chuckle meeting your ears as he cages you in, hands on each side of you, “maybe, but I still couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Well you know what I think, I think regardless of the part I played here the reaction you got out there was all because of you.” Bucky’s hand finds yours, “you put your part in Buck, and you need to continue to do so, you’ll find that overtime they’ll become as welcoming as I am. What,” you question over a laugh at the look he gives you.

He lifts both your hands, fingers curling with yours, your heart beating like a wild drum in your chest mouth going dry as you follow his actions. “don’t think anyone could quite meet up to you.” You lick over your lips, “what do you mean,” you question though you’re sure you knew what he meant you just wanted to hear it, needed to hear it to believe that what you felt wasn’t just one-sided like you had allowed yourself to believe that night.

“Your selfless, kind, welcoming, loving, you’ve never judged a person before getting to know them – you see the good in people even when they can’t see it in themselves.”

“I like to believe there’s good in everyone, they just need a little help finding it,” your murmur eyes locking with his.

“You’re not afraid,” he adds, “always seeing the positive in something that others might see negative.”

“Ma did always say I was an optimistic.”

That brings a smile to his lips, “Your ma wasn’t wrong sugar, you’re a breath of fresh air, you make others around you want to do good by you, do good just to be around you.”

“You know I’ve already forgiven you for that night right,” you tease drawing a low chuckle from the man before you, “don’t think you were even mad at me to begin with, which you should have been, I shouldn’t have said what I said that night, it’s not what I wanted to say.”

“And what would you have preferred to say that night?”

“I would have preferred to have taken you up on your offer to stop by with those treats,” he answers, “and then when you did show up with them I would have asked you if you wanted to stay awhile because I don’t see our visits as business transactions, they may have been that  at first, but it wasn’t long before you had me seeing it as more – there was something about you that had me wanting to come around you and the first of the month wasn’t cutting it for me anymore, but I let the fear of what could happen to you get the better of me. You’re to kind for my world.”

“I can protect myself Buck,” you find yourself saying, “but I also know that you wouldn’t let anything happen to me either if it ever came down to it.”

“I have no doubt that you can protect yourself sugar, you’ve showed me time and time again that you can hold your own and that of others because that’s just who you are.”

“So,” you hum deciding to push your luck, “does that mean you’ll let me come drop off some treats at the clubhouse?”

Bucky somehow steps in closer, your breath hitching at the action, “you can come by anytime you’d like, treats or not, I was actually hoping to show you around the clubhouse after the festival, give you a tour of things – is that something you’d like?”

A smile pulls at your lips, “I’d really like that Buck, I'd really like that.”

[emily-prentits]

wip wednesday (thursday)

tagged by @sillyfroggremlin and @crime-wives!!

disclaimer: writers block is a bitch. i haven't actually written in weeks BUT i'll give some snippets anyway <3

lately she's undressing for revenge (chapter 6):

Derek is the one she wants. She wants things to be simple again, to go back to casual lips pressed to cheeks and coffee in between surgeries and warm smiles at inside jokes, but they can’t. They’re broken and she doubts they can be that close again, like a chasm has opened up between them and is still pulling them apart. She’s still half-sure that Derek still wants Meredith, and that Meredith still wants Derek, in some way, shape, or form. Maybe the problem lies in the fact that she wants Meredith more than she wants Derek, now, that when she closes her eyes she’s seeing Meredith, missing Meredith, needing Meredith.

Take Aim and Reload:

“Addie!” Amelia practically bounces into the arms of a tall redhead, who turns with a surprised laugh and—shit. Addison brushes dark hair from Amelia’s face when she pulls back. “Oh, Amy,” she says, murmurs really as she drinks Amelia in with her eyes, “It’s really good to see you.”

unnamed meraddek pregnancy au:

“Addison.” Meredith’s hand squeezes tight and doesn’t let go until she looks down at her. Her forehead is beaded with sweat, and there is pain shining so brightly behind everything else in those beautiful blue eyes. The hard ball of anxiety in Addison’s gut curls tighter. If she fucks this up—  “Addie. Hey.” Meredith. Her hand is warm in hers. Addison blinks, refocuses. “I trust you.”

no pressure tagging: @itsdappleagain @peridotglimmer @horsetailcurlers2 @walshies @which-star @doomingthenarrative and literally anyone else who wants to! it's been so long since i've had to tag writer mutuals