#reminds me i need to update my masterlist

[veltana]

Unleashed - Avengers!Bucky/Fem!Reader

✦ Pairing: Avengers!Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~4,2k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Sex pollen adjacent kinda, smut, a bit fluffy, one shot, possessive!Bucky, co-workers/friends to lovers, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, orgasm denial, dirty talk, praise, creampie, pet names (doll).

✦ Summary: During a mission, Bucky is exposed to something that removes his inhibitions and all he wants is you.

✦ Note: Previously posted on AO3 since I have basically no time or energy to write new stuff. It was titled You’re what I need before but I always hated that title so I decided to re-name it. Bucky is kind of an asshole in this, but it's just because he wants you! As always, reblogs, comments, and asks are very welcome ❤️

Masterlist | AO3

The worst part about watching from afar as a mission goes to shit is that you feel useless. Even as you dispatch medics for the team all you can do is tell them, "Help is on the way."

Captain America shouts orders that you hear through the comms. The wait feels endless until the crew of the quinjet declares that they have spotted the team and there's not much else for you to do but look at your monitors and wait for an update. When you get the call back that the team is secure you breathe a sigh of relief, but then the next message is to prepare the medical staff to receive multiple injuries and chemical exposure. You ask the crew to clarify, but they are too busy, so when you notify the medical center, they prepare a quarantine room.

Sometimes you wish you had a superpower and could be there with them instead of staring at your monitors and doing endless calculations on whatever the team needs. But then when they return they always compliment your work and tell you they don’t know how they managed without you. You try to remind yourself of those moments at times like this.

Once the quinjet is docked and everyone has been accounted for you push away from your desk and remove your headset, taking deep breaths and trying to calm your heart. A moment later a message pops up on your screen, probably because they couldn’t reach you through your comms. [Bucky wants you to come down here]

Your heart does a little flip in your chest, making you scowl. He is your friend and probably injured, you have no idea why he would be asking for you, but it’s not because he feels the same way you do. You grab your tablet and head to the MedBay.

When you get down you take stock of the situation. Nat and Steve have some scratches, Sam's arm is broken and Wanda has a few cracked ribs. Tony is bruised, his suit had taken most of the damage. You look around for Bucky but don’t see him anywhere and quickly deduce that he must be the person currently in quarantine.

When you get to the wing, you’re almost too scared to go in, afraid to see what could have happened to him. Inside, you find a team of medical personnel discussing Bucky's condition with him through a glass wall. His hair looks damp and he's wearing standard-issue quarantine clothing, soft black pants, and a black sweatshirt. When he sees you standing patiently at the side he says. "You can come back later. I need to talk to her more than I need to talk to you. Go away." His voice comes from speakers in the ceiling.

You're shocked by his behavior but smile apologetically as the white coats pass you on their way out. When you get up to the glass you hiss. "Bucky, what is wrong with you, don't be rude.” "You make it sound like I'm never rude otherwise," he laughs. "You're not rude to healthcare professionals, you know better." You glare at him as you wake your tablet. “Now what did you need me for?”

"Do you like me?" he asks. Your mouth falls open and your heart starts to beat faster. You’re happy your vitals aren’t monitored as you quickly collect yourself and try to deflect his question. "Of course I like you Bucky, you're my friend." But now it feels weird to look at him and you find a spot on the wall far behind him to focus on.

"What if I want more than friends?" is his next question and despite your best efforts, hope warms your chest. This is not happening. Of course you toyed with the idea of you and Bucky, he is always sweet to you, and if he has the chance he brings you gifts from the missions. But you’ve told yourself repeatedly that he needs someone stronger, who can keep up with him in the field and you’re not that person.

"Can we have this conversation when you are not high on some HYDRA drug?” you ask, trying to keep your voice from betraying you. They are monitoring everything in the room. And there is a sheet of unbreakable glass in between you both. If you're going to confess your feelings, it won't be like this.

"I'm not high," he huffs. "My mind has never been clearer." "I still think we should have this conversation later." "Doll, look at me." The command in his voice is so strong you don’t think, you snap your eyes to his and they are so blue and soft.

"I will feel the same tomorrow, and the day after, whenever this drug wears off but now is the only time I can't hold my tongue," he explains. You place your hand on the glass and he does the same on the other side. "It will be fine Bucky, I promise," you say just as the door opens and Steve walks in, making you pull your hand back to your side. He's showered, in a fresh pair of clothes and he swings his arm over your shoulder.

"Stop hogging her time Bucky, I know for a fact that she also needs to debrief," he smiles but Bucky looks as if he's seeing red. Through gritted teeth he presses out, "Get your fucking arm off her, punk. She's mine."

You and Steve burst into laughter because it has to be a joke, but then Bucky punches the barrier with his vibranium arm. The glass doesn't crack but both you and Steve stop short and step away in shock. Steve removes his arm and says, "I'll meet you upstairs." Before quickly heading out.

You turn to Bucky and point at him, anger rising in your chest. "What is wrong with you? Steve is your friend!" "That is what it’s like in here every day,” he points to his head. You're taken aback by his statement and his wide feral eyes. Clearly, whatever he was exposed to had messed with his head and he's not himself. “Bucky I need to go,” you tell him, and before he can protest you continue. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You smile feebly at him and are out the door before he can say anything else.

After debriefing and having dinner you go to bed early. Your head is spinning with the day and most of all, Bucky.

It's way past midnight when you wake to the soft closing of your door. Since you always sleep with a night light the soft warm glow reflects off his left arm and leaves no doubt about who has entered your room. You blink at him but before you can ask a question he rasps out, pleading. "I need you. So bad. Please doll, help me." He moves closer to your bed.

You quickly remove your covers and get up, glad the giant t-shirt covers you to your thighs, ready to spring into action. "Anything Bucky, what do you need?" You stop an arm's length from him, but all he does is reach his hand out to cup your face, letting his thumb stroke your cheek. There is a wild look in his eyes but you keep calm. "I can't get you what you need if you don't tell me," you whisper, meeting his eyes and watching as his brow furrows.

"I need you. Right now. If I don't get to touch and taste every inch of your body I'm going to lose my mind," he confesses in a low voice. His words shock you and you hitch a breath. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. You have this great friendship. If things were different you would not have minded taking it to another level, but with the day in mind and the fact that he somehow got out of his containment room you say, "Bucky, you’re not yourself, you need to get back to-”

"Doll,” he interrupts with a hard voice. “For once, I feel more like myself than I have in a long time. The only thing the drug did, I think, was remove my inhibitions. For once I feel free. My mind isn't controlled by HYDRA or by fear that you'll reject me. All I know is that I crave you and I can't be quiet about it anymore.”

"Bucky… I…" your whole body is flushed with warmth from his words and you're not sure how to respond. "I dreamt about you and couldn't stop myself from going over here. I don't want to hurt you, doll, but I'm not sure this drug will let me leave. All I wanna do is move closer to you.” You swallow hard as he continues, thumb still stroking your cheek. “Ask FRIDAY to get Steve, or the Hulk if you want me to leave."

Instead, you step into him, making up your mind in an instant and resting your hands on his chest. "Stay, I'll be glad to help you with anything you need," you whisper honestly and by the way his eyes widen there was still some doubt in his mind that you would reject him.

Instead of saying anything his vibranium hand grasps your waist and pulls you closer. There is no escaping the smell and size of him and his hands on you got your pussy throbbing for him already.

"I hope you understand what you've agreed to," he whispers, leaning closer. "Once I have you I won't stop, you'll never be rid of me. I'll claim you against every surface of this fucking compound if I need to." That makes you whimper and press harder against him. "Fuck you'd like that huh? Are you a kinky little thing? Like getting fucked where people can see you and hear you moan, do you want people to see my hard dick spread you open?" "Fuck Bucky!" You exclaim and lean your forehead against his chest. Maybe that idea excites you or maybe it is just that the word ‘claim’ sounds so primal.

"You're going to tell me all your little secrets later, doll. But now, I'm going to take what's mine." And with that, he crushes his lips to yours. He backs you towards the bed, kissing you the whole time, letting his hands explore you. When you land on your back, he stands over you with eyes like a predator about to devour its prey.

You shuffle up until your head rests on the pillows, spreading your legs for him. Without taking off any clothes he crawls after you, settling on his knees between your legs and placing his hands on the headboard, crowding you with his large frame. "Mine," he whispers and it makes a shudder pass through you. He ruts his clothed cock against your core, slicking your underwear even more and making you whine, gripping the sheets under you.

"Yes," he almost hisses as the length of his dick presses on your clit and forces a mewl out of you. It's been a long time since you've gotten laid. "Bucky," you plead. "No doll, I'm going to enjoy every fucking second of claiming you, from the outside in. Did you think this would be hard and fast and that I would be gone before you knew what happened?"

He lets go of the headboard to put his elbows beside your head instead, his weight on you, pressing you down into the mattress. "When I leave you will long for me, spend every waking second wishing I was still inside you. I want your cunt to be permanently drenched so I can fuck you whenever I please." He kisses you forcefully and any coherent thought that was left in your head flees. "And when you're too sore to take more of my dick in your pussy I'm going to do the same thing to your mouth and ass."

He rids you off your t-shirt and instead of having to move from between your legs to pull off your underwear, he rips them apart. "Ah!" you exclaim when the force of his movements jolts you but he takes no notice, he just stares at you, letting his hands roam up and down your sides, up to your tits, cupping them and caressing your nipples with his thumbs.

Whimpers are coming from you with every pass of this touch. Then he moves down and lays on his stomach, not saying a word as he sweeps his tongue over your pussy before he starts devouring you with a throaty moan.

It doesn’t take long for the first orgasm to take you, his movements are precise and his words and actions have made you hornier than you’ve ever experienced. Or maybe it's because he is the hottest person you’ve ever laid eyes on and he only wants you.

When you’re finished and sensitive he dips his tongue into your hole to taste you and groans loudly, lapping up the wetness from your orgasm. "Better than I've dreamed of," he says when he pulls away. Now you’re the one that must be high because you can't help but giggle. "You seriously dream of me?" "All the time, doll. Every night when I go to bed I wish you were with me and then you plague my sleep with your soft curves and radiant smile."

You're about to tell him how his laugh makes you warm and fuzzy on the inside but at that moment he sucks your clit into his mouth, cutting out every thought in your brain. He's gentle but not hesitant, it's as if he's feeling you out and when you make a particularly loud sound he continues the same movement, making your whole body go hot.

The second orgasm is intense enough to send aftershocks through for a long while afterward. Bucky lays his head on your thigh as you tremble, caressing your skin and letting the fingers of his right hand skim over your opening.

Despite what he's already given you, you still crave more. His fingertips never come close to where you need them and when you whine at the back of your throat Bucky smiles up at you. "Don't worry, I'm not even close to done with you, but I don't want you to pass out on me.” One of his fingers glides inside, making you take a sharp breath just because it feels so good. Once again he is careful, moving slowly, listening to your breath and your body.

"Please Bucky, I need more.” "No need to beg, I'll give you everything you want… in time," he breathes and kisses the skin on the inside of your thigh. Slowly he moves his finger in and out. You're sure it's a form of torture. The sweetest kind there is. Your breathing is labored and when he finally adds a second, you start to quiver.

He nips at your skin and then kisses it before speaking. "You look like a goddess, doll, eyes filled with lust, your skin is gleaming. I'm going to worship you until you're tired of me.” "Never gonna happen," you whimper. Then his thumb lands on your clit, making you cry out. Everything is so sensitive and overstimulated.

"I don't- Bucky, I don't think I can again," you tell him even though his touches are causing your insides to melt. "Yes, you will," his voice is soft but the command is clear. So instead of trying to speak again, you sink further into the madness that is him playing with you. The third one takes its sweet time but you never feel rushed or stressed that it's taking too long. Bucky isn’t in a hurry.

Then it’s suddenly there, crashing through you. "Fuck Bucky, fuck you're gonna make me come." "So good for me, let me feel you come on my fingers," he urges. "I'm going to lick them clean afterward so make sure you get them nice and wet for me. I want as much as you'll give me." The climax reaches its peak and you come with a cry of his name, body convulsing and your hand shooting down to tangle in his hair.

"Just like that doll," he smiles up at you and holds your gaze when he pulls out his fingers and sucks them clean, moaning while he does. It's a filthy sound, but it turns you on as if he didn't just make you come for the third time. Then he dives in between your legs again, licking at your skin and your soaked hole. Letting go of his hair all you can do is just lie there, writhing, as he somehow coaxes a fourth orgasm out of you.

“Fuck me,” you plead when he pulls back. “I need you inside me Bucky.” This time he takes pity on you and moves away to take off his clothes. When he’s naked he kneels between your legs again and you spread them as wide as you can. "Want me, doll?" he asks with a smirk. He swipes his cock through your mess and then uses his hand to coat himself with you. "Yes," is all you can say. Both you and Bucky stare as he pushes his dick into you, filling you up completely. Of course, he takes it torturously slow this time too.

"This feels better than any dream I've ever had," he whispers almost in awe. You grip his biceps and arch into him, pushing him deeper, faster. That makes him tsk but smiles at the same time as he pushes the rest of the way, finally seating himself. Without giving you a chance to relax he starts fucking you, his cock pushes perfectly against your insides, pulling sounds from you that you haven't made in years.

He sits back on his heels lifting your ass effortlessly until your weight is resting on your shoulders and neck. It's like he is in a trance, pulling you onto his cock over and over again. Your body is his, your mind has fled, and all you see and feel is just him all around you. His eyes keep changing between his dick filling your cunt, your bouncing tits, and your half-lit eyes as if he is not sure where to look. "Mine," he rasps and thrusts hard to empathize the word. "All mine. Say it."

It takes some time for your brain to connect to your mouth and form the words but his gaze never leaves you. "Yours," you whimper. "I'm yours, Bucky." There is a familiar heat low in your belly that's steadily spreading through your limbs. It makes you wiggle and move because it's overwhelming. He is overwhelming in the best sense. Whining you reach down to rub yourself but he slaps your hand away. "I thought I told you, it's mine. I own this cunt. If you wanna touch yourself you have to ask permission." It's as close to a growl as is humanly possible and you don't understand how he can be so cognizant right now, because your brain is like putty. "Can I please rub my clit Bucky, I wanna come on your cock so bad," you cry.

"Good girl," he praises, and when he calls you that, your mouth falls open with a keening sound, gripping the sheets even harder, pulling at them because you want to come so bad. "Do it, show me how you get off when you're alone in bed without me." Everything is slippery and sensitive when you start with your fingers and you immediately know it's going to go fast. With his previous words in mind, you ask. "Can I come?" He meets your eyes with a wicked smile. "Fast learner. Yeah, you can come… when I tell you."

You rip your hand away, afraid you might fall over the edge at any second. The sound out of your throat is almost a sob. "Don't be like that, doll, I thought you said you couldn't do it more times?" "I can-I can! As many times as you want just please let me come." "Fuck, I like it when you beg with my cock in you." But he doesn't say anything else, just continues fucking you. He's not even winded while you're straining your entire body. Your hand wants to move back, anything to relieve the pressure inside you but Bucky was very clear and you don’t want to disobey him.

Then he pulls out and drops you onto the bed, but you don't get to relax because he flips you onto your stomach and pushes one of your knees up to the side before he presses in. His dick hits your G-spot dead on and you scream into the pillow under you. Bucky chuckles right by your ear. "Guess I found it." He's merciless, his hips hit your ass hard and if it weren't for his weight pressing you down you would soon hit the headboard.

"Bucky!" you wail because it's too much. You're losing the last pieces of your mind to the sheer force of the pleasure and you're scared you're never going to be able to come back to yourself. Then his hand presses in between you and the mattress. "Rub yourself on my fingers, make yourself cum. Fuck my cock and come all over me doll." You brace yourself as best you can and move your hips as he keeps almost completely still, just shallow thrusts in stark comparison to what he was doing to you just moments ago.

His fingers slide along your clit, his cock brushing your G-spot over and over again. You're breathless, sweat breaking out along your skin, but the climax you're chasing will be well worth it. You just know it.

"I can't fill you up until I’ve felt you come around me," he grunts, his voice tight with holding back. You whimper, the feeling of fire flushing your whole body, and building up to an eruption like no other. "Yes, yes, yes," he chants low in your ear. "That's it, come for me, make me proud. Fuck it feels so good." And he starts moving again "I'm going to fill you fucking full of my cum. That's it!"

The heat in you breaks and you come with a shout of his name, shaking under him. It gets even more intense when Bucky finishes right behind you, groaning your name. He collapses on top of you but his hips are still moving, slowly, as if he doesn’t want it to ever end. Neither would you but your body is wrecked.

When he finally rolls off, you're so close to falling asleep, but he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. "Pee." He points and you want to tell him that you know the drill, this isn't your first time, but all that comes out is a grumble before he closes the door behind him and you sit down on the toilet.

When you're done, you stumble out and have a moment of panic, thinking he left. But then the door opens and Bucky returns with two bottles of water, handing you one before leading you to the bed and sitting you down on the edge. Gratefully you drink and lean against his shoulder before asking. "How do you feel?" "Better than I have in a long time," he answers, kissing your forehead. You chuckle. "Yeah I have a magical pussy, it can cure anything," you joke and it makes him laugh. "You should get back to quarantine," you comment. "Before anyone notices." He shakes his head. "No I'm staying here, I'm never leaving you again." He takes the bottle from your hand and places it on the bedside table together with his own. Then he crawls beneath the sheets and you go after him, letting him envelop you in a tight embrace before you fall asleep.

Alarms blare and you wake with a start. "FRIDAY what's going on?" you ask out into the room. “Sergeant Barnes has escaped his confinement.” The voice echoes through the room. You sigh and glare at Bucky grumbling beside you, like the loud signal is just a regular alarm clock. "FRIDAY please inform the team that Bucky is here and everything is fine."

A second later the sound dies and with a sigh you get up to pull on yesterday's discarded t-shirt and find a pair of pants. Right when you're done there is a knock on the door and Steve asks, "Everything okay in there?" You open the door enough to show yourself. "We're fine, he broke out during the night and came here." "Oh," Steve says and there is a hint of blush on his cheeks.

Then you feel a presence behind you and Bucky’s arm goes around your waist. "Mine," he says and you can't see him but he's probably glaring daggers at Steve who backs away. "We'll be okay, I'll alert FRIDAY if I need help," you tell Steve. When you close the door Bucky turns you before pushing you up against it and kissing you hard. "Mine," he mumbles against your lips. "Fucking caveman," you tell him. He grabs you around the waist and throws you over his shoulder. "I'll show you caveman," he says and carries you to the bed

[pedgito]

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒 | General Acacius x reader x Emperor Geta

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | General Marcus Acacius has one thing Emperor Geta doesn't, you.

author's note | @pr0ximamidnight is FULLY responsible for this. she had an idea, i flip-flopped and threw out another one, and here we are. paige thank you for being a constant source of inspiration in my life and pea brain, ily. and thank you for beta'ing.

content warning | 18+ smut, DDDNE, dubcon - power imbalance and forced cuckolding | additional warnings: reader is a servant (but also participates in s*x work), established situationship with the general, marcus is a soft but guilt-riddled man, geta is literally just a gremlin asshole with an ego and you know what? i'm okay with that, heavy degradation, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, fingering, f voyeurism/exhibitionism. extra note: please heed the tags and proceed with caution. do not read if this icks you out, that simple. also we can just say this is au to avoid the bs. i just wanted to write a fic with both of my blorbos <3

word count —2.7k

There was something special about being bedded by a General, one so illustrious and generous as Acacius, but an Emperor, that was a wholly different experience. 

He knew you belonged to General Acacius, in a sense. One of his loyal servants who had sailed across the sea with him to the palace of the Emperor brothers who ruled here—Caracalla, a slimy and disgusting man, alongside his brother Geta, who wasn’t much better. He was smarter, though—albeit not by much, but his choices were calculated, vengeful, planned.

He had his eyes set on you from the moment you entered his home, alongside General Acacius in your unsuspecting and flimsy garb, a white and pristine material to match that of your General, detailed with gold specks and a tie at your waist that kept you modest.

“Serve them, appease them,” General Acacius had told you, “they are tempered men, do not upset them.” He’d meant it as a warning; watch yourself.

Acacius was a caring leader, for the most part. You stayed out of politics and war, dutiful to him and his needs wherever and whenever he needed you—and if that meant buried in his sheets when you were away with him on one of his many triumphs around Rome, that was his business and your secret to keep. The gold necklace that hung around your neck was a gift from him, a thank you for all of your hard work, but a silent reminder that you were his. None of the other men touched you, like a brand on your body that had them running in the other direction.

But, not Emperor Geta.

He tips your chin up with his finger, your body shaking nervously under his touch as he uses his other hand to spread your legs apart at your knees, stripped out of his cloak and down to his tunic, but even that was hanging on by a thread. 

He’d commanded you to strip down in front of him, your clothes pooled somewhere on the floor near his bed.

You’ve been in plenty of situations like this before, sex with men you didn’t care for. If it meant sustenance and another day of breathing, you didn’t care. You did what you had to. But this, it felt off. There was a constant snarl to his face, his gold crown displaced beside your head as his finger trace and followed until he was gripping the underside of your chin in his palm and pushing up, fingering the necklace with a smug, salacious grin.

“He’s got you collared,” Geta breathes, “like a dog, doesn’t he?”

Don’t speak, he’ll hear the quiver in your voice.

“Answer me,” His voice booms, “does he fuck you in secret?”

You blink, watching his lips pull back in a thin line and his gaze—it was frightening.

You nod despite yourself, not prepared to see what would happen if you had lied.

The thing with Geta was he also disguised his intentions behind momentary kindness.

A kind smile as you offered him a full goblet of wine or refilled his plate, as you trailed alongside him holding another gaudy offering to appease the other ego-driven men who pursued this place—General Acacius knew he was losing you to him and there wasn’t a thing he could say or do without risking your life in the process.

His face softens for a brief moment, feeling the hard swallow from your throat as it strains, eyes droning into the bedpost above your head as his fingers flex, debating on whether he should rip the jewelry from your neck or leave it be. 

Eventually, he decides for the latter.

“Show me,” Geta commands, “how you please him.”

He loosens his grip on your chin and allows his hand to fall, watching as you rise up slightly on your elbows, breasts shaking with the movement and you can catch the way his jaw clenches, salivating at the sight. You pull at the tie on his skirt, finding that he was already bare underneath, his hard and aching cock springing from underneath as you pushed it away.

His confidence wasn’t a cover, you could confirm. He was large, not nearly as much as General Acacius but given the amount of situations you’ve caught yourself in, staring up or down at men who just needed a quick taste of you and the pleasure you had to offer, he was quite enough.

The tip, red and dripping already, he palms himself. A chuckle escapes his chest as he flings the rest of the fabric to the floor, his hand cupping around his balls and rolling them between his fingers before he’s gripping his shaft and then your own hand, allowing a few strokes before he intructs you to do as he’s asked. 

You squeeze, apply an ample amount of pressure as you pull at his shaft, watching as he slowly canted his own hips into your palm, his hand gripping into your scalp to keep you upright, hair tangled around his fingers as he breathes out roughly through his nose.

“Always know a whore when I see one,” He denotes and you have to fight the urge to bark back, “do you suck cock like one too?”

If anything, it was a silent order.

You push up onto your palm, feeling the strength of his grip as he yanks your head back, forcing your eyes to lock with his as he uses the other hand to guide his cock head to your lips, sneering as he spreads the glistening precome over your lips before pressing further. You open your mouth to him, allowing the heavy weight of his cock to split your lips apart, giving you very little time to adjust before he’s eagerly thrusting into your mouth, using your hand to cover the rest of his cock you couldn’t fit, feeling more shameful than you should about how you weren’t as bothered by him as you should be.

He wasn’t some strange man pandering you with a pile of coins on the street or around the dark corner of the palace—he was power. An emperor with little remorse.

You can hear him chuckling darkly above, his eyes wild as you suck at his cock, spit pooling in your mouth and dripping down your chin.

“Messy bitch,” He mutters, picking up the pace considerably as he began to fuck into your mouth, the tip of his cock pressing against the back of your throat forcing a garbled gag around him, “—are you of the thankful sort or are you ungrateful?”

He pulls you back suddenly, leaving you to gasp out in desperation at the sudden relief, looking up at him with watery eyes, swallowing against your sensitive gag reflex.

“Thank—thankful, sir.” You confirm with a weak nod.

“No sir,” He counters, “Emperor. Let me hear you speak it.”

“Thankful,” You affirm, “I’m thankful, Emperor.”

“Good,” His thumb traces your bottom lip, mixing with the spit and slick of him that was covering your mouth, “so you’ll take my cum and say thank you, won’t you?”

You nod obediently, feeling him loosen the grip on your hair slightly as he fisted himself, using the copious amount of spit as lubricant. You watch as his abdomen flexes under the guise of his impending orgasm, how jerky his movements become as his teeth dig into his bottom lip, a muffled curse slipping beyond his lips before he’s pressing his cock to your lips without warning and expecting, knowing that his obedient little whore would be willing and waiting. His cum pools in your tongue, salty and warm as he jerks himself a few final times before he pulls away, watching carefully as you swallow down the taste of him. It was then that he finally allowed you a break, releasing his grip on your scalp as you fell back.

“What a harlot you are,” Geta comments, but seemingly pleased as he leans back on his calves and pulls you upright, awaiting until you’re sitting less rigidly before he drags a hand across your breast, his thumb rubbing over your nipple and watching as it pebbled underneath his touch, “might I suggest an audience?”

You have no time to respond before he’s fetching for one of his other many servants, a name you’ve never heard before being thrown across the room and you scramble for the covers, desperate for some protection to your state of undress. Geta allows it, but he doesn’t hide the smirk or laugh that escapes him, his eyes creasing in amusement.

The servant peaks around the door dutifully, wide eyes dropping on you before quickly averting to the Emperor.

“Fetch the General for me, would you?” He asks, “I’ve been meaning to show him a proper good time.”

The servant nods meekly before departing and when Geta looks at you—he sees it.

“What?” He remarks like a child, “Don’t fear for your modesty now—“

The footsteps grow closer, heavy and slow as they thump, thump, thump against the floor, matching the quick beat of your heart.

“Emperor Geta—“ His voice brings you to tears, looking away in fear that he would judge, seethe, leave you to be eaten alive by the Emperor on your own and finally rid himself of you.

“General,” He boasts, still stark naked but using your legs as a makeshift cover over his cock, despite how bare you were, “won’t you join us?”

When you do look at him, he’s stoic. Fearful just as much as you. In fact, you’ve never seen him this worried. Not even in the depths of war.

“Are you asking, Emperor?” He counters, “Or ordering?”

Geta answers with a wave of his hand toward your naked body and Acacius pushes down the sigh that wants to escape through his nose, closing the door shut behind him.

“She’s quite the woman, you must know,” He comments and General Acacius' nose flares at the words, lifting himself slowly onto the bed to sit near you, still a distance away. If you reached out, you could touch him, “beautiful, obedient—the perfect whore, really.”

“Emperor, forgive me,” Acacius argues, “but I am not sure what you want from me in this situation.”

“She’s yours, is she not?” He asks, flinging the necklace up lazily before it hits your chest again and Acacius eyes immediately draw to the jewelry. “This reeks of you.”

“It was a gift, for her diligent and loyal work.”

Because as much as you had served General Acacius in many ways, you were still tending to everything else without complaint and with a good attitude. In another life, if things could be different, you might have him as your own. But, that wasn’t possible.

“Do you fuck her?”

Geta knows the answer—all of you do.

“That is none—“

“As she is under my rule—it is my business,” He snaps, “Do you fuck her, General? Is she a good fuck?”

Lord above, put me out of this misery, you think.

Acacius offers nothing but silence.

Geta nods with finality, “Fair—you can watch and tell me if her moans sound the same while my cock is inside of her.”

And Geta catches the way your hand in his sheets inch closer toward Acacius out of instinct, wanting his touch just as bad.

He furrows his brow and nods toward the General.

“Prepare her for me,” He orders, “touch her.”

Your eyes flick up toward him, a silent and pleading echo of Marcus behind your eyes. Serve him, appease him.

He closes his eyes and breathes a deep sign, his fingers trailing down your stomach until they can hover over your cunt, his middle and ring finger placed and at the ready. You nod, mouth instantly falling open at his touch.

The Emperor smirks, watching Acacius dexterous fingers work over your clit and your chest rise and fall in quick succession, his hand fisting his own cock lazily. 

“I can see why you’ve taken such a liking to her,” Geta notes, speaking as if you weren’t in the room, as if he wasn’t fisting his cock at the entrance of you cunt, “I owe you, for bringing her to me—and leaving her with me.”

You can see the way Acacius' face twitches in anger, but his eyes never leave yours when they open again, using him as a solace in this complicated time. You grab for his wrist when you feel yourself growing near, breathing out a shaky moan.

“There, stop.” Geta orders and Acacius' hand drags away slowly, fingers drifting along the edge of your jaw with a fondness that was reserved for you alone.

You smile sadly.

I’m sorry, you convey silently.

In this world, Acacius knew you had no choice in the matter. It was survival and had you been born into a wealthier family, a better life, maybe you would be at the other end of this situation.

“Look at me,” He commands you, pulling your face away from Acacius grip and forcing your eyes on him as he presses inside of you slow, hand gripped at the base of his cock as he split you open, his face pinched as you squeezed him, cunt sucking him in greedily. 

You bite at your cheek, trying to stifle the involuntary moans from the stretch of Emperor Geta’s cock. You could deny and say that it didn’t feel good, but that would be a lie. Your selfish body was betraying you and you didn’t want to give the Emperor the satisfaction, not yet.

Acacius shakes his head minutely, a subtle movement you barely catch. Don’t defy him.

“Tell her,” Geta says through heavy breaths, his hips snapping into you steadily, your thighs being pressed tight to your body with his grip on the back of them, “keeping silent will do her no good.”

“Dove,” He comforts you, “let go.”

“You’ve named her!” Geta exclaims in amusement and genuine disbelief, “You’ve named your whore? Pathetic.”

“She was never a whore,” Acacius snaps through gritted teeth, “she is loyal—good, and she does not deserve this. She would give you anything you asked if you did it with kindness.”

“I’m right here!” You shout, fed up with the unjust tension, your voice riddled with the building pleasure in your groin, the feeling of Geta’s thumb ghosting over your clit.

“Grab her face and look at her,” Geta orders roughly, his chest flushed from exertion, “and be sorrowful that it isn’t you making her fall apart—seeing as this is the last time you will ever be allowed to see her.”

You sob out, both from the crest of your orgasm and the hate behind his words, eyes locked on your General for the brief interim that you fall apart, pulsing tightly around the Emperor’s cock until he comes with grunt, slipping out of you just in enough time that has seed doesn’t spill into you. The last thing he needed was a bastard son.

“You will learn to respect me,” He snarls, grabbing for his clothes haphazardly and retrying them around his waist.

You shake with a silent cry, hand still latched around the General’s wrist, too afraid to let him go.

“You have five minutes,” Geta bites, “say your goodbyes and leave my sight, both of you.”

The moment his footsteps finally descend and you feel the momentary relief, he deflates.

“Marcus, I never meant—“

He shushes you quickly, pushing the stray hair from your face as you lean up, reaching for him and he tucks you into his chest.

“You are safer here,” He promises, “I cannot protect you like I once could, and you’re smart—I know you are. Geta is a temperamental but immature man. Get in his head, manipulate him. Live.”

“Where are you going?” You ask with a somber tone.

“Away,” He replies simply, not willing to elaborate.

It tugs at your heart deeply, feeling the material of a blanket being slide up over your naked body.

“Fight,” It’s one of the last words he says to you, pressing a kiss against your forehead before he reaches your lips, and it lingers for a while, but not nearly as long as you wish, “if not for me, but for you.”

And you would, even if it killed you.

[russellsppttemplates]

It is what it is (Lando Norris)

It takes Lando a while to notice how you always assume he has something else to do whenever you need his help

Note: english is not my first language. It's slightly angsty but has a good ending! ✨️ is this good, is this bad? I'm not too sure

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

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Cw: alludes to the lack of quality time between a couple

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"Look at you, beautiful girl", Lando twirled you as he stepped inside your bedroom, noticing you were getting ready, "are you going somewhere?".

"Yes, I have an appointment at my optometrist", you smiled, "Anna should be here soon to take me".

"Is it a joint appointment?", Lando squinted.

"No, you muppet", you giggled, "my optometrist needs some exams on my eyes, so I have to today because that's when the ophthalmologist is there and they recommended that I had someone take me there because they want to dilate my pupils and, depending on how it goes, my sight might be a little affected for a couple of hours", you offered, making sure you had everything you needed to take.

"You could've told me and I would've taken you", Lando added, accepting the kiss you placed on his lips.

"I thought you had a meeting this afternoon", you reasoned.

"I do, but I could have moved that around a little and fit everything into the schedule", he reasoned back.

"It's okay, don't worry about that", you mused, "That's Anna - bye, handsome!", you kissed his lips one last time before making your way out and downstairs to meet your friend.

The ride to the office wasn't long, you and Anna taking the time to catch up and learn about the new gossips she had to update on you.

"And how's Lando? I haven't seen him in a while", Anna stated after you sat in the empty waiting room waiting to be called.

"He's been busy lately - he has a meeting today with the team, they're also launching a new collection for Quadrant and they're investing a lot in the social media content, so he's been busy recording a lot of videos and stuff", you offered, never shy whenever it came to talk proudly about your boyfriend's achievements, "and we're also on the countdown for the season to begin, so there's training and meetings and all that".

"Sounds like a busy schedule, no wonder why I haven't seen him - I'm surprised you even see him at all", she joked, grabbing her phone once she remembered she had something to show you.

You were surprised yourself at every bit of time you were able to spend with Lando, as lately it had become near impossible to do so apart from sleeping in the same bed, and even that was rare as he was often travelling between Monaco and England on a weekly basis.

"Ms. Y/N Y/L/N?", the doctor called you before you stepped inside the exam room, starting with the procedures.

The check up itself didn't take long despite the twenty five minute wait for the drops to dilate your pupils, "Don't forget your sunglasses, Y/N!", the secretary reminded you before you stepped outside.

"Thank you, have a good afternoon", you smiled before tapping Anna's shoulder, "Give me your arm so I won't trip", you mumbled.

"Is your sight that bad? The doctor said it should be good enough", Anna worried as she was about to open the door.

"No, it's fine, but if I'm clumsy on any good day, imagine how probable it is for me to fall on some stupid step or raised cobblestone", you argued as you both chuckled, making your way to her car.

Before you went home, your friend stopped by the pharmacy to get you the relief eye drops you'd have to follow the medication regimen with for the next few days, stopping by your favourite bakery so you could enjoy some sweet pastries.

"Can you even read these prescriptions?", Anna asked as she read the regimen you had to comply with.

"Stop making fun of me, you say that as if I'm almost blind", you swatted her arm before reading - trying to - the words, "fucking hell, am I?".

"I can barely read them myself, Y/N! They're so tiny I don't know how they give these to eye patients! Is Lando going to be home soon? That way he can help you with this", she suggested.

"Can I even see the time? At least that", you mumbled as you looked at the large numbers on your phone, "he'll probably take a while still - I can set the alarms on my phone and I'll memorise the different drops", you tapped your head.

Once it was all settled and you assured Anna she was fine to go home and you'd be perfectly well on your own, you walked her to the door before going back to the living room as the sun was no longer shinning outside and you could lay down on the sofa.

The nap you were taking was cut short by the door being shut, making you rub your forehead before an alarm rang. Getting up to head to the bathroom where you kept the supplies, you found Lando taking his trainers off.

"Hi baby, how was your appointment?", he asked as he put the footwear away.

"It was good, need to go and apply my drops", you smiled, turning the light on and grabbing the right box of medication.

"Is that what the alarm was for? I thought we had gotten a new security system I was not aware of", Lando joked as he watched you wash your hands.

"Yes, these instructions are so small to read that Anna thought it would be best to have alarms so I wouldn't mess it up since it's still a little bit blurry", you mused.

"Do you want me to do it?", Lando offered.

"No, it's fine - I'll have to do this for the next 48 hours anyway, so I might as well get used to it", you stopped talking so you could apply them, almost holding your breath until the drops fell.

"My lovie", Lando whispered on your ear once he felt it was okay to approach you, hugging your mid section from behind and kissing your neck as you put your hands on top of his.

.

You were adding the finishing touches on the present wrapping, the shiny gold string fiddling between your fingers as you tried to tie a bow with it around the paper bag handle, when Lando stepped inside your home office.

"That's looking pretty", he mused as he handed you the tape you were looking for on your desk.

"Thank you", you offered before placing the sticky piece down, "the bag is quite plain and even though the present inside is what will get her attention, it should come in nice wrapping".

"Who is this for?", Lando asked.

"It's for Maya's birthday tonight", you smiled, admiring your work.

"Is that tonight? Fuck, this week has flown by", Lando cursed, "I can't make it - will you let her know, please? I'm sorry I can't go", Lando pouted, "if she has to pay for having made the reservation with me in it, let me know and I'll pay my part!".

"I had already told her I'd be going alone, so she made my reservation without a plus one", you mused, remembering the conversation that came around the time of booking the venue.

Lando was leaving late in the afternoon for a trip with Max, Ria and some of the Quadrant athletes, so like you predicted, he couldn't attend the dinner with you.

"Oh", Lando offered.

"Max told me about your plans and when Maya told me the date, I assumed you wouldn't be able to go", you explained with a tinge of sadness and conformity in your voice.

"Well, it seems you guessed right", Lando chuckled despite the uneasy feeling on his chest.

You seemed sad that he wouldn't be able to join you, but at the same time you didn't? Lando put the topic at the back of his mind for now, heading to the bedroom so he could pack the last minute things.

"I was thinking of wearing this dress", you said once you joined him inside a while later, taking the steamer out of your drawer and setting it up to get out any kinks and wrinkles.

"That one is one of my favourites on you, but then again, they all are, I think", Lando mused, kissing your cheek as you waited for the steamer to be up for use.

"Figured it would be a little cold out tonight, so I chose this one, and that coat over there", you pointed.

"You'll be the most beautiful in that room", your boyfriend complimented, pecking your lips before he let you continue your task.

A couple hours later, Lando found himself restless as he scrolled through the posts and stories of Maya's birthday dinner, "Ria", he called, "what would you think if your partner made plans without you because they figured you wouldn't be able to go anyway?".

Ria exchanged a look with Max and Tara before she spoke, "did they ask me if I could go?", she offered.

"They didn't, but truth be told it's not like you have given them much to believe that you could join them", Lando mumbled the last part.

"I think I'd be a more 'it is what it is' at the start if I saw that it was something out of their reach, but I'm not sure I'd put up with it if it was genuine disinterest from them", Ria explained.

"It's not disinterest! They're just busy and shit at organising their schedules", Lando groaned defensively.

"Okay, okay", Ria calmed the room down once Max squinted his eyes at his bestfriend, "then I guess they would have to make sure they do better", she shrugged, "is everything alright?".

"Yes, yes, sorry for snapping just then", Lando offered her a tight lipped smile.

Everyone carried on with what they were doing before the existencial question, Max seemingly as stuck on it as Lando, "is this an hypothetical thing or are we calling people by their names and working this out?", he whispered to Lando.

"It's fine, just a loose thought I had there", Lando grumbled.

.

Lina 🤎

Hi, Y/N!

You won't bother, don't worry - I think I miss having someone other than my boyfriend to talk to 😅

Would it be okay if you visited in the afternoon? Our morning routine is still a shitshow (literally and figuratively), so we would appreciate it if you came after her first nap, around two pm?

One of Lando's older couple friends had a baby a couple of weeks ago, and while you were dying to meet their baby boy as soon as he came earthside, you were respectful of their adjustment period so you waited for them to be up for visitors and were ready to comply with whatever schedule they offered.

"It smells nice in here", Lando commented as he stepped inside the kitchen, "what delicious food are you making and can I please have a bite?".

"I made a little tray for us, but the big one is to take for Lina and Theo - I can imagine they don't have much time for cooking, so food is welcomed by them", you smiled, setting the cheese grater down once the measurements were like the recipe stated.

"Are you going to visit today? I have some streaming with Max scheduled for this afternoon", Lando added.

"Lina told me that this afternoon was the only time they could handle some visits - you know how it is with new parents and newborns and all of that -, I didn't want to change their schedule when I have some flexibility with my schedule", you explained, "I'll give the little one a big kiss from you, then?".

"Well, in that case, I should give you two big kisses then - one for you", he kissed your lips once, "and then this one for the little one", he smiled before kissing you again.

You shared lunch in a semi comfortable silence, Lando telling you a bit about the stream they would be doing and you sharing some work updates from your end.

When Lando gets a text in the middle of watching Max send his virtual car to the curb, "who might that be that's brought such a big smile to your face?".

Lando checked the photo to make sure the baby's face was covered despite his friends having already posted him, tuning the phone to show the camera, "Y/N met our friends' baby boy for the first time", Lando gushed.

"That's the little nugget", Max cooed, "she looks very happy with a baby on her arms", he wiggled his eyebrows, "have you met him already?".

"No, I haven't yet! She could only go this afternoon and we had this so...", Lando tsked, admiring the picture one last time before setting the phone back down. The baby was perfectly nestled on your arms, hiding his face on your chest as you looked down at him with a big smile on your face.

Now that he thought about he, he hadn't seen such a big smile in quite some time, and he was really starting to believe he was the reason behind it. He was absent, more than usual and more than the standards of your relationship considering his job.

The air had shifted around you once you came back from meeting Lina's little boy and Lando could only pinpoint it to the subject he thought about earlier.

"Lan, did you hear what I said?", you asked as you showed him another picture of you touching your noise in the little boy's.

"It's just... are we okay, baby?", Lando questioned. Even though it seemed like he was the only one that felt there was something wrong - different at least -, surely you had noticed it too.

"What makes you say that?", you asked.

From the serious tone, your boyfriend mentally slapped himself. Whatever it was, he was on the wrong and you had indeed noticed it too.

"I've noticed you don't ask me for help with stuff like driving you somewhere or accompanying you to places, which is fine if you want to do things on your own, I'm not saying you can't have your own independence, you know I'm not controlling you in that way - obviously! Fuck, I'm rambling! What I mean is, I have been taking notice that you just assume that I'm not available, and your assumptions are not unfounded, and it makes you sad, and I myself am upset that it has reached this point", Lando stated.

"It's not great, I can tell you that, but we knew it would be like this, your schedule is not the regular nine to five - it is what it is, Lan", you argued.

"But it's not, not all the time anyway! I want you to know you can always count on me!", Lando stated, "Y/N, you are one of my priorities and I never want to let you down - I'm going to make sure that from now on I spend more time with you and that I'm by your side a lot more", he rubbed your palm, "damn, I was so stupid, I'm sorry, lovie".

"Lando, these things happen", you attempted, "now we can work on it".

"You can count on me for little and big things in life - you need to go to the post office? I'm there helping you put the letter in the box. Dinner with your friends? I'll find it in the schedule to go and I don't care who I have to tell no to!", he pointed his finger, "I never ever want you to feel like you don't belong in my life or like I don't want to be involved in yours, Y/N - I'm so so so sorry that it took me so long to notice it".

"It's in the past", you smiled, pecking his lips softly, "now, look at this cute little nugget, he's so cute, we have to go there another day so you can meet him, and I think Theo won't mind another traybake".

[sweetpascal]

— 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫

pairing: general marcus acacius x fem!reader

summary: unsure of whether or not your husband is alive leading his army's invasion, the only method of tranquility is by reaching into your past memories as a necessary distraction.

warnings: MINORS DNI, wife!reader and husband!marcus, mentions of TW: miscarriages, (probably incorrect) roman history, mentions of TW: blood and death, making love, sweet nicknames (carissima/me - dearest, dulcissima/me - sweetest, meum cor - my heart, melculum - my little honey), marcus has a big dick, creampies, tender softness, probably ooc marcus ??

wc: 4.4k

notes: oh booyyyyyyy. so we all collectively agree that general marcus is scrum-diddly-umptious ?? all the pics, videos, and gifs dropping does not ease my obsession. so.. i turned my obsession into a work of art for all of you to read ^.^ idk squat about the roman times, but i did do my best to research !! divider from @saradika-graphics 🤍

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follow @sweetpascal-notifs for future fic updates.

It seems like the days have been mixing in with each other the more time has passed. Unsure of which day started and which day ended, you lost track of time. It had been one month, maybe two at this point. The sun rose and set, the moon and stars following in tandem. It was almost like a dance. It was amusing, to say the least. It reminded you of your relationship with your husband. With the light color dress wraps and delicate gold jewelry you'd wear around your neck compared to his permanent scowl, it's clear to civilization who's the sun and who's the moon. But you both complement each other in more ways than one.

You're able to calm him down with a simple touch on his arm, causing his boisterous voice to quiet down and his heart to steady its pace. Marcus' presence looming behind you around others, everyone already knows how dangerous he can become if someone even looks at his wife the wrong way.

Now, without his presence and his voice and his touch, nothing feels real. Pacing around in the dining hall of your home, you rubbed your hands tenderly over your barely-there baby bump over your soft blue wrap dress that Marcus surprised you with the last time he had come home from a previous battle for more land. He had won, of course, because General Marcus Acacius never loses. The mere thought of him losing a battle led by him with his army in tow is one of your greatest fears as his wife.

Staying inside your home and wallowing in your fears was no good for you and your unborn child. You couldn't go through the stress of worrying after your husband and deal with another heartbreaking loss alone. The night that Marcus had come back, you had broken down in front of him, shakily telling him through your thick tears that you had lost your son.

"A son?" He had quietly asked you, his eyes wide and heartbreaking.

"The teller that settles by the river," you told him with a broken voice. "She had confirmed it with her readings."

You remember it clearly as day; the look on his face equivalent to that of a broken man. You had choked on your tears, begging for his forgiveness for not being more careful, for not being a dutiful mother that was supposed to protect their child. You had knelt down in front of him, grabbing his knees and pleading to him and the gods for forgiveness and punishment, your hands pressed together in a prayer.

"Carissima," he had whispered quietly to you, slowly getting down onto his knees to remove your tight hold on his dirtied pteruges. His hands, trembling and unsteady, tenderly hold your cheeks to look into your heartbroken eyes. "I shall never strike a hand upon you, need you deserve it or not. I shall never lay blame on something the gods have brutally stolen from us. Oh, my dearest wife." His last whisper had you gripping onto his arms and crying your heart out into his shoulder. He said nothing more, nothing else. On the ground that day, all he did was hold you, and that was more than what you needed.

Breaking out of that distressing memory, you busied yourself with around-the-house distractions. In your hands was a handmade wicker basket you had purchased at one of the markets. The owner was a sweet, older woman that knew of your reputation amongst the others. She always treated you with kindness and looked at you with excitement every time you came by and not fear. She also gifted you a handmade blanket sewn with intricate patterns of the moon and sun.

"I gift this to you as a thank you for your kindness," she had said, pushing the blanket further into your hands when you had protested. She lay a wrinkly finger against her lips and drooped her eye to a wink.

Stepping outside with the wicker basket in your arms, you traveled a short distance to a small pond with many bushes, trees, and delicate flowers all around. This was your happy place. And this was also where you and Marcus had made love for the first time so long ago. The tree, the rock, the patch of grass. All of it held a distinct memory of your first time. Thinking back to it brings a smile to your lips.

"Tell me to stop, and I will. Tell me to stop right now and I shall go back to where I rest and I will not pursue you any longer," Marcus had told you breathlessly against your jaw. He had you laid on the soft grass underneath the moon, the light shining against the pond in a way that makes the gentle movements look like glitter. Your dress was hiked up around your hips as he rested heavily between your trembling thighs, your hands squeezing on his strong biceps that flexed in response to your sizzling touch.

"Marcus," you sighed prettily in his ear, and it sounded like the sweetest song he has honor of ever hearing. "My need for you has not gone away. It will not go away unless you take me right here, under the moon and stars, until I'm singing for you in pleasure."

The look in his eyes was that of desperate hunger and wanton need. When he had slid himself into your cunt for the first time, all of your prayers to the gods have been finally answered. Marcus was made to be yours. And you were made to be his. Hushed moans and frantic thrusts, Marcus fucked like how others perceived himself – like a barbarian. Some women would disagree and find it appalling and dirty, but it was perfection. He wasn't scared to touch you. He touched you as though if he were to let go you would float away, for he would no longer be able to taste you on his tongue or feel your tight warmth wrapped around his thick cock.

A touch to your shoulder had you gasping and dropping the basket onto the ground. You spun around and laid a hand on your chest and one on your bump, staring at the poor maid that scared you accidentally.

"I deeply apologize for frightening you, miss," she stares at you with her hands up in defense as though she was staring at a frightening animal backed into a corner. "General Marcus has arrived and he asks for your presence in your bedroom."

"No, no, it's quite alright, dear. My head was in the clouds again," you offer her a gentle smile and a brief laugh, laying a hand lightly on her shoulder to ease her worries. "And Marcus, is he...?"

The young maid recognized your worry and shook her head as an answer to your unspoken question. You hand her the wicker basket of plucked fruits from the bushes and politely tell her to wash and ready them, and to bring them to your bedroom when the task is done. She nodded and hurried off immediately.

You carefully, but also hurriedly, made your way into your home. Nodding and giving polite smiles to the people inside, you walk up the spiral marble stairs. When you reached the top, there stood a statue of yourself sitting atop a stone with a statue of hour husband on his knees and his lips pressed to your knees. There were intricate details in the statue, like of Marcus' fingers gripping your thighs or the soft rolls of your body. Your husband preferred a large home such as this for his growing family. You preferred something quainter and more personal, but what your husband says, goes. You recognized his large, dirty footprints leading to your bedroom, another young maid already on her knees scrubbing the stains.

"Aureia, there's no need for that," you tut softly at the young girl, and she looks up at you with wide eyes. "Leave that alone for now, alright? As for this moment, will you please gather the others and bring pails of hot water for a bath?"

"Right away," she nodded and hurried off. It brings a smile to your face at how eager the young maids are to please. Unlike the other men and women that have maids in their homes, you treated yours like people. They respect you and in return, you respect them. Marcus used to disagree until he remembered how you grew up when it was just you and your widowed mother, along with the reputation of being poor. Realizing that you see yourself in these young maids, your husband made it a point to allow you to be in charge of them and do whatever you see fit. Having that much power can be overwhelming, only because of the fear of having your kind heart be taken advantage of. But those that work for and with you know to never cross you, for they'll have to deal with the consequences your husband has waiting for them.

When you entered your private bedroom, there he sat, still dressed from head to toe in his armor. He sits with his back facing the door, his sights focused on the large window that overlooks the garden which circles around the empty thermae. You slowly move around the bed and finally stand before him, essentially blocking his view of the window. Marcus doesn't look up at you just yet. So, you stay silent and let him do what he needs to, let him think what he needs to think.

His hands, still caked with dirt, grime, and dried blood, move up to your stomach. Your bump is within his line of sight. Both of his hands rest on either side, feeling the firmness and shape of the bump. You watch as his eyes shut and his jaw clenches. His face was also caked with dirt, grime, and dried blood. The ends of his hair are curled with sweat from the heat of his long journey back home to his family. Marcus says nothing when you stroke his jaw silently. Neither of you register the door opening and four maids coming in one by one to empty two pails each of hot water into the tub that sits in the corner of the room. They know better than to interrupt.

When the door shuts, Marcus moves to rest his head against your bump. His ear is pressed into your soft flesh through the dress adorning your body. He can faintly hear the thumping of your heart and that brings him back down to earth, back home to you. Your hands, warm and gentle, card through his messy, graying curls. Damp with dirt and sweat, you don't care. Feeling him right here, right now, was all that mattered.

"It's over," he finally speaks, his voice rough and low. His hands move down to find a home on your wide hips, fingers just barely digging into the shape. "The war is over. I made sure of it." And he leaves it at that.

Your eyes shut and you let out a sigh of mixed relief and heartache. You couldn't imagine what your husband had to go through, as a leader, to make sure that he and his army of men make it out alive. You couldn't imagine the number of bodies that are lying out there, hundreds of miles away, torn apart and bled out, mangled flesh and bone. You couldn't imagine your husband possibly being one of them. Bending down as best as you could, you tenderly wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and kissed the back of his head. You briefly sniffed his hair and pulled back.

"Let's get you inside the bath, hm?" You whispered softly, hands lovingly scratching at his scruffy jaw as you pulled his head up to look into your eyes.

When he stands, you almost forgot how imposing he was. His height was a strong factor. The bloodied armor he wears makes him look much broader and more dangerous. The exhausted look on his face makes him look much more mean – evil, even. But he's neither of those things, at least not to you. He stands as still as a tree as you begin to unclip and pull off his armor one by one. From the thick leather chest plate bound with protective metal underneath, all the way down to the thick leather arm-wear covering his forearms. Unsheathing his sword from its belt, you unclip that from around his waist as well. Having done this a million times, it's muscle memory.

He stands before you, naked, dirty, and exhausted. You reach behind your neck and slowly untie your dress wrap. It pools at your feet, your naked body now on display for him to see after months apart. Marcus' eyes take in every detail. The delicacy of your collarbones, your perky breasts, the curve of your growing belly, the soft curls of your pubic hair, those thighs that Marcus loves being in between, all the way down to the dangling anklet he gifted you.

"Come on," you whisper softly and take his hand to lead him to the filled tub. Steam sits above the water and Marcus' aching muscles scream out to it.

He enters first, hissing at first from the heat but then moaning gruffly once he sinks further into the hot water. Almost immediately, his sore muscles begin to relax. He could fall asleep right this instant. He feels a gentle push on his shoulder. He scoots forward and allows you to enter behind him.

"What are you doing, dear wife?" He doesn't hear an answer to his question. He's about to turn his body, but then he feels your hands massaging his tender scalp and washing his dirty hair. His eyes shut almost instantly, and he groans huskily with parted lips.

You wanted to laugh at his reaction but decided against it. Marcus never had time to relax and wind down. He was always on his feet, always discussing the next steps of battle, always readying his army men with hardcore training. It pained you to see him like this, especially at a distance. He never wanted you around to witness his leadership. Not wanting to induce stress onto you early on in your pregnancy, not wanting a repeat of your last pregnancy, he had given you strict instructions to let him handle everything.

"Meum cor, you do so good with taking care of your husband," Marcus quietly tells him, his entire body shuddering when your nails tenderly scrape the sensitive parts of his scalp. "I know the other men are envious of the treatment I receive from such a divine woman."

"Mm, I know, my love," softly laughing at his goading. You reached over the side of the tub to grab a small wooden bowl. Using that to pour water onto his soapy curls, you gently tipped his head back and did just that. You kissed the side of his head and gently cleaned away the dirt and grime on his beautifully tan skin. You paid extra attention by lovingly kissing the scar on his right cheek.

For the next hour, you put all your focus into washing his body. No longer was he a filthy barbarian. No, he was now your clean, fresh smelling husband. His damp hair curled elegantly behind his ears and neck. You had maneuvered onto his lap to focus on his front. There were more prominent bruises on his chest and arms, as well as some cuts that have begun its healing process. You gave him a small pout, to which he tuts and lovingly cups your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"I could ride into the sun and still come back to you in one piece, meum cor," he tells you quietly, moving his face much closer and shifting you to sit comfortably on his lap. "No man, no sword, no army could ever strike me down and take me from you."

Holding onto his scruffy jaw and peering into those dark chocolate eyes of his, he looks at you with such tenderness that no stranger will ever witness. Your bump is resting against his own stomach, and he feels every breath you exhale. Heads lean closer, his aquiline nose resting on the side of yours, lips just a hair away. There's distant chatter outside in the gardens, the curtains swaying gently from the warm breeze coming through the open windows. The water in the tub is still warm and steaming, the clearness of it was now murky from the dirt you cleaned from his aching body. You have half a mind to drain the tub and call out for more pails of fresh hot water, but you're so comfortable and safe in the arms of your husband.

"Do you recall the night I took you underneath the stars?" Marcus asks you huskily, both hands gripping your hips, strong fingers digging into your plushy flesh. He forces your hips closer to his, thick thighs tensing underneath your own. "The way you begged me to keep going, even when it began to rain down upon us."

Your lips parted to elicit a soft gasp when you felt his hardness on your thigh, thickening and rising with each second that passed. You do remember that night like it was yesterday. The soft rain pattering on your naked, writhing bodies. Your nails had dug deep into his skin to keep him from moving away. You had cried out to the gods for more, more, more.

"I do believe I may have scars from those nails of yours," Marcus joked lightly against your jaw, pressing a kiss to the bone with his plush lips.

Giggling quietly in his ear, you held his head close to your chest as his kisses traveled south. "I do believe you're creating tales, carissime."

He hums disapprovingly, holding you tighter on his lap when you shift. The steam from the water made his skin feel sticky and warm. You tasted salt on your tongue when you kissed below his ear. It was intoxicating, to say the least. Tasting him, trailing your tongue all over his molten hot skin, licking over his scars and freckles. There was a quiet minute when you both looked into each other's eyes again. Marcus can see the light hasn't died. He can see the adoration you have for him in the way your pupils dilate, and breathing quicken. And you can feel the love Marcus has for you in the way his eyes get slightly wide as he takes in your features, most likely mapping out which ones he hopes your unborn child takes from the both of you.

"Take us to bed, meum cor," you beg him. No longer able to keep looking at your handsome husband and not do anything about it, you leave it all up to him.

Without another word, Marcus stands with a hoarse grunt. With one strong arm wrapped tight (but not too tight) around your waist and his other hand under your thigh to keep you up and against his body, he steps over the tub and makes his way over to the bed. Neither of you care if your wet bodies are soaking the sheets. As he lays you down and rests on top of you, nothing else matters at this moment.

"Melculum, you look like a goddess with the sunlight kissing your naked skin," he whispers to you, lowering his head to kiss at your breasts and collarbones. You gasped and arched your back, further pressing your breasts into his mouth, to which he sucks a sensitive nipple between those lips.

Marcus rests on his forearms on either side of your head with his big hands tenderly cupping the crown. Your feet teasingly trail up and down the backs of his thighs, and you feel his hardness twitch between your bodies. Whispering his name in a needy voice, he looks up at you and catches the look in your half-lidded eyes. The flush on your skin makes your skin glow. He would never disrespect his gods and goddesses, but Aphrodite does have a competition on her hands.

Feeling too eager, you take charge and yank his neck down to finally kiss him. After months of not feeling his body, hands, and lips on yours, you powered all your emotions in this kiss. It was messy and desperate and hard. Tongue, teeth, garbled whimpers and heavy breaths. Marcus suckled at your bottom lip, letting it snap back against your teeth to then suck and bite at your neck. Your hips were shifting to slot his hard cock between the silky lips of your wet cunt. Grinding up and down, the thick vein that rests on his hardness glides easily against your swelling clit.

"Marcus," you weep quietly in his ear. "Oh, my husband. I need you more than life itself. Oh, you're the bravest, strongest soldier known to man. You're so... powerful, so dangerous. You keep your family and your people safe, my love." Saying this all while you're grinding your sweet cunt up and down the length of his hardness has Marcus growing erratic by the second.

He looks down between your bodies. Your cunt lips open like the blooming petals of the sweetest flower. The soft dark curls of your pubic hair rubbing against his own. Your small belly bump that keeps your unborn child safe and sound. Marcus uses his thumb to guide himself inside your cunt, breathing shallowly when the warm tightness sucks him in, inch by inch. Your mouth falls open to let out quiet, needy moans.

"There we go, melculum," Marcus grunts lowly in your ear, lowering his hips further down into yours and his thick cock slides deeper inside your leaking hole. The heat, wetness, and tightness of your cunt has him spiraling already. The knot in the pit of his stomach further unraveling the deeper he gets. "You were made for me," he breathes deeply, the heat of his breath fanning over your sensitive neck.

When he starts fucking into you, he was mindful to not rest his entire weight on your belly. He repositioned himself in a way that had his back curving to drive his hips deeper, faster, and harder into your own. The action had you arching and gasping. Your soft breasts and feet bounced gently from the movements. Marcus lovingly strokes down your temples with his thumbs and kisses you hard once again. Your fingers curl into his hair, now drying and curling beautifully. He looks like a god. It makes you want to cry. But then, his cock starts punching against the one spot that makes you scream.

"Oh! Marcus!" You yelped, eyebrows furrowed and lifted up as your mouth fell open and moans started pouring out. "Right there! Right... there. Ri-ight the-ere!"

He slows his thrusts until he's grinding so deep and so slow. Your moans turned into whimpers. He was able to hear the sloppy noises of your cunt soaking around his hardness. He grins down at you, his dimple deepening when you twitch and writhe.

"So beautiful," he whispers against your jaw. "So ethereal underneath me, writhing and begging for my cock." Marcus sharply drives his cock into your cunt unexpectedly. You let out a long, wanton wail that has his grin widening. He does it again, and again, and again. It was driving you absolutely crazy.

Your slick is most likely dripping out of your hole and onto Marcus' balls which slap against you. You can practically feel the weight of them, so heavy and full of two months' worth of cum. He drags his cock in and out of you slowly now, allowing you to feel every vein and every inch. Your thighs spread wide for him, eager for more. He answered your silent pleas and fucked you at a quicker pace again.

"Wrap your arms around me, Marcus. Oh, please, please, please!" You sobbed quietly, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. He follows immediately. His strong arms wrap under your back and he rests some of his weight onto your front. Your thighs widen to accommodate his size, allowing his cock to nudge deeper in a way that steals your breath. "Just... like... that," you whimpered after each thrust Marcus gives.

He feels dizzy and overwhelmed in a good way. The smell of the homemade soap on your skin, the softness and warmth of your naked skin against his, your sweet moans like a pretty song in his ears, the slick tightness of your cunt sucking him in repeatedly. Feeling, smelling, and hearing all of these at once was enough to finally let him spill out his moans without holding back. His chest vibrates against your bare breasts with each grunt that passes his kissed-raw lips. The vibrations on your sensitive nipples tickled you erotically.

"You are intoxicating," he moans heavily against your sticky skin, his scruff scraping deliciously and his lips and teeth leaving little love bites. "Non possum satis de te." I cannot get enough of you.

With your eyes rolling back and your thighs trembling around his wide hips, you simply cannot control what your body does. Marcus catches you off guard by messily kissing you, his tongue intertwining with your own, tasting each other's saliva. The taste of him had you whining into his mouth. There was a faintness of wine on his tongue. Although you obviously couldn't drink while you bear his child, the lingering taste of it on your husband's tongue was enough to drive you wild. Your hands, originally placed on his shoulder blades, trail down to his tapered waist and finally cling onto his perky bottom. You squeeze the tender flesh and briefly dig your nails into the skin, feeling the muscles clench and unclench with every roll of his hips and cock driving into your cunt.

"Tu parum desperatus es, huh?" Marcus' voice sounded cocky and the grin on his face didn't help. You're a desperate little thing, huh?

One of the things that made your husband a respected leader was his arrogance was never wrongfully directed. He loved to gloat, about anything and everything. But when it came to you, his wife, his ego inflates to the point of popping.

That's when you felt it. The coil in the pit of your stomach gets tighter and tighter, forcing your gooey walls to twitch around Marcus' thickness. He moans lowly at the feeling of it. He hooks one of your thighs over his arm, bracing your knee into your chest to fuck you deeply. The position change had you shuddering, more slick leaking out and staining the sheets below your bodies.

"I'm... I'm... fuuuck!" With one final cry out to the gods, you scratched down Marcus' skin and braced yourself for impact.

Your orgasm washed over you like one of the strongest ocean waves known to man. Your body wouldn't stop twitching and writhing underneath his massive body. The squeezing tightness of your cunt wouldn't let your husband fuck you any longer. He drops down and lets out a final rough grunt before spilling inside of you. He has a entire body shiver as his cock twitches repeatedly, his thick cum spilling out every few seconds. It finally stopped after a whole minute; yes, you were counting. The tickle of his cum hitting you deep inside had you giggling drowsily.

"You should be thanking your husband for giving you a well-needed release, not laughing at him," he hums against your skin, the vibrations of his voice and bristles of his scruff tickling you further, causing you to laugh louder. He feels your belly jumping from your shaking body and he can't help but to smile.

Being in the arms of his wife after a long journey of war and death, there really is no place like home.

[arieslost]

fireproofs | ln4

summary: lando norris is hot and the 2024 fireproofs drive you crazy.

word count: 756

warnings: suggestive comments

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

you’ve been grateful to mclaren for many things over the years, but aside from a fast car, this has to be the best gift they’ve bestowed upon you.

you don’t think it’s an exaggeration when you say that your jaw unhinged the first time you saw lando wearing the new black fireproofs that mclaren has him and oscar in for the 2024 season. he’d sent you pictures, along with a text saying, “what do you think? 👀”

you’d responded with “yeah, not bad” and subsequently spent the next half hour screaming into your pillow. you were able to save face over text, but now that testing is here, you’re a lost cause.

you’d seen lando in black fireproofs before, but something about this year is different. something about him is different. he’s more confident, more determined, and he somehow managed to fill out even more during winter break.

lando had felt bad for mclaren’s car launch sabotaging your valentine’s day, so while you were in the middle of insisting that it wasn’t a big deal, he was booking you a plane ticket to join him in bahrain for the grand prix and testing the week before.

so now, you’re twiddling your thumbs as you sit in your boyfriend’s driver room, both anxious to see him before his testing session begins and hoping he’ll be occupied on the pit wall for just a little longer so you can figure out how to keep your composure once he changes into his race suit.

“you’re still here?” it comes out like half an exclamation and half a question as lando slips into the room.

“you haven’t even gone out on the track, of course i’m still here,” you giggle when he pulls you into his arms and starts pressing kisses all over your face. “i can’t wait to see you put the car through its paces. oscar looked pretty good out there.”

“i’d rather put you through your paces,” he mumbles in your ear, and you smack his shoulder.

“maybe later, if you’re not too tired.”

“i’m never too tired for you.” he winks and kisses your nose before turning to change.

you have no shame in ogling his ass out of the corner of your eye as he does so, but for the most part you’re looking at updates from the first session on your phone until he sits down next to you to put his shoes on.

those damn fireproofs.

they hug his body a little too nicely. the muscles in his chest, back, and arms are perfectly defined courtesy of the tight material. you can’t even think about his shoulder to waist ratio without feeling a little dizzy with desire.

“you’re drooling,” he teases as he stands back up, the both of you knowing damn well that he loves it when you stare at him.

“i can’t help it, you’re too hot.” you’ve never had a problem with telling him just how fine he is, especially because your praise always manages to make him blush and that just makes him impossibly more attractive.

“how am i supposed to let you leave this room?” you complain, wrapping your arms around his torso.

he buries his red face in your shoulder. “the sooner i leave, the sooner i come back and show you a good time.”

“i thought you were taking me out to dinner.”

“that’s what i was talking about,” his tone is dripping in faux innocence, and you know he’s messing with you when you feel him kiss your neck. “good to know where your priorities lie, though.”

you open your mouth to patronize him, but you’re cut off when he squeezes your hips, causing you to yelp. “you are impossible.”

“hmm, good thing you love me so much then.” you can hear his smile as he speaks, and you run your hands across his back, feeling every ridge of muscle through the material of the fireproofs.

your phone starts buzzing in your pocket— the alarm you’d set to remind yourself of when he needed to get in the car. “alright,” you reluctantly separate yourself from him, taking one last lingering look at his figure before he pulls the other half of his race suit on. “i’ll stay for an hour or two and meet you back at the hotel, okay?”

“what dress are you wearing tonight?” he asks as he holds the door open for you.

“the papaya one,” you smirk, and he groans, dragging a hand through his hair.

“you’re gonna kill me, baby.”

note: i wrote most of this at 2 am in a purely feral state and did the bare minimum in editing because i’m drowning in schoolwork so apologies if it’s a bit rough!! mclaren posted a 10 second video of lando and oscar walking around and that was all it took.

lowercase is intentional because i wrote entirely on mobile!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are always appreciated <33

beautiful dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @emmma232 @lieswithoutfairytales @valisjustvaleria @bwormie @meribfox @xfuckoffx @rai-scutum @clara760-blog @reptaysgf @harryismysworld @caz-93 @positiveaspirations @satanfinalgirl @ln4lova @crazymofo-96 @x-d1vine @anedpev

[beardedjoel]

pretty little wife | sorry, baby

joel miller x f!reader one shot collection

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | ✨kofi ✨ summary: 4k words. Joel is stressed and busy with a big project at work lately. His pretty little wife makes it all better. warnings: 18+ MDNI! no apocalypse au, pre-established relationship/dynamic, sub/dom relationship, free use kink, oral sex (m receiving), cock worship (!! yes), unprotected piv, rough sex, dirty talk, pet names for reader, sir kink making a reappearance, bit of fluff mixed in, mention of food/eating, @ GOD WHY ISNT THIS ME a/n: I'M BACK. these two sick lovebirds are back 😭 i needed something sweet to write while working on smother so here's some cute domestic sucking and fucking from my favorite couple MWAH reminder i have no taglist anymore, follow @beardedjoel-updates to hear about my new fics!

Gonna be late again. Sorry baby.

Joel’s hurried text had pinged your phone a few hours ago, and you reassured him it was no problem, of course. You know that his company is contracting on a huge project in downtown Austin right now, and it required a lot of Joel’s attention. He’d been giving so much you were surprised that he had anything left in the tank when he came home to you. But by god, so many nights he sure did, coming home in a frenzy to fuck you, taste you, finding you where you were when he arrived home - cleaning up dishes from dinner, the shower, already curled up in bed with a book on one particularly late night.

You relished in him releasing everything into you - the stress of his day instantly melting with a simple touch of his lips to yours, drinking in your curves and soft skin with rough hands and frenzied yet controlled movements. It always seemed like the more stressed he was, the more he couldn’t get his cock in you fast enough, the more relentless he was in the ways he took care of you. He’d leave you spent, dripping, and aching, letting you talk softly about your day as he stroked your hair afterwards, all sweetness and hushed tones until you two fell asleep.

You peer into the living room from the kitchen to see Joel walking in, looking generally askew and you frown. When his shoes are yanked off and placed in the closet he looks up to see you leaning on the doorframe, lips full and pouting, finger sticking up with a patch of cookie dough stuck to it to taste test. You stand in a long, threadbare t-shirt of his and pink cotton panties, just what Joel had set out for you this morning, and he makes sure to thank his past self for such a wise choice this morning. You’d laughed at the lack of bra or any kind of pants, knowing it was no accident you’d ended up dressed without any bottoms on today. You aim to please, and the look Joel gives you whenever he sees you exactly how he envisioned you for the day always makes your heart soar a little higher. 

He finds his way to the couch, sprawling out and giving you an exhausted look. You stick the errant finger into your mouth, sucking the sweet, sugary cookie dough off and licking your lips. Joel’s expression changes quickly, his interest clearly sparked, but the wearisome look doesn’t leave his eyes. 

“Baby?” you ask, your brows furrowing further with worry. This wasn’t your husband, this wasn’t Joel, and you always hate to see him have a tough day. It makes your heart ache when he works too hard, gives too much of himself and winds up burnt out. You certainly don’t mind making it all better for him, that’s what you’re here for, after all, but it pains you nonetheless.

“C’mon over here, little wife,” Joel murmurs, running a hand down his weary face. When he pulls it away, he gazes at you with heavy lids before propping his hands behind his head. 

You saunter over to him, standing next to where he lays and reaching down to graze your fingers over his stretched bicep, trailing it inwards towards his face. He hums, fluttering his eyes closed for a brief moment and enjoying the way your gentle fingers work across his cheekbones and through his beard. 

His hand slowly moves from behind his head to curve around your waist, drawing you nearer, the front of your knees hitting the side of the couch cushions now. His silent signals are obvious to you at this point, so you don’t waste a moment swinging your leg around his body, tucking it in between his thigh and the back of the couch, settling in to straddle him. A hand runs gently down his chest as you tilt your head, studying his face in concern. 

“What’s my husband need from me?” you ask quietly, letting your other hand bury itself in his curls, scratching at his scalp. 

Joel lets out a pleasured groan, nearly shuddering at the feeling. “Fuck, baby.” You feel his body shift underneath you, already squirming with the sensation of your fingers doing their work on him. “Make me feel good.” 

“Let’s get you more comfortable, then,” you coo, fingers already moving on the buttons of his shirt, making quick work of the top few to let his chest breathe a little bit. You take only a beat to admire the top of his chest poking out, curls of hair sticking out wild and messy before getting to work. You slither down his body, giving yourself enough room to undo his belt before pulling it out of its loops and tossing it aside. 

“Lift, please,” you say, keeping up your gentle, soothing tone as Joel’s hips lift off the couch and allow you the space to pull down his dress pants, wriggling them down to his ankles and then over his feet. “Now that’s better, isn’t it?”

“Mmm,” Joel answers, a pleasant little hum from the back of his throat. You can feel how your ministrations have already gotten him hard as it brushes against your center when you settle back on top of his hips. A brief tease of your hips swirling on his sends Joel’s twitching, a sly little smile flashing on his lips. But you’re gone an instant later, moving down the couch and settling next to his feet, sitting crossed legged to face them before taking one into your lap. 

“What’s this, now?” Joel asks, a slight tiredness to his voice now. 

“Ever heard of a foot rub?” you reply with a lifted brow. He chuckles and you watch his body rumble with the sound. 

“Givin’ me mouth today, are we?” he asks playfully, the tired laughter still fading off as he speaks. 

“I could,” you retort, pursing your lips and looking up from his feet to find his eyes peeking open, looking down at your delicate, innocuous smile with a plethora of hidden meaning behind it. 

“Such a dirty girl…” he murmurs, neatly cut off by the groan he lets out when you press in on one of his arches with your thumb.

“See? I know what you need, baby,” you coo, working your fingers into the tender spots on his foot, being sure to use just the right amount of pressure. You prop his foot in your lap, letting it hang there as you gently rotate his ankle, loosening everything up. 

“Christ,” he breathes out as you start on the other foot. His breathing is a little labored, pain and pleasure mixing together as you continue to help his weary soles. You work each foot until he sighs contentedly, a good sign that your work is finished. 

At least on his feet, that is. You run your hands teasingly up his thighs, settling them on his hips as you work your way back up his body, hips straddling his again. You lean down and brush your lips against his neck, peering up to watch Joel’s eyes flutter shut as he sighs again. The sound is music to your ears, anytime your husband makes that content, soft little sound you think you’ve reached heaven. You suck and flick little patches all over his neck, starting a slow, steady grind of your hips. 

“Oh, pretty girl,” Joel starts, landing a firm hand along your hip. “I can’t today… I’m so fuckin’ beat. You know I’d give anything to fuck my cock into you…” He murmurs the words with a hint of frustration. You know this is hitting Joel harder than he’s letting on, seeing as his singularly focused task most days is to find a way to get himself inside of you.

“Who said anything about you fucking me?” you ask slyly, hands hooking into the sides of his briefs. You watch as Joel’s eyes pop open and look at you mischievously. “You said to make you feel good, so that’s what I’m doing, my darling.” You keep your tone even and calming as you continue with your teasing, deft fingers playing under his waistband. 

Joel’s smirk grows and he reaches a hand up to gently pet the back of your head before pulling you to his face, kissing you deeply. “Good girl,” he says as he pulls away, the words falling right onto your own lips. “Doin’ as you’re told.”

You slink lower, getting to the spot you know excites him the most, straddling lower on his legs to bring your mouth down to his clothed cock. You plant small kisses along the obvious bulge and Joel reacts immediately with a small hiss through his teeth. You kiss and lick and suck, letting the fabric tamp enough of the pleasure to drive him crazy. 

“God damn it…” he grunts quietly, hips shifting as they spasm up towards your mouth when you suck another spot on the fabric, taking your sweet time, only a small form of torture for Joel. “You tryna make me ask you to pull my cock out and get your pretty mouth on it? Cause you know, once I’m not dead on m’feet I might have to punish you ‘f that’s the case.” His words tumble out slow and thick with his accent - that Southern drawl always comes out more when he’s tired and mumbling.

Your mouth curls deviously and you lick your lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” you reply in a low lilt. 

“Mhm…” Joel teases, but you heed his warning anyhow, tugging his briefs down to free his cock, nearly enraged as it throbs and drips precum from the way you’d already been working on it. Your tongue finds the salty fluid at his head, lapping it with just the tip of your tongue and swirling it around. You start to practically nuzzle it, catching his cock in the corners of your lips, letting your tongue get a few tiny kitten licks on his shaft as you rub it along your cheeks. The smooth skin glides along your face and you start to get messier with it, letting his cock start to spread his precum and your saliva along your cheeks as you let the flat of your tongue run along it.

Joel lets out a loud, long groan, fingers gripping deep into the couch cushion. He can barely contain himself as your tongue licks a thick stripe up underneath his length, tracing the most prominent vein. His hips stutter forward as he gives himself to the moment. 

“God damn, honey…” he whimpers quietly, eyes shutting in the bliss of the moment.

Your hands rub his thighs gently, kneading into them as you start to bob your head on his cock, taking a little more each time until he’s at the back of your throat. You fight the urge to gag, a little noise coming out of you, sending Joel’s hand flying to the back of your head, his gaze watching the way his cock disappears inside of your warm mouth.

“That’s it, choke on it like I like, pretty girl…” Joel mumbles, eyes rolling back a little as his cock fills your mouth. “My pretty wife…” he whispers with a reverence and respect, despite the degrading way he’s about to fuck your mouth.

You move with a little more urgency, your mouth stuffed and aching already, one hand coming up to grip the base of Joel’s cock and stroking there while your mouth works on him. Joel’s hand pushes down on your head, sending you a little further and you sputter, spit flying all around his cock and lap but it doesn’t deter you. His hips start to move of their own accord into you, matching the rhythm of your mouth pumping on him. Your body gets hot and desperate for him, your praise loving nature alight just by seeing how much he loves the way you pleasure him. Your thighs wriggle as your cunt aches and drips now, begging you for relief that you know will have to wait.

“God, fuck,” he cries out, “Needed this…” Joel seems to be practically revived, a new energy filling his weary body as he grunts and pants, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth in faster strokes now. You can sense how close he is, you know your husband’s body like the back of your hand now, his balls tightening and cock getting even harder on your tongue.

He grunts with the effort of sitting forward, yanking your head off of his cock and swiftly sliding his hands to your waist, hauling your entire body upwards so that your hips are above his. 

“Need this needy little cunt, look how soaked you are,” Joel coos with a genuine pity for you as he sees the wet stain on your panties.. His fingers tear your underwear to the side, giving enough room for his cock to position itself at your weeping entrance, giving you no time to even process it before he forces your hips to bear down on him.

You cry out in a long, wanting moan as he fills you up, the stretch of him burning in that familiar way that you love and crave so much. Joel is an addiction - your husband the one thing in life you could never get enough of, never filling you enough, never fucking you full and deep enough times that you’re fulfilled. He never fails to leave you satisfied, of course, but you’re always wanting more in the next moment, practically wishing you could live just like this - his cock stuffing you and stretching your pussy to its limits, sending that pain you live for deep inside of you until it turns to the most blinding pleasure. Gratitude overtakes you as you sink down completely, whispering out a fervent thank you as you feel yourself clench around him, eyes shut and head thrown back. Joel reaches to your chin, pulling your head to look down at him. 

“What was that?” he asks teasingly, rutting his hips up into your as he speaks. You shudder again, pussy clenching around him as you feel his length pressing against your walls.

“T-thank you,” you breathe out. “Thank you, sir…” You’re unable to say anything else, only look at him with half-lidded eyes and cry out wantonly when he pushes all the way in again, seating himself inside of you only to lift your hips up and do it all over again.

“Yeah… knew bein’ stuffed full of my cock would make you my polite girl again,” Joel says arrogantly, sending a fresh wave of arousal right between your legs, gushing around his girth. You nod, blinking down at him, rolling your hips and chasing your pleasure. You lean down a little closer to Joel, bringing your chest more flush with his, the change in angle devastating the both of you. 

“So fuckin’ full of me,” Joel whispers in your ear, taking it upon himself to bend his legs and start fucking up into you. You moan in his ear, tears springing to your eyes as you feel him close to your cervix, each deep thrust sinfully delicious and bordering on painful in the way that makes your skin tingle in the best way. You want to be used, you want him as deep as he can possibly go, to feel you entirely wrapped around him.

Joel grunts, hot breath fanning next to your ear as he holds you close. Your bodies are intermingling with sweat now, your ass slapping down onto his thighs reverberating through the quiet living room. It’s just this - the two of you, your shared breath, your intertwined bodies, nothing else matters or even registers to you now. Joel’s hips shift the slightest bit in angle and you cry out, your g-spot now overstimulated with attention as Joel’s cock pounds into you harder, brushing the spongy spot with each new movement into you.

You pant, clutching onto him and digging your manicured nails into his shoulder, scratching them along to his neck where you hang on for dear life.

“Fuck…” you murmur, feeling your body tensing, legs like jello as they shake on either side of Joel’s thighs. “Let me come, p-please, sir,” you whimper, holding back with every ounce of strength you have as the tingling warmth spreads, heat in your belly threatening to burst at any second.

“Hang on f’me, baby, fuck, n-not yet,” Joel replies in a huff, clearly close to that high himself. “Wanna fill you up right when you’re comin’ so pretty f’me.”

You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, holding back as your body screams at you with need. This wasn’t the first time Joel had you hold back your climax, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but it never got any easier. You whimper, nearing a sob as Joel thrusts into you, your hips rolling and stuttering into his movements. “Please… sir…” you cry.

Joel grunts out a stern no and continues to slam his hips into yours, growing harsher by the second. You’re a whimpering wreck, your body nearly about to betray you as Joel hits your g-spot again. Tears leak from your eyes with the psychological effort of holding back, but you know it’ll be worth it. It always is.

“Now,” Joel says simply, “Come for me, little doll,” he adds, finishing the sentence with a grunt as you start to lose control, feeling like a dam inside of you is bursting, all the pleasure rolling over you in dazzling waves. You flutter around Joel’s cock almost as hard as you ever have, squeezing his length as he lets out a small whimper himself. Your breathy moans right in his ear send goosebumps along his whole body despite how stifling the air is surrounding you two.

“Fuck…” he moans, his hips jerking a few times before he starts to spill himself into you. You continue to shake, pulling every last drop from him as you ride out your own high, Joel’s name rolling off your tongue as you moan.

“God, yeah…” you whimper out, finally collapsing onto Joel’s chest as his legs go limp underneath you. You both lay in silence, chests heaving and small smiles on your faces. Joel strokes the back of your head and your smile grows. Neither of you seem set on moving, the combination of both of your climaxes a slick mess between the two of you as you settle into a more steady rhythm of breathing.

“Mmm…” Joel mumbles out the noise. “How’s my pretty little wife today, hm?” he asks quietly, fingers tracing down your cheeks to your lips.

“You’re late to ask,” you tease him with a laugh, typically hearing that question before anything else when he gets home. He uses his free hand to squeeze your ass cheek in warning at your bratiness and you grin. “But better now,” you answer in the familiar response to your favorite question from him.

“Thought so,” Joel says wryly, giving you ass a lazy pat before kissing the side of your head. He’s quiet for a few moments before lifting your hips off of his, your body immediately missing the sweet fullness of him as you both sit up. Joel brings your legs over his and you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling like the most natural fit in the world. 

“‘M sorry about all this, baby - all the late nights and bein’ stressed and probably bein’ a grouch,” Joel says, his voice laden with guilt. He circles on your bare thigh with his fingers and you shudder a little, snuggling further into him. One of your hands wraps around his cheek, turning his head to meet your eye line and you give him a soft smile.

“You think you just now started being a grouch?” you joke, knowing you’re pushing your limits on how much bratiness Joel will tolerate in one day before things escalate.

He growls deep in his throat and you giggle softly, scratching your fingers through his hair. “Thin ice, baby…” he murmurs.

“I love my grumpy husband,” you say sweetly, fingers moving down to run through his rough beard. “It’s okay though, Joel. Promise. I just miss you, but this busy and crazy time will pass like it always does, right? In the mean time...” you lower your voice, a finger trailing from his cheek to his neck and down his chest. “We can just do that anytime you need it.” 

Joel chuckles, giving your entire body a squeeze against him. “That’s my good girl. Always ready f’me.” You smile into his chest at his praise before he continues. “We’ll do somethin’ this weekend, the two of us an’ spend some time together, mkay? Make up for all this bullshit.”

You feel your heart squeeze inside your chest and your stomach flutter a little at the idea. Joel has typically been pretty good about planning dates over the years, but you know that it’s been hard with his extra workload lately, so you’ve been missing the romantic evenings he’d plan for you two. You’d tried to ask about planning one yourself, and Joel shut you down immediately in the sweetest way possible, claiming the responsibility fully for himself to do that for you.

“Ooh, yes please,” you reply excitedly, hugging him close.  

“‘S a date then,” Joel confirms, leaning his head back onto the couch while you stay resting on his shoulder. You both fall into a comfortable quiet again, Joel’s breathing steadying as he dozes off. 

“Do you want a cookie?” you ask into the silence, sitting up. Joel’s eyes creak open from where he’d been resting them and he glances down at you with furrowed brows. 

“That s’posed to be some kind of euphemism, darlin’?” he asks groggily. You laugh, throwing your head back a little and shuffling yourself to sit up on the edge of the couch. 

“Could be,” you giggle, “Real cookies this time, though. You can even sneak one before dinner.” 

Joel perks up a little, eyes opening a bit more. “Chocolate chip?” he asks, a boyish glint in his gaze. 

“Of course,” you nod, and Joel smiles tiredly, sitting up to join you on the edge of the couch. 

“You know you’re the best wife?” Joel says, nudging you with his shoulder and leaning over for a quick peck on your cheek before standing up and pulling his pants back on. He moans and groans while he twists his back and stretches his arms over his head for a few moments, and you know his knees must be flaring up as they do when he’s more stressed.

“Just one,” you warn Joel as you see him making his way to the kitchen trying to look like some kind of master sleuther on the hunt for fresh baked cookies. “I’m making dinner soon.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel tosses over his shoulder at you before disappearing around the corner. When you make your way to the kitchen, you watch him take a bite off of a cookie from the cooling rack and you stand with crossed arms, admiring him. His eyes look you up and down with a similar appreciation, landing between your legs where he sees your underwear completely soaked and stained from your recent rendezvous. He smirks as he chews, stepping towards you. 

“An’ don’t you dare think about changing your underwear,” he says in a low rumble, eyes flicking all over your face as he gets close to read if you’re going to keep up your bratty streak today. Instead, you give him a docile little upturn of your lips - he’s been through enough today - and brush past him to start working on dinner. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[solarsturniolo]

Hiii, I’m Natalie but you can call me Nat 💋. I’m 22 and have been watching the triplets since spring 2022. Not much you need to know about me tbh and not that you or anyone else really cares anyways.

I am an adult, i do write adult content about other adults. if this makes you uncomfortable, you are not obligated to read any of it and i wholeheartedly understand. Also keep in mind that I am an adult and i work a full time job. Writing is my hobby. I will not be as consistent with posting because I do have other priorities that come first. I will try to update as much as possible, but once again I am an adult with an adult life and adult responsibilities. All I ask is that you stay patient with me and show some grace where it is needed. I work very hard on my writing and appreciate any attention that it gets, please do not blow up my inbox repeatedly with the same prompt. I promise you that I see it.

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𝔎𝔢𝔶

🚀 - smut

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🌌- other

ℭ𝔥𝔯𝔦𝔰 𝔖𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔬

𝔗𝔬𝔬 𝔇𝔞𝔪𝔫 𝔏𝔬𝔫𝔤

✫彡 Part One 🚀

✫彡 Part Two 🚀

✫彡 Part Three 🚀

✫彡 Part Four 🚀

✫彡 Final Part 🚀

𝔇𝔦𝔢𝔱 𝔐𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔇𝔢𝔴

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ÈVÈR¥WHÈRÈ Ì GÖ

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𝔐𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔶, 𝔐𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔶, 𝔐𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔶

✫彡

Texts w Best Friend!Chris

✫彡 Part one ✨🌌

✫彡 Part two ✨🌌

✫彡 Part three ✨🌌

✫彡 Part four ✨🌌

Texts w FWB!Chris

✫彡 Part one 🚀🪐✨🌌

✫彡 Part two 🚀🪐✨🌌

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Texts w Bf!Chris

✫彡 Part one

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✫彡 Part one

✫彡 Part two

✫彡 Part three

✫彡 Part four

✫彡 Part five

✫彡 Part six

✫彡 Part seven

✫彡 Part eight

✫彡 Part nine

HEADCANONS

✫彡 Sub!Chris 🚀🌌

✫彡 Overstimulated (Coming soon)

𝔐𝔞𝔱𝔱 𝔖𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔬

✫彡 We're Just Friends pt 1 🚀

✫彡 We’re Just Friends pt 2 🚀

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✫彡 We’re Just Friends pt 4

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Play Dirty

✫彡 Part one

✫彡 Part two

Creep

✫彡 Introduction

✫彡 One

Pugs ‘N’ Kisses

✫彡 Pugs 'N’ Kisses Prologue 🪐🚀🌌

✫彡 One

✫彡 Nothing 🪐🌌

✫彡 Comfort Zone (Coming Soon) ✨

✫彡 Texts w Bf!Matt pt 1 🚀🌌

✫彡 Texts w Bf!Matt pt 2 🚀🌌

✫彡 Texts w Bf!Matt pt 3 🚀🌌

✫彡 Texts w Bf!Matt pt 4

✫彡 Texts w Bf!Matt pt 5

✫彡 Texts w Bf!Matt pt 6

✫彡 Texts w Bf!Matt pt 7

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✫彡 Texts w FWB!Matt pt 2

✫彡 Texts w FWB!Matt pt 3

HEADCANONS

✫彡 Sub!Matt 🚀🌌

✫彡 NSFW Alphabet 🚀🌌

✫彡 Overstimulated 🚀🌌

✫彡 Dom!Matt (Coming Soon)

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These are all great stories that I’ve read and recommend! Definitely check these stories out!

ℭ𝔥𝔯𝔦𝔰 𝔖𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔬

✫彡 Panty Thief by @evieolo

✫彡 Lollipop by @freshloverr (Part two here!)

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𝔐𝔞𝔱𝔱 𝔖𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔬

✫彡 Painted by @flowerxbunnie

✫彡 Ink by @flowerxbunnie

✫彡 7 Minutes in Heaven by @middlepartmatt

✫彡THIS FUCKING STORY by @pearlzier

[incognit0slut]

Much Ado About Nothing (Act III, Scene I: The Fake Dating)

It doesn’t occur to you how serious the situation has become until you're forced to sign your fake relationship on paper.

Part warning: none, this might be the slowest burn I have ever written Words: 2.4k A/n: The original plan was to update this series twice a week, but I overestimated myself, so I will be posting each Thursday around this time. I hope you understand <3

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Spencer wasn’t sure how he would go through with this. The idea seemed simple enough on the surface—pretend to date, fool everyone, and finally find peace. Yet, the more he thought about it, the more complex it became, and the more complicated it was, the more crazy it seemed.

This was not what he had signed up for when he joined the BAU. Chasing criminals? Sure. Analyzing behavioral patterns? Absolutely. But pretending to date you to avoid the relentless meddling from his friends? Insane wasn't a strong enough word for it. It was ludicrous.

And even that word wasn’t enough. It was downright preposterous. How had rational, analytical work turned into this bizarre social experiment? Yet, here he was, ready to play his part even when he couldn’t ignore the absurdity of it all.

“Well, well, well.” Spencer looked up to see you walking from the opposite direction, both of you stopping right at the entrance of the bureau’s expansive building. “If it isn’t my new boyfriend.”

He narrowed his eyes. Why did you seem… so normal about this? Weren’t you the one who hated his guts? Weren’t you the one who avoided him every time you had the chance? Were you really that desperate to get the team off your back?

“What? You’re not going to greet your girlfriend?”

He forced a smile, trying to hide his irritation. “Good morning,” he replied curtly, opening the door for you.

You walked past him, and Spencer tried not to stare at you, but it was impossible to ignore the way your hair shone under the morning sun or how your perfume subtly filled the air as you brushed by him. He cleared his throat and followed you inside, wondering how long he could keep up this act without losing his sanity.

“We need some ground rules,” he muttered, nodding towards security as you both passed through the entrance.

You raised an eyebrow. “Ground rules? You mean besides pretending to be madly in love?”

“We are not in love. We just started dating,” Spencer said, pressing the elevator button. “So no spontaneous public displays of affection. We don’t want to overdo it.”

“What’s your definition of overdoing it?”

Spencer waited until the elevator doors slid shut, giving you a little privacy. "No touching. Especially no hand-holding," he stated firmly.

You scoffed. "Who on earth wouldn't want to hold their girlfriend's hand?"

He replied without missing a beat. "Do you know how many germs are transferred when you hold hands? An average of 3,000 bacteria from 150 different species, not to mention the potential viruses.”

“Wow, remind me to never shake hands with you during flu season.”

He shrugged. “I’m just stating the facts.”

“Okay, germaphobe,” you deadpanned, leaning back against the elevator wall. “What’s acceptable then? A nod from across the room? Morse code blinking?”

He considered for a moment, then offered a compromise, “How about an arm around your shoulder when we’re sitting? Or a quick side hug?”

“Side hug,” you echoed, mockingly horrified. “How romantic. Our friends will believe we’re madly in love for sure.”

“We are not in love.”

“So you’ve mentioned,” you replied dryly, standing straight again and turning toward him. “Can we at least try to look like a couple who actually like each other?”

That was the problem. You both didn’t like each other. “Fine,” he sighed. “What do you suggest?”

You paused, considering the best way to make this look believable. “How about you hold onto my waist from behind as we walk? It’s a common gesture, and it looks natural.”

Spencer blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. “Hold your waist? As in, really close?”

“Yes, Reid, that’s generally where the waist is located.”

He frowned at you. “That sounds a bit too… personal, don’t you think?”

“Isn’t that the whole point? To convince them we’re a couple?”

He hesitated, the image of his hands on your waist flashing through his mind. He suddenly imagined the warmth of your body against his, the subtle, pleasant scent of your perfume enveloping him. He could almost feel the way you’d be tucked right to his side, your height fitting perfectly against him, your head nestled just below his chin.

His heart unexpectedly started to race. The idea of holding you that close, feeling the rise and fall of your breath, the slight brush of your hair against his cheek—it was almost too intimate, too real. And he didn’t want to acknowledge that. He wasn’t sure if he could trust himself to play the role convincingly without his emotions betraying him.

“Reid?”

Spencer snapped out of his thoughts, realizing he had been silent for too long. You were watching him impatiently.

“You know what? Do whatever you want.” You turned away, facing the elevator door, clearly frustrated by his hesitation. “Just stand there like a statue for all I care.”

His eyes slowly fell to your waist, considering his options... Maybe it wasn’t that bad. The idea of his hand resting there, guiding you, didn’t seem as unbearable as he initially imagined. The gesture seemed innocent enough. Not too much, not too little. What could possibly go wrong?

Everything, apparently. Because it happened all at once.

One, he reached his hand toward you.

Two, the elevator door swung open.

And three, as you started to move forward, his hand managed to slip before it landed onto your ass.

You shrieked at the top of your lungs.

"Reid!" 

Spencer's face turned red as he quickly retrieved his hand, stammering, "I-I'm sorry! That wasn't—"

But he wasn’t fast enough, because standing on the other side of the elevator door was Derek, witnessing the whole thing. His eyebrows shot up, and a slow grin spread across his face.

"What do we have here?” Derek drawled, crossing his arms. "Spencer Reid, getting a little too friendly?"

Spencer's mortification deepened as he tried to explain, "It's not what it looks like, I swear!"

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. "Sure, pretty boy. Whatever you say." He stepped to the side. “Well, aren’t you two lovebirds going to get to work?”

Trying to recover from the embarrassment, Spencer nodded quickly, his face still burning. He guided you out of the elevator with a brief, cautious touch on your back that stayed strictly in the safe zone.

You both hurried toward the glass doors, leaving Derek laughing behind you. You slightly leaned closer to him. “I could sue you for sexual harassment, you know.”

“It was an accident! You moved too quickly.”

“Sure, blame it on me,” you retorted, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you pushed through the glass doors ahead of him.

Spencer quickened his pace to keep up, matching your brisk walk. “I am blaming it on you. This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t suddenly decided to move forward.”

“Right, because clearly, I should have anticipated your clumsiness.”

He shot you a sideways glance. “My clumsiness? You’re the one who—”

“There you are!”

You both turned to see JJ walking toward you, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Hotch is looking for you.”

You started to walk away. “Sure, I’ll go see him—”

JJ shook her head, her smile widening. “No, you don’t understand. He’s looking for you,” she pointed a finger at Spencer, then swung it back to you, “And you. Both of you, together.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. “Both of us? Why?"

“Something about filling in paperwork?”

He frowned, but as the implication of Hotch calling you both at the same time for paperwork sank in, he snapped his head toward you, his eyes wide with realization. You turned toward him at the same moment, and the gravity of your seemingly innocent lie spiraled down on him, making the whole situation feel alarmingly real. 

The weight of it pressed on Spencer’s chest. How could he possibly forget about the most important thing in all of this? He had an eidetic memory, he was good at recalling even the smallest details, but how could he not remember the need to officially disclose workplace relationships?

The reality of potentially signing official documents to confirm this fake relationship made his palms sweat.

“This is stupid,” you whispered when JJ finally left the two of you. “Maybe we should think this through.”

Spencer looked down at you. You were right, this was stupid. It was getting out of hand. But as he noticed the way you stared up at him, with your wide, doe-like eyes sparkling under the light, something shifted. This whole lie had started as a means to an end, a way to fend off the relentless teasing. But now, standing there with you, it felt like more than just a plan. Maybe it was the thrill of the unknown, or the strange comfort of the lie. Maybe it wasn’t just about fooling the team.

Maybe he was starting to fool himself too.

Spencer took a deep breath. “No,” he said softly, more to himself than to you. “We started this, we should go through with it.”

Before you could respond, he placed his hand on your lower back, feeling the warmth of your body through the thin fabric of your blouse before his palm slid over to your waist. Your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden gesture, but you didn't pull away.

What have you done?

You couldn’t believe you had actually signed the papers. The weight of the pen felt so heavy in your hand, the ink seeming to dry slower than usual as you scrawled your name on the dotted line. This was supposed to be a simple, harmless plan, but now it was documented. Official.

How did it come to this?

You watched as Spencer took the pen from you, his hand brushing yours momentarily. He glanced at you before turning his attention back to the document. The hesitation was brief, but you saw it—the flicker of doubt before he pressed the pen on to the paper and signed his name next to yours.

What the hell are we doing?

“Alright,” Hotch said, taking the papers and giving you both a nod. “This is a bit formal, but it’s necessary under bureau policy. If there are any changes in your relationship status, you should report immediately.”

You nodded, barely hearing his words over the pounding of your heart.

“Again, congratulations.”

Your stomach churned. You were going to be sick.

“Thank you,” Spencer responded. Hotch then dismissed you both, and as you turned to leave, Spencer's hand gently touched your back. You were the one who urged him to act his part, but it felt too intimate, too real at that moment. You quickly increased your pace, putting some distance between you as you walked down into the bullpen.

Penelope was sitting on your chair, chatting animatedly with the rest of the team in the open space. She looked up when you both arrived. “Well, look who’s back!” Penelope called out. “How did it go?"

You weren't surprised everyone understood what being called in, together at that, by Hotch implied.

“It went… as expected,” you replied, forcing a smile. Spencer stood a bit awkwardly beside you, his usual composure slightly ruffled.

"This is amazing,” Penelope sighed. "Oh! you know what we should do?"

You eyed her warily. "What?"

"This totally calls for a celebration!"

Your eyes widened. "Let's not—"

"Are you guys free this weekend?" Penelope turned toward the rest of the team.

Derek leaned back in his chair with a wide grin. "You know I'm always up for a party."

Spencer looked between you and the rest of the team, clearly uncomfortable. "I don't think that’s necessary—"

"He's right, Spencer isn't much of a party freak," JJ chimed in, joining in the conversation from her desk. "We should do something more relaxing."

"No, that's not what I meant—"

"You know what we haven't done in a while?" Emily asked, walking closer with a thoughtful look before she settled onto your desk, leaning slightly against it. "We haven't gone to the pool lately."

Penelope perked up at the idea. "Rossi's villa?"

Emily confirmed her with a nod. "Rossi's villa. He’s always saying we should use it more anyway.”

At any given chance, you would jump at the idea. You loved relaxing by the pool. You loved basking under the sun with a cool drink in your hand, the smell of chlorine in the air, and the refreshing splash of water on your skin. And Rossi’s pool was the perfect place for that.

It was a villa located an hour’s drive away that seemed more suited to a resort than a private residence. It was far from the city, mostly unoccupied, but always welcoming. You had been there before, stayed overnight there too, and all those fun memories were still vivid in your mind. You even recalled the time Emily was caught skinny dipping at night. Or the time Derek kicked Spencer out of the pool after realizing he had been hustling him at basketball the week before.

It had been fun then, but the more you reflected on those memories, the deeper your frown became. They had happened way before everything fell apart, before the tension had strained your friendship. It was a time when everything felt simpler, when Spencer was one of your closest friends. And now, ironically, he was your boyfriend.

Fake boyfriend.

"So it's settled, then?" Penelope’s voice broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to the present.

Honestly, you didn’t want to go. How were you even going to pull this off? A weekend by the pool, while usually the perfect highlight for your summer, now felt like walking into a scripted play where your every gesture would be scrutinized. Not just by anyone, but by skilled profilers who could sniff out a lie like a shark smells blood in the water.

The fear of being exposed, of embarrassing yourself—or worse, damaging your career—was gnawing at you. It made you increasingly anxious. Yet backing out wasn’t an option either. It would raise too many questions and invite too much speculation.

So you closed the distance between you and Spencer and linked your arm through his, ignoring the slight panic in his eyes. “Sure,” you said, turning to Penelope as you mustered a smile. “Sounds fun.”

Penelope beamed at you. Spencer, on the other hand, felt the exact opposite. The idea of spending an entire weekend pretending to be in a relationship filled him with dread.

And he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was bound to go wrong.

[goodnightoilcountry]

jo's nhl fic rec list !

hi - welcome to my attempt at being a fic writer again. i have a wip list in the works but first things first: my fic rec list of all the works i've found and adored.

if you don't know yet, you will know soon that i am such a sucker for angst. i hope you find something new to love from the list below !

how to navigate

i update this list weekly (try to) and place all the new fic recs at the top under NEW.

when searching for a specific player, they will always be listed under their current team.

* updated monday 4 november 2024 *

weekly note: updating this in an uber to work - oops ! p.s. i need some new players to read for so pretty please give me your recs !

like my selection of fic recs? have a player who's not been featured? let me know and i'll go on a deep dive for you!

NEW

the apartment we won't share (jack hughes) by @aleskie-hischier summary: two years after you and Jack break up, you find yourself thinking about him. word count: 1.3k

wishes come true pt1 + pt2 + pt3 + pt4 + pt5 (nico hischier) by @sweethischier summary: everyone around you was certain that you were going to fall in love with the one you called your best friend. It was only right, they said, it was practically written in the stars, but little did they know that he would bring you to the one you truly wanted. Meeting Nico Hischier was never something you had seen coming, but when you did, everything you thought you knew about love changed. You thought it was simple and it was easy, that feeling the way you felt about him could only bring you joy when in fact it brought you nothing but confliction. You spent more time speaking to the stars, making wishes you only hoped would come true one day. Do your wishes come true, or are you harshly reminded that not everyone has the happy ending they hoped for? total word count: 35k

no caller id (jack hughes) by @withwritersblock summary: Y/N and Jack broke up several months ago but he keeps crawling back and her friends are sick of it. word count: 1.4k

he set my house on fire, you lit my heart ablaze; when the smoke cleared, you stayed, coughing up ash with me (jack hughes) by @angelwithdemonictendencies summary: the revenge plot doesn't go as planned (ft. ex-fiance am34). word count: 12.9k

wish we were older (matthew tkachuk) by @sorryjustafangirl summary: 4 times matthew wished he was older and one time he didn't. word count: 4k

FIC REC MASTERLIST

total number of fics: 168

anaheim ducks fic rec list players: trevor zegras

carolina canes fic rec list players: andrei svechnikov - jack drury - pyotr kotchekov - sebastian aho - seth jarvis - tyson jost

colorado avs fic rec list players: cale makar - nathan mackinnon

detroit red wings fic rec list players: jt compher

florida panthers fic rec list players: matthew tkachuk

nashville preds fic rec list players: brady skjei

new jersey devils fic rec list players: jack hughes - luke hughes - nico hischier

new york islanders fic rec list players: mat barzal - matt martin

philadelphia flyers fic rec list players: erik johnson - jamie drysdale

pittsburgh penguins fic rec list players: anthony beauvillier - michael bunting - sidney crosby

toronto maple leafs fic rec list players: auston matthews - mitch marner - william nylander

utah hc fic rec list players: clayton keller

vancouver canucks fic rec list players: arturs silovs - brock boeser - quinn hughes

ALL OUR WONDERFUL WRITERS

thank you to all the incredible fic writers on this godforsaken app ! i am always so in awe of how creative people are and am constantly inspired by your minds ! i can't wait to find more of you on here 🤍

@43-hugs @adoristsposts @austonwithan-o @babydollmarauders @bagopucks @bedsyandco @behoright @bitchinbarzal @blueskrugs @bqstqnbruin @cellythefloshie @chewingcyanide @comphersjost @comphy-and-cozy @doc-pickles @eyesthatroll @fallinallincurls @happer08 @hischierdevils @hischierhoney @hockeyboistrash @hockeywhy @hockey-fics @hockey-hoe-24-7 @holy-pucks @hookingminor @huggybug @hugshughes @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 @islesnucks @itsjusthockey @ladylooch @letsgetrowdy43 @marnerparty @matthewtkachuk @mattyanonwrites @matwith1t @mendeshoney @misshoneyimhome @mrsensitive @nhlclover @ohmyeyesmyeyes @pennylanefics @prettytoxicrevolver @pucksnsticksnhockeyboys @silovsmenot @starry-hughes @senditcolton @silverstonesainz-archive @stormsplurge @sunkissed-zegras @sunnyskiesscareme @sydnikov @thatintrovertedwriter @theemporium @thewintersoldierdisaster @undertaurus @unluckyhoneybee @withwritersblock @yelenasdog @youunravelme

[spookyserenades]

Trouvaille - Chapter Seventeen (M)

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count; 25.k (👹)

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

My laptop is going to burst in flames after this LMAO. HIII besties! Welcome to the angst train of Chapter Seventeen! Hold onto your hats because there are a lot of emotions going on in this update. Along with angst, we have fluff to balance it out, of course! Expect spooky/scary paranormal happenings, and dirty disgusting smut I have to stop writing when I ovulate BUT I sincerely hope you all love this extra long, on time (for once!) chapter! Love from Dana and can't wait to hear what you all think 💕

As an additional warning/reminder, for the smut: the scene is explicit, and is only intended to be read by those over the age of 18. Please practice safe sex, and readers please have discretion!

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Blinking, not sure if she heard correctly, Y/N sat unceremoniously on Namjoon’s arm rest, nudging his hand off the laptop keyboard. Pressing the back button and slamming down on the space bar, she moved before Namjoon could stop her. 

“Y/N–”

“To kill you, whorish witch.” Came from the speakers again, making Namjoon flinch and grunt, like the statement was disgusting in his ears. She played it a third time, then a forth, Namjoon uncomfortably squirming beside her. About to listen a fifth, Namjoon swore, placing a hand over hers and pulling it away from the laptop.

“That’s enough,” the wolf hybrid said gently, eyes scanning her face, searching Y/N’s blank expression thoroughly. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, I really didn’t want to show you.”

“Jeongguk was right to tell you to. Now I know that I’m going to have to bulk up on my protection magic,” Y/N responded distantly, honestly still shocked by what the entity said to her. It was something her brain didn’t necessarily know how to process– that an unseen force had a murderous intent towards her. Namjoon, making a feral noise in the back of his throat, narrowed his eyes. 

“Y/N, I’m not saying I doubt your abilities, but this feels wrong. I don’t think you should go back to that house. If you write up a ritual for us to do, we can execute it together and you’ll be here, safe,” Namjoon shook his head as he spoke, ears flat against his skull. Y/N’s eyes went wide, caught between swooning and stiffening. 

“You want to kick me off the case? No way, absolutely not, especially after hearing that recording. I’d walk into traffic before letting you two go there alone,” Y/N watched a muscle in Namjoon’s jaw tick, sucking his cheeks in and leveling her a challenging look. “I’m going. This changes nothing but how urgently we need to cleanse the property.”

“Y/N, it’s a bad idea. Jeongguk is experienced with shit like this,” Namjoon pressed, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “We both want to do another investigation before we decide how to tackle getting rid of the infestation.”

“I don’t care, Namjoon, I’m going to be with you every step in this case. You can’t get rid of me,” Y/N stood, annoyed, and feeling undermined, she walked over to the bookcase in his room.

Sliding a finger along the spines of his and her combined book collection, searching for one in particular about protection magic, Y/N ignored the rumbles coming from Namjoon’s chest. When she turned, his head was in his hands, elbows leaning on the desk, dismayed. “Joon Bug, I know you’re worried, but it’ll be okay. I promise.”

“If anything happens to you, how will I reconcile that with myself? Knowing I just let you walk into a situation like that,” Namjoon muttered, seemingly to himself, making Y/N’s heart stop dead in her ribcage for a second. 

“Namjoon,” Y/N sighed, returning to his side with the book she needed, hooking her chin over his shoulder from behind, some of the tension dissolving from his tense upper back. “I’ll be safe. I have you.”

She wound her arms around his shoulders for a hug, Namjoon still pressing his face into his hands. Clearly, he was more concerned for her well-being than she ever could have imagined, Y/N squeezing him tightly to comfort him. Truthfully, she was frightened of whatever threatened her in Julie’s room, hearing its voice out loud bone-chilling, but she had promised that family that the three of them would help them. Besides, she had banished something malevolent before with success, and she was fairly confident she could do it again– as long as Namjoon and Jeongguk were by her side, working as a team. 

“Bug, why don’t you help me gather up some materials and maybe start brainstorming how we should clear the spirits from the house, hmm? I could use your help,” Y/N attempted to perk him up, his gloom filling the room, Namjoon making a noncommittal noise in response. “Please?”

Finally, Namjoon lifted his face from his palms, turning his face sideways to glance at her behind him, corners of his lips turned downwards. 

“In the van?” Namjoon relented, contrary to his clear disapproval, letting her hold him for the longest time he ever had, and his musky honey scent made her mouth water, shamefully. 

“Uh-huh! It’s our headquarters, after all,” Y/N giggled, lightening the mood even more, before she grew serious. “Thank you for worrying about me.”

With that, Y/N leaned forward, testing the waters and pecking his cheek lightly, Namjoon going rigid in her embrace with the press of her lips, nuzzling into him in hopes that she hadn’t crossed a line and he’d relax. Brain catching up with reality, Namjoon cleared his throat, blood rushing to the tips of his ears, melting backwards into her. And to her astonishment, the wolf hybrid turned his face even more, burying the tip of his nose into the crook of Y/N’s neck, breathing in deeply. 

“I said it at the club, Y/N,” Namjoon’s voice took on a mellifluous quality, his breath against her throat causing the hairs on her nape to stand on end. “You’re a handful, you’re lucky I’m with you.”

“That’s right,” Y/N’s voice came out like silk, letting him nudge the tip of his nose against her collarbone, feeling a little light-headed. “I thank the stars.”

Chuckling at the corny reply and drawing away from her, Namjoon made a motion to get to his feet, twirling the keys to his van around a long fingertip. Finally, he was smiling, his perfect teeth and dimples on display, Y/N completely dazzled. With a twitch to his bitten ear, he nodded towards his bedroom door so they could exit together. To surprise her even further, Namjoon grabbed his denim and sherpa jacket from his bed, offering it to Y/N without hesitation and without looking at her, Y/N woodenly taking it from him. 

“Since you seem to like wearing this so much, bundle up,” Namjoon commented, Y/N realizing that her scent was probably all over the garment from when she wore it to confront Yoongi many moons ago. “Let’s go.”

Namjoon left the room before she could shrug on the jacket, the wolf hybrid foregoing any sort of coat himself and simply pushing down the rolled-up sleeves of his cable knit sweater, expecting Y/N to follow. Blindly, she did, pulling his cozy jacket tight across her body with her heart racing in her chest. 

Taking a deep, calming breath, Y/N rang the doorbell to her parent’s house, preparing herself for what might come out of her mother’s mouth. She had told her mother about the investigations her, Jeongguk, and Namjoon were starting to take control over, but there was no doubt that Judy– one of her mother’s very good friends, not just Y/N’s boss– had dished out dirty details. Behind the great oak door, she heard someone shuffling towards her in slippers, Y/N grateful she didn’t bring any of her hybrids with her for once. 

“Hi honey, come on in while the tea’s hot,” her father, in a bright tracksuit and his house slippers, answered the door, Y/N giggling at his appearance. Gone were the days of her sharply dressed father, the doctor. Now he dressed like an extra on the set of Seinfeld. “You look well!”

Despite the fact that Y/N had a murderous demon after her blood, Y/N was in good spirits. She was always well fed thanks to Seokjin and Yoongi, there was never a day Hoseok didn’t brighten it with his humor, and she was finally doing something with her life that had her excited to jump out of bed in the morning. Giving her father a squeeze, she mumbled a thank you into his tracksuit, following him into the kitchen where her mother was audibly tinkering away on the stove. 

“Your grandparents are napping, I’m not sure if you’ll get to see them before you leave today,” her father informed her, returning to where he was sitting at the kitchen table prior to Y/N’s arrival. “Hopefully whatever you wanted to discuss doesn’t involve getting your grandmother’s advice.”

“Oh, no. Just stuff you guys can handle,” Y/N waved a hand, plopping down next to him and eyeing the Italian cookies on the table. She never had a taste for them, but her father loved them to bits. “Okay. So first order of business that I’m hoping you can help me out with, dad! I need to get my boys a doctor and schedule yearly physicals. A dentist, too.”

“Yep, I can handle that,” her father accepted a cup of a strongly scented herbal tea without question, draining it in one go and handing it back to her mother. 

Her mother, dressed in her typical drapey dresses and “shawl of the day”, distractedly squeezed Y/N’s shoulder in hello as she read the tea leaves at the bottom of her father’s teacup. Humming in satisfaction, she placed the cup in the sink, dialing into the conversation. 

“Your luck is good today, dear,” her mother told her father, Y/N stifling a chuckle by biting down on the inside of her cheek. “How about David? Y/N, our dear friend is a general practitioner, a hybrid doctor. Dr. Rocha is his name!”

“I can make a call,” her father fumbled for his phone on the table, holding it far from his face so he could read the screen while he went through his contacts. “You can just bring your hybrids to your dentist, she takes on hybrid clients. I can schedule all of the appointments for you, honey, I know how busy you are.”

“Thanks, dad,” Y/N leaned her cheek into her father’s shoulder, relieved that something was being taken off of her plate for her. “How’s the book club going mom?”

“Same as always! We’re reading Kafka these next few weeks. Your boys have been such a wonderful addition to the club, Namjoon has always been the leader type. Seokjin has really been opening up lately!” 

“Mm, has he?” The mention of Seokjin had heat pooling in her cheeks– Y/N hadn’t disclosed to her parents that she was romantically involved with both Seokjin and Yoongi, and she dreaded the day, to be honest. “That’s good! He’s come a long way with getting out of his shell.”

“So, what is it that you need to ask me, dear,” her mother saw through the small talk, and likely had some kind of premonition about what Y/N was needing her counsel on. 

“We have to go back to the house we’re trying to cleanse and do a secondary investigation before we can tackle the actual cleansing. The spirits are… aggressive. I wanted to know if you had any ideas on how to up the protection for the three of us.”

Y/N, much like she wasn’t disclosing that she was dating two out of seven of her hybrids, wasn’t about to share that an entity was targeting her specifically as well. Not wanting to concern her father, and knowing that if her mother found out what the spirit actually said to her, she’d agree with Namjoon and want her to stay home. 

“Have you tried the tourmaline necklaces?” her mother stirred sugar into her tea, humming when Y/N nodded in response. “I’ll give you some dragon’s blood incense, burn that while you’re in the house. Teach Namjoon and Jeongguk how to put up spiritual shields– they’re both smart boys so they’ll get it quick. Also, carry some selenite and citrine on you in addition to the tourmaline. Selenite will allow your spirit guides to better protect you and citrine combats negative energy.”

“That will be pretty bulletproof, right?” Y/N asked, grateful her parents were humans and couldn’t sense her nerves rising. 

“Should be, my dear! Unless you’re dealing with something extremely powerful, doing all that should keep you safe,” her mother smiled, reaching across the table to grasp onto Y/N’s hand. “I’m so glad we can talk about things like this together again. I can’t tell you how excited I am for you and your two young boys.”

“Oh,” Y/N squeaked, taken aback, emotions welling up in her as her mother’s smile grew wider, squeezing her hand once before she stood from the table. “I love you, mom.”

“Love you too, honey. I’ll gather up the incense and the crystals, okay? I think I have some hematite rings somewhere in my storage too…” distractedly, Y/N’s mother ambled away further into the recesses of the home, her father chuckling with her disappearance.

“I booked the doctor’s visits for you, Dr. Rocha suggested doing two appointments per day so you’re not in the office for seven hours all at once. They’re in mid-March,” her father announced, ruffling Y/N’s hair. “Still waiting to hear from the dentist, but I think there’s enough techs to get all seven of them done in an afternoon. Sounds good?”

“Sounds perfect, thank you so much, dad,” Y/N checked her watch, noting that it was time for her to scramble home and pick up Jimin for an errand they had to run. “Shoot, I have to go.”

“Here you are, honey!” Y/N’s mother reappeared as her father walked her to the front door, a gift bag filled with the protection items in hand. “Oh, before you go, have you heard the whispers?”

“Whispers?” Y/N repeated, confused. 

“There’s rumors about some new laws being passed, regarding hybrids,” she informed her, excitement clear as day on her face, so Y/N assumed they were good laws. “Adopted hybrids might be able to seek legal employment soon. I’ve heard that universities, too, are going to start offering classes for hybrid students. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Y/N paused, not expecting such a bombshell. If the rumors were true, her boys would be one step closer to living a more normal, human life, they wouldn’t have to stay at home all day, and they could make their own money to buy whatever they pleased. Additionally, if her mother was right, apparently the wheel of progress was speeding up. All Y/N could think about, though, is how the government should be thinking about banning hybrid sport hunting before all of that, but progress was progress and she didn’t want to rain on her mother’s parade. 

“That would be amazing if that actually happens,” Y/N breathed, her mother handing over the gift bag with a grin. “I do want to hold off on mentioning it to the boys for now, though. I don’t want to get their hopes up if that’s just a rumor.”

“Of course,” her mother made a zipping motion over her lips, meaning she wouldn’t spill the beans to Namjoon or Seokjin at the book club. “I’ve been lighting candles for a week to try and move things along.”

“Hmm, influencing government affairs now, mom?” Y/N snorted, hugging her before she reached for the door. “Maybe I’ll light one too.”

“Bring the boys here Friday night for dinner! We’re going to make a big feast to celebrate Ostara coming up!” 

“Ostara isn’t for another couple weeks!” Y/N replied, eyebrows furrowed. “You just want to see everyone, don’t you?”

“Bring them around 7, alright? Tell Yoongi to make those delicious mashed potatoes,” her mother ignored her accusation, waving at her from the front door as Y/N started down the street to her own house. 

Back at the house, shivering, she found Jimin in the sunroom, where he had begun to nurse seedlings for their garden in the spring. She dropped off the bag of items her mother gave her in Namjoon’s room before she searched for the coyote hybrid, the wolf hybrid’s bedroom empty and telling her that he was probably holed up in the van. Jimin was in his trademark blue jeans and a cozy-looking beige sweater, using a little mister to dampen the trays of seedlings. The room smelled earthy-sweet and was bathed with early afternoon sunlight, most of the brick floors completely covered with all of the seedlings she and Jimin planted days prior. 

“Hey, anything sprouting yet?” Y/N tiptoed around a pile of carefully swept soil, squinting at the trays. 

“Not quite. We’re going to have to be patient,” Jimin sent a gorgeous smile her way in greeting, peeling off his gardening gloves and setting them aside. In the corner of the room was a small stack of books pertaining to plants and growing produce that Namjoon dug out of the oven in his van for her, a couple of old tin watering cans, and Jimin’s phone on top of the books, playing soft rock in the background. “I labeled everything with tape and markers. Looks okay?”

“Looks awesome. Meticulous as always, Jimin!” Y/N made a motion to water some of the other house plants around the room, but apparently the coyote hybrid had beaten her to the punch judging by the damp soil. “I’m so excited for spring. It’s been such a gross winter.”

“It’ll be here before you know it,” Jimin reminded her, looking down at his clothing to make sure soil wasn’t clinging to the fabrics. “We’re still heading out today, right?”

“How could I forget? I already put the third row in the Land Cruiser down so we can jam everything we buy in the trunk,” Y/N teased, dangling her hand in front of his face to help him up. His palm was rough from years of manual labor, but gentle and sure. With a swish of his tail, he rose to his feet, still smiling like an angel. “I’m ready when you are. Maybe we can get some lunch on the way back, if you’re up for it!”

“Okay, let me just get my jacket,” Jimin let go of her hand, which she didn’t even realize he was still holding, Y/N casting one more look at the perfectly labeled trays of seedlings, smiling at his neat handwriting. “Want me to drive?”

“Sure!” Y/N followed Jimin to the car once he slipped on his jacket and boots, calling out to the others in various areas of the house to let them know where they were heading. 

“I saw that you updated the list of things we’re looking for,” Jimin commented after a few moments of comfortable silence in the car, Y/N scrolling through said list on her phone. 

“I want to have the nicest backyard on the block! It’s been looking like a mess up until you started clearing things up,” Y/N replied enthusiastically. “Want to find a cute bird bath and a bunch of feeders, those ceramic outdoor lights you stick in the dirt and look like mushrooms… comfortable cushions for us to sit on, a fun sprinkler to run through when it’s hot.”

Jimin, as always, listened intently and quietly, Y/N watching the corners of his mouth curl upwards as she spoke.

“You sound like the woman talking about her dream house in The Notebook,” Jimin commented, Y/N blinking before she remembered she had made all of the boys watch the film during the afternoon on Valentine’s day. She could still hear Jeongguk’s gagging from the leather recliner– although, he did end up watching the entire thing without her having to strap him down. “Allie, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right! I believe you were the only one who ended up liking that movie,” Y/N giggled, though the comment had butterflies soaring in her stomach. “Now that I think about it, you’re like Noah. Doing all the hard work to make the house pretty!”

The words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them, and immediately, mortification washed over her. With her being Allie and him being Noah, she was pretty much implying that they were star-crossed lovers– since he was helping her fix up the house in the way she wanted precisely. Considering using her window breaker and climbing out onto the freeway, Y/N tried to come up with a way to stuff the words back down her throat. All she managed to come up with was staring at Jimin with obvious alarm, his ears twitching. 

Sensing her panic, Jimin surprised her by clearing his throat and chuckling, Y/N realizing his ears were twitching out of amusement. Still gaping at him, Jimin’s eyes turned into crescents while he laughed, shaking his head. 

“I guess that is true,” Jimin coughed once he recovered from laughter, Y/N hiding her embarrassment by returning to the list on her phone. “You do your fair share of the hard work too, Y/N.”

She could have kissed Jimin for not teasing her. If it had been any of the others she had said that to besides he or Namjoon, she’d never hear the end of it. Once she finally regained mental facilities, she continued to talk about her plans for the backyard as if she hadn’t said anything. 

“We can get some wind chimes, new umbrellas, Oh! I saw this thing online that looks like a mini picnic table, you use it as a squirrel feeder. If we find that at the store, we’re so getting it!”

“Whatever you want, Y/N. If there are things you want to get that don’t fit in the car, we’ll have it shipped,” Jimin pulled into the strip mall where The Home Depot was, pushing a hand through his blonde hair and still wearing an expression of merriment. 

The coyote hybrid refused to let her push the flatbed cart around the store, which left Y/N to pick out everything she had on her list and more. Halfway through the trip, she had to abandon Jimin and get a normal cart for smaller items, Jimin laughing at her when she stacked boxes of the light-up mushrooms into the basket. 

“I think that’s plenty of bird seed,” Jimin was leaning on his elbows on the cart, eyebrows raised and ears perky and alert, watching Y/N haul a bag of seed off of a shelf. 

“This isn’t bird seed, it’s for critters. Squirrels and rabbits!” Y/N defended herself, tossing the bag into the cart and ignoring Jimin’s snickers. “Okay… I think we just need to get the fertilizer now, and it’s at the opposite side of the store.”

Y/N eyed the houseplant section as they passed by it, Jimin giving her a knowing but warning look, yellow eyes narrowing playfully. Huffing, she pushed ahead, and while she was pretending to be annoyed, she was really enjoying her one-on-one time with Jimin. The domestic activity had thoroughly distracted her from the Sanders’ case that was weighing heavily on her mind. While Jimin was hefting a bag of fertilizer onto his flatbed, Y/N gawked at the corded muscles of his back beneath his sweater, the coyote hybrid oblivious as his tail swished contentedly. Before she could get too carried away with checking him out, Jimin somehow read her deeper thoughts, appearing to brace himself. 

“Y/N, can I ask you something?” Jimin licked his lips, growing serious.

“Of course,” Y/N replied, suddenly nervous and on guard. 

“The past few days I’ve noticed a change in Namjoon’s behavior. He seems really worried about you. Does it have anything to do with that case you’re working on with him and Jeongguk?” 

Mouth opening and closing, she wasn’t sure how to respond. As per usual, it wasn’t like she could lie to Jimin and pretend everything was rainbows and butterflies. So, Y/N did what she always tried to do with her hybrids– be honest, but try to prevent them from being overly concerned about her. 

“Yeah, the spirits are very nasty. He’s worried I’ll get hurt, but I swung by my mom’s earlier today for extra protection items. I keep telling him I’ll be fine, but you know how he is,” Y/N answered nonchalantly, Jimin frowning. 

“He told me you guys captured audio that specifically threatened you,” Jimin said flatly, his ears turning downwards. Damn Namjoon, and damn she wasn’t getting out of that by being a slippery truth-bender. “What did the audio say?”

Y/N cringed, not wanting to repeat the disgusting statement at all, but Jimin was staring at her so intensely she knew they weren’t budging from that home improvement store until she told him. 

“The thing in one of the children’s bedrooms threatened to kill me,” Y/N answered simply, shrugging. “I guess we’ll just have to exorcize the house before it gets the chance.”

Y/N resumed perusing the fertilizer in order to break the intense eye-contact Jimin was giving her, one of the first times he genuinely made her skin break out into goosebumps. Unfortunately, she was peering back up into those hardened butterscotch eyes when a roughened hand grabbed onto her wrist. 

“Y/N, don’t just shrug that off like it’s nothing. You have to tell everyone else,” Jimin’s voice was gruff, firm, and Y/N was blinking at him stupidly. 

“Why? Jimin, I don’t want you all fussing over me. Namjoon is already enough to deal with, he doesn’t even want me to go back to the house,” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, picturing a range of reactions from the other hybrids in response to the audio. 

“Why? Y/N, don’t you realize if something happens to you, it will seriously affect us all?” Jimin gaped, as if she was being totally ridiculous. Suddenly, she felt immensely guilty, and justifiably so. “Think about Yoongi and Seokjin, at least. They would be devastated.”

Y/N’s throat was closing up, now imagining Seokjin’s tears and heartbreak, Yoongi’s misery– it was absolutely unbearable. Swallowing, she nodded at Jimin, who softened when he scented the emotions that came from her. 

“I’m sorry, Jimin. I should have considered that, keeping it from you all would be so selfish of me. I’ll… have Namjoon show you guys the audio tonight,” Y/N apologized, a tad watery, all of the reproach on Jimin’s face disappearing. 

“It’s alright, Y/N. I know you’re just trying to put on a brave face, but you can lean on us a little, you know? We’re supposed to worry about each other,” Jimin let go of her wrist, patting her shoulder gently. 

“You’re right,” Y/N looked at the floor, glum. Jimin, humming, kept patting her shoulder until she looked at him again. “Again, I’m sorry…”

Jimin shook his head, his normally easy-going air returning, giving her shoulder a squeeze. 

“All good, Y/N. We can talk about it more, later. I think you should hear everyone out before you decide whether or not to go back to that house,” Jimin returned to the flatbed he was pushing, Y/N not looking forward to that conversation at all. “We have everything, right? Want to head to the registers? I can bring the car around while you check out so we can load everything up, then we can get some lunch.”

Y/N followed her coyote hybrid to the register, still dwelling over Seokjin and Yoongi. She wondered, if she was seriously hurt or even killed, how they would process that. Hannah mentioned that if Seokjin’s heart was broken one more time, he might not survive it. Would Yoongi survive her disappearing from his world again? Guilt festered away her very being, and she couldn’t believe she hadn’t even considered confiding in either both of them. Nauseous, she started robotically placing items on the conveyor belt, Jimin leaving her there to get the car. 

Waiting by the door, she painted a smile on her face when she watched him pull up, helping him place everything into the trunk. With her stomach still turning and a half-hour ride back to the house, Y/N poked Jimin in the back. 

“I’m going to run back in to use the bathroom, okay? I’ll meet you back out here in a few,” Y/N announced, Jimin waving her away as he slid yet another box of light-up mushrooms into the stuffed-full trunk. 

Chewing her lip, Y/N searched for the sign for the restrooms, trying her best to hurry and not keep Jimin waiting. However, as she passed by the houseplant section again, she paused– before grabbing another cart and selecting seven different plants. 

“Holy shit, do you think you bought enough crap?” Jeongguk grunted as he collapsed into the breakfast nook, wiping sweat from his brow. Y/N enlisted his help in getting everything out of the car along with Jimin, and he had carried the stone birdbath she picked out about halfway across the yard while muttering expletives the whole time. 

“It’s your fault for being the first one I spotted when we pulled in. Blame your smoke breaks, not me,” Y/N flicked his sweaty forehead, his dark eyes flashing. She had yet to discuss the audio with him specifically, and she had the feeling he was avoiding the subject entirely– besides, he had been holed up in his room for days, fiddling with his cameras. “Need help with dinner, angel?”

Y/N spun on her heel, spotting Yoongi by the fridge, putting a tub of ricotta cheese away. His hair, longer than ever, was tied up, and he was dressed in a slouchy hoodie, one that she wanted to get inside with him. Approaching, she looked around the island, and it appeared that he didn’t really need help with anything at all; a large garden salad sitting in a wooden bowl tossed and ready to go, a covered casserole dish with spicy spaghetti, and when she looked at the stove, there were several skillets going with pork chops searing away. 

“Wow, chef, it’s like you don’t even need your sous anymore,” Y/N pouted, wiggling her fingers against his ribs and reaching up to give his ears a scratch. Yoongi had gotten used to her stroking through the glossy fur, so he only jolted about a centimeter. 

“My sous is Seokjin now. You’re like chef de partie,” Yoongi teased, and to both her delight and slight embarrassment, turned his head and ducked it, capturing her lips in a sweet, simple kiss hello. 

Eyes fluttering shut, she let herself melt into his taste, completely ignoring Jeongguk’s gagging behind them. Squeezing the side of his waist, she made a small noise of disappointment when his lips slid from hers, opting to plant one more kiss on her forehead before returning to his pork chops. 

“Get a room,” Jeongguk muttered, scrolling through his phone with his nose wrinkled. 

“Get a life,” Yoongi replied blandly, using tongs to turn over one of the pork chops. Offering the leopard hybrid a kiss of her own with a quiet snicker, one on the tip of his nose, she concluded that Yoongi was perfectly fine on his own. Which meant she had no excuse to avoid finding Namjoon and telling him to get the audio ready to play after dinner. 

Trudging into the hall, she heard Jimin’s shower turn on, the pipes in the walls clanging. Despite the fact that Jimin had that stern talking-to with her in the store, lunch at a diner and the ride back home was pleasant, even though she had returned from the “bathroom” with seven additional purchases. She followed her ears, the tinny sounds of folk tapes playing from Namjoon’s room. Knocking twice on his ajar bedroom door, the wolf hybrid was reading on his window seat, chewing on the end of a pen with a sharpened incisor. 

“Hey,” Y/N began, glancing at her laptop sitting on his desk, scribbled notes and crumpled paper littered around the device. “I need a favor.”

Namjoon looked up from his book, the crease that had been between his eyebrows since he analyzed the audio deepening when he saw her leaning against his doorframe. The wolf hybrid slid a bookmark in place, squaring his shoulders so he could face her. 

“A favor,” Namjoon repeated, eyes skimming her from head to toe as if to search for anything awry. “What do you need?”

“I’m going to play that audio for everyone after dinner. It’s only fair, Jimin pointed that out to me. I agree with him,” Y/N said, the fur on Namjoon’s tail standing on end and his normally sharp eyes going round. 

“Do you really think that’s wise?” Namjoon exclaimed, getting to his feet and knocking his book off of the window seat. 

“Yeah, I do. If something happens and they didn’t know about it…” 

“Nothing is going to happen,” Namjoon cut her off sternly, his gaze becoming analytical again. “If you want to show them, go ahead. But nothing is going to happen to you.”

Y/N swallowed at the resolution in his tone, still not quite used to how protective Namjoon had become of her. Nodding meekly, she gestured towards the laptop. 

“I’ll play it for them after dinner. I don’t think a demon calling me a whore is a very good appetizer,” Y/N whispered, hoping that Namjoon was the only one who could hear her at that moment. Namjoon flinched, hissing, his face becoming stormy. 

“You shouldn’t joke about it, Y/N.”

“Humor is how I cope. Ask Hoseok, he does the same thing,” Y/N grouched, and she could tell Namjoon was getting even more pissed with that comment, so she changed the subject. “Did you look through that bag I left you? My mom gave me a bunch of good tips and materials for added layers of protection.”

“Yeah, I looked through it,” Namjoon was definitely still irritated, his tail swishing back and forth angrily, though he paused when his phone chimed in his pocket. “Dinner’s ready.”

Namjoon brushed by her, not sparing her one last glance, Y/N sighing and mouthing ‘sorry’ to his retreating form. Starting to follow after him, she went rigid when she felt a pair of arms wrap snugly around her waist, squeezing tightly until she wheezed. It was only when she felt kisses showering over the side of her face that she knew who it was, going limp in his strong arms. 

“Hi, Jin,” Y/N giggled, the heaviness of her interaction with Namjoon dissolving with the tenderness Seokjin showered upon her. “How was your day, honey?”

“Severely lacking without you,” Seokjin admitted, an almost whine to his voice. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” Y/ N hummed, relaxing backwards into his chest and placing her hands over his, resting on her stomach. “It’s your turn to pick a movie or show tonight!”

“Mm-hmm,” Seokjin returned, though she had a feeling he wasn’t listening as he tucked his face in her neck from behind, planting tiny kisses on the exposed skin and his tail winding around her leg. 

“Come on, you. Let’s eat,” Y/N tried to untangle herself from Seokjin’s ironclad grip around her middle, but he wouldn’t ease up his hold until she murmured ‘I love you’ into his wavy hair. “Big kitty.”

Seokjin walked beside her, asking about her day as they returned to the kitchen. In her absence, Hoseok had bounced into the room, skin dewy from his evening run and positively glowing with endorphins. Shoving aside what they were having for dessert– demonic threats– she began making herself a plate, Taehyung entering the room with his eyes glued to his phone. Y/N wasn’t sure if he had downloaded a new interesting game over the past week, but he was thoroughly invested in whatever he was doing on the device. Shrugging, watching the Kodiak hybrid absently take a plate, she loaded up her own with salad and pasta. 

Dinner passed by perfectly normally, other than the fact that Namjoon still wasn’t very pleased with her and judging by the way Jeongguk was eyeing her carefully, the wolf hybrid had updated him on what was to come after they finished eating. While Taehyung helped her wash dishes, Namjoon disappeared. The kitchen was clean and everyone was still hanging out, digesting, before they inevitably moved to the parlor for a movie. Y/N’s palms began to sweat when Namjoon returned with the laptop, Jimin making eye contact with her from across the room, nodding once with encouragement. Jeongguk was by the slider door to the backyard, the glass cracked open as he lit up a cigarette to smoke out of it. 

Namjoon setting the laptop on the island somehow commanded attention, or perhaps it was the way he was carrying himself in that moment, grave and full of authority. Even Yoongi paused his wipe-down of the stove, his spotted ears perking up. 

“House meeting,” Jeongguk announced dryly, staring out the window and flicking ash outside. 

“Huh? New chore chart or something?” Hoseok was holding a popsicle, watching Namjoon set up the laptop, Y/N gritting her teeth, joining the wolf hybrid at the island, glancing up at the tall hybrid and searching for any kind of comfort. All he offered were drooped ears and his mouth set in a grim line. 

“Uh, no. It’s about… you know the thing Namjoon, Jeongguk and I have been investigating for my job? The consults we do for haunted locations,” Y/N began, beating around the bush and feeling Namjoon trudge off to the corner of the room, at Jeongguk’s side. “This first case, we captured some audio in one of the bedrooms. And… I think you guys should hear it, because it was about me.”

The room was completely quiet, Taehyung turning off the faucet and setting down the pan he was scrubbing, and Seokjin materializing beside her in half a heartbeat, worry all over his angelic face. No one said a word, Y/N’s hands shaking as they hovered over the keyboard, and without further ado, she hammered down on the space bar to play the recording. 

“What is your name?”

Static, and Seokjin holding his breath beside her.

“How old are you?”

More static, Yoongi flanking her other side.

“Why are you here?”

“Watching.” 

“How many spirits are on this property? Are you alone?”

“Many are here.” 

Y/N didn’t dare look up from the laptop as the audio crackled, the highlighted section labeled “Julie’s room” fast approaching, and she braced herself, eyes squeezing shut.

“Why are you here?”

“To kill you, whorish witch.”

Y/N expected an outcry of rage, but when the audio ended, the room was deathly quiet, the reedy, disturbing voice of the entity ringing out in the large kitchen eerily. She shut the laptop quickly, feeling her blood pressure rise at the lack of response. Then, all at once, chaos.

“There’s no fucking way you’re going back, are you–” Yoongi started, gripping the granite counter top like he was going to pass out, Seokjin’s voice tangling with his–

“Kill? Can a ghost actually do that? Jeongguk–” Seokjin was desperately holding on to Y/N’s shoulders like she was about to be taken from him and ritually sacrificed, his expression more panicked than she had ever seen it. 

Head spinning, she felt Seokjin shaking her shoulders, beside himself, Yoongi still cursing and telling Y/N she shouldn’t go back, she can’t go back. The beginnings of an anxiety attack clutched at her oxygen-starved lungs, Yoongi and Seokjin so distraught she hardly noticed how everyone else was faring. 

“Please, please, Y/N. You can’t get hurt,” Seokjin begged, and she swore she saw tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Truly, the image she had conjured up in her head earlier at the home improvement store paled in comparison to reality; reality was absolutely hellish. 

“Calm down, you two,” Jeongguk called from the slider, tossing his half-smoked cigarette into the outdoor ashtray. “Give her a few inches of space.”

Seokjin did not obey, but he loosened his hold on her shoulders, lips slamming shut. Yoongi stopped swearing, but his knuckles were white with how tightly he was holding onto the island. She tore her eyes from Seokjin’s watery ones, whipping her head towards the elk hybrid, who seemed determined and confident. Y/N supposed it wasn’t exactly a shock to him, as he heard the audio before, and had probably dealt with entities like that in his past. Namjoon was standing beside him like a club bouncer, stony and aloof. 

The others, however, were watching Yoongi and Seokjin with great surprise. Those two were usually the more calm and collected of the bunch, so to see them become slightly hysterical was definitely a shock. Jimin, at the breakfast nook, was white as a sheet– Y/N hadn’t disclosed the entity’s exact wording, and he looked like he was going to be sick. Hoseok, a statue by the refrigerator, had wide eyes and mango juice running down his wrist as his forgotten popsicle melted all over him. 

“Y/N, listen to me. Tell me you’re not planning on going back to that house,” Yoongi tried to compose himself, head down as he stared at her, Y/N’s lower lip wobbling at the look on his face. 

“I–”

“She is,” Namjoon answered for her, bluntly and with deep resentment. “Don’t even bother trying to talk her out of it.”

Yoongi sagged, head in hands, apparently the words striking home. Yoongi was well aware of Y/N’s stubbornness, and that if she set her mind to accomplish something, nothing would tear her away from trying. Finally, Seokjin’s hands slid from her shoulders, turning his head sideways and using the back of his hand to swipe under his eyes, defeated. 

“Wait. This is fucking nuts. You’re telling me you recorded a ghost saying that to you?” Hoseok dumped his half-melted popsicle in the sink, regaining motor function and scoffing, however, the green tint to his skin gave away the fact that the resident skeptic was starting to believe, at least a little. 

“No, it was the sound of the wind, dipshit,” Jeongguk rolled his eyes, but he crossed his arms over his chest and focused on Y/N. “Y/N is a big girl. She’s stronger than you think. Let her make her own decisions.”

“You didn’t answer me. Can it actually kill her?” Seokjin’s tone was darker than ever, and he left her side to stalk over to Jeongguk. Growls came from the back of his throat, towering over Jeongguk at that moment, though the elk hybrid simply assessed Seokjin lazily. 

“Short answer, yes,” Jeongguk answered honestly, Y/N’s stomach dropping as she attempted to soothe Yoongi with a hand on his back– only to find it shaking. “But it’s rare. Usually happens during a demonic possession, and a possession takes weeks, sometimes months, to happen. Relax, jaguar, get out of my face. We’ve been monitoring her all week, the spirit didn’t follow us home. It was probably threatening her because it knows she has the ability to banish it.”

Seokjin, again, did not listen to Jeongguk, baring his teeth at the elk hybrid with his tail violently thrashing behind him. 

“I don’t want her there, either. But like Jeongguk said, you have to let her make her own choices,” Namjoon cut in, putting a broad palm between Jeongguk and Seokjin’s chests. Sick of them talking about her like she wasn’t in the room, Y/N removed her hand from Yoongi’s back, spinning around to glare at the three in the corner of the kitchen. 

“I don’t want this turning into a fight. Can we just talk like adults? I know it’s… startling to hear. But you all have to give me some credit, can’t you? I mean, I was able to banish the demon from this house. I lived with the attachment for years prior to even knowing any of you, and was never physically harmed.”

“But Y/N–” Hoseok began, however, Y/N held her hand out to stop him. 

“I promised the Sanders family I would help them. To back out on that promise out of fear is cowardly bullshit. There are children in that house, living with that thing. If that’s how it threatened me, someone who had only been in the building twice, what is it saying about the kids?”

The room fell into silence again. Realizing she hadn’t heard a peep from Taehyung, she looked around the room, each of her hybrids in various states of discomfort, anger, and distress– the latter of which affecting Yoongi the most. 

“I think– I think I need some air,” Seokjin broke the silence, cracking open the slider even further and slipping outside, Y/N’s heart breaking. 

“Y/N? Are you alright?” Y/N froze, Taehyung’s soulful, resonant voice came from behind her, making her flinch in surprise. Those days, he really didn’t talk to her unless he had to, considering he was so glued to his phone or his camera it was nearly impossible to get his attention, so hearing him address her specifically had tingles shooting down her spine. 

“I’m okay, Tae,” Y/N softened, his usual kind, trusting face appearing in front of her, reaching out to take her trembling hands. “Are you?”

“I believe in you,” he responded quietly, tugging her forward slightly to give her a brief hug, something she didn’t realize she needed so bad. “If you go, promise you’ll come back.”

“Oh, I promise,” Y/N mumbled into his shoulder, her hands fisting in the fabric of his sweater over his lower back. It was the most physical contact she had from Taehyung in a long while, and the fact that he offered her comfort while the others dissolved into pieces had her heart galloping in her chest. “Everything is going to be okay. I’ll come back to you all in one piece, I swear.”

Taehyung let her go, nodding once, taking her promise as an oath. Y/N bristled when Namjoon approached, swiping up the laptop, his iciness slightly dissipating when he noticed how much it affected her. Placing a palm on top of her head, somewhat awkwardly, Namjoon left the room with his bitten ear flickering and Jeongguk close behind. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she worried for Seokjin, outside in the cold without a coat, she worried for Yoongi, pale and hunched over beside her, and Hoseok and Jimin looked like neither of them could wrap their heads around the entire situation. 

“Um… I’m gonna try and get Jin to come back inside,” Hoseok cleared his throat after rinsing the melted mango popsicle off of his forearm and wrist, not bouncing back as quickly as he usually did after an uncomfortable situation. “Jimin, set up the TV.”

Although the fox hybrid wasn’t totally bouncing back just yet, Y/N suspected he was trying to grasp onto normalcy by not abandoning their nightly routine. Taehyung, sparing her one last meaningful look, whisked himself away to the parlor, and Y/N heard him shoving more logs into the fireplace distantly. Jimin, slowly, got up from his seat, heeding Hoseok’s suggestion and bringing his glass of whiskey along with him, leaving her and Yoongi alone. She had an inkling that they all left the room on purpose, for Y/N to attempt to soothe Yoongi, but she didn’t know where to start. “Yoongi, baby,” Y/N murmured, the leopard hybrid still leaning over the counter with his head in his hands. “Look at me.”

Yoongi didn’t budge, but he began muttering to himself, far too quietly for Y/N to hear what he was saying. His tail was completely still, limp, ears drooped, and Y/N felt terrible for being responsible for his misery. 

“Please, look at me? Yoongi?” Y/N tried again, hesitantly placing a hand on his bicep, yelping when he straightened, immediately yanking Y/N into his chest, shoving his face into her neck and clawing at her back through her blouse. “O-oof. Angel…”

At least he stopped shaking, hugging her so tight the breath was stolen from her lungs, the leopard hybrid manipulating her head so it similarly rested in the crook of his neck. She stopped speaking, letting him hold her silently, stroking her hands through his hair– somehow, in all of the chaos, his elastic band came loose, his inky hair falling messily around his face. 

“I can’t lose you again,” Yoongi finally spoke, voice scratchy with emotion. “I can’t.”

“You won’t,” Y/N answered immediately, clutching him close, not even caring that his fingernails were scraping up the skin of her back. “Never again.”

“Baby,” Yoongi moved, cradling the back of her head so she was pressed against his chest– and for once, he wasn’t purring. “I won’t try to convince you not to go anymore, but…”

“You don’t want me to,” Y/N finished for the leopard hybrid when he trailed off, pressing a kiss to his chest through his hoodie. 

“Goes without saying,” Yoongi held her so tight, she thought he would never let go. “But I know you. I need you to be careful, Y/N.”

Y/N had no response. She simply held onto Yoongi, smoothing her hands up and down his back, blinking away tears. While everyone’s reactions had her worried, if anything, it made her even more determined to not only banish the spirits in the Sanders’ home, but also come back perfectly whole and triumphant. 

“I love you, Y/N. Please be careful,” Yoongi whispered after a few moments, kissing the top of her head, easing up on his hold on her. She returned the sentiment, a palm on one of his cheeks, pressing her forehead to his. “Come back to me.”

Y/N shushed him, a tear tracking down her cheek, by kissing him gently, his lower lip between hers as they held onto each other like lifelines. She didn’t deepen the kiss any further, the chaste lock of their lips more like a promise than anything else, and when Yoongi pulled away, he released her from his embrace. He wiped the tear running down her cheek with a thumb, a crooked smile on his face, despite the heavy mood. 

“Only you can bring Seokjin inside, go rescue Foxy,” Yoongi grunted, nodding towards the door. Moving towards the glass, she paused, looking over her shoulder. 

“I love you, Yoongi.”

It had taken her thirty whole minutes to get Seokjin back inside. Hoseok had scrambled away as soon as she was out on the patio with them, Seokjin sitting on a lawn chair staring despondently into the distance. In the end, it was her thorough explanation of all of the protective tools she’d be using, how she’d leave the house at the first sign of danger, and pinky-swearing that she’d call him as soon as they concluded the second investigation that got him to budge. That night, Seokjin insisted on sleeping with her, tucking her under his chin and clinging to her like glue. 

In the days that followed, Y/N started to get a little annoyed by how everyone was tip-toeing around her, as if she was going to burst into flames at any moment. She put her focus on Namjoon and Jeongguk, teaching them how to create an energy shield for themselves, which as her mother predicted, was incredibly easy for them to pick up. Jeongguk– and Taehyung, when he was around– seemed like the only two who weren’t staring at her with puppy dog eyes, pleading for her to reconsider following through on the investigation. No matter how cute Jimin was, Y/N wasn’t budging. 

It was the day before the second investigation, a Tuesday and the last day of February, and Y/N was packing her overnight bag in her room. Tucking a first-aid kit into the pocket of the bag, Y/N hoped she wouldn’t have to use it. Yoongi and Seokjin had been up her ass the entire day, and she finally caught a break when Yoongi took one of the cars to Ben’s for Daisy’s piano lesson, and Seokjin had managed to peel himself from her long enough to help Jimin drag the completed garden beds out of the stable. 

Pushing a hand through her hair, she packed an extra sweatshirt– one of Yoongi’s, just in case she got cold or needed the comfort of his scent, and Seokjin gave her his stuffed alpaca to bring as a companion, a “protector”, as he worded it. She was about ready to take her evening shower and nod off, considering she’d be up the entire night the next day, when a knock came to her bedroom door. Thinking it was Seokjin, she pressed a palm to her forehead and prayed for patience. 

“Coming,” she called, hastily zipping her bag and tossing it by the foot of her bed. However, when she swung the door open, the hybrid standing there wasn’t Seokjin, it was Hoseok, his hands shoved in the pockets of his sweats and his ears drooping to either side of his head. 

“Hey, Hoseok, how was practice?” Y/N asked, eyes on his semi-damp wavy locks from his post-practice shower. “Beat any records today?”

Hoseok shook his head, the crewneck sweatshirt he was wearing hugging his lean frame just so. Hoseok wasn’t one to typically drop by her room, if he needed her, he’d usually text or video call and she’d join him in the basement to hang out. Stepping aside wordlessly, Y/N motioned for him to come in, noticing how quiet he was. 

“What’s up? Want to do some yoga with me or something? I could use some meditation before tomorrow,” Y/N flopped down onto her bed, Hoseok imperceptibly flinching at the mention of the following day. 

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about your plans for tomorrow,” Hoseok scratched his chin, slowly lowering himself beside her on the bed and resting his palms on his knees. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I wondered if I could be the one to talk you out of it, if anybody,” Hoseok confessed, a reluctant look on his face. 

Puzzled, Y/N stared at him, waiting for him to continue, but all he did was seemingly collect his thoughts, twiddling his thumbs together. Opening her mouth, she was about to repeat the speech she had given each of them at least a half dozen times already, but Hoseok cleared his throat and stalled her. 

“Hear me out darling?” Hoseok grimaced, his jaw tensing. “Just for a minute.”

“I’m listening,” Y/N conceded, knowing that when Hoseok was that serious and the golden light left his eyes, he had something important to say. 

“You know I don’t really believe in that hocus-pocus crap you, the wolf, and Jeongguk do. Even back in August… I played along when they did that weird ritual on you, but honestly I thought you just had a little bit too much to drink and fell in the hallway,” he began, glancing at Y/N’s vanity, which now held various materials for her practice such as dried herbs and bells. “I don’t like things I can’t explain. I can’t explain what I heard on that recording, and Y/N… I have a bad feeling.”

Y/N didn’t take the first half of Hoseok’s statement offensively. She was familiar enough with Hoseok to know that while he wasn’t exactly a believer in the supernatural, he respected her practice and humored her whenever she offered him cleansing bath salts or asked to waft rosemary smoke around his bedroom. She wasn’t the kind of person to force her beliefs on anyone else, so she was totally fine with the fact that Hoseok didn’t believe in what went bump in the night. 

“A bad feeling, just like everyone else?” Y/N half-smiled, nudging Hoseok in the ribs. Unlike Namjoon or Jimin, Hoseok didn’t mind her trying to find a semblance of humor in the situation– if she didn’t, she’d crumble into a nervous wreck. 

“I get it, you’re probably sick to the back teeth of hearing everyone telling you that you should stay here. For once, I agree with them,” Hoseok nudged her back, mirroring her half-smile. “If what you recorded really was… something paranormal or whatever, I don’t like that it’s targeting you.”

“Well, remember what Jeongguk said? It probably only said that to me because I was the one conducting the EVP session, and it could sense that I know how to banish evil spirits. Sure, it’s a scary thing to hear about oneself, though.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t really care what the elk has to say. He’s self-serving,” Hoseok hissed, the mood shifting suddenly, Y/N surprised that Hoseok sounded so aggravated. 

“That’s not fair, Hoseok,” Y/N scolded gently, the fox hybrid standing from her bed and staring out of the window into the back yard. “Jeongguk cares. He’s experienced, too. With him there, you should feel better, not worse.”

“He’s self-serving,” Hoseok repeated, making Y/N roll her eyes. Hoseok was like her twin; stubborn, and once he formulated an opinion, it was hard for him to let it go or see it change. “What are the chances I can convince you to stay?”

“Slim-to-none,” Y/N got up as well, joining the fox hybrid by her window, peering up at him curiously. His expression was stormy, his lips pressed into a thin line, and it made Y/N shiver. 

“Fantastic,” Hoseok replied flatly, narrowing his eyes at Y/N. The humor had evaporated the room at that point, Y/N’s half-smile disappearing. 

“Hoseok,” Y/N groaned, tired of having the same conversation over and over again. “You don’t even believe in this stuff. I’ll be perfectly fine, okay?”

“Okay? And what if you’re wrong?” Hoseok shot back, hands on hips and cornering her against a wall, staring down at her beneath his nose. “What then?”

“Well, I guess you’ll have a new reason to believe, then,” Y/N grit her teeth, entirely over the whole debate. She didn’t know how many times she would have to repeat that she’s fine, she’ll be fine, and that they’re all suffocating her with worry. However, her usually well-received sarcasm, at least by Hoseok, did not land gracefully that time.  

“Don’t say that,” Hoseok’s voice was all gravel and menace, anger flashing in his eyes, turning the irises from caramel to mocha. 

“Sorry,” Y/N immediately apologized, her spine now flush with the wall beside her bed, Hoseok trapping her there. “It was just a joke, I didn’t mean it seriously.”

“I’m aware that we have the kind of relationship where we can joke around, but not about your safety, Y/N,” Hoseok’s tone softened, but there was a dangerous edge to it, his eyes skimming her from head to toe as she cowered in front of him, chastised. “On my birthday. The only reason why I agreed to go to a club was because I knew all seven pairs of our eyes would be on you. You only have Namjoon and Jeongguk this time.”

“Hoseok…” Y/N sobered, the fox hybrid so close to her, she was drowning in his fresh, woodsy cologne. “I promised I’d come back in one piece. For you, for all of you. I take my promises seriously.”

Hoseok paused, considering, using a forefinger and thumb to pinch the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath, one that had his rib cage expanding quite a bit, Y/N chewing on her lip and placing a hand on the side of his neck tenderly, feeling his erratic pulse under her thumb. 

“Fighting with you…” Hoseok’s throat bobbed, his shoulders sagging. “Sucks. It really fuckin’ sucks.”

“Then let’s not fight. Trust me Hoseok, hmm? We still have so many places to go, you and I. Our road trip this spring to New York, going to Disney World eventually, remember? I’m not about to let a skanky ghost prevent us from traveling the world together,” Y/N attempted to brighten the mood, stroking through the silky short-cropped hair on the nape of his neck. 

“No matter what, you’re always a ray of sunshine, aren’t you, darling,” Hoseok chuckled, making Y/N sigh with relief, reaching up to pinch Hoseok’s cheek. 

“No, that’s you,” Y/N tugged the flesh of his cheek back and forth, making him shake his head, his whole body shuddering with her touch. To her surprise, Hoseok removed her hand from his face, holding onto her wrist, his eyes skimming over the veins that mapped through the skin. “What’s the matter?”

Hoseok said nothing, his thumb brushing over the sensitive area, ears fluttering when Y/N’s heart stuttered in her chest. Not realizing how close they had gotten, Hoseok essentially caging her in, Y/N murmured his name considering he was basically stuck in a trance holding her wrist. 

“Can I?” Hoseok’s ears turned back, eyes flicking to hers, pressing his thumb firmly into her delicate wrist. “Please. It’ll make me feel better.”

“Uh-huh,” Y/N watched Hoseok’s free hand press against the wall beside her face, crowding her against the surface, leveling her a meaningful look.

“I won’t be so rough this time,” Hoseok remarked, absently, Y/N ashamed that she was somewhat disappointed by that statement. “Hold onto me if you want…”

Y/N had no qualms doing so. She snaked her free arm around Hoseok’s trim waist, grabbing a fistful of his sweatshirt, watching him turn her wrist in his palm carefully. Her breath caught when he brought it to his lips, his eyes never breaking from hers when he laid a gentle kiss on her palm, Y/N’s stomach doing somersaults. Ears twitching, catching the intake of breath she made, the corner of his mouth curled up, littering a few more kisses along the length of her wrist. Hoseok paused when goosebumps rose on her forearm when his lips brushed against a particular stretch of skin. 

With one last butterfly wing kiss, Hoseok sunk his incisors into her wrist, Y/N wincing at the razor-sharp sensation, though she was instantly soothed when Hoseok’s free hand moved to curl around her hip, squeezing comfortingly. The sting was gone as swift as it came, Hoseok’s eyes fluttering shut as his teeth pierced her flesh, and the mind-numbing euphoria that came when her hybrids scented her had Y/N’s head nodding into Hoseok’s toned chest. Humming from the back of his throat, he let her lean on him while he bit her, tongue peaking out to catch a droplet of blood leaking from the mark. 

Y/N wasn’t sure whether or not she was murmuring Hoseok’s name deliriously into his chest, eyes rolling to the back of her head when she felt his teeth pull out of her skin, tongue laving over the bleeding wounds methodically. Hoseok was effectively holding her up now, his arm supporting her lower back while he cleaned up his mess, cauterizing the wound as gently as he could. In stark contrast to how aggressively he scented her many months ago, this time around, he was calm, tender, and almost loving, Y/N let herself believe. 

Before her knees could buckle and she dropped to the floor, Hoseok let go of her wrist, using two hands on her hips to hoist her up, Y/N not even making a noise of surprise as he carried her to her bed and set her down gingerly. 

“How’s your head? Fuzzy?” Hoseok questioned, Y/N’s eyes heavy and lidded as she admired the new mark he gave her, already bruising but entirely painless– and when she prodded at it, the site tingled strangely. 

“Huh?” Y/N didn’t actually hear Hoseok, too doped up, considering postponing her shower in favor of just crawling into bed and passing out after all of that. “My what?”

“Nevermind, darling. That answers that,” Hoseok snickered, and he seemed way less jittery than he had when he first came into her bedroom, so Y/N counted that as a bonus. “Want me to have Yoongi bring your dinner in here? You look like you’re about to knock off.”

“Ooh. Will you?” Y/N perked up, the fog in her brain clearing slowly, kicking off her slippers and wiggling beneath her quilt, Hoseok’s radiant smile spreading across his face. “Thank you, Foxy.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Hoseok muttered to himself, and Y/N was still too fuzzy-brained to hear it. He started towards the door, knowing that Y/N would probably be asleep when Yoongi brought dinner around, her eyes almost shut completely, but something about her angelic expression had him stopping by the door and speaking up more loudly. “Y/N.”

“Yeah, honey?” Y/N peered at him from under her eyelashes, the fox hybrid turning a bit sly. 

“You owe me that trip to EPCOT, don’t forget. I’m not ‘drinking around the world’ without you, so you better come back.”

Y/N’s eyes went wide out of pure shock, Hoseok back to his wiseass self, before she dissolved into a fit of giggles. 

“I’m taking that as a threat. Don’t come crying to me when we’re four drinks in and you’re all sunburnt.”

“I look forward to it, darling.”

Y/N pulled Yoongi’s hoodie over her head shortly after she, Jeongguk, and Namjoon entered the deserted Sanders’ home. The family themselves had been living in a hotel for the past few weeks as per Y/N’s advice, the current state of the building uninhabitable with all of the spirits infesting it. The worn fabric, infused with Yoongi’s vanilla-and-cloves body wash, offered her somewhat of a lifeline, the home absolutely frigid and charged with thick, uncomfortable energy. Namjoon stuck close to her like an overzealous watchdog, Y/N feeling his sharp gaze on her near constantly as the two of them helped Jeongguk set up cameras. None of them spoke apart from the occasional direction from Jeongguk on where to place a piece of equipment. 

Part of the “agreement” Y/N had begrudgingly accepted was Namjoon taking over the EVP sessions and asking the spirits questions. Really, she was only there as some kind of equipment mule, which she supposed was more than she could ask for, at that point. At least Namjoon had taken her list of follow-up questions to use, while she monitored the computer as he asked them. 

Burying her nose into the collar of Yoongi’s hoodie, letting his scent bathe her in comfort, she sat on one of the living room couches, in pitch-black darkness, waiting for the other two hybrids to finish setting up. The only sources of light, it being quarter past two in the morning, were the tiny lights on the cameras and the odd flash of eyeshine from one of the hybrids milling about with purpose. 

“Everything’s set. This was the last static night vision camera to go up,” Jeongguk broke the silence gruffly, Y/N hearing his combat boots clomping along the hardwood just a few feet away from her. “Let’s do some EVP. I don’t want to be here longer than we have to; we already have plenty of evidence.”

Y/N flinched when she felt Namjoon collapse down beside her on the couch, the EVP device clutched in his hand, Y/N only able to make out the faintest shadow of his side profile. Clearing her throat, she booted up the digital audio workstation in preparation for recording, Jeongguk standing by the living room window where what the three of them called “The Watcher” lingered. 

“Got the list? You two have your shields up, right?” Y/N mumbled to Namjoon, the room dropping a couple of degrees in temperature, as well as the wolf hybrid now staring daggers into the side of her face. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to talk, but she wasn’t about to be mute the entire time. 

“Start up the recording, kiddo,” Jeongguk ignored her questions, his silhouette visible by the window– his antlers making him look like a supernatural creature, himself. 

Sighing, shoving her face further into Yoongi’s hoodie, she did as she was told. The nickname Jeongguk used on her didn’t have its usual affect, considering the elk hybrid explicitly told her and Namjoon not to use their names while in the house, for whatever reason. With a quiet grunt leaving her lips, indicating they were ready to go, Y/N clung to Namjoon’s side as close as she could as he began prattling off inquiries. 

“Who are you watching?” After a series of unanswered questions, Namjoon’s tone was growing frustrated, his tail occasionally batting against Y/N’s behind. Nothing was showing up on her digital audio workstation, either. Finally, however, there was a blip appearing on her computer, Y/N tensing as she actually heard the gritty response amongst the static the EVP detector was putting out. 

“Family.”

“Why are you watching this family?” Namjoon brightened, shushing Jeongguk from across the room, who was tapping his foot impatiently. “How did you get here?”

“Portal. Bedroom.”

Y/N was positive she was grinding her teeth into dust. She was dreading the EVP sessions in the bedrooms, and based on The Watcher’s response, the three of them would be heading up there sooner than she thought. 

Namjoon asked a few more questions, but received no further responses. Sucking his teeth, Namjoon made a motion for Y/N to stop recording, switching off the device he was holding. The room was still heavy with icky energy, but quiet once Namjoon turned off the detector, Y/N expelling the breath she was holding. 

“A portal. I should have known,” Jeongguk remarked, already dismantling a night vision camera to haul upstairs. “That’s why there’s so many entities here. There’s a portal that allows them to freely come and go, and my guess is it’s in one of the bedrooms.”

“Oh! That means that I have a way–” Y/N immediately clammed up when Namjoon pinched her thigh, whimpering at the sharpness of his fingernails. However, he was right to snap her out of it– it wouldn’t have been wise to announce that she had a way to close the portal while they were in the house. 

With that, she silently helped the hybrids bring equipment up to the second floor, following Jeongguk’s direction to begin in Tommy’s bedroom, all while clutching onto the burning dragon’s blood incense like it was a flaming sword. Y/N had a sneaking suspicion that the portal was located in that specific bedroom due to the suffocating sensation she had in there weeks ago, one that had her head swimming and breath coming out shallowly. It was a great effort to keep her energetic shield up while in that room, imagining an impenetrable bright golden light surrounding her, and she could feel it taking a good chunk of her lucidity. 

Stiffly, she stood by the door of the room, letting the hybrids take the lead, Jeongguk muttering something in Latin– she assumed it was an expletive due to the acidic way he uttered it. Because she and Namjoon hadn’t captured any audio in that room the last time, they focused on taking video, breaking out the thermometers, and sweeping the area for electromagnetic readings. To no one’s surprise, the electromagnetic detector was going absolutely berserk in that room, specifically in the young boy’s closet. Jeongguk used his teeth to rip a piece of electrical tape to mark the area. 

“I think it’s there,” he announced quietly, Namjoon taking pictures of the closet with flash, lighting up the dark room and making Y/N gnaw on her lip as she saw shadows all around her wolf hybrid. She prayed he was maintaining his shield, but she had spoken one too many times, so she couldn’t mention the shadows curling around the room threateningly. “Let’s get through the girl’s room quickly and get out of here.”

Stomach turning sour, she curled her hands into fists, trying her best not to light her clothes on fire with the burning incense she was religiously replacing as soon as one stick got too low. Namjoon was too busy to hold her hand this time, so she trailed after him closely, feeling utterly sick when they entered Julie’s dark room. Y/N swore she heard growling coming from all angles, low and menacing, but if either of her hybrids noticed, they didn’t say anything about it. Wafting the incense smoke around the space, Y/N concentrated on her shield, waiting for Jeongguk to prop up a single camera and Namjoon to begin the EVP session. 

Turning, she could see outlines of her two hybrids working quickly, but what concerned her the most were the dark shadows now surrounding Jeongguk, too, not just Namjoon, and the density of the shadows were growing by the second. Perhaps Y/N didn’t spend enough time teaching them how to maintain their defenses, or they had forgotten to tend to their shields in the urgency of it all. Before she could say anything, her hackles rising and sensing danger all of a sudden, Namjoon started recording audio and switched on the EVP. 

“Who are you?” Namjoon’s first question rang out loudly, firmly, with an edge of anger to it. “What are you doing here?”

The shadows thickened even more, and it was getting even harder to see either of her hybrids from where she was standing, mere feet away. It was odd that something could be darker than night, like a void, but those shadows were proof in front of her. Queasy, she took a step forward, following the sound of the static coming from the EVP. She hadn’t noticed that her stick of incense had gone out. 

“Did you come from a portal within this home?” Namjoon pressed, clearly pissed he wasn’t getting any answers. 

Jeongguk was scribbling in his notebook furiously, a ballpoint pen scratching against the linen pages when the knocking on the walls started up. Icy fright washed over Y/N, but she tried to keep it together by clutching the selenite in her pocket. Just a few more minutes, a few more questions, and they could leave. And when they would return, it would be in the daylight…

“Give me that shit,” Jeongguk suddenly cursed, snatching the EVP from the wolf hybrid. “Answer us. You can threaten young girls without a problem, but you’re too much of a pussy to show yourself to us?”

Y/N stifled a gasp, definitely not prepared for Jeongguk to antagonize the entity, the shadows pressing down on him immediately in response. He didn’t seem to realize that, though Namjoon certainly did, moving closer to Y/N and his eyes flashing in the darkness when the knocking on the wall turned to pounding. 

“Hybrid scum.” Came through the device Jeongguk was holding, a dry chuckle leaving Jeongguk’s lips. 

“Real original. I’ve had old ladies at convenience stores call me worse,” Jeongguk taunted, Y/N dropping her stick of stubbed-out incense in shock. “Give me something to work with. Prove you’re here.”

The pounding on the walls cut off suddenly. All Y/N could hear besides radio static was the blood rushing in her ears. Shadows still curling around her two hybrids, Y/N really thought something was beginning to go wrong, especially with everything going quiet. Desperate to do anything of use, she squeezed her eyes shut, and with great effort, extended her mental energetic shield around not only herself, but her two hybrids as well. Picturing them in her mind, she felt something warm coasting down her face, ignoring it entirely while she focused on cloaking them all with protection. 

“Judas,” Jeongguk barked, the camera he had set on the tripod knocked off its perch and launching clear across the room, smacking to the floor when the pounding on the walls started up again. Namjoon fumbled with a flashlight to illuminate the room. 

“Elk–” Namjoon sounded panicked, though distant, as Y/N was in a meditative trance focusing on the shield. 

“Shut up,” Jeongguk hissed, continuing with his questions. “Who the fuck are you? Tell us your name.”

Y/N had expended too much energy. It was too much; between attempting to shield three people at once, what felt like spiders crawling up her legs, and all of the noise around her– her eyes snapped open and the shield was broken. At that same moment, two things happened. 

“Fuck!” Jeongguk shouted, pained, hunching over and dropping the EVP device. As the elk hybrid cried out, Y/N’s knees failed her, and she collapsed to the ground in a heap, shakily and blindly trying to reach out for Jeongguk. “Get her out of here. Now.”

Y/N had tears gushing from her waterline, screaming when Namjoon sprung into action, scooping her up around the middle and hauling her over his shoulder. 

“Nooo! Jeongguk!” Y/N wailed, smacking Namjoon’s back desperately as he thundered down the stairs, through the living room, and outside into the night. “Namjoon put me DOWN! We can’t leave him!”

Namjoon didn’t say a word, taking her beating as she struck and pummeled his back, the wolf hybrid hastily yanking open the door to his van and carrying her inside. Fully sobbing by now, the strength she used to try and get herself out of Namjoon’s arms completely zapped, Namjoon quickly started the van to both heat and light it up. Crying brokenly, she went limp, the wolf hybrid moving to the booth in the back of the vehicle, manipulating her limbs so she sat securely on his lap, a forearm braced across her stomach to keep her in place. 

“J-Joon… Jeongguk’s hurt, why did we leave him?” Y/N whimpered, weakly trying to pry his arm off of her midsection. She might as well have been trying to pry off a metal bar on a roller coaster that was across her lap. 

“He’s just getting the equipment. He’ll be out in a minute,” Namjoon murmured in her ear, his free hand searching for something on the booth’s table. 

“But–”

“Hush,” Namjoon interrupted, using his thumb on her chin to tilt her head back, his eyebrows scrunched up in concern, something feathery and soft clutched in the remainder of his long fingers. “Your nose is bleeding.”

Hand trembling, Y/N touched her lips, her fingertips coming away wet and soaked with blood. Namjoon’s ears were flat when he began dabbing away at her face with the tissue, mopping up the blood first and having Y/N hold the tissue to her nose. Tears still streaming down her face, Namjoon’s chest rumbled, reaching across the table for another tissue before he began blotting those away as well.

“You shouldn’t have extended your shield to us like that. You’re going to need a few days to recover,” Namjoon commented when Y/N’s sobs slightly mellowed into pathetic blubbering. She was going to reply when a loud scrape against the van door had her shrieking. 

“Just me, kiddo,” Jeongguk hauled himself into the van, his camera and the equipment bag in one hand, his complexion pale and sweaty as he dumped everything on the ground. “Camera’s fuckin’ toast. Demon prick.”

Turning into a puddle of relief against Namjoon’s chest, her eyes were watering again, thanking the moon and the stars that he made it back to the van. Somehow, the sight of the elk hybrid gave her a spark of revival, patting the back of Namjoon’s hand so he’d let her up. He did so, reluctantly, one hand on her waist as she stood. 

“Are you okay?” Y/N’s voice was scratchy and raw due to the screaming and crying, but Jeongguk simply nodded and looked behind her, right at Namjoon. 

“Step on it, wolf. We need to leave, now,” Jeongguk ordered, Namjoon growling at the command but making his way to the driver’s seat anyways, releasing Y/N’s waist in the process. “Call Seokjin, Y/N.”

“W-what?” 

“The investigation is over. He told me he expects a call, so call him,” Jeongguk collapsed into the booth, wincing when his back hit the seat. 

It dawned on her, turning her head to the kitchenette, where she left both her phone and Seokjin’s stuffed alpaca on the countertop to remind her whenever they finished. Grasping for both items, she sunk into the booth across from Jeongguk before Namjoon threw the van in drive and sped off down the street. Clutching the plushie to her chest, Seokjin picked up on the first ring. 

“Pretty girl? Is it over? What happened?” Seokjin blurted in quick succession. 

“On our way home,” Y/N sniffed, hugging the stuffed alpaca even closer to her chest, Seokjin releasing a shuddering exhale through the receiver. 

“Were you crying? Love, are you hurt?” Seokjin continued, Y/N picturing his worried expression. 

“No, I’m not hurt. Just shaken up, is all. But… We’ll be home in half an hour, so I’ll see you then and tell you all about it, honey?” 

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the call, Y/N feeling bad that she wasn’t exactly Chatty Cathy, but Seokjin had always been understanding. 

“I’ll be waiting. I’ll make some tea, okay? I love you,” Seokjin’s smooth voice soothed her, wrapped her in warmth, and sooner than she thought she could, she smiled. 

“Thank you, I love you too, honey. And thank you for loaning me your plushie.”

She hung up from Seokjin, shooting a quick text to all of the others to give them her ETA, her fingers pausing over the keyboard when Jeongguk made an audible wince, shifting in his seat. 

“Sweets, are you…?”

“Y/N, get the camera, the one that has the flash,” Jeongguk was still pale, wiping sweat from his brow despite how cold it still was outside.

Eyebrow raised, she obeyed, fishing around for it in the hastily-packed equipment bag. When she turned, she squeaked; Jeongguk was in the middle of stripping his black turtleneck off, crumpling it into a ball once he untangled it from his antlers and holding it to cover his chest. Y/N stood there, stunned, both of his sleeves on display, his toned abs caved in as he slouched, biting down harshly on his lip ring. 

“There’s something on my back, take a picture of it,” Jeongguk, rigidly, turned in the booth, revealing the expanse of his bare back to Y/N frozen there like a garden gnome. “Evidence.”

Y/N, this time, could not stifle her gasp. It was the first time she saw the great black-and-white tattoo covering most of his back, but horrifyingly, the excitement of that was squashed by the three long, bleeding scratches across the flesh. The scratches appeared like they were made by an animal with talons, starting at one of his shoulders and ending at his opposite hip, red and inflamed, marring the elegant lines of the tattoo. Y/N couldn’t even process what the tattoo depicted, her heart in her throat when she saw the scratches. 

“Holy fuck, Jeongguk,” Y/N exclaimed, rooted to her spot behind him with the camera in one of her hands, forgotten. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Namjoon called from the driver’s seat, trying to see what was going on by peering into the rearview mirror. 

“Jeongguk got scratched,” Y/N reported, her cadence wobbly from trying to swallow down more tears. 

“Take the picture, Y/N,” Jeongguk spoke through his teeth, bracing his forearms on the booth’s table. 

“Jeongguk, watch your goddamn tone,” Namjoon warned, speeding onto the highway in the direction of their home. “Stop ordering her around like a spoiled prince.”

For once, Jeongguk didn’t have a snide remark, a bead of sweat rolling down his spine and mingling with the blood, the sting of it making him hiss and groan. Frantically, Y/N snapped several pictures from different angles, her heart clenching as she watched blood ooze from one of the deeper gashes. 

“Good? You got them?”

“Uh-huh,” Y/N said gravely, setting down the camera and reaching for her overnight bag. “Now it’s my turn to call the shots, you two. Jeongguk, you’re gonna sit still and let me bandage you, and Joon, you’re gonna slow down at least 15 miles per hour.”

She could have bet a fair sum that Namjoon chuckled from the front seat, but he heeded her request, lightly pressing the breaks and merging into the slowest lane on the highway. Jeongguk was still slouched, though uncharacteristically free of protests when Y/N sat directly behind him, setting her first-aid kit on the table with a solemn thunk. 

“You know, I hoped I wouldn’t have to use this…” Y/N sighed, opening up the kit and rummaging through it for some alcohol wipes. Due to how long the three scratches were, she’d probably need all of the wipes she had in the plastic box. “Jeongguk, we promised Julie we wouldn’t instigate the spirits. Why did you do that?”

“We weren’t going to get anywhere unless I did,” Jeongguk grunted while Y/N used her teeth to tear a wipe packet open, swiping it along his left shoulder where the scratches began. 

“I… hmm. How do I put this,” Y/N methodically cleaned up Jeongguk’s wounds, starting to make out the image his tattoo depicted– some kind of winged, cloaked figure. “I know you have lots of experience, Jeongguk. But I think, had I known that was where your thought process was leading, things could have gone a lot better. The element of surprise when it comes to these investigations, between teammates, is so, so, stupid and reckless.”

From the front seat, Namjoon hummed loudly in agreement. Jeongguk simply kept his mouth shut, Y/N not knowing whether or not he was giving her the silent treatment, jolting in his seat when she passed an alcohol wipe over a particularly deep scratch. 

“So next time, if you want to go Zak Bagans on the spirits, just run it by me first. Alright?”

Jeongguk grumbled in offense, Y/N too tired to scold him any further. Happy with how she cleaned the scratches, she tossed the last slightly-bloodied alcohol wipe on the table, pulling soothing and antibacterial ointment out of her kit. The cab of the van was quiet except for the folk tape Namjoon switched on, which was turned down low for ambience. Y/N had a suspicion he put it on for some comfort. 

She had never been able to touch so much of Jeongguk’s skin. Of course, he ran hot like all of the other hybrids, Y/N’s fingertips gingerly applying ointment to his scratches. Trying to be gentle, she cooed when Jeongguk flinched again as her fingers passed over his mid-back. As she worked, she admired not only the tattoo covering his back, but the ones wrapping around his triceps and elbows. Attempting to distract him from the pain, Y/N dared to ask him a question. 

“Sweets? What’s this tattoo on your back? Is it a fallen angel or something?”

“Saw it on the wall in the shop and liked it. I don’t know, it’s some kind of winged grim reaper,” Jeongguk’s shoulders shrugged indifferently, Y/N taking a moment to sit back and really get a good look at it. 

Indeed, the figure resembled a skeleton, cloaked in black, holding a scythe. Its large wings extended over Jeongguk’s shoulder blades, the tips of the wings nearly meeting at the nape of his neck, where Y/N had seen the tattoo peeking out from the backs of his shirts on one or two occasions. The tattoo was expertly done, the linework precise and bold, Y/N running a finger over one of the wings, Jeongguk’s muscles tensing. 

“How did you afford all of those tattoos and holes in your face and ears while on the run?” Namjoon asked, in a way that told Y/N that he had been holding onto that question for quite some time. 

“I exorcized a tattoo shop in L.A. before I got out of that cesspool,” Jeongguk explained, Y/N resuming her task by cutting strips of gauze for his bandages. “It was like one of my first ‘gigs’ or whatever. Anyways, the owner was so grateful, she pretty much gave me unlimited tattoos and piercings free of charge. And with the prices of these fucking things–” Jeongguk gestured to some of the ink on his biceps, “I took advantage of that free ticket.”

“That’s a cool story,” Y/N remarked, realizing she didn’t have a lot of information on Jeongguk’s past, other than how he came to Gerry’s shelter all those months ago. “This one on your back is beautiful. She did such a nice job.”

“Thanks,” Jeongguk began rubbing at his bicep, Y/N surprised he thanked her at all as she began taping gauze to his back. 

“What’s this one?” Y/N poked his deltoid, unable to make it out, letting her eyes roam all over his arms indulgently. It was the first time she had an excuse to gawk at them. 

“That’s the moon, kiddo. What are you blind?” Jeongguk turned his face slightly, staring down at the tattoo on his shoulder, Y/N glancing at his side profile; the sharpness of his nose, the labret threaded through his eyebrow, the angle of his jaw. 

“How many do you think you have? Oh, it must be hard to count, considering they’re sleeves. Do you have any on your legs? What was your most painful piercing?” Y/N rapid-fired, both unable to help herself and loving that the conversation was distracting her from the fact that her elk hybrid had gotten hurt under her watch. 

“Whoa, slow down. What is this, twenty questions?”

“You could at least do me the courtesy of answering one,” Y/N muttered resentfully, smoothing the last pieces of tape in place. 

“I’m not going to tell you which piercing was the most painful, it depends on the person,” Jeongguk replied, an odd tone taking over his voice– awkwardness? “So fine. No tattoos on my legs. Happy?”

“Satisfied,” Y/N confirmed, smirking. “Alright, you’re patched up. You should probably skip the salt bath until they’re more healed. I’ll just waft some palo santo over you or something when we get home.”

Jeongguk shifted, sitting correctly in the booth now, this time not grimacing when his back hit the fabric of the booth. Y/N’s eyes went to his black turtleneck, forgotten beside him, and before she could stop herself, her greedy gaze was on his chest– and she was not prepared for what she saw. 

Besides the fact that Jeongguk was well-muscled, almost like a dancer, his chest was free of any ink, but there was something that had her mouth dropping open when her eyes trailed upwards. Jeongguk had his nipples pierced, silver barbells threaded through them, which had Y/N positively reeling. She supposed she shouldn’t have been so surprised, he had countless piercings in his ears and the two in his face, but the sight of the nipple piercings had her mouth watering and heat flooding her cheeks. 

“What?” Jeongguk lifted his eyebrow, noticing her gaping fish mouth. 

“Nothing! I’m gonna go sit up front!” Y/N blurted, stuffing the first-aid kit into her overnight bag and scrambling to the front of the vehicle, scooping up Seokjin’s plushie as she went.

Jeongguk snorted as she hobbled away, struggling back into his turtleneck– even though Y/N ordered special ones that had stretchy necks to cater to hybrids with antlers, it was still a sort of gymnastics routine for him. 

“How are you doing?” Namjoon inquired once she buckled in beside him, never taking his eyes off the road. 

“I’m better, but exhausted. Sorry for going postal on you. Is your back bruised?”

“Please,” Namjoon scoffed, sucking his teeth. “It was like someone throwing pebbles at me.”

“Way to stroke my ego, Joon Bug,” Y/N grouched, sinking into the oversized fabric of Yoongi’s sweatshirt with an exaggerated offended expression. 

“We’re almost back,” Namjoon commented, sneaking a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. “You definitely need at least 10 hours of sleep. Doing what you did with the shield–”

“Was idiotic?” Jeongguk offered from the back of the van, Y/N giving him the finger over the back of her headrest. 

“No, jackass. Unwise, I would say,” Namjoon bared his teeth at Jeongguk through the rearview mirror. 

“I saw shadows around you two. I didn’t know whether or not you guys were maintaining your own shields, that’s why I did it. I only wanted to protect you,” Y/N defended her actions, pouting and cradling the alpaca plushie in her arms. 

With that, the two hybrids stopped chiding her, the weight of her words having the both of them regretting saying anything at all. Namjoon cleared his throat, turning the volume up on his tape, Y/N giggling when she heard Jeongguk complain noisily. 

“I get scratched by a fuckin’ demon, now I have to listen to some asshole play the spoons on a tape from 1955,” he groaned, Namjoon shaking his head while he pulled off of the highway, into their town. “I need a cigarette.”

“Are you bleeding? I can smell your blood,” Seokjin tackled her as soon as she stepped a singular toe into the foyer, a note of panic in his tone as he gathered her in his arms, frantically tracking his eyes all over her body for any sign of injury. 

“I had a nosebleed on the way home. I’m okay, honey,” Y/N sunk into Seokjin’s embrace, winding her arms around his neck. She was wilting with exhaustion, at that point, but she knew she’d have to make the rounds to assure everyone she was unharmed. “I missed you bunches.”

Seokjin didn’t respond with words, instead his chest vibrated with elated purrs that she was home, in his arms, safe and sound. Placing a gentle kiss between her eyebrows, Seokjin released her so she could greet everyone else lingering in the foyer, though he remained by her side. Y/N knew it would take a crowbar forged from diamonds to get the jaguar hybrid to remove himself from her proximity, at that point. 

Jeongguk shouldered by her with the equipment bag, bidding her a goodnight, immediately blasting up the stairs to his room. Y/N’s gaze followed him, and in consequence she caught sight of Taehyung, who was sitting on the landing with his palms on his knees. Blinking at her, she offered him a wave, one he returned timidly. 

“Catch any ghosts?” Hoseok was leaning against the door to the basement, dark circles under his eyes from staying up so late. It was well past four in the morning, Y/N a little sheepish knowing everyone stayed awake waiting for her return. 

“Caught more than ghosts,” Namjoon muttered from behind Y/N, rifling through her overnight bag to look for the bundles of rosemary to burn. 

“Yeah, not my department,” Hoseok shook his head, Y/N weakly snorting at the joke. “Welcome home, darling. I’m gonna hit the hay, I can barely see you standing there.”

Jimin returned from behind the stairs where he was hanging up Y/N’s coat in the closet, relief all over his face, seeing her very much intact and in front of him. All who was missing was Yoongi, who Y/N suspected was in the kitchen. Jimin bade her goodnight, as did Namjoon, who reminded her to cleanse herself with the rosemary before going to bed, and under her nose, Taehyung slipped away silently into his bedroom upstairs. 

“Let’s get you some tea,” Seokjin grabbed her hand and herded her to the kitchen, Y/N wobbly on her feet as she clutched Seokjin’s plushie under her free arm. “Then you’re going to bed.”

“Yes, sir,” Y/N chuckled tiredly, squeezing his palm as they entered the lowly-lit kitchen, Y/N finding her suspicion to be correct– Yoongi was by the stove, using a pot holder to take the kettle off of the flame. “I’m back…”

Yoongi turned, sparkles in his eyes as he took her in, a look of significance blossoming over his face. That time, she did come back to him. 

“You look like you got sucker punched,” Yoongi said, contrary to the meaningful telepathic interaction the two of them had. “Was it bad?”

“It was pretty bad,” Y/N admitted, Seokjin humming sadly and sliding his hand down her back. “Jeongguk got scratched.”

“No shit,” Yoongi’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, pouring her a cup of chamomile tea. “But you weren’t harmed, right?”

“Nope, I just gave myself a nosebleed. Exerted too much energy,” Y/N replied, accepting the steamy mug of tea. Perhaps she should have found it odd, standing in the kitchen between two hybrids she was romantically involved with, but she found it natural instead. “I think I know how to get rid of the infestation now, though. That second investigation was necessary.”

She didn’t expect Seokjin or Yoongi to reply, as the two of them weren’t really into the paranormal, so she sipped her tea with a hum, watching Yoongi wash the kettle. 

“Well, make a plan of attack later. You need to sleep,” Yoongi pointed out, his own face puffy with exhaustion. Seokjin agreed with him, already trying to drag her to her bedroom, Yoongi following close behind with some water and a packet of ibuprofen. 

In her room, Seokjin started turning her bed down for her while Yoongi placed the water on her nightstand, Y/N shrugging and deciding to change into pajamas. Too drained to give a shit, she stripped down to her bra and panties, fishing around in her dresser for a suitable giant tee shirt to sleep in. A sharp gasp filled the room, Y/N lifting a brow and looking over her shoulder. Both of them were gawking at her state of undress, Seokjin with his hand clasped over his mouth– probably the one that gasped, and Yoongi was frozen solid by her bed, staring at her ass. Perv. 

“What? Nothing you two haven’t seen,” Y/N muttered, cheeks ablaze when she shoved a shirt over her head, the material skimming the tops of her thighs. 

Seokjin’s neck was red, averting his eyes from her scantily clothed figure in favor of straightening out her quilt. Yoongi’s ears fluttered playfully, tongue peeking out to moisten his lips, Y/N shaking her head at him. 

“Gonna brush my teeth. Want to chat for a little bit before I go to sleep?” Y/N changed the subject, addressing both of the hybrids, a small amount of shaky hope in her voice. She didn’t really want to be left alone yet, truthfully. Seokjin picked up on the unsaid, nodding, and Yoongi simply collapsed heavily on her vanity chair. 

After her teeth were brushed, she climbed into bed, Seokjin more than used to climbing in beside her, happily chattering away about his evening without her. Apparently, he and Yoongi made a new recipe for dinner, they watched a French movie Hoseok picked out, and polished off all of the ice cream. Yoongi remained seated at her vanity, occasionally joining the conversation, but Y/N could tell he was ready to pass out. She was just as ready, suddenly, Seokjin’s voice luring her into sleep, nuzzling her cheek into his shoulder. 

“Alright, I need to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning, or afternoon, whenever you wake up,” Yoongi stood, running a hand through his mussed hair. Y/N’s eyes snapped open, still tucked into Seokjin’s side, frowning deeply. 

“Just stay here,” Y/N whined, Yoongi pausing in the doorway, looking from her to Seokjin. “There’s room on my other side. Don’t leave me.”

Yoongi appeared conflicted, weighing his options, but Y/N’s pathetic pout is what won him over. Sighing, he rounded the bed, Seokjin helpfully scooching over, and after a few seconds, Y/N was happily sandwiched between her two feline hybrids. 

“Hope you don’t talk in your sleep,” Seokjin possessively wound an arm around Y/N’s middle while addressing Yoongi, turning on his side and pressing his chest to her back. “Like she does.”

“What?! I talk in my sleep?” Y/N squawked, scowling at Yoongi’s face scrunched up in laughter. 

“You do,” Yoongi admitted, brushing hair out of her face, his tail winding around one of her legs. She was surrounded on all sides, hiding her face in Yoongi’s neck out of embarrassment– and all she could think about was how much better Yoongi’s scent was straight from the source, rather than on the fabric of a hoodie. “Last time I heard you talk in your sleep, you were saying something about wanting a piña colada.”

“Actually, you know what? You two can leave now,” Y/N grumbled into Yoongi’s skin, both of them snickering. Seokjin simply tightened his hold on her, planting a kiss on her nape, Yoongi tracing patterns over her arm as she clutched the front of his shirt. “Goodnight.”

Y/N closed her eyes, Yoongi’s and Seokjin’s purrs mingling together and comforting her immensely. Warm, protected, and safe, she drifted off to sleep at lightning speed, her two lovers holding her close. 

“Do you wanna finish learning ‘Bella’s Lullaby’ or not?” Yoongi threatened, his toes curling as Y/N peppered the side of his face with tiny kisses. She was feeling particularly clingy that Friday, after all, she had spent several days after the investigation mostly laying on the couch like a limp tube sock, eating TV dinners and watching trash reality. 

“No, I wanna eat you whole,” Y/N teased, lightly nipping the apple of his cheek, Yoongi rolling his eyes and removing the arm he had around her. “Ugh. Can you teach me something else? Something you composed, I wanna learn something written by the great Mr. Min.” 

“Aren’t I Mr. Y/L/N now? As of August of last year?” Yoongi shot back dryly, Y/N staring at him like he grew a second head. “You didn’t know that? We all have your last name now. They’re printed on our IDs and credit cards for Christ’s sake, silly girl!”

“I never noticed,” Y/N squeaked, fanning herself. For some reason, finding that out had her heart growing three sizes. “Don’t change the subject, angel. Teach me something of yours, please?”

She drew out the syllables of please, knowing that Yoongi had a weakness for her brand of begging. It had the effect she wanted, rosiness coloring his cheeks, rolling his wrists in preparation to play. 

“Well, you already know how to play your song,” Yoongi mumbled, flipping through his book of sheet music contemplatively. He stilled when he got to a particular page, Y/N skimming over the hand-written score with a lip tucked in between her teeth. “This one…”

“One of yours, right?” Y/N confirmed, squinting at the sheet music, noticing tiny lyrics written on the measures in tight, unreadable cursive. 

“One of my firsts,” Yoongi replied. Sighing, he began to play a few bars, the melody simple but slow and jazzy, very different from the song he composed for Y/N. “I think you’ll be able to play it.”

“I love it. Teach me,” Y/N bouncing on the bench beside him, enthused. Yoongi glanced at her side profile, something unreadable in his eyes, though he indulged her anyways and helped her through the first few verses. 

“I wish I could read the lyrics, did you write those too?” 

“No, baby,” Yoongi cleared his throat, twitching uncomfortably. Frowning, Y/N nudged him with her shoulder. “My mom did.”

“Oh,” Y/N stopped fiddling with the piano keys, recalling Yoongi’s profile from the hybrid database– Yoongi was born naturally, unlike most hybrids who were created from labs, and Y/N remembered that on the profile, it mentioned that his mother had passed away. “She’s musical like you?”

“She was,” Yoongi’s mouth flattened into a line, a pit forming in Y/N’s stomach. “She was a singer. We used to perform together at The Black Lodge before she died.”

“I’m sorry, Yoongi…” Y/N whispered, covering the back of his hand with hers. “You wrote this with her?”

“Yeah, it’s called ‘Moonlight Lovers’. She would only want to perform it on nights with a full moon,” Yoongi half-smiled, his eyes going far away as he relived the memory. “I haven’t played it in years…”

“When… When did she pass away?” Y/N asked gently, tangling one of her hands with his, wanting to know a little bit more about the hybrid she loved, his history before she came to know him. 

“A little bit over three years ago. She was in a bad car accident,” Yoongi screwed up his mouth, thumb brushing over the back of Y/N’s hand. “Drunk driver hit her while she was in a cab. The cab driver didn’t make it either– the entire cab burst into flames because the drunk slammed into the engine just so.”

“Oh my god,” blood was draining from Y/N’s face, horrified, watching Yoongi bitterly grimace with his ears drooping. “What about the drunk driver?” 

“Also dead at the scene. Thankfully, or I would have fucking killed him myself,” Yoongi wrapped an arm around Y/N’s lower waist, kissing her temple when he could scent heavy sadness coming from her. “Don’t be sad. My mom… she lived a full life, but wild. She knew, and deep down so did I, that it would end in smoke and flames.”

“What do you mean, angel?” Y/N frowned, unsure what he meant by that, Yoongi using his free hand to play an absent melody on the piano. 

“Well, she had a taste for scum-of-the-earth men that would come into the bar. She’d leave for days on end, and I wouldn’t see her until she had to sing on the weekends. More often than not, she’d come back drunk and high on some sort of pharmaceutical cocktail,” Yoongi continued to play the melody as he spoke, holding Y/N close and soaking in her warmth. “Don’t get me wrong. She was a great mom, I adored her. But her priorities were always messed up… I mean, I have no idea who my father was, and I don’t think she did, either. The only time she really seemed grounded was when we’d perform the songs we composed together.”

It was a lot for Y/N to process at once. Yoongi simply hummed, tracing circles with his thumb on Y/N’s waist under her shirt, letting all of that information sink in for her. Yoongi wasn’t fond of sharing personal details of his past or himself in general. But sharing it with the woman he loved turned out to not be so bad, and if anything, a great weight was lifted off his chest. The hollow misery that would fill him whenever he thought of his mother turned into bittersweet nostalgia. 

“She raised you, so she must have been an amazing person.”

Y/N’s simple response stunned Yoongi completely. Out of all of the things she could have chosen to say, it was something that not only praised his mother, but complimented Yoongi’s very character. Purring, he was entirely out of a reply, watching Y/N in a daze work her way through the first measure of ‘Moonlight Lovers’, his heart racing. 

“Yeah, she was,” Yoongi mumbled, pulling her closer to his side. “You play it well. When I was a kid, I begged my mom to play this song for me on my birthday.”

“And would she?”

“Mm-hmm. Every year.”

“Even if there wasn’t a full moon on your birthday?”

“Even then.”

Y/N paused her playing, expression becoming thoughtful as she scanned Yoongi’s face. He smiled at her tenderly, leaning into her touch when she tucked some inky hair behind his ear.

“Your birthday is in a couple of weeks,” Y/N pointed out, cupping the side of his face with care. “I think I’ll have to practice this piece extra hard so I can play it for you then.”

Stunned again, Yoongi’s hazel eyes glittered, turning his head slightly to brush his lips against Y/N’s palm.

“Okay, then you better get started, sweetheart,” Yoongi tapped the sheet music, even though he wanted to melt into a puddle. Y/N saluted him, launching into the piece straight away with a concentrated pout to her lips. 

Y/N tried, as hard as she could, not to let the tempo falter when Yoongi began to sing, softly and quietly as she played. His deep, raspy voice was surprisingly melodic and velvety at the same time, and Y/N pictured the day of his birthday coming up. The two of them ‘performing’ that piece, with him singing and her accompanying him– the first time he would get to hear the song on his birthday in three years. Y/N couldn’t really think of a better gift for Yoongi. Leaning into his shoulder, Yoongi launched into the chorus. 

“And we met under the moonlit sky…”

Saturday morning, dreary and rainy, had Y/N leisurely stirring cream into her second cup of coffee while her and the hybrids clumped around the TV in the parlor to catch a bit of morning news. Y/N tried her best to keep herself updated, but usually could only stomach about fifteen minutes of the news before one of the hybrids changed the station to something else. Hoseok, at her feet in front of the couch, was letting her absently twist and braid his wavy auburn hair while he snacked on a breakfast sausage. 

Not having any plans for the day, Y/N resolved to do a whole lot of nothing by having an indulgent bath with oils and ordering her favorite Thai food for dinner. She knew that Sunday she’d be cornered by Jeongguk and Namjoon, when they’d try to figure out how to best close the portal in the Sanders’ house. But mercifully, the two of them allowed her a lazy Saturday before diving back into the unknown. 

“Oh great. More shitty weather next week,” Hoseok complained, because even though it was the very beginning of March, winter in Massachusetts was bitterer than ever. “This is the longest winter of my life.”

“Alright, alright. You’ll be upset about the pollen count soon enough. You can change it now,” Y/N felt around her vicinity for the remote, her hand brushing up against Taehyung’s jean-clad thigh beside her. 

Y/N was surprised that the Kodiak hybrid even sat next to her, he had been so absent lately that she had to constantly check he was even home. Granted, many times he wasn’t– he had been taking one of the cars out quite often to apparently snap pictures of the Boston Common or pick up more film, but Y/N felt the distance between them the most when he had his eyes glued to the screen of his phone. 

“Seen the remote, Tae?” Y/N asked, Jimin coming up empty on her other side, Taehyung evidently not hearing her as he scratched one of his rounded, fuzzy brown ears. “Taehyung.”

Repeating his name more loudly, Taehyung’s thumbs flying over his phone screen stilled abruptly, snapping his head towards her with alarm all over his face. Y/N lifted a brow, thinking there was no way that it was a phone game capturing his attention so thoroughly, Y/N had acid roiling in her gut. 

“What–?”

Taehyung, however, was interrupted by the loud ringing and bright flashes from the TV, indicating important breaking news, which had Seokjin flinching in the leather recliner and Y/N swearing colorfully. 

“Good morning, America. Breaking news from Congress after lengthy discussions over the past several weeks. The rumors are confirmed; a major law surrounding the hybrid species has been passed. As of today, March 4th, 2023, legally adopted hybrids may be permitted to seek legal part-time employment and various establishments. This newly-passed law indeed includes another hot-button issue: many state universities will now begin the early stages of developing academic courses for adopted hybrids. Please bear with us as we continue to collect information from Congress, and stay tuned for an in-depth debriefing from The White House later this evening.” 

“Huh?!” Hoseok shot up from Y/N’s feet like a rocket, shouting and pointing at the woman reporting the news on their flatscreen. “What the fuck?!”

“Oh my god,” Y/N slapped a hand over her mouth, unable to believe her mother was right about the rumors floating around. 

“Wait, we can get jobs now? Legally?” Jeongguk’s voice was behind Y/N, hiking the volume up on the TV– apparently, he was the one who was hoarding it the entire time. 

Namjoon, who was shuffling his deck of Tarot cards on the table where he and Y/N usually played chess in front of the fireplace, was still as could be. The day Y/N adopted Namjoon in August, he had lamented the fact that he could never have legal employment, so the news came out of left field for him. 

“Did she say universities are going to take hybrid students now, too?” Jimin piped up, that look of conflicting emotions he often had written all over his handsome face. 

“The lady said universities are coming up with programs for hybrids, coyote. Do you need to clean out your ears?” Jeongguk crossed his arms, standing beside the couch and staring at the television. “Does this mean you want us filling out applications for McDonald’s, Y/N?”

Y/N extended her leg, colliding her foot against his ass to shove Jeongguk away from her line of vision with great annoyance. She groaned when the elk hybrid didn’t budge an inch. 

“No, you can do whatever you want. They just announced this, so we don’t have all the details yet. But, if one of you wants to apply for some kind of part-time work or take a university course, it’s entirely up to you,” Y/N replied when she felt several of them waiting for her to agree with Jeongguk. “Unless you actually want to work at McDonald’s, Jeongguk, then be my guest. Just make sure you bring me some nuggets home when you clock out.”

Jimin was snickering beside her, while Taehyung was gawking at the TV, his phone forgotten in his lap for the first time in a couple of weeks. Hoseok was amped, his tail wagging as he made laps around the room, Y/N able to see the gears turning in his head. Yoongi, who wasn’t in the room when the announcement came on the screen, appeared from the kitchen, shooting Y/N a very specific look– one that read ‘I’m not leaving this house more than I already have to’. 

“Jinnie, maybe you could get a job at a restaurant! You’d make a good host with that pretty, pretty face,” Hoseok teased on his fourth lap of the room, poking the jaguar hybrid in the shoulder. However, Seokjin didn’t seem interested, much like Yoongi, rolling his eyes into the back of his head. 

Y/N was about to persuade Hoseok to sit back down before she got dizzy watching him pace before her phone chimed, Y/N figuring it was her mother gloating that she was right all along. 

Judy: I’m assuming you heard the news? Tell Namjoon and Jeongguk they are now officially employed by me, that is, if they’re up for it 💫

Blinking at the message, she tucked it away for later, considering the room was full of overlapping conversations and excitement. It was good to know that Namjoon and Jeongguk would get paid for their hard working efforts after all, and considering Jeongguk got scratched on the job, a paycheck was the least he was due.

With that, Y/N spent much of the day clinging to the news station with the hybrids, contrary to her usual 15 minute limit. Between that, peering over Jimin’s shoulder to read the articles about hybrid academic courses he really seemed to be interested in, and finally managing to get Hoseok to sit and calm down, Y/N was dreaming of her end-of-day hot bath every time she shut her eyes to blink. 

“Of course I heard the news, Al,” Y/N had her best friend on speaker, pouring various scented oils into her bathtub before running the tap. “Hoseok already has an offer from the rec center, they want him to coach the junior track team. They contacted Yoongi, too, but I don’t think he’ll take them up on it.”

“Oh my god. They’re gonna be coaching hybrid kids? That’s so adorable,” Alice squealed, Y/N agreeing with her. 

“I think Taehyung got a call, too. Not overseeing the children’s classes, but to stay behind after his meetings and help develop pictures and organize. At least, that’s what I could squeeze from him before he went out with Yoongi and Hoseok to get more information at the rec center.”

“Still being weird?” Alice’s voice turned sympathetic, up-to-date on Taehyung’s strange behavior ever since they all went to the club for Hoseok’s birthday.

“Yeah. I don’t know what’s going on with him. After Namjoon, Jeongguk and I wrap up the Sanders’ case, I’m going to try and corner him for another chat. Even though the two of us royally suck at communication. I just wanna clear the air if he’s still annoyed with me or whatever.”

“Or find out what’s keeping him so occupied on his phone,” Alice pointed out, making Y/N grunt. 

“I guess I’ll find out soon enough. I’m not gonna pry into his business, but I want to know why he’s been so here-but-not-there.”

“So, where are your other boys?” Alice changed the subject, not wanting to upset her friend after such a long, crazy day. 

“Oh, uh… Jimin went with the other three. He seems to be more interested in the academia aspect of the newly passed law. The rec center has a bunch of pamphlets on what the universities are beginning to plan for hybrid students. Namjoon and Jeongguk went out, too. They need to replace a camera that broke during our second investigation.”

“And your newest beau?” Alice referred to Seokjin, since Y/N had told her about the shift in their relationship shortly after Valentine’s Day. 

“Making me dinner,” Y/N giggled– Seokjin had been elated that everyone else had cleared out of the house, claiming that they could have their ‘second date’. “I was gonna order Thai, but he wanted to try and make it himself.”

“God, is he romantic,” Alice swooned, happy for her best friend. “Oh my god. I forgot to mention. I have a date tonight, too!”

“What?! Al, you didn’t say you were talking to anyone! Spill!”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I was talking to him. Remember me telling you about Jeremy, the guy who works at the newspaper with me? He asked me out last week. I almost died.”

Y/N cheered, considering Alice had finally scored a date with her longtime workplace crush, a young man with a preference for funky sweater vests and the tendency to show Alice videos of his cat at home. He was literally perfect for Alice. 

“Of course I remember him! Oh my god, imagine you two fall in love? Heathcliff will have a new sibling!” Y/N thought of Alice’s grouchy Maine Coon, snorting at the thought of having another cat in his household. 

“No, I know. I’m so excited. I have to start getting ready, though, he’s picking me up at 7 and we’re going to dinner and a used bookstore.”

“So he’s your soulmate,” Y/N gushed, ecstatic. Alice hadn’t been in a relationship in years, so it was nice for her to seem so interested in pursuing one with Jeremy. “Call me tomorrow and tell me all about it, please.”

“Only if you tell me about your stay-at-home date with Seokjin,” Alice replied, and with that, Y/N tossed her phone onto her bed with a grin. 

Seokjin told her to take her time with her bath while he made dinner, so she did. Going all out, she lit candles, had Sade playing from the portable speaker, and relaxed in the silky hot water until it became lukewarm. Muscles loose and pliable, she sighed in bliss as she massaged lotion into her skin. Sniffing the air, the scent of lemongrass and savory sauce filling the room made her stomach growl. Y/N simply pulled on comfortable undergarments, tied the sash of her robe tightly around her waist, and slid on her slippers before she was shuffling out into the hall. 

Both following her nose and her ears, hearing Seokjin’s voice sing along to a pop song playing on his phone, Y/N caught him sprinkling crushed peanuts over a couple of plates of homemade Pad Thai. So wrapped up in what he was doing, a satisfied smile on his face, he didn’t realize Y/N was leaning against the coffee bar watching and listening. 

“You have such a pretty voice, Seokjinnie,” Y/N announced her arrival, Seokjin squeaking in surprise and turning on his heel to face her, sleek black tail going ramrod straight. Immediately, his neck colored red at the compliment, his eyes dropping to her bare legs, exposed by her short robe. 

“T-thanks,” Seokjin managed, embarrassed. He promptly turned his music off, Y/N smirking wryly, approaching the breakfast nook where he set up their dinner for two. “Um, everything’s ready. Are you hungry? How was your bath?”

“I’m starving! It was amazing, too. I needed some relaxation,” Y/N admitted, sliding into the booth, admiring the candle he lit, the perfectly set table, and the way he laid a napkin across her lap. “Look at this! Did you follow a recipe?”

Seokjin shook his head, rolling up the sleeves of his loose button down and sitting across from her, still looking bashful. 

“No, pretty girl, I just tried to recreate the one you always order. I kept tasting the sauce until it was right,” Seokjin smiled at her, Y/N unable to believe how romantic Seokjin truly was– it grew by the day. “I hope you like it.”

Instead of responding, Y/N picked up her chopsticks and dove in, not caring that Seokjin was studying her reaction carefully as she brought the noodles to her lips. Y/N was shocked– not only had Seokjin completely nailed the sauce on the noodles, but something about it tasted even better than her tried and true order from her favorite restaurant in the center of town. 

“How is it?” Seokjin asked eagerly, picking up his own chopsticks and nervously prodding at a sprig of cilantro. 

“Um, perfect. Better than the takeout I get,” Y/N could hardly answer him, stuffing more food into her mouth, so beyond caring whether or not she looked like a goober with noodles packed in her cheeks. “Seriously, it’s delicious! Try it!”

Seokjin brightened significantly, digging into his own plate, immensely pleased by Y/N’s approval. The jaguar hybrid was the type to fully focus on the meal when he ate, so there was comfortable silence for a bit, Y/N trying her hardest not to moan and groan while tasting the delicious dish Seokjin cooked specifically for her. She felt spoiled beyond repair. 

“So, I take it you’re not interested in a part-time job?” Y/N broke the silence midway through the meal, taking a break from inhaling her food by taking a sip of chilled white wine Seokjin poured for her. 

“Not particularly,” Seokjin answered after setting his own wine glass down, pursing his voluminous lips. “I like being here most of the time. The book club every week is enough for me… maybe if there’s some sort of volunteer work this summer, I’ll look into that.”

Y/N was thrilled by that answer. Seokjin had made great progress with being more sure of himself, making his own decisions without Y/N’s prompting.

“There’s a farmer’s market that happens every weekend during the summer in the town square. They’re always looking for extra hands, maybe that would interest you?”

“Would you do it with me?” 

“Absolutely. I usually volunteer anyways, but it’ll be even better if I can do it with you.”

Seokjin nodded happily, returning to his dinner, Y/N more than okay with lapsing back into silence so he could focus on eating. Y/N finished her meal sooner than she thought, wanting to lick the plate, truthfully. When Seokjin was done, she whisked away the dirty plates, feeling Seokjin close behind her as she loaded up the dishwasher. 

“Here you go,” the sound of a bottle cap being twisted off filled her ears, Y/N’s empty wine glass appearing before her and Seokjin filling it, standing directly behind her. Humming, she wondered if Seokjin could feel the charged energy of the room, how enamored she was with him. “Oh! I almost forgot!”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, taking a swig of her wine, Seokjin suddenly digging through the freezer for a tupperware she had never seen before. Fiddling with the sash of her robe, she took the opportunity to check him out; the billowy white button-down he was wearing hid his figure but still made him look like an off-duty model, tucked into a pair of dark jeans. Swallowing thickly, she composed herself when he turned again, presenting the tupperware proudly. 

“What’s that, honey?” Y/N cocked her head, Seokjin prying the lid open and fumbling for the utensil drawer to pull out a couple of spoons. 

“Remember that ice cream maker we found in the back of the pantry? I got it to work! I made some coconut ice cream this morning.”

Y/N stared, dumbfounded, at the ice cream. The buttery, rich scent of coconut and vanilla coming from the soft serve and making her mouth water, even if she did just gorge herself on a mountain of Pad Thai. She was gawking at the tupperware stupidly when Seokjin tapped her cheek with two fingers, Y/N finding his vibrant orange eyes focusing on her mouth. 

“Open up,” Seokjin’s tone turned playful, a spoonful of ice cream poised before her lips, Y/N automatically heeding his request. Mood shifting, the jaguar hybrid fed her the ice cream, the treat melting over her taste buds and cooling her rising temperature. Of course, it was luscious. “Good? I added some lime zest, and–”

Seokjin promptly shut up when Y/N was hoisting herself up onto the island, now eye-level with him, tongue passing over her lips. Gently, she took the spoon from Seokjin, scooping up some more ice cream and popping it into her mouth. Seokjin simply watched, overwhelmed; not able to decide where to look. The spoon in her mouth and the mischief in her eyes, the robe that was slipping over her shoulder, or her bare parted legs. 

“Wanna try some, Jin?” Her voice was soft, lilting, and Seokjin was melting like the ice cream. All he could do was nod. 

Y/N took matters into her own hands, reaching out and grasping the loose collar of his shirt, yanking him forward and in between her legs. Startled, Seokjin’s pupils dilated, his hands finding purchase on the granite on either side of her thighs. Nonchalantly, Y/N scooped up another spoonful of ice cream, using her free hand to poise under Seokjin’s chin, mirroring his movements just moments ago. 

“Open up,” she repeated, quietly, Seokjin’s eyes flashing. Despite the strike of dominance that rocked through him, wanting to refuse to give into her demand, Seokjin found his lips parting, Y/N cooing and placing the spoon in his mouth. 

There was a moment, brief, electric, and heavy, where all they did was stare at each other. The spell was broken when Y/N teasingly tugged at his shirt collar again, Seokjin tearing the spoon from his mouth and carelessly tossing it into the sink. 

The jaguar hybrid crushed his lips to Y/N’s, one hand gripping her jaw and the other resting heavily on the top of her thigh, a feral growl coming from his throat when he tasted sweet coconut on her tongue. Y/N reacted instantly, wrapping both her arms and legs around Seokjin, pulling him in close and pressing her body to his. Completely lax both from her hot bath and the delicious meal she was fed, Y/N could think of no better way to end her night– tangled up with Seokjin. 

Seokjin was an amazing kisser. He tilted his head, allowing his lips to slot expertly against hers with just the right amount of pressure. Y/N released a guttural groan when his tongue was rolling into her mouth, exploring eagerly, the hand on her thigh squeezing. She tried to keep up, one hand clutching the back of his head, the other tangled in his shirt collar, wanting to close every single centimeter between the two of them. 

Much to her displeasure, though, Seokjin released her lips with a pop, danger in his eyes. Transfixed, she observed him swipe an index finger through the container of ice cream, and holding onto her jaw again, he painted the melting dessert over her lower lip, pulling down on the flesh so he could slide the digit into the cavern of her mouth. 

Dazzled and trapped beneath his turbulent gaze, Y/N tasted the ice cream clinging to his finger, using the tip of her tongue to clean it, a muscle in Seokjin’s jaw ticking when she hollowed out her cheeks, really laying it on thick. Some of the ice cream slipped down his wrist, Y/N whimpering when the cold droplets landed on her clavicle, a devilish grin appearing on his face when he pulled his finger from her mouth. 

“Aw, but you just got out of the bath,” Seokjin tutted, pushing the material of her robe off of her shoulders so it gathered around her biceps, assessing the mess. 

“Jin–”

The words were stolen from her when Seokjin ducked his head, tongue hot and heavy on her collarbone, collecting the cream that he spilled. Not expecting such a lewd, forward action, Y/N’s head dropped back, a breathy whine leaving her throat, Seokjin’s hold on her waist tight. Squirming on the granite countertop, her eyes rolled back when Seokjin sucked a bruise into her skin, pressing harsh kisses to her throat while she let him have his way with her. 

“Seokjin, oh,” Y/N clasped her ankles around his lower back, trying to press her hips into his. “That feels so good…”

Seokjin preened at the praise, rewarding her with a nip to her earlobe, trailing his kisses along the length of her delicate jaw and back to her swollen lips. This time, she urgently met him halfway, flicking her tongue over his teeth and wanting to eat him alive. Lust was coursing through her veins with a vengeance, and she didn’t care if he took her right there on the counter, at that point. 

“You’re too sweet,” Seokjin mumbled into her mouth, his voice strained, hands trailing to her lower back, making her spine arch into him. “I can’t help myself.”

Shivering in his arms, Y/N thought she whimpered out a ‘please’, but she yelped when she felt his large hands gather her ass in his palms, hauling her weight onto his chest and effectively picking her up. 

“But S-seokjin, the ice cream!” Y/N cried when he started carrying her out of the kitchen, heat pooling in her core with the strength he demonstrated. 

“Fuck the ice cream,” Seokjin simply grunted, Y/N chuckling despite the heated mood. Busying herself while he transported her elsewhere, she pulled a few of Seokjin’s buttons loose to expose more of his chest. 

Taking it upon herself to give Seokjin a few bites of her own, she hardly noticed him kicking her bedroom door shut and sitting on the bed with her straddling his lap. Fisting the material of his button down in her hands, she found a spot tucked beneath the curve of Seokjin’s jaw that had him tensing beneath her, Y/N grinning to herself and sucking the skin into her mouth harshly enough to bruise. Seokjin made a dark noise of pleasure, palms still resting on her ass, letting her mark him up as much as she pleased. 

Y/N cried out when Seokjin forcibly pulled her hips down, her core meeting the hardness under his jeans. Purring, he tugged at the loose knot of her robe, which was hardly covering her up anymore, pulling the material off of her body and tossing it aside. Y/N wondered if Seokjin had some kind of thing for her being nearly naked while he was still fully clothed, but she could not deny that something about that was driving her crazy. Rocking her hips against him, Seokjin moaned, fingernails digging into the meat of her ass. 

“What do you want?” Seokjin ground out, Y/N dragging her tongue underneath his jaw. Instead of answering, Y/N straightened up, biting his lower lip, relishing in the feral hiss he offered in response. “Pretty girl.”

“Mmm… what do I want?” Y/N feigned indecisiveness, trying not to tremble when Seokjin’s hands began to roam all over her exposed skin, fiddling with the straps of her bra. Staring at her gorgeous jaguar hybrid, his cheeks flushed and lips swollen, his obvious hardness pressing against her sodden underwear, she knew. “I really wanna suck you off.”

Seokjin paused, astounded by the forward response she offered, his cock throbbing beneath the rough material of his jeans. Smirking, Y/N yanked a few more buttons free on Seokjin’s shirt while he processed that, before his large hands grasped her wrists harshly. 

“Is that right?”

“Mm-hmm. Please? Can I?” Y/N nearly clawed his button down off of his broad shoulders, crumpling it into a ball and sending it sailing across the room. Lazily, she dragged her palms down the ripped expanse of his chest, the muscles tensing under her touch. 

“You can have anything you want, kitten,” Seokjin’s chest was heaving, unbearably turned on, hooking his hands under Y/N’s arms so he could pull her backwards, the two of them now laying flat on her bed, Y/N on top of him. “Go ahead, take what you want.”

Nearly vibrating, Y/N leaned down for one last kiss, distractedly fumbling for the clasp of her bra. Once the pesky scrap of material was divested from her, she focused on trailing her lips down Seokjin’s body. She paid particular attention to the odd faint scar that was littered across his body, her kisses extra tender and sweet, Seokjin sighing gently and petting the top of her head. 

“I love you,” Y/N murmured, lips skimming over the light trail of hair on his navel that led to the waistband of his jeans. Seokjin’s ears fluttered shyly, especially when she began to rid him of the denim pants, Y/N never breaking eye-contact. 

Positioning herself between his legs, Y/N’s gaze dropped to the intimidating bulge beneath his briefs. Surprisingly, there was a small wet patch darkening the gray fabric, something that went straight to her ego. Seokjin was patient with her, waiting for her to make the first move, no matter how badly he needed to be in her mouth. Tentatively, she cupped what she could over the fabric of his underwear, Seokjin unable to prevent his hips from jerking up to the touch with a sharp hiss. 

“Shit.”

“Feels good?” Y/N cocked her head, running her fingers over the length of him teasingly. 

“Don’t tease me,” Seokjin warned, lower lip caught between his teeth. Heeding his warning, Y/N lowered her head, mouthing over him indulgently. “F-fuck–”

There were two reasons Y/N didn’t wait any longer; she was too eager, and Seokjin was pretty much bucking his hips into her face with a hard look in his eyes. Carelessly, she pulled his briefs off of his body, transfixed by the sight before her. Seokjin was achingly hard after just a bit of kissing and teasing, Y/N nearly going cross-eyed at the sheer size of him– not that she had forgotten how blessed he was in that area. 

“Come on, baby,” Seokjin urged her, diving his fingertips into her tresses, one hand gripping the base of his cock. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Whimpering at the tone of dominance he was taking on, Y/N let him tap the tip of his cock against her lips, her tongue flicking out to taste the skin, making Seokjin shudder underneath her. With the size of him, her jaw would definitely be aching, but she didn’t care– only opening her mouth slowly, using a free hand to wrap around his girth, Seokjin’s touch returning to her hair. 

Seokjin groaned when her lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, Y/N’s mouth already feeling stuffed full, hollowing out her cheeks experimentally and watching Seokjin’s abs clench. So far gone, wanting to reduce him to a mess, Y/N let herself drool over him for more moisture, taking him deeper into her mouth and tracing a prominent vein with her tongue. 

“You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around me,” Seokjin commented offhand, a handful of her hair in his fist. “Oh–”

Y/N was only egged on by his praise, twisting her wrist and jerking what she couldn’t fit in her mouth, Seokjin beginning to whimper under her ministrations, his hips occasionally bucking up to meet her movements. 

“F-fuck, kitten, you’re doing so well,” he gasped, Y/N taking a moment to come up for air, still steadily stroking him and kissing along his hip bones. 

Once her lungs were filled with enough oxygen, she licked a stripe along the underside of his cock, fitting him back inside her mouth, ignoring the ache in her jaw. Whining at the taste of him, the sight of him, sweaty and flushed, eyes glassy, Y/N felt her panties sticking to her soaked folds and was itching to sneak a hand between her legs. Relaxing her throat, wanting Seokjin in her guts but wanting to pleasure him even more, Seokjin swore when she swallowed around him, yanking her hair and moaning brokenly. 

“O-oh, just like that,” Seokjin encouraged, shallowly bucking his hips up into her, lodging his cock further down her throat and making her gag, the wet sound having his cock twitching. The scent of her arousal was thick in the room, heightening the speed at which he was hurtling towards his release, the tears streaming down her face as she stared up at him glittering in the low lamplight. “Filthy little mouth… fuck, I’m gonna cum, kitten–”

Those words only determined Y/N further, momentarily pulling him from her mouth to speak, her throat raw and scraped up. 

“Cum, wanna taste you,” was all she said, and when she resumed her actions with renewed vigor, a free hand coming up to tweak one of her nipples, Seokjin was hurtling off the edge unexpectedly. 

Y/N whimpered at his taste, Seokjin making similar noises as he came down her throat. Y/N tried her best not to choke at the volume of his release filling her mouth, slowing her movements when his hips began to jerk. Releasing him when he whined with oversensitivity, she licked her lips, satisfied she had effectively reduced him into a boneless puddle, kissing below his navel tenderly. 

Before she could get her bearings, or perhaps massage her sore jaw, the world was turned upside-down, and suddenly her head was resting on her soft pillows and she was flat on her back, Seokjin above her. His lips were on her straight away, tongue in her mouth like he was trying to taste himself, Y/N’s drenched panties dampening even further at that thought. His hands were all over her, heated, Y/N surprised that he was still so turned on after his release, arching into his touch with a whine.

“You’re such a good girl,” Seokjin murmured into her ear, scraping his teeth over the bite he left on her collarbone before. “Love you…”

Y/N was writhing under him, crying out when he littered kisses across her chest, his kiss-bitten lips closing around one of her erect nipples. Grappling for a hold on his biceps as he stroked patterns all over her body, Y/N pushed her chest into his face, Seokjin breathily chuckling through his nose as he laved his tongue over her sensitive nipple. 

Wanting to worship her, but scenting her desperation for his touch and attention, Seokjin shushed her when she whined pathetically, rubbing her thighs together. Sponging kisses all over her torso, paying attention to every freckle, mole, and scar, Seokjin hooked a finger into the waistband of her panties, lovingly removing them from her body and kissing either of her hipbones.

“Seokjin… please, do something,” Y/N was melting into her mattress, between his hands roaming all over her skin and the hungry look in his eyes.

“So polite,” Seokjin remarked, parting her thighs, lowly growling at the wetness that was clinging to the inside of them. “This wet, just from sucking me off?”

“Hnngh,” Y/N covered her face, embarrassed, Seokjin tapping on her thigh until she looked at him again. When she did, he was settled between her legs, Y/N reaching for one of his hands, interlocking their fingers desperately. “Please!”

This time, Seokjin would let her order him around. Stamping a kiss over her pubic bone, he got comfortable, gliding his tongue through her slick folds and relishing in the strained moan she offered in return. Seokjin wasted no time, mouth watering at the taste of her pussy, collecting her essence on his tongue and holding her down by her hips when his lips brushed over her clit. 

“O-oh my god,” Y/N could hardly bear it, Seokjin just as good at eating pussy as he was kissing, tears running down her face again when he used the flat of his tongue to level a harsh stripe against her clit. “Jin–”

Humming, bringing a thumb to rub figure-eights on her sweet spot, his tongue dipped down to the fluttering entrance of her cunt, and when he plunged the appendage inside of her, it had her wailing, destroyed. Continuing to work her over, her juices steadily spilling into his mouth, Seokjin peered up at his lover, and surprisingly, he felt himself grow hard again at what he saw. 

Y/N, her hair plastered over the pillows, was canting her hips into his face, and with the hand that wasn’t captured by Seokjin, she was cradling one of her breasts, pulling on her sensitive bud, lips parted in bliss. 

She felt herself humiliatingly close already, though it was hard not to be with the way Seokjin was fucking her with his tongue, relentlessly rubbing circles over her clit, and staring up at her with predatory eyes. Releasing her chest, she buried her hand in Seokjin’s hair, digging her fingertips into the base of one of his silky black ears, Seokjin groaning and grinding his hips against her mattress for friction. It was filthy, hedonistic, what they were caught in the middle of– neither of them could get enough. 

“I-I’m, ah! Gonna–” spine contorting off of the mattress when Seokjin moaned against her cunt, she came with a wail, her legs shaking violently as stars formed in her eyes, heat reaching a boiling point in her lower abdomen. 

Y/N’s release didn’t stop Seokjin, even when she was whining thinly from overstimulation. Instead, he switched things up, sliding two deft fingers into her spasming cunt, curling the digits up expertly and staring directly into Y/N’s misty eyes. 

“Come on, pretty girl, again. Cum again,” Seokjin cooed, Y/N shaking her head back and forth, saying something like she couldn’t– but Seokjin knew she could. “One more for me, alright, kitten?”

Dipping his head back down, Seokjin wrapped his lips around her overstimulated clit, and with a sharp suck and a well-timed curl of his fingers pistoning inside of her drenched pussy, Y/N was coming again– this time with a silent scream. Seokjin swore, rising to his knees, gripping his cock in his fist as he continued to finger fuck Y/N through her high. Y/N’s watery eyes went wide at the sight of him pleasuring himself, even as she continued to ride her high, gushing all over his fingers, and with a deep, feral groan, Seokjin came, hot ropes of his cum painting her lower stomach. 

Y/N was out of body. She had never experienced something so goddamn sexy in all of her life, Seokjin’s chest heaving as he came down from his orgasm, Y/N gasping when he pulled his fingers from her cunt, spreading his cum over her skin with deep, predatory purrs. Twitching, overstimulated and reduced to a complete pile of mush, all she could do was attempt to catch her breath, Seokjin still admiring the mess he made on her stomach. 

“Pretty girl, fuck, you’re so sexy like this,” Seokjin heaved, sweat dripping down his temples, utterly spent. It was all he could do, reluctantly, to reach for a tissue on her nightstand, mopping up his cum on her abdomen. “So perfect. I love you.”

Y/N hardly had the words to express what she was thinking. All she could do was limply lift her arms, inviting him into her embrace, Seokjin taking her up on that offer by landing heavily beside her, taking the quilt from the foot of her bed with him. She bonelessly let him manipulate her into his arms and tuck the quilt over her naked body, peppering kisses all over her sweaty, tear-stained face. 

“You’re gonna need another bath,” Seokjin commented, tracing her ribcage beneath the blanket, Y/N tucked under his chin. 

“That’s a tomorrow problem,” Y/N mumbled, knowing she wouldn’t be able to move for at least a couple of hours. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“Neither can I,” Seokjin snorted, shivering at the feeling of Y/N’s eyelashes brushing against his sensitive, marked-up neck. 

“Another perfect date,” Y/N sighed happily, palm resting over Seokjin’s heart. “Hot bath, a delicious dinner cooked by my perfect boyfriend, and two orgasms. What more can a girl ask for?”

Seokjin paused the tender tracing of her waist, registering that statement, before his chest had delirious laughter bubbling in it, shaking his head and nuzzling his nose into her hair. 

“I think I’ve developed a thing for spoiling you,” Seokjin admitted, squeezing her waist. 

“Don’t stop anytime soon. I’ve grown accustomed to it,” Y/N shot back playfully, her words slightly warbled as she yawned. “I love you, Seokjinnie.”

Seokjin returned the sentiment quietly, seriously, pulling her even closer into his embrace if that was even possible, his tail winding around her thigh. 

“Tired? Let’s get some rest,” Seokjin’s siren-like voice always lulled her to sleep, so she was nodding sleepily against his chest like a three week old kitten. 

“You’re gonna take that bath with me in the morning,” Y/N slurred, Seokjin humming contentedly in response. 

“Anything you want.”

Sunday had Y/N loading half of her witchy tools into Namjoon’s van, making trips back and forth with baskets of various herbs, incense, crystals, and whatnot. Namjoon and Jeongguk had already packed up all of the tapes and photographs the three of them collected during their two investigations, so they let Y/N select her own materials she’d need to close the portal in the Sanders’ home. It was a sunny day, finally a bit warmer than it had been, spring definitely on the way. Songbirds began to make nests in the eaves of the roof of the house, and Yoongi had dragged the basketball hoop back outside for the nicer weather. 

Singing a tune, Y/N organized the last bin of spell candles within Namjoon’s van, and when she was satisfied with how everything looked– she had brought in a few more pillows and blankets for their comfort– Y/N hopped out of the vehicle and locked it up. Thinking of checking on Jimin in the stable, she was rounding the van in the driveway when she heard gravel crunching, the sound of a car pulling in. Turning, she saw her Land Cruiser being parked in its usual spot, Y/N unable to see who had taken it out that afternoon. Deciding to wait and greet whoever it was, she leaned against the dusty side of the van, tapping her foot. 

The first thing she saw was a curly head of black hair as the driver’s door opened, Y/N smiling as she recognized the blue plaid flannel the hybrid was wearing. Taehyung must have gone out for more film or to shoot pictures in the park, Y/N watching as he slid his phone into his back pocket, still turned away from him. 

“Hey Tae! You’re home!” Y/N called, the Kodiak hybrid flinching an inch into the air, her voice surprising him. He spun around, looking alarmed and like he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be. 

Y/N waved him over, only able to see his head over the SUV, and Taehyung pushed a hand through his hair, squaring his shoulders. Lifting an eyebrow, about to ask what was wrong, she felt she was plunged into an icy lake when he stepped towards her. 

Taehyung, his camera bag in his hand and eyes laser-sharp, had his clothes in disarray, and purple, splotchy love bites all over his neck. 

Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp @jaxavance @sunderlight @ot7nem @mageprincess7 @wittyreader @drenix004 @mayla548 @skyys-universe @ddaeng-angmoh @trtlthts @exfolitae @kalala22 @xiusmarshmallow @bangtans-momma @zae007live @paigetj @singukieee @serendididy @lilacdreams-00 @dreamerwasfound @ninjacups @osakis-gf @itwillbealways-d @xthefuckerysquaredx @momowantscats @molshole @uarmyhore @lopprhe @oopscoop @xicanacorpse @i-like-anime13 @demarie04 @im-sinking-in-mud @talkyoongitome @bangtxnbxunch @primrose2507 @kihyunniesmonbebe @7evensin @lilmxchis @00ihatesnaku @neverthefirstchoice @missyoueverysingleday @cathy-1997 @prybts @doublebunv @milopenne @steadycreationangel @rinkud @breadcheeksseokjin @nikkiordonez12

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[godslino]

IN BLOOM | jisung first date series. second chance lovers.

pairing: jisung x fem!reader word count: 13.2k genre: childhood friends au, angst, fluff, songwriter!jisung, florist!reader warnings: swearing, minor character death, grief/loss (nothing to do with any of the members!) summary: it's february. the tulips are in bloom. jisung is back.

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin · · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

a/n: *taps mic* hello?? is this thing on?? oh good. yes. hi. hello! it's been a while, as most of you can tell. thank you all SO MUCH for sticking around. if you've been reading my asks you'll know that march and april were rough months for me personally. shout out to my anons and mutuals who kept my spirits high and made my days brighter. uhhh, this was originally supposed to be a stand alone fic but i figured hey, what the hell, and made it into jisung's first date chapter. it's pretty heavy stuff. lots of feelings, lots of love. i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it! again, thank you so much for waiting for me. i'll be back soon with more updates! all the love <3

also thank you kenzie for being such a light during all of this. i hope all my screaming in your messages was worth it!

“All of these had to be pulled.” Hyunjin huffs, dropping a few crates just past the doorway. 

“Again?” you ask, hands on your hips as you stare at yet another wasted supply. “I don’t understand, they sold so well last year.”

Hyunjin gives you a sad smile. “It’ll pick up eventually, don’t worry. I mean the holidays just finished and business usually slows down in the months after anyways.”

He’s being sincere, you know that. But there’s a part of you that also knows it’s a lot more than just the usual ebb and flow of sales. He’s being nice for your sake.

“Maybe we could try coming up with other ideas?” he suggests, because Hyunjin is nothing if not kind. Always willing, always finding a way.

He moves past you to grab a fresh pair of gloves. The ones he’s wearing are dirty, pollen-stained and ripped at the edges. 

“You’ve always been really good at basket arrangements. We could try to make some for Valentine's Day. Different sizes, maybe? The big ones will probably do well for online orders since they’re more optimal for things like office deliveries and stuff like that.”

You hum in approval. “True. I mean, I was kind of worried we would have to skip out on deliveries this year since we don’t have the manpower to handle all of that, but I think Jeongin’s been looking to pick up hours around here again. He said something about his program giving them a month of independent study, so he’ll be home for a bit.” you say, scribbling down a reminder in your notebook. “I could ask him to help with driving the truck in his free time?”

Hyunjin lights up– he always does when Jeongin is mentioned. 

It’s been a lot quieter ever since he left for college. There were so many tears and so many hugs that were met with countless 'you guys are dramatic's in return. But it’s hard to not feel sad when people leave town; when they decide the borders lined with apple trees and rice fields aren’t enough to stop their dreams from blooming into more than what’s capable of being pursued here.

That, unsurprisingly, is something you know all too well.

“Can’t believe he’s driving.” Hyunjin laments as he wipes his floral scissors with a rag. “I used to spend my days changing his diapers and spoon feeding him redbulls– but now? Driving? My baby is all grown up.” he fake sniffles. “By the way, I’m gonna take my fifteen after I’m done snipping these tulips.”

You snort, bending down to take the crates of wilted flowers to the back for disposal. Hyunjin moves to help but you shake him off.

“Sounds good. Also, don’t let Innie hear you say that. I’m about a thousand percent sure he has the strength needed to throw you into the dumpster with one arm now.”

“My baby would never do that to me!” Hyunjin calls out as you round the corner, bumping open the back door with your hip. 

February brings a lot of rain in Jeju. Today is no different; fat drops landing on your head as soon as you stumble out into the alley behind the shop. Footsteps heavy on wet brick, you curse under your breath as you run as fast as you can to the dumpster.

There’s still a few supply boxes from yesterday’s shipment laying around. You meant to bring them in, but you were so exhausted that it slipped your mind while you struggled to make sure everything inside the shop was figured out.

Scrambling, you haul them in one by one, shoes squeaking against the floor as you alternate in and out, soggy cardboard pressed against the front of your apron. 

Hyunjin’s on break. A necessary one at that. You can’t bother him, especially not when he’s done enough by taking on more responsibility both as a physical worker and a newly actualized business partner recently. A few stacks of boxes and wet hair seem like a fair trade off for what he’s had to sacrifice in the past year now.

“Idiot,” you mumble, cursing yourself for carelessness. Your slip ups have been more frequent lately, evident in the way you constantly forget things and can’t seem to push away the haziness clouding your mind. 

If it weren’t for the timing of it all, you’d blame it on the weather. The gloominess. The overcast skies probably have some sort of hand in your lack of clarity. Shrouded.

But it’s February. And in Jeju— it rains.

By the time you make it back inside, you’re drenched. 

“You look like you just got dunked in a pool.” 

You frown, ringing your hair out into the trash bin by the door. It’ll definitely take time to dry off, both your hair and your clothes are soaked through.

Hyunjin watches with an amused look, arms crossed as he leans his back against the counter.

“Might as well have. It’s insane out there.” you sigh. “How was your break?”

You look up to find that his face has gone unreadable.

“Yeah, about that…” Hyunjin trails off, voice suddenly smaller than before.

“Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah it’s just–” Hyunjin chews at his bottom lip.

You push past him into the supply room to switch out your apron just as he says, “Do you mind if I leave a little early today?”

You scoff, turning to face him. “Hwang Hyunjin,” you scold, lips twitching when he visibly startles at your tone, “You don’t have to ask me that. We’re partners now, remember? We run this place.” 

He shifts on his feet, still unsure.

“Besides,” you huff, tying a knot behind your back, “We were friends way before that, too. You don’t have to be all proper with me. Of course you can leave early. It’s slow today, I can take care of it.”

Hyunjin sighs after contemplating for a second. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, though?” 

When he stares at you for a moment too long, you know the real reason for his hesitation. It makes something twist deep in your gut.

Guilt, maybe, amongst other things.

“Of course.” you shrug, doing your best to seem nonchalant. 

Hyunjin’s ability to read people is kind of intense, a little scary at times. You happen to be one of his favorite subjects in that regard.

“Have fun. Tell Minah I said hi.”

He pales, sputtering around words as he struggles to say something. It’s cute, his plump lips opening and closing, eyes wild.

“I’m not going to see her! I’m–it’s just a movie! How did you—God, you’re so annoying. I should’ve made you trim the tulips. Hah!”

You giggle. “It’s funny that you think I wouldn’t know, especially with the way you love to actually make yourself look busy whenever she stops by to say hi.”

“I am busy.” he mumbles, looking away. “I just emphasize it a lot more when she’s here.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, “Let’s go with that.”

He whines a couple more times, trails after you around the shop and laughs when you swat him away with a rolled up newspaper that’s used for wrapping vases.

It’s loud. Easy. Hyunjin is a gentle reminder that normalcy still exists in your day to day, even if it’s hard to find. 

When he finally decides to leave, he lingers for a moment, triple checks that you’ll be okay. You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time today, but deep down you’re grateful. 

“Love you,” he says, one foot out the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

You shake your head, ignoring him. “Love you too.” 

And then he’s gone, a skip in his step as he heads down the sidewalk, leaving you with nothing but freshly-trimmed tulips and the sound of rain. 

“Herb snips, shears, tape…” you mumble, scanning the supply shelf. 

There’s not much to do in-shop right now. Almost all the arrangements have been tended to by Hyunjin already, his specialty being his keen eye. That’s why he handles the appeal of the shop, leaving you to figure out all the logistics. Learning it all was easier said than done.

In reality, it was never your intention to take over the shop at all. 

“When I die,” your grandma would always say, ignoring the way you groaned and begged her to stop bringing it up, “Sell this place. Use the money for something worthwhile. A trip to Greece, maybe?”

“Nana,” you would scold, glaring at her where she stood next to you, trimming a batch of roses.

Wrinkled hands that still held all the skill of youth. Fingers moving at a speed others could only ever dream of having– you included.

Your grandma handled flowers with the same amount of care she did everything else. It’s no wonder that when they grew they would lean in her direction, drawn to her like they would be the sun. 

“I’m not selling this place. It’s too special, too important. A vacation only lasts so long, Nana. This is forever.”

She would smile, turn petals over in her hand. Sometimes the marigolds would match the glow in her eyes, a testament to the belief you harbored as a child that she had the ability to sprout blossoms from her fingertips.

“The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.”

You wish you hadn’t been so hard headed. Wish that you would’ve believed her, taken the time to listen, cherished the moment a little bit longer instead of relying on the promise of tomorrow.

I’m sorry for your loss.

Your grandmother was a wonderful woman.

She’ll be with you in your heart, forever.

Oh, what a lie forever is.

The shop stays empty for the rest of the day. There were a few passersby, all of whom simply stopped to scan the arrangements along the windows before giving a polite nod and carrying on their way. 

Realistically, the shop has no problem with attracting customers. It’s a sight to behold: mid-floor to ceiling windows with various displays, hanging baskets of winding greenery, countless arrangements that fill the shelves and add a pop of color, and a wide assortment of flowers for each season. 

The real issue lies in your inability to sell. Most people regard the place as being good for nothing more than window shopping and the usual photo-op.

Business has slowed since your Grandma passed; since you took over as the sole owner and were suddenly face to face with the task of making decisions in the shop’s best interest– both integrity wise and from a business standpoint.

“I know, I know,” you say around the pen cap between your teeth, “You used to be the brains around here, not me. I’m not creative enough for all of this, you know? No matter how much I try to be.”

You look up from where your notebook lays open, dozens of scribbles for arrangement ideas and planning. The picture on the wall stares at you, unmoving, eyes as bright as marigolds.

“Don’t give me that look.” 

She stares. A gaze that holds all the answers while also saying nothing at all.

“Ugh.” you groan, leaning your palms on the desk.

You allow your head to hang forward, defeated, exhaustion flooding your bones. 

Just as you’re about to speak again, to complain about yet another thing that probably has her rolling around in her grave, the bell at the front counter dings.

The clock on the desk reads 6:55pm, five minutes until close. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in.

“Be right there!” you call out, rushing to grab your apron from where you’d thrown it on one of the chairs. 

In your haste, the box of seed packets you’d been inventorying goes tumbling to the floor.

“Fuck,” you mutter, bending down to pick everything up. One more thing to add to the list today. 

Off-kilter. Disoriented. Exhausted. 

You sniffle a few times, blinking against the sting behind your eyes as you stand up to put the box back in its place.

One deep breath, a shake of your shoulders. Just enough to chase it all away until later. 

“Sorry about that,” you say cheerily, pushing past the hanging beads that separate the front of the shop from the back. “How can I help you?”

There’s a stranger, his back turned, attention focused on a batch of tulips. Freshly cut. White, blue, purple.

You realize, belatedly, that you’d forgotten to grab your apron in your haste to clean up the seed packets. Another slip up. Nana always prided herself in her apron, wore it like a badge of honor, raised you to do the same.

Just as you spin around to grab it, the stranger says, “It’s okay. I just, um, I wanted to say hi.”

You freeze. There’s a long moment where his voice rings loud in your ears, reverberates against the walls of your brain until it travels through your blood, the feeling like wildfire in your veins until it settles deep in the pit of your stomach. 

Slowly, you turn, heart clamoring in your chest, threatening to stop altogether as soon as you come face to face with the one person you never thought you’d see again.

Because there, at the front of the store, is Jisung.

Jisung, with wide eyes and parted lips. Jisung, with hair that still curls at the ends and falls in shags around his face. Jisung, broader, more actualized, now grown into his features but still undeniably soft around the edges. Jisung, with thick framed glasses pushed up his nose and silver hoops dangling from his ears. 

A stranger. But undoubtedly Jisung. 

“You look…nice.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand.

Three words is all it takes. Ice turns to fire. The blood that had drained from your face returns with the blaze of a thousand suns, anger burning your throat. 

You reach forward, grab the remote for the neon Open sign and click the power button. Jisung watches in confusion.

“The shop is closed.” you manage on a shaky breath.

Jisung sighs, something heavy. “Listen, I’m—”

“The shop–” you try again, louder, “–is closed.” 

Jisung stares. His eyes are still the same velvety brown; big and round and just as you remember. 

There was once a time where the sight of Jisung in your Grandma’s shop made your heart sing. A soft tune, the thrum of a thousand harps, a song only for him.

His heart-shaped smile as he helped her hammer some of the shelves onto the wall. The sound of his laughter whenever you’d enter a sneezing fit from accidentally rubbing your face with a gloved hand. His rosy cheeks, burnt from the wind whipping past his face as he ran on foot to make sure you were okay the one time an angry customer smashed a vase on the floor and you called him crying.

But now, seeing him here, a stranger in a body you once knew like the back of your hand— it feels wrong. 

“I…” he trails off, registering the way your fists are clenched at your sides. 

“Okay,” he resigns, licking his lips. “I, uh– have a good night.”

He gives you one last look, bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and then slips out the door. You watch his retreating figure through the glass panel, dark gray skies muting the sound of your rattling heart.

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is back.

And in Jeju– it rains.

There’s an apple tree in the middle of town where Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. 

Off the corner, a few minutes down the road from where your houses stand a mere five hundred feet away from one another.

Your grandparents were farmers. Your grandma started her floral business a few years before you were born, a dream she always had that your grandpa urged her to pursue once he decided to sell the animals to a younger, more capable couple that could take care of them. 

Jisung’s parents, new residents on the island, looking to settle down and start a family. 

That’s how it happens. Yours and Jisung’s story, two authors of the same book, destined since the start.

Jisung was born on the same night your mother left you at your grandparents’ doorstep. One note, an apology, is all you’ve ever known about her. Your grandma never cared to indulge you. You’re glad in a way. She provided more than enough love to make sure you never felt an absence in her wake. 

The townspeople used to say you and Jisung were soulmates. Something about the heavens knowing he would need a friend, hence why you were delivered that night. From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable. 

Attached at the hip, you and Jisung grew up together. First steps, first birthdays, firsts for everything under the sun.

Jisung was there in the morning to walk with you to school and he was there at night when the two of you tucked into bed, sleepovers a regular occurrence, both of you counting the pale green stick-on stars dotting his ceiling until you fell asleep. 

Jisung was always around. He held your hand and walked with you to the nurse’s office the first time you got stung by a bee. He wiped your eyes when the boy you liked told you he only ever saw you as a friend, your first rejection. He sat with you under the stars the night your grandpa died, your face tucked into his neck as you stained the collar of his shirt with tears until you were too tired to cry. In the years that followed, he took care of you and your grandma like the two of you were his own. 

Jisung, for lack of a better word, was your first forever.

“You could come with me, you know.” 

Under the stars, real ones that time, Jisung had turned to you and offered the world. 

The air was cold. The apple tree was bare.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll be together, we’ll experience new things. I can do music and you can study all that history stuff you like to learn about. You know, nerdy things.”

“They’re not nerdy things, Ji. Don’t you know everything we have now is because of what’s happened before us?” you’d asked. “Doesn’t it make you wonder? Learning about the past helps us better understand the present, and ultimately the future.”

Jisung had hummed softly, an agreement. “I don’t care about the future, though.” he’d said. “I care about right now. You, me, this.” 

When you turned to look at him, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at you from above as the moon casted a halo around his head. 

“I love you,” he whispered, “And I want you to come with me.”

Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the ambition to make it his own. 

You, with all your hopes stuffed tight into a suitcase and chained to a boulder, thrown into the ocean. Sinking and sinking until it hit the bottom.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

Images of marigolds flashed behind your eyes when you closed them, a tear rolling down your cheek. Jisung’s mouth was soft when he kissed it away, salt on his lips. Burning. 

“But I can’t.” you choked. 

Under the apple tree, Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. He promised that the distance would be no match for him, that he would traverse oceans to find his way back. He promised forever.

It was February. The tulips were in bloom. Jisung left to pursue his dreams with a guitar on his back and your heart in his hands. Your understanding of forever was shot at point blank. The bullet passed clean through you. 

And in Jeju– it rained.

“I think you should talk to him.”

The sun is out today. Perfect weather for another field harvest. The distributor had called you early in the morning to ask if you’d be willing to accept a drop off even though it’s the weekend. You’d agreed, calling in your most reliable help for the job.

“And I think you’re not helping.” you huff, snipping the head off another hyacinth.

“Agreed,” Hyunjin parrots from beside you, currently in the middle of putting together an arrangement, “This guy sounds like a total dick.”

Chan sighs from behind the two of you, his knees knocking against the legs of the desk when he swivels back and forth in the chair. 

Besides Hyunjin and Jeongin, both of whom moved into town after you’d already graduated, and of course, Jisung– Chan is your oldest friend. 

Chan was also a neighbor of yours. Three years older than you and Jisung, he was the one who acted as a role model for the two of you when growing up. Nowadays he helps his parents run the largest orange grove on the island during the day and DJs one of the clubs in the tourism hub at night. 

“Jisung’s not a dick, he’s just–”

“An asshole.” you finish, smirking when Hyunjin cackles. 

Chan sighs. Again. “Yeah okay, I’ll give you that one.”

“Listen, I know I’ve never met him, but isn’t it weird that he just, like, showed up?” Hyunjin asks, setting down his scissors. You continue trimming the hyacinths, listening halfheartedly.

“I mean, think about it. Dude disappears to pursue music, right? He’s gone for what– three years?”

“Four.” you correct.

“God, even worse.” he grimaces.

“But yeah, okay, four years. And then boom! He just strolls in through the front door without so much as a word during the time he was gone? No letters, no phone calls, not even a damn visit. Nothing! All so he can pop up and go ‘oh, you look nice’? Come on.” he scoffs, crossing his arms.

You wince, caught off guard because you’ve never really heard it phrased as bluntly as Hyunjin put it just then. It’s no surprise that he’s annoyed, having only just heard the full story thirty minutes ago. He’d been shocked, partly because you never told him and also because he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Okay, yes, he was wrong for that. But isn’t part of you even just the least bit curious as to why?” 

You pause mid-snip, mulling Chan’s words over in your head.

The most frustrating part about it all is that you are curious. You wish you weren’t, though. Not when you’ve spent the past four years trying to convince yourself that you don’t need to know what Jisung’s been up to, don’t need to know if he’s been okay since he clearly held no concern for you in that regard anyways.

“What?” you ask when you realize that both boys are staring at you. 

“Well?” Hyunjin pushes. “Are you?”

You shrug. “No, not really.” 

There’s a total of five seconds that pass before Hyunjin is stomping over and hauling Chan up out of his chair, pushing him towards the front door as he protests.

“Out! Out, out, out, we have important business matters to discuss.”

“But we were supposed to get lunch—!”

“We’re taking a rain check!” Hyunjin fights back, shoving him out of the shop before he has a chance to answer. He drops the shade to cover the glass, Chan’s sad figure left alone on the other side.

You gape at him. “What was that for?”

Hyunjin scoffs. “You think you’re convincing? Think again.” 

He hops up on to the counter and gestures for you to do the same. When you do, he pulls you closer, grabs your hand in his, and pushes your head down until it’s resting on his shoulder. 

“Tell me the truth now,” he says, soft. “I know there’s more to it.”

Hyunjin’s warm to the touch. The heat seeps through the fabric of his shirt, igniting the skin of your cheek until you feel like you’re standing too close to the sun. A star. Hyunjin is a light in your tunnel.

“I am curious,” you start, “About him, I mean. I’ve– I don’t know. It’s been so long. I tried to pretend I didn’t care when I saw him, but the minute I looked into his eyes it was like I was eighteen again. Eighteen and happy and looking at someone that I always thought would be there, you know?” 

Hyunjin hums but doesn’t say anything. He squeezes your hand once, a signal to keep going. 

“I’m scared, though. Part of me doesn’t want to know.”

Hyunjin takes a deep breath. “What are you scared of?”

Through the gaps in the beads you can see into your office, the picture of your Grandma hanging on the wall. She stares at you, unblinking. 

“What if he tells me that it’s true?” you ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “What if he says that I was right, that he didn’t care? That he left and didn’t want to call because it no longer mattered to him? That he loves his life there and only came back to clear his own conscience?” 

“Oh honey,” Hyunjin soothes, pulling you into his chest. You hadn’t realized you were crying, that the anger and fear had bubbled over until there were tears falling down your cheeks, wetting the fabric of Hyunjin’s sweater. 

He lets you cry for a while. It’s nothing new; Hyunjin has seen you break down countless times. He’s been there through the worst of it, held your hand even in the aftermath. He’s picked you up off the floor more times than you can count, has grounded you when you felt like the world was gonna open up beneath you and swallow you whole. Salt of the earth, returning you to its core.

Once you’ve quieted into nothing more than shallow breaths and a few scattered hiccups, Hyunjin speaks again.

“Can you be honest with me?”

You nod, the hair stuck to your cheek with tears rubbing against his shoulder. 

“Do you love him?”

It nearly knocks the wind out of you. This concept, so foreign to you now, shoved to the back of your mind to make room for the things that matter most. Hospital visits, labor cuts, wage increases— none of it left any room for love, let alone the thought of someone else. Especially someone as all-consuming as Jisung.

Slowly, you inhale, breath shaking on the exhale. Hyunjin squeezes your hand to remind you that he’s there.

“I don’t think I ever stopped, Hyune.”

The silence stretches thin. The realization is dizzying. Years of suppressed emotions, of telling yourself and everyone around you that it wasn’t a big deal. The sad eyes of the townspeople whenever they’d see you sitting beneath the apple tree. The gentle touch of your grandma’s hand when she’d find you on the front steps alone, staring at the stars. The soft hum of the radio in the shop, set to a playlist of all the songs he’s written, the only reminder that somewhere out there he was doing well.

The final crack in the dam, its water pushing until it gives way.

“Then you owe it to yourself,” Hyunjin says. “You owe it to your heart to get an answer. Free yourself from this pain, love. Don’t let yourself suffer forever.”

Forever. That word again. No matter how many times you’ve tried to escape it, it always comes back.

“It’s gonna hurt.” he sighs, tightening his grip when you sniffle. “It’s gonna hurt so fucking bad, babe. But you can take it. You’ve got people who love you enough to stand in front of you and soften the blow from time to time. But you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

He hops down from the counter and moves to stand in front of you, right between your legs. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he pushes until you’re sitting with your back straight and lifts your chin. 

“You deserve an answer.” he says, with conviction this time. “Okay?”

He lets his thumb swipe beneath your eyes, smiles softly. Unconditional— that’s what he is. Hyunjin burns brighter than any star in your sky, the heat wrapping its arms around you like it’s too scared to let go, to watch you freeze and die out like so many others. 

“I don’t deserve you, though.” you say, laughing wetly when he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug, “You deserve everything and more.”

When Jisung comes into the shop two days later, you’re ready for it. 

Chan had talked to him. No surprise, really, not when he’s been letting him crash in his spare room ever since he figured out that he was holed up in one of the hotels out in the tourism hub. 

If there’s one thing about Chan, it’s that he’d rip the shirt off his back to clothe anyone in need. Housing a friend is nothing, especially when that friend is Jisung.

“I don’t know how much of a consolation this is,” he’d said nervously, watching as you regarded him with an expectant look, “But he’s pretty cut up about you not wanting to see him. Which, I know, is stupid. He is the one who fucked up. But I just– I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this, I guess.”

It’s not a consolation, not really. Knowing that Jisung is struggling is far from anything you want to hear. 

Sure, there’s anger present. Anyone would be stupid to not feel the least bit frustrated with what’s happened. Years lost, time stripped away. But you’ve long since come to terms with it, the anger turning to sadness in the meantime.

“Also, he leaves tomorrow.” Chan smiled sadly. “He really wants to talk to you before then.”

Hyunjin left early again today to give the two of you space. Not before making a show of his own though, threatening to incite violence with his arms that are supposedly ‘shredded’ from years of lifting boxes filled with petunias. 

The shop is slow again, not many sales nor a lot of foot traffic. Usually when the sun is out there’s more to do; people to see, smiles to give. But there’s nothing, just the chirping of birds and the sound of cars rolling by. 

Maybe the world knows that this is what you need. The calm before the storm. 

Five minutes until close. You’ve spent most of the day pacing back and forth. Waiting. Anticipating. 

Chan had said Jisung planned on stopping by, trying again. You’d told him that was okay, and his eyes lit up. Too much hope, maybe, that something might come of this. 

You’re seated in the back office, staring at marigold colored irises when the front door opens. You hear it this time, ears fine tuned, waiting. 

Slowly, you stand, make your way to the front. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you pull back the beaded curtain and Jisung’s figure comes into view. 

He looks the same as he did the other day: curled hair, thick glasses, parted lips. His sweater, fluffy and striped, hangs off of his shoulders in a way that boxes off his tapered waist, one that you know is hidden beneath all the layers. The sleeves are way too long judging by the way it curls over his fingers. 

“Hi.” he breathes out, watching as you step into full view.

You blink. “Hi, Jisung.”

His name feels weird on your tongue. Bitter. It’s been years since you uttered it, forbidding yourself from the luxury out of fear that it would make his absence more real. Talking about him in the past tense always scared you off before you could even get the chance. 

“How– How’ve you been?” he chews on the inside of his lip.

You want to scold him, tell him to stop the habit just like you always would in the past. He’d make a joke then, tell you to kiss him so that he had something else to do instead. You would laugh, feign disgust, but in the back of your mind you’d wanted it more than anything. 

You’d waited for it, the day you could kiss him without warning and melt into his touch as he kissed you back. Another stupid bet on forever; the belief that you had all the time in the world for things to get to that point.

“I’ve been better.” you say, taking a deep breath. “What about you?”

Good, you think. He’s been good. He looks good. He doesn’t need this place.

“Me too.” he says instead. “I’ve been better.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Silence fills the room, heavy on both your chests. The anticipation feels like it might kill you before anything else does. 

“I’m sorry that–”

“Is that all you came here to say?” you cut him off.

“What?” he asks, confused. “No, I– no.”

“What, then? What is it you want to say, Jisung?” your voice is firm. He winces when his name leaves your mouth. “Because, honestly, I’ve waited all this time to hear literally anything from you, and if all that comes out of this is that you’ve ‘been better’ I might actually lose my fucking mind.”

The words tumble out faster than you intend. You can’t help it, not with the way anxiety has been bubbling over in your chest since the moment you woke up this morning. You could barely sleep last night, not when you were playing out every possible scenario in your head, the anticipation of it all making your sheets feel scratchy against your skin and the lumps in your pillow more discernible. 

“No, no, of course I wouldn’t do that.” he says quickly. “It's just that I didn’t know where to start. I don’t know how much you’ll allow me to say, what the boundary is here. I didn’t want to just barge in and demand you listen to me. You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe me anything. Not after what I did.”

What I did, his voice rings loud in your ears. He’s aware of it, of the pain he caused. 

He takes a step forward, and then another, again and again until he’s right up against the front counter, an arm’s length away. 

Your breath catches then, when you see him up close for the first time in four years, see the way he’s grown and changed with your own eyes. 

Stubble dotting his chin, laugh lines around his mouth, the dip and curve of the bow above his lips that you always loved. Brown eyes, soil and stardust. 

“Tell me what your conditions are,” he says quietly, “And I’ll give you every explanation I have.”

The sincerity on his face is blinding. Your stomach twists at the thought of hearing what he has to say, that same fear brewing in the pit of it. You take a deep breath, feel the phantom ghost of a hand squeezing yours and a crescent moon eye smile. 

“I waited four years for you.” you say.

“I know.”

“I trusted that you’d be back. That you would keep in touch during the time you were gone.”

“I–” his voice cracks. “I know.”

“You lied to me.”

Jisung tips his head back then. Swallows down a lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly at the ceiling, veins of ivy crawling along the expanse of it.

“I know.”

“So you owe me everything. I deserve that. I deserve answers.”

When he brings his head down to look at you, it’s unreadable. A mix of emotions that you aren’t familiar enough with anymore to decipher. Fear, guilt, sorrow. Hope, too. Maybe.

You stare at him head on, fully letting your eyes meet for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He holds your gaze, unwavering. Determined. The sight makes your heart clench. 

“Okay,” he says after a beat of silence. “Okay. I can do that.”

Despite the ever-growing mountain of things to address, you decide that the first thing you want to hear from Jisung is about his time in Seoul. 

You’re only human, after all.

Best friends from the start– you can’t stop yourself from wondering what life has been like for him. Jisung’s always been good at storytelling, animated in his features and gestures to the point that you’d be rolling around and clutching your stomach from laughter. It’s one of the things you missed the most, just talking and being present in one another’s lives.

The two of you end up at one of the diners down the road. The owners, an elderly couple, coo as soon as they catch sight of you.

“My flower girl,” the old lady, Mrs. Kim, greets.

“Mrs. Kim,” you beam, moving in for a hug. When you pull away, Jisung is behind you, hands clasped behind his back and feet together like he has his tail between his legs.

“Halmeoni,” you say, gesturing at him, “Do you remember Jisungie?” 

His eyes go wide at the nickname, and you try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, avoiding his gaze and instead watching as Mrs. Kim blinks in surprise.

“Oh! Oh my goodness, our Jisungie? Honey! Honey, look, Jisung is here! Oh you crazy boy,” she scolds, rushing forward to hit his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. “Where have you been? It’s been ages!” 

Jisung lets out an oof! as her body slams into him, all of his anxiousness dissolving into laughter as he hugs her back. 

“Hi Mrs. Kim, how have you been?” 

“Me?” she asks, pulling him away to hold at arm’s length, “Nevermind about me! I’m old! How have you been?”

Good, you think again, a mimic of earlier. Jisungs eyes flit over to yours for the smallest of moments before he answers.

“Better,” he says. “I’m doing better.”

Once both Mr. and Mrs. Kim are done doting over the both of you, they seat you by the window.

The island is always beautiful on sunny days: trees swaying, golden rays painting the rooftops in hues of pink and orange, the indigo shimmer of the ocean off in the distance.

“So,” you say, catching Jisung’s attention, “Tell me about Seoul.”

He hums. “It’s busy. Stinks. Lots of people.”

“Dream come true, yeah?” you joke, taking a sip of your water.

Jisung chuckles. “You could say that, I guess.”

“I mean, it was yours.”

“It was.” he sighs, looking down at the table. “I don’t know. It’s nice. I met good people, made even better connections. I live in this one bedroom studio apartment just outside of Itaewon, so I’m close to where all the foreigners hang out. I’ve learned a lot, gained a lot of inspiration for my music.”

You follow along, staring at him intently. His mouth, still heart-shaped, twitches when he catches you in the act.

You clear your throat, glancing away. “Yeah, I’ve– uh, I’ve heard some of your songs.”

He raises his eyebrows, almost like he hadn’t expected you to say that. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I hear them on the radio sometimes.” A lie. “It usually takes me a second to realize that it’s you.” Another lie. “But they’re good, you’re doing well.”

Pink dusts the tops of Jisung’s cheeks as he turns back to the window, clearing his throat.

He looks younger like this, like he’s still the same boy who would sit across from you all those years ago. Cherry-stained lips and a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.

He talks a bit more about his music, about how he’s with a good company that gives him creative freedom and enough support to pursue more if he desires.

His eyes light up when he tells you about his studio, a small room on the fifth floor of a building in the middle of the city where he does all of his writing. It’s equipped with an entire soundboard, full of instruments that he says he’s been able to get signed by artists that come in and out. Most notably, his guitar, the same one he left with. 

Slowly, like a flower blossoming, petals opening one by one, you feel yourself falling back into step with him.

Everything is so familiar: the curve of his smile, the tilt in his voice when he gets excited, the rumble of laughter when he recounts an embarrassing run-in with an A-list celebrity in the company’s cafeteria. He shares stories that fill your heart as the two of you fill your stomachs.

But with the ease comes something more, something you recognize as longing. You hadn’t realized how much you longed to be there through this part of his life, how you wished you’d been the one to answer a video call as he showed off his apartment the first day he moved in, his company badge when it was newly issued, every moment of happiness that you’d been absent for just as much as he was absent for yours.

He seems to share the same sentiment then, when he sets down his fork and stares at his empty plate. 

“You run the shop now,” he says, “How’s that been?”

You purse your lips, nodding your head slowly. You knew this conversation would happen, that it was coming.

“It’s good, I guess. Been almost a year now since, uh, it was left to me.” you shrug. “I’m not alone though, Hyunjin is a big help. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Jisung noticeably bristles. Eyebrows pulled together, staring more intently at a crumb on his plate. It looks like there’s a lot he wants to say, like he can’t find the words to say them.

So, naturally, you do it for him. 

“I assume Chan told you so I wouldn’t have to, by the way.”

He looks up then, as if he wasn’t expecting you to address the very obvious elephant in the room.

“He did, yes.” Jisung says after a while. His voice is quiet, gentle, like he’s walking on eggshells. “I– I didn’t know how to bring it up. I assume you’ve heard it all already but– I really, really am sorry to hear about Nana.”

The way her name sounds coming out of his mouth turns your mind to static.

Suddenly you’re in the hospital again, monitors beeping, hands as soft as petals cradled in your own and wishing that you could bury your face in a familiar neck as you cried and watched the marigolds wilt. 

“I don’t need an apology for that.” you croak, blinking back tears. Jisung is somewhere in your periphery, your vision blurry around the edges.

“It wasn’t sad. Her life, I mean. It was full. Of love. Of light. She left this place happy. That’s what she told me, at least.”

You take a deep breath. “So don’t be sorry about it.”

Jisung sniffles, and the sound shoots straight through your chest. 

“I know. I just– I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve been. I had no idea that–”

“Nobody did, Jisung. Don’t punish yourself for that.”

He sees it then, when you finally meet his eyes, the acceptance. You’ve come to terms with things a long time ago, have fought tooth and nail to come out on the other side of all the guilt and resentment and grief alive. Scathed, but alive nonetheless.

“You’re right.” he sighs, wiping at his eyes quickly. “She’d probably yell at me for saying that.”

You laugh, suddenly, the noise startling him. Jisung looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I think she has a lot more to yell at you for than being sorry that she died.”

The bluntness punches a chuckle out of him, and you giggle at the thought.

Your grandmother was always such an outspoken person. She always said what was on her mind, speaking it loud. There’s no doubt that if she was here she’d be berating Jisung, smacking him upside the head before pulling him into a hug and cooking his favorite meal. Tough love, but still, love.

“She would’ve loved to be able to see you.” you say once your laughter dies out, the air a bit lighter between the two of you. “She always wondered if you’d grow your hair out without her around to nag you about keeping it short.” 

He reaches up to run a hand through his curls, the strands falling around his face in a way that has your heart stammering in your chest.

“Well, clearly I don’t know how to listen.”

“No, you don’t.”

Jisung smiles softly. “Maybe I’ll cut it now. You know, since I’m here. And because I know she’d want me to.”

You watch him carefully, searching his eyes. For what, you don’t know. All that’s in them are stars. 

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re here.”

By the time the two of you leave the diner, stomachs full and enough bags of extra side dishes hanging off of your arms to last you at least two weeks, courtesy of Mrs. Kim, the sun is almost fully set. 

The ocean is calm, the evening breeze just barely brushing the surface of the tide. Jisung walks in step with you down the street, one side of his face cast in a glow from the sun’s fading rays. 

“Do you think you’d maybe want to stop by the arcade that Old Man Park runs? Just for a little?”

You snort. “Why? So I can embarrass you?”

“Hey!” he puts a hand on his chest, offended. “I’ll have you know that I let you win all those times.”

“How do you let someone win after spending hours practicing while I worked at the shop?”

“I was being nice!”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t believe me?” he grins. You try not to look, afraid of how bad your blood pressure might spike from the sight. 

“I’ll have you know that I’m one of the best Kart Rider players in the PC Bang scene back in Seoul.”

“Jisung,” you scold, “That’s a computer game. These are coin-ops. There’s way more skill needed.”

“No there isn’t!”

He knocks his shoulder against yours, tucking his chin to his chest to hide his smile when you try to fight back.

It’s easy. Nice. There’s a soft melody echoing in the dust-covered chambers of your heart. You still know all the chords.

Old Man Park’s arcade is a few doors down from the shop. You stop there to drop off the food, spare a glance in the mirror hanging in your office to fix your hair.

Your grandma’s picture stares at you from the other wall, eyes bright.

“Love you,” you say, kissing the skin of your fingertips and pressing it gently against the frame.

Jisung is toeing at a few rocks on the sidewalk when you walk back out. He doesn’t see you, too busy with his eyes casted down at the concrete, hands shoved into his pockets. 

It’s still hard to believe that he’s here. Flesh and bone. For a long time it felt like he was nothing but a distant dream, someone who only existed in the memories that you kept locked deep within your heart, the key somewhere on the streets of Seoul.

“Ready?” you ask.

He looks up, his glasses moving when his cheeks round into a smile.

Something passes across his face– a myriad of emotions in just a fraction of a second. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand. Long, delicate fingers.

You stare at it, swallowing roughly around the butterfly wings flapping inside your throat. 

The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.

Forever isn’t promised. But even then, there are things you know for sure:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is here. Living, breathing, in the flesh. 

So you take his hand, watch as relief floods his features, and let yourself feel.

The wind in your hair, the calluses on Jisung’s palms, and the warmth radiating out of the smile that threatens to split his face into two.

And with that certainty, the two of you start walking. A silent agreement to focus on the now.

You. Him. This.

“God, I can’t believe everything is only one coin.”

You laugh, watching as the multi-colored lights cast a glow on Jisung’s face. 

“Stop acting like you don’t remember this place.”

“I don’t!” he argues, smiling. “We stopped coming here, what, in middle school? Once Chan hyung started driving? We would always ask him to take us to the other one out in the big town!”

Chan’s first car was an old Camry with leather seats and enough room for the three of you to pile into after school. Used, but still with enough juice to satisfy three young kids who felt like they were on top of the world.

You used to sit in the back, the wind whipping your hair every which way while yours and Jisung’s hands lay side by side in the middle seat, pinkies brushing but neither of you willing to take it further. 

“Oh, shit!” Jisung gasps, letting go of your hand as he runs up to the space invaders machine. 

“Here we go,” you sigh, following after him. He’s like a kid in a candy store, face filled with innocent wonder and joy.

“Aren’t there, like, I don’t know– things better than this in Seoul?” you ask as he shoves a coin into the game.

Jisung turns to look at you with a devilish grin. “Obviously,” he says, “But I can’t beat anyone’s high score over there. Here though? Ha! This place is ancient. I can finally be at the top of the leaderboard in something.”

“We’ll see about that.” you mumble, the noise of the game booting up drowning you out. 

Jisung sticks his tongue out when he focuses really hard on things. It’s cute, the way the end of it sits between his lips, spit-slick and parted just a little bit.

He’s glowing, probably because of the lights, hues of red and green and blue flashing across his face. But then again, Jisung has always shined brighter than anything. 

The game beeps to signal that he has one life left. He grunts a few times, his fingers tapping the buttons madly as his other hand handles the joystick in a frenzy of movements.

When it ends, he groans, throws his hands up in defeat.. 

You shake your own head knowingly, watching his eyes bug out of their sockets as soon as the leaderboard appears on the screen, the 8-bit letters blinking at him. 

“You’re joking.” he laughs in disbelief, turning to stare at you. “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

There, on the screen, is your name. The highest score. Jeongin and Hyunjin’s names sit just below you, respectively.

“What was that again about finally being able to be at the top?” you mock him, smirking.

“Since when did you get good at this?”

You shrug. “Had to find something to do in my free time.”

“No,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “Nuh-uh. No way. This is not happening. I will beat you.” he holds out his hand for another coin, to which you roll your eyes and place one in his palm. 

“You might as well give up now. We’ll be here all night.”

“In your dreams.” he scoffs, assuming his position as another round loads onto the screen.  

Jisung has always been competitive. It’s one of his more hidden characteristics. 

It persists still, you realize, as you watch him burn through the styrofoam cup of coins that Old Man Park had given the two of you. Free of charge for old time’s sake.

Fort-five minutes. All he’s managed to do is bump Hyunjin down to fourth.

“Ugh!” he groans, kicking the machine lightly with his foot. 

“Look at you throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum.” he pouts. You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay fine. I’m throwing a tantrum.” 

“Thought so.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks. “This is, like, our first date. And I’m sucking. Hard.”

“Our–” you stop, eyes wide. Jisung mimics you, almost like he didn’t mean to say what he did. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your mind goes blank. But the world doesn’t end. Time keeps moving. Jisung is still here.

“I didn’t–”

“I like the sound of that.” you say quickly. “Of this being our first date, I mean.’

He smiles. Slow and sweet like molasses. Blinding.

“And the fact that you suck.”

The moment is shattered, his resulting whine echoing throughout the arcade.

“Come on you big baby,” you laugh, grabbing his hand. “I know a game you can beat me at.”

He lets himself be pulled, pretending that he’s upset, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips when you lace your fingers together.

The feeling is still new, this ease you have with him. The wounds you sported all those years are still healing, some more fresh than others. But with each laugh that comes out of Jisung’s mouth and shared glance, every note that your heart sings, you can feel them beginning to fade. A balm to soothe the burn.

The Pac-Man game is situated in the back corner of the arcade, right next to the jukebox. It used to be your favorite, because Jisung would always use his own coins to play songs for you while you tried to score higher than twenty-five thousand points. 

When you get there, he frowns. “The only game you think I can beat you at is Pac-Man?” 

“I don’t think,” you say, grabbing a coin before shoving the cup into his chest. “I know.”

The game boots up instantly, and you smile softly to yourself when Jisung moves wordlessly behind you, slips a coin into the jukebox.

“Play something good, Jisungie.”

He freezes. Out of the corner of your eye you watch him stare at you for a long moment. And then he smiles. Stardust.

“You got it.”

In a matter of seconds, Lovers In A Dangerous Time by Bruce Cockburn rings throughout the arcade, the speakers on the ceiling fighting past the static.

An old song. The same one your grandparents would dance to in the mornings, eggs on the stove and love in the air.

Your grandma used to say it was written for them, because when they fell in love the war was at its peak and she didn’t know if he’d ever come home. 

After he passed, she still played it, except those times it was Jisung who twirled her around and painted a smile on her face as you watched from the same spot you grew up in. Always there.

Jisung, Jisung, Jisung. 

When the game starts, you try your best. It’s hard. You’ve always been terrible at anything involving quick decisions. Focusing on everything at once isn’t easy for you, that much is still true. 

“Shit.” you mumble, the top right corner of the screen reading ten thousand points as the ghosts run into you.

Jisung lets out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“You wanna go back to space invaders and waste the last of our money?” you raise an eyebrow. 

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.” he says, holding the cup out for you to take another coin. 

You try a couple more times, failing each and every one. You can tell that Jisung is growing more and more amused with every attempt, and the smugness radiating off of him is starting to rub you the wrong way.

“If you’re so good,” you say after a particularly sad attempt, turning to glare at him. Jisung has his lips pulled tight to stop himself from laughing. “Then why don’t you try?”

He chuckles then. “I’d rather help you, if you’ll let me.”

“How are you supposed to do that? We only have one coin left.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything. He puts the cup down, the last coin held between his fingers. You watch as he slips it into the machine, move to get out of his way once he’s done, but he stops you by grabbing your hand and spinning you back around, his fingers placed over yours on the joystick. 

With your back flush against his front, caged in by his arms on either side, Jisung takes a deep breath.

“This okay?” he asks right next to your ear, the curls on the side of his head brushing your cheek when he leans down to get a better look at the screen.

Warm. He’s so warm. The material of his sweater only worsens the heat, and the faint scent of vanilla makes your head swim.

It’s more than okay. Great, even. It’s Jisung. Everything and more.

“Yeah,” you say, letting him control your hands as he flicks the joystick. “It’s okay.”

The hair against your cheek moves when he smiles. “Good.” he says, and then hits the start button.

The game begins but you’re barely processing what’s happening, too aware of the feeling of his body pressed against yours. 

A firm chest, different from what’s observable on the outside, what with the fluffiness of his sweater and soft features. His arms too, encasing you, the bulge and flex of his biceps every time he moves.

It’s all so intoxicating, so much so that you don’t even realize you’ve beaten the highest score in the system by the time he loses his last life. 

“What?” you blink. “What the hell?!”

You laugh, spinning to face Jisung who’s grinning from ear to ear. In your excitement, you jump, flinging your arms around his neck. He’s surprised, but catches you nonetheless, circling his arms around your waist.

“Holy shit how’d you do that!” you squeal while he swings you around, feet off the ground.

“Magic, I guess.” he chuckles. 

The closeness of his voice brings you crashing back down, suddenly aware of what position you’re both in. You pull back quickly, clear your throat, and watch as his face falls from the loss of contact.

It’s been a long time since you hugged Jisung. The thought transports you to that day four years ago, standing under the apple tree, the future uncertain. Forever promised.

Things are different now.

“Sorry,” he backtracks. “I didn’t– um, I wasn’t trying to–”

You cut him off by throwing yourself at him for a second time. Intentional. Breathless. Tired of running and acting like it’s not the thing you want most in the entire world.

Jisung doesn’t react until he feels your face against the skin of his neck. On instinct, he hugs tight, hands around your waist, breathing in the smell of your hair.

“Hi.” you whisper against him. 

One word. Simple. However the weight of it sends a chill down his spine. It feels like home. 

He tightens his hold. A silent understanding. The two of you never had much of a need for words anyways. 

“Hi.” he whispers back.

The apple tree is much bigger now.

Long, thick branches, a wide trunk, a slight tilt in its shape.

It’s bare. The season is long gone. But it’s okay, because it means that the view of the stars isn’t blocked when you and Jisung lay beneath it.

It’s the same but it isn’t. There’s gaps– periods of time where the two of you grew separately. There are moments and memories tucked away that neither of you know about, whole lives to discover. 

But even so, it feels right. His arm wrapped around you, your head on his chest. The stars and the moon. You and Jisung.

It’s nice. Perfect, even. But there’s a conversation that needs to be had. One that can’t be put off any longer.

“Ji.”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Jisung shifts beneath you, tightening his hold. The grass is damp. Neither of you care, too caught up in each other to stress about whether or not it’ll stain.

“Of course.”

“Am I ever gonna see you again?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You said that last time.”

“I know.”

“So what makes this different?” you ask, sitting up. He watches you carefully, eyes trained on every movement like he’s scared you’ll get up and run away.

When he realizes you’re waiting for an answer, he sits up too, pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs. 

He doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly reaches into his pocket. Silently, he hands whatever he grabbed to you. A guitar pick.

It’s white, a marbled design. Golden flecks infused into the lines. There, on the front, is a singular marigold. When you flip it over, you’re met with a tulip. 

“Do you remember that one time, when you called me crying at midnight because Nana told you that she didn’t know if she’d be able to afford school in the city?”

You nod silently, still turning the guitar pick over in your hand. 

It was one of those nights where the rain was relentless. Monsoon season always tagged on to the tail end of the school year, bringing with it a more intense gloominess than usual. 

You’d been angry. Stressed. Irritated that other kids at school were making plans to go to the mainland for college and you were stuck helping your grandmother trim foliage and wrap vases in newspaper.

“You told me that you couldn’t do it anymore.” Jisung whispered, staring up at the sky. “That you were tired of being here. That you needed to get out.”

You remember. Jisung had walked through the rain to show up at your window. Had climbed in with muddy shoes and sat on the floor of your room with you until the downpour stopped and your tears dried.

“And I said that I would make it happen, that I would invent a way to live amongst the stars so you could be as far from here as possible.”

“So what?” you ask, looking at him. “Did you finally do it, then? Is that why you came back?”

“Don’t be like that.”

“No, Jisung, I’m gonna fucking be like that.” you scoff, rising to your feet. 

There’s a fire in your veins, stoked until the embers are burning hot against your throat. Too good to be true. You should’ve known that there was no explanation left for him to give.

Jisung scrambles to his feet. “It wasn’t like I wanted to–”

“Oh like hell you did.” you say, turning to face him. “Four years, Jisung. I waited four years and you just– you come back and decide to tell me about some make-believe bullshit to save yourself and feel less guilty about the fact that you left.”

“It wasn’t make-believe to me,” he argues. “It was real. Everything I said was real. I left and I tried for years to make something of myself so I could come back here and get you.”

“Oh so it’s my fault? I made you leave, is that it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“So then say something else!” you yell. The stars rumble, threatening to fall out of the sky. “Say something else, then, Jisung. Why didn’t you call? Huh?”

“Because I–” he stops, licks his lips. “God. Fuck. I couldn’t face you if I had nothing to show for myself, okay? It wasn’t fair to you for me to leave you behind just so I could fail.”

“Ha!” you laugh, running a hand through your hair in disbelief. “So you decided to go radio silent instead? Decided to not only leave me alone but let me suffer and wonder about where you were because that’s so much better than telling me that you were struggling, right? Great choice, Jisung. Really.”

He blinks a few times, watching as you pace back and forth in the grass. 

Anger bubbles deep in your gut. This whole time, he knew. It was a conscious decision. Jisung deliberately didn’t contact you because he chose not to.

“Did you ever even love me?”

The words tumble out before you can stop them. Jisung’s entire body goes rigid, his face falling and eyes hardening within a fraction of a second.

“Watch what you say.” he says, his voice low in his chest.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just be honest.”

“I’m trying.” he pleads. His eyes are glossy. Big and round behind his glasses. Illuminated by the moon. 

“I fucked up, okay? I prioritized myself and the way I felt over you and fucked everything up. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard. And I’m sorry it took me so long but I wanted– no–  I needed to make sure that I had everything figured out before I came back. I promised I would.”

“No, Jisung, you promised me that–”

“I’m not talking about you.” he says then, taking a deep breath. “You weren’t the only one I made promises to back then.”

Before you have a chance to speak, Jisung says, “I promised her. I told her I’d get you out of here. That I’d give you a life that you deserved, because she knew she couldn’t.”

You drop to your knees when the first sob hits, the force of it racking your body so hard you feel like you’re drowning. Jisung catches you on the fall, holds you up, lets you bury your face into his neck like he had so many times before.

“She told me you believed in forever. She wanted me to give that to you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Jisung lets you cry. He holds you through the storm, your wails as loud as thunder and tears as heavy as rain. Four years in the making; the sky and the earth colliding until the dirt and layers of sediment give way to the molten core that’s been hiding beneath the surface all along.

Pain. Grief. All of it pent up and leading to this moment. 

“You should’ve told me.” you cry, beating a fist into Jisung’s chest. “You idiot. You fucking idiot. You should’ve told me.” 

Jisung pulls you in closer, takes each hit as long as it means that it’ll soften the blow on your heart. He whispers apologies in your ear, runs a hand through your hair. 

When it quiets again, the worst of the storm gone, he shifts so that your head is in his lap, his legs crossed and tucked beneath him. A few stray tears wet the fabric of his jeans, your eyes focused on the field of flowers across the street.

“I won’t ask you to come with me.” he says after a long while, when your breathing has evened out. “I know that things are different. You have a life here that you’ve made for yourself, responsibilities to bear as well.”

He pauses to push a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingers are gentle against the skin of your cheek.

“But I promise it’ll be different. I spent too long away from you, was too selfish for my own good. I won’t disappear again. I’ll call every day. I’ll visit. You’ll get every part of me that I kept away from you all this time, and I’ll get every part of you in return.”

Your heart thrums. The thought of having what you’ve wanted for so long. Of having Jisung.

“And when you’re ready, when you feel like you can’t do it anymore, there’ll be a place for you.”

His voice is firm. Confident. More sure than he’s ever sounded before in his life.

When you turn to face him, he’s already staring back. Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the offer to make it yours.

Under the apple tree, Jisung leans down and kisses you for the first time. Twenty four years in the making, soft and slow, his lips a perfect fit against yours. A starboy and his flower girl. His glow is so bright it makes blossoms sprout from her fingertips.

Soft curls tickle your eyelids when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. You reach up to run a hand through them, smiling softly when he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“I love you.” you say first this time. 

He reaches out a hand, closes it over your fist that’s still clutching the guitar pick. A marigold and a tulip, both working together to make a perfect harmony. 

“I love you, too.” Jisung whispers back. “Forever.”

Jisung stops by the shop early to say goodbye.

There’s less tears this time, less of a reason to be sad. But still, when he wraps his arms around you, vanilla filling your nose and curls against your face, you feel your composure crumble.

“Every day.” he says, repeating the same thing he did all night. “I promise. Morning and night. Also at lunch. Oh, and on your days off. Matter of fact, you can call when you’re on the toilet too.”

The last part earns him an elbow to the ribs, his laughter bubbling up and out of his throat as he tries to dodge any and all subsequent attacks.

He kisses you stupid before he goes, Chan rolling his eyes from his car out front. You flip him off blindly, Jisung’s lips still attached to yours, earning a loud honk in response.

When he leaves, the shop is quiet, the only sound being the buzzing of your phone as Jisung blows it up with text messages the second the car pulls away.

You’re too busy replying, giggling to yourself when a slew of cute emoticons start appearing one by one, that you nearly fall over out of your chair when Hyunjin bursts through the door.

“Jesus Christ Hyune, did you have to–”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, breathless. 

“Uh,” you blink, glancing round. “Working?”

“Is Jisung not on a damn plane right now?”

“I mean he’s on his way to the airport. Chan is–”

“Chan hyung told me that Jisung wanted you to go with him.” Hyunjin says, brow furrowed.

You sigh. “He didn’t want me to go with him. Well, okay, he did. But I told him I can’t just pick up and leave. He knows that. Nana left this place to me and–”

“You are so stupid.” Hyunjin sighs. 

“Excuse me?” you ask. You stand up, crossing your arms as you walk closer to the counter. 

“Come on. We have to go.”

“Go where, Hyunjin? I’m not leaving to–”

He cuts you off, places an envelope on the wooden surface. “And I am not letting you stay here and pretend that this is what you want.”

“What is that?” 

“A plane ticket.” he says, pushing it towards you. “To Seoul.”

Your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. Hyunjin is already moving around the counter, pushing past you with an expression the most serious you’ve ever seen on him.

“Hyunjin I– I can’t– where did you even…?”

“Chan hyung has a friend.” he mumbles as he begins pulling stuff out of the office. Your planning notebook, your apron, the picture of your grandma off the wall. All of it thrown into a small box he managed to snag from somewhere off to the side.

“His name is Seungmin or something. Met him out in the tourist hub. Dude’s super rich with tons of miles and apparently owed Chan for a drunken night where he needed to be escorted to his hotel. So thanks to him, you’re leaving.” he explains as he grabs the box with both hands and starts walking towards the door.

“Wait.” you stop him, watching as he turns to regard you with a look that says his patience is running thin. 

“I told you I can’t leave, Hyunjin. This place is where I need to be.”

He huffs, places the box on the ground in front of him. His hair falls in waves around his face, a shimmery dark brown beneath the rays of the sun poking into the room. 

“Can you be honest with me?” he asks. 

You nod, slowly. 

“Do you love him?”

Hyunjin watches you with careful eyes. Reads you like a book, something he’s always been good at. You don’t doubt that it’s written on your face. Star-kissed cheeks and eyes as bright as marigolds. 

“So much that it hurts, Hyune.”

Hyunjin smiles, eyes watery. “Then you deserve to go. You deserve your chance to be free. Don’t worry about this place, I’ll take care of it.”

The familiar sting of tears sits behind your eyes. Your heart swells full of love for this friend, this light, this beacon of unconditional love in the shape of your best friend.

“I don’t have clothes.” you manage to say around the lump in your throat.

Hyunjin shakes his head, tears spilling down the bridge of his nose. 

“I’ll send them to you.”

“There’s a lot to do around here for just one person. What if you need me?”

“I’ll manage.” 

You round the corner quickly, throwing yourself into his chest. He catches you with ease, wraps his arms around your body as the both of you cry into each other.

“I’ll miss you.” you say weakly.

Hyunjin’s throat bobs against the top of your head. “I’ll always be here in our little corner of the world.”

The two of you stay like that for a while. Hyunjin’s warmth seeps into your skin, lights you ablaze. By the time he pulls away, his hands on your shoulders, you feel like you’re floating. Unreal.

“I don’t have a way to get there.” you say quickly, glancing at the clock. 

Jisung’s plane leaves soon. The airport, the only one on the island, is a thirty minute drive. You’re at a disadvantage the more time you spend not moving. 

“Don’t worry,” Hyunjin chuckles. “I’ve got that taken care of.”

You open your mouth to ask him what he means when you’re cut off by the sound of honking from outside. Confused, you run to the door, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize who’s waiting for you.

“Hurry up people we don’t have all day!” Jeongin calls, his upper body hanging out of the window. He’s parked outside in a beat-up truck, arms waving wildly when he spots you.

“Innie!” you scream, pushing through the door to run at him. He jumps out of the truck just in time for you to barrel into his chest, laughter loud in your ears as he spins you around. 

“You’re here! Oh my god I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.” you say in disbelief once he puts you down.

He looks older, more sophisticated. His hair is rusted and falls past his ears, the ends just barely touching his shoulders. 

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I figured I’d show up earlier. You know, see you before you leave, catch up with my parents, help Hyunjin break into your house. The usual.”

“Help Hyunjin break into my what–” you say, but you stop when your eyes fall on the small suitcase in the backseat. Your own bag, the one that’s been sitting in your closet untouched for years now.

“For the last time,” Hyunjin says from behind you, carrying the box in his arms. “It’s not breaking and entering if I have a key. Which, by the way, I told you would come in handy one day.”

He sets the box down next to the luggage and dusts his hands on his pants. When he turns to face you, he’s smiling, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.

With tears threatening to spill once again, you stare at the both of them, your heart bursting at the seams. “I love you guys.”

Jeongin grimaces, opts for getting back in the driver’s seat as you laugh. Hyunjin rolls his eyes and ushers you inside of the truck.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it.” he says. “Right now, you have a plane to catch.”

The airport is crowded. 

There are tons of people everywhere, some saying hello and some saying goodbye. Hyunjin explained the gate system to you before you left him and Jeongin on the curb, and you keep glancing down at your ticket to make sure none of the information has changed in the past thirty seconds since you last looked. 

Thankfully, your gate isn’t far. With twenty minutes to go until boarding, you can feel the sweat building up beneath the hand that’s curled around your suitcase handle. 

It’s scary thinking about the fact that this is it. That you’re finally leaving. 

It’s bittersweet, too. There’s an excitement in the pit of your stomach as well as a feeling of dread in your chest, both of them meeting in the middle somewhere. 

You let your eyes scan the crowd, searching for wavy hair and thick-rimmed glasses. However, the first thing you see is the familiar neck of a guitar, strapped right on to a back that you would know and recognize anywhere without warning.

Jisung is seated near the gate, his eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a pout as he glares down at his phone. You realize that he’s probably wondering why you won’t answer, why all of his emoticons are going ignored. 

Quietly, you come up behind him, reach into your pocket, and say, “Excuse me? I think you dropped this.”

Jisung startles, his eyes falling on to the guitar pick being held out in your hand. Slowly, he lets his gaze follow upwards, wide-eyed and shocked.

“What– what are you doing here?” he asks. 

You place the pick in his hand. “I'm on my way to Seoul. There’s a guy there that I’ve been trying to find for a while.” you say. 

Jisung catches on quickly. “Oh, really?” he asks, moving over so you can sit beside him. “This guy must be pretty great if you’re leaving for the mainland.”

The rain starts hitting the tarmac outside right as you sit down. “Hm, yeah. He is. He really likes the stars. He says that he found a way for me to live in them, too.” 

He laughs, the sound making your stomach flip. “Sounds like you’re excited.”

You nod. “I am. He promised me that we’d do a lot together, experience new things. Apparently he’s gonna write songs and I’m gonna be a nerd.”

Jisung snorts and reaches across to link his hand with yours.

“He’s really lucky.” he says, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips.

You smile into it. “So am I.” you whisper into his mouth, your heart stuffed to the brim with flower petals. 

And when Jisung smiles back, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek and give you another kiss with the force of a thousand suns, you feel the key you’d been searching for finally click into place. 

Salt of the earth. Soil and stardust. A boy who glows so bright that his girl sprouts blossoms from her fingertips. 

Forever isn’t promised. But then again, with Jisung by your side, there are things you know for certain:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. In Jeju– it rains.

And no matter what, despite all odds, you and Jisung will always find your way back to each other in the place where marigolds grow.

[tags: @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @drhsthl @strwbrrychannie @shays-library @giuliadesu @iknowyouknowminho @linocz @pynchkilledme @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @chans1aptop @liknws @realrintaro @beeracha @vxllxnsworld @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]

[guiltyasdave]

come morning light

chapter 2 • series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Against your better judgement, you decide to help them.

word count: ~2.5k

tags/warnings: post outbreak, slow burn, found family, age gap (sorry not sorry), able-bodied reader, angst, reader has a sad sad backstory and ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, vague description of an injury

a/n: i'm finally finished with chapter 2, and once again nervous af about it haha. there's not terribly much happening in this one, but i promise we'll get there, it just needs the buildup :)

thank you @catchallfangirl for beta reading <3

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

You don’t feel like you’ve slept at all, but after hours of tossing and turning in the darkness of your bedroom, you think it’s probably time to get up. 

You’re halfway convinced that last night’s events were a product of your imagination, that your mind has felt so lonely that it conjured up the whole scenario. But when you step out of your bedroom and find the door of your parents’ bedroom only halfway closed, the way you have never left it before saying good night to Ellie earlier, you have to come to terms with the fact that this might actually be your reality. 

Ellie seems to be sound asleep, a lump under the covers, softly breathing, but when you head to the living area and switch on one of the smaller lamps, you’re met with the piercing glare of Joel. He’s still lying on the couch, much like you left him, still pale, still dark shadows under his eyes, but he’s much more awake now, his gaze following your every move. 

“Hey,” you say softly, sinking down on the same armchair that you sat in when you watched him last night while Ellie took a shower. You suppress a shudder at the way he regards you, his eyes flicking up and down your body, taking in your size, you presume, searching for weapons. Your gun is tucked into the waistband at the back of your pants, which you’re sure he’s already aware of. You don’t like the way he makes you feel, like somehow you’re intruding on him. You should have the upper hand, this is your home and he’s injured, you helped him for crying out loud, and here you are, nervously watching his every move. You did the right thing. It’s gonna be fine. 

“Where’s Ellie?” he asks, ignoring your greeting, his voice gruff. 

“Sleeping,” you reply, nodding your head to the bedroom door. “She’s okay, I promise.” 

Some of the tension seems to release from his body and he slumps back down a little, but the distrust in his expression when he looks at you doesn’t waver. Then again, you’re probably not much different. 

“Look,” you sigh, “I’m not playing some kind of game here. You came into my house, I saw that you needed help, so I helped.” You try to infuse your voice with as much confidence as you can. “Don’t make me regret that, okay?” 

He shrugs, a noncommittal grunt the only verbal answer. It could potentially be interpreted as a thanks, you guess. In a less tense situation, you’d probably grow annoyed by now. Shrugging yourself, you get to your feet and head to the kitchen. Anything to escape the way he’s watching your every movement.

“Hey, do you want coffee?” You don’t really want to offer him any, but you’d feel weird drinking it yourself without asking. 

He pipes up at the question, head turning in your direction, his face the most open that you’ve seen it yet. “You have coffee?” 

“Yeah.” That’s why I’m fucking asking. 

“I– yes.” A breath, a second of him not meeting your eyes. “Thanks.” 

You smile, small, fleetingly, busying yourself with the ground beans and the boiling water, reveling in the smell that slowly spreads throughout the room. It reminds you of happier times, when the world was still normal. 

He has pushed himself into a sitting position, breathing heavily, when you walk over to hand him the steaming cup, still careful to keep your distance. 

After you sit back down, the both of you stay silent for a few minutes. You enjoy the bitter taste on your tongue, the way you slowly feel your energy rising. 

“Does it hurt much?” you ask eventually, gesturing towards his stomach. 

Another grunt, the hint of a head shake. 

“So it does.” He opens his mouth, the protest most likely already on his tongue, and you raise an eyebrow. “I have painkillers, are you sure that you–”

“No.” It comes fast, his voice raised, no room for arguments.

You instinctively flinch back at the unexpected louder sound, the cup shaking in your grip. You set it down on the table in front of you. Have your hands free, just in case.

There’s a hint of regret in his eyes, his free hand slightly raised, palm open. He’s trying to calm you down, you realize. 

“Okay,” you breathe, working hard to keep your voice steady, “no painkillers, got it.” 

“Sorry,” he mutters, his face half hidden, words almost lost behind the cup. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“It’s alright,” you tell him as much as yourself. 

You’ve gotten jumpy, not used to loud sounds anymore, raised voices, not used to humans in general, you suppose. You hadn’t fully realized it until now, until there’s other humans around you again.

“Thank you,” he continues unexpectedly, “not just for the coffee, but– you know.” He’s struggling, the words not coming easily, but you think that he’s being earnest. “Patching me up.”

“Of course.” You nod hastily, your heart still beating a little too fast. 

Another moment passes in silence, both of you slowly sipping the coffee. He’s looking around, taking in his surroundings, eyes lingering on the closed wooden doors and the stairs leading up. You try not to get nervous about it. It’s normal that he would want to know more about where he is, after all. 

“This is the basement, right? Is it safe?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “No way to get in from outside.” As long as you stay inside, you’re safe.

He hums, appreciatively, you think.

“How long have you been living here?” 

“Always. It’s my parents’ house. I mean–” you laugh, but it comes out hollow, “we lived upstairs, obviously. But my dad was… kinda crazy. Or– not that crazy, I guess, all things considered.” Your lips curl into a wry smile. 

Your mind flashes back to long lectures about survival techniques, learning how to shoot, your father going on and on about first aid, hunting, all the things that you couldn’t have cared less about as a teenage girl, but were ingrained in your brain nonetheless. You’re grateful, now, but it’s laced with guilt about how often you snapped at your father, how often you told him he was paranoid, seeing dangers that weren’t there, that he was wasting your time. You couldn’t have known, the rational part of you argues. But you can never take it back now, the guilt whispers. 

When you look up, Joel’s eyes are on you, eyebrows raised in question. You shake your head, trying to clear it. Stay in the present.

“Sorry, what did you–?” 

Worry is painting his expression. “Are you okay?” 

Don’t show weakness. “Yeah, of course. Just spaced out for a second.” 

You force a smile onto your face and stand up rather abruptly, gathering both cups and putting them into the sink. Joel hasn’t moved, but you feel his eyes on you as you move. 

“Do you, um, do you want to shower, maybe? Or just wash up, I don’t know, how–” You gesture towards the dried bloodstain on his flannel, forcefully keeping your tone light. “I have clean clothes, too, if you want.” 

A shiver runs through you at the thought of going through your dad’s things, of someone else wearing them. He doesn’t need them anymore. He’s not coming back. 

You know that you’ve gone silent for too long again even before you see Joel’s expression. He doesn’t ask this time, but there’s something in his eyes that you can’t place, something that almost looks like understanding. 

“Yeah, I guess cleaning up a bit would be nice. I– thank you. Again” 

His voice is gruff and he avoids your eyes. You think that he doesn’t like it, having to thank you. Owing you. 

Giving him a nod, you head to the bedroom, hoping not to disturb Ellie, but she’s awake already, her eyes glinting in the light that’s falling into the dark room from the living area. You clench your jaw, heading for one of the drawers, trying hard not to think about what you’re doing. It’s not like he ever wore this stuff, it was just sitting down here. It’s fine, you’re fine. 

“Don’t worry, it’s not about you,” Ellie says quietly from beside you, breaking through your racing thoughts. 

You turn towards her, confusion on your face. “What is?”

“Joel,” she shrugs, still keeping her voice low. “He’s like that with everyone. He’s a bit of an asshole, really.” She sounds fond, saying it, like it’s an endearing character trait. 

A surprised laugh escapes you. “I– okay, thanks, I guess.” 

She waves it away, swinging her feet out of the bed. “No, thank you for not murdering me in my sleep.” 

“Yeah, likewise.” You shake your head, still laughing to yourself. It’s so easy to like the girl, to feel like you already know her. 

You hand Joel a pile of clothes, purposefully avoiding to look at them too closely, explain where the towels are and he grumbles his approval before the bathroom door closes behind him. 

You release a breath and close your eyes for a second. You are undeniably warming up to Ellie, finding it almost impossible not to, but her companion is a different story. 

“Hey, do you drink coffee?” you ask in the direction of the bedroom. 

“Ew, no!” comes her reply as she steps out of the door, collecting the wild mess of hair on the top of her head and securing it in a ponytail.

Her offense at the mere suggestion makes you chuckle under your breath as you busy yourself with preparing breakfast in the form of porridge instead. She’s leaning against the doorframe, watching you, her eyes wide as she takes in the cupboards full of supplies. 

You’re glad that you don’t need anything from the storeroom, keeping that door in the corner firmly closed. You want to trust her, want to trust them, but a feeling of unease still lingers at the thought of letting them know just how much you have.

Instead, you voice another question, a thought that fills you with unease as well. 

“Hey,” you begin, keeping your eyes trained on the stove, “I’m sorry, but you and Joel, there– there isn’t anything weird going on, is there?” 

“Like what?” She sounds slightly defensive, but when you steal a glance at her, she’s eyeing you with curiosity. 

“I don’t know, like…” You shrug, stirring the mixture of water and oats, “you want to be here, he’s not forcing you to come with him or anything, right?” 

“No, don’t worry about that,” comes her reply, almost amused. It was a bit of a stupid question, when you think about it, considering how worried she was about him last night, how protective. 

“Okay,” you smile at her. You’re curious nonetheless, how they ended up together and where they’re headed, but it’s probably not really your place to ask. 

You divide the porridge into three bowls and hand her one, while you carry yours and one for Joel back to the living area and set them down on the wooden table. 

Ellie starts shoveling the food down immediately and you’re left wondering once more what happened to them and when they last ate something. 

“So…” Ellie begins, her mouth still half full, “you’re just down here with all this food? Because your dad stored it here, before… things went to shit?” 

You can’t blame her for her curiosity, you’re aware that you’ve probably found yourself in a better living situation than most people. Your thoughts go to the storeroom again, basically stuffed with enough supplies to last you multiple lifetimes, especially now that it’s just… No.

You hum in affirmation, not trusting your voice and you’re thankful that she’s too distracted by her breakfast to notice anything weird about your reaction. 

“So you don’t go out hunting or anything?” comes her next question. You freeze. 

You did go hunting, back when you cared about variance in the meals you prepared, about using fresh ingredients when you could. Until there was no need for that any more. 

You realize that Ellie is saying your name, not for the first time, judging from the look on her face. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, your hands tightening around the bowl. “No, I- I don’t go hunting.”

If she finds the situation weird, she shrugs it off impressively fast. 

She nods to herself, eating quietly for a minute, before she speaks up again. “So what do you… do? Down here all day?” 

“Uh…” What is it that you do all day? Time has been blurring together, days without anything happening repeating on a constant loop. You realize that you don’t remember, can’t talk of any activities that are part of your day. How long has it been like this?

You’re relieved from having to answer by Joel emerging from the bathroom, his face pale and his breaths going heavy. He has put on the sweatpants you gave him, but his torso is bare, the skin around the injury still an angry red. 

He sinks back down into the cushions with a heavy sigh and you quickly get to work, cleaning the wound once more and giving him more antibiotics before you redo the bandages and hope for the best. Your hands don’t shake as badly as they did last night. 

Ellie gets him some water and pushes his bowl of porridge into his hands, urging him to eat, before she turns to you. She’s trying to be strong, to hide her worry, but the pleading look in her eyes when she asks you if he’s gonna be okay tells a different story. 

“Of course,” you say, giving her what you hope to be a reassuring smile. 

Joel does look better after he’s eaten something, but his eyelids are drooping and after a few more minutes, his eyes close and his breath evens out. You do the dishes and check the cameras, calming down a bit more when you’re sure that everything seems to be quiet upstairs. 

When you return to the living area, Ellie is rummaging through her pack, muttering to herself, until she pulls a book out of, proudly turning the cover for you to read it. No pun intended - Volume Too.

She starts reading them to you while you settle back down with a second cup of coffee and you share her laughs, enjoying the way it makes her look lighter, allows her to be a kid who can laugh at stupid jokes. You ignore the sting it causes in your chest because you once knew someone who would have loved this book just as much as Ellie does.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

[pedgito]

𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 | Joel Miller x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | A poor damsel in distress, saved by the most unlikely of man.

author's note | this was written for @studioghibelli's beautiful fic challenge. i've never written anything this close to a royal-ish type era, if you could even call it that. but this is just a slight dip into that realm and it was super fun! thank you for hosting this, bell! idk if any of this is accurate i'm just vibing dsjhk

content warning | 18+ smut, princess!reader, mentioned to have hair long enough to be tied back, regency au, age gap, wealth/power dynamic, mentions of past marriage/death, BREEDING KINK, talks of marriage and pregnancy, secret relationship, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v

word count —1.8k

“If he catches us, we’ll both be dead.”

It was a constant mantra Joel spoke to you, even as he unfastened your corset and slipped under the thick fabric of your dress, disappearing as he fit his face between your thighs.

It started out of innocence—a strange man with growing, constant visits to your manor at the edge of town. At first it was only on official business, a supplier of goods to your father. Joel was a jack of all trades: armor, leatherwork, anything you could think of, he’d mastered it. It was just another method of proof on how good he was with his hands.

“You need not worry,” You breath, pressed against the wall of his cobblestone home, often sneaking out in the middle of night with the possible threat of capture prevalent in your mind.

The estate had always been heavily guarded, but living there your entire life had made it easier to learn patterns, behaviors, and sneaking out to see him over time had become effortless. It had been months by now—and even as his friendship with your father grew, there were no signs, not an ounce of suspicion of what he blossomed between you both.

“He offered me a job,” Joel speaks lowly, muffled under the fabric of your dress as your leg hooks over his shoulder, fingers wrapped around the top of your bodice as you squeeze, feeling your breath catch in your throat as he licks through the center of your cunt, “well paying, convenient enough.”

You gasp softly, lifting at your skirt to get your hands on him, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling, earning a soft grunt as he peeks up at you, pulling away for a brief moment.

“What was it?”

“Royal guard—and no princess, not for him.”

“As if I don’t already have enough men guarding me,” You sigh, pushing him away and adjusting your dress—he looks slightly dejected, but stands and fixes your dress, caressing your cheek with his hand, “you cannot say yes, Joel. If you are near—”

“I know,” He murmurs, there’s a shift in his dialect that is so distinctly different from your own—years of being taught to speak up, out, to project with your voice and always act as if you were speaking to the masses, thoughtful contrition to a group much lower than yourself, “bein’ around you that often, don’t know how I could keep my hands off of you.”

If your father knew about this—you and him, a man nearly the age of your own father. He’d be ordered to death and you, while the fate may be different, wouldn’t be left with much freedom either. You were long of age, but bound to your duties as a princess and fearful of the man your father would eventually decide to marry you off to. Joel had saved you, distracted you from all of it. It would be impossible to live without him now.

“I sound ungrateful,” You grumble, looking down and grasping his other hand with yours, intertwining your fingers and bringing it to your chest but not before you press a gentle kiss against the back of his palm, “for what I have—but if I lose you…”

That place was a prison and you knew it. He knew it.

“A golden cage is still a cage,” Joel reminds you, “—that place, your father—”

You already knew—your father was slowly spiraling out of control, the rule of his country slipping from his grasp and he was scrambling and you knew he wouldn’t go down without a fight. But, you were tired. So tired. With the absence of your mother, your other siblings, you felt trapped.

“Take me away,” You beg, eyes watering as the words slipped from your lips, “we can disappear—I do not need this wealth or title, any of it. Only you.”

“He won’t stop,” Joel tells you honestly, “we would always be running.”

You pull your hand free of his grasp and curve them around his face, cradling the softness of his jaw, the scratch of his facial hair under your fingertips and he licks at his bottom lip, a tell-tale sign of the burgeoning lust. He needed you.

“Is that really what you want?”

He means it—it was a tone you’ve never heard before.

And something tells you he’s been feeling the same way for a while.

“Yes,” You answer quickly, nodding jerkily as you pull him close and Joel has to physically restrain himself from taking you there, licking his lips once more as they hover near your own, “please, Joel.”

“Let’s have this night,” Joel tells you softly, “and we can figure everything out come morning.”

—

It was peaceful here, a small cottage out in the middle of nowhere—if you wanted to stay here you could, but you knew that would be the first place your father would look outside of town.

Joel, his confidante, his most trusted man who was now under you, fingers digging into your thigh as you took his cock inside of you, his hand guiding at the base as he breathed out into the quiet room, the low crackle of the fire at his bedside.

“If you could see yourself,” Joel says absently, watching as you pull the tightly woven ribbon from your hair, breasts stretching up with the movement until it fell from its intricately laced cage, bouncing lightly with your playful movement, a smile peeking from your lips, “such a vision, princess.”

“I am no princess,” You argue gently, palms pressing into his chest as you lift your hips, leisurely and slow, enjoying the tight pull of his brow every time your ass meets his hips, “I was not made for that life, Joel.”

“Made for me,” He assures, his warm tone spreading throughout your core and pulling you in, the hands place on your thighs moving up your hips, squeezing into the flesh of your waist as his mouth drops open, silently urging you to change your pace, “perfectly crafted, all I’ve ever needed.”

You snort softly at his words—he was always a poet, whether stumbling through his words or bringing you to your knees with a compliment that would be on your mind for days, echoing in your head as you dipped your fingers inside of you on the days you went without him.

“Would you marry me?” You ask suddenly, though you feel the answer before he says it.

“Without hesitation,” He responds, “I can propose—right now, if you want.”

“Such a romantic,” You chide, the words falling on a gasp as he flips you both suddenly, shoving you into the old mattress as the bed creaks with the weight and intensity of his thrusts, the rest of your words caught in your throat as he pulls your legs up and over his back, hands resting firmly beside your head, a true vision himself.

“If it would make you happy, I would,” He admits, “all I care about is having you, being with you—titles, all of that, it doesn’t mean much to me but if that is something that would make you happy—”

“What do—” Joel switches his position suddenly, an arm tucking under your leg as he pulls it over his shoulder and leans up to meet your cunt with his thrust, watching his cock as you swallowed him up, his hand falling over the base of your pelvis and pressing down, feeding into the pressure of his cock and the all-consuming feeling of him, “christ—what is it—that you want?”

“You,” He answers immediately, “and…”

He pauses, thinking carefully on his words.

You know little of his past other than his wife and daughter who had fallen ill, losing them when he had been away on business, unbeknownst and coming home to the sight of it. He was a broken, brittle man and you were the only thing holding him together.

“I would give you a son,” You tell him, “a daughter—as many kids as you wished, Joel. Is that what you want?”

“A family,” He smiles fondly, “with you?”

“I fear you would—oh—never escape me then,” You joke playfully, eyes squeezing shut as he snaps forward roughly, his thumb dragging over your clit fleetingly as your hands dig and twist in the bedsheets, “what a handful I would have with a small version of you.”

He chuckles softly, snaking his hand under your waist and pulling at your arm until you get the idea to wrap them around his neck, adjusting you up and into his lap, carefully examining his face under the soft glow of the fire, his lip quivering as you drag your thumb over his mouth.

“I want it,” You plead, “don’t—don’t pull away.”

“You’ve given me so much,” He mumbles into your cheek as you pull him closer, hugging him to your chest as he wraps himself around you, grunting as he reached closer and closer to his own end, “and you've been trapped your entire life, I don’t want you to feel that way with me.”

“And I would give you so much more,” You breath into his mouth, “picture it—barefoot, pregnant with your child in a home far away from here, our new life—”

“Baby,” He begs, his fingertips squeezing roughly into your flesh and you gasp, your cunt pulsing around him with the roughness of his movements, pussy throbbing at his fervent intensity at your words, “I love you.”

You nod, tucking his face into your neck as he hands slips between your bodies, dragging over your clit without you needing to ask, knowing he was just that in tune with your bodily cues, the hitch in your voice as you echo the words back to him.

“Come inside of me,” It wasn’t an order, more of a plea, but you mean it, “I want to be yours.”

Forever, you think. But, the words are cut off by a sharp, jerky snap of Joel’s hips as he comes inside of you, his teeth dragging over your shoulder as he groans into your skin, simultaneously working his thumb over your sensitive clit, feeling your clench and spasms around him as you come with a soft sigh, fingers twisting into his hair and your body curling around him like a python, squeezing him so tight it knocks the air out of him.

“Do you have everything you need?” Joel asks after a few minutes, gentle touches over your skin, pulling his face back to look at you. “Before we leave at sunrise?”

“I have you,” You assure him, “that is all I need.”

[navybrat817]

Bucky Barnes Masterlist - 2

Welcome to my 2nd Bucky Barnes Masterlist, lovelies, and I hope you enjoy! Here you will find some of my darker fics. These may include triggers such as noncon, dubcon, violence, dark themes, etc. Please heed the warnings. Header and banner by @sgt-seabass​ and dividers by @firefly-graphics​. Check them out! ​

Main Masterlist | 1st Bucky Barnes Masterlist

I have discontinued my tag list. Please follow my sideblog @navybrat817-sideblog and turn on notifications to see new fics! I will only post fics, writing ideas and updates there.

🔥 smut 💓 fluff 💔 angst 💞 AU 🛑 dark content 💙 Navy's faves

Mini-Series and Universes

Soldat and Sparrow Universe (Ongoing)

Your fire burns for the Winter Soldier. And one day, you’ll be free. Both of you.

Winter and Fire  🔥💙

Summary: You didn’t choose to be with Hydra. Neither did the Winter Soldier. 

War and Peace 🔥

Summary: Your first mission together brings inner war...peace.

Soldat and Sparrow  

Summary: No one touches his Sparrow.

Night and Day  🔥

Summary: Will you be another one of the Soldat’s lost memories?

Dark and Light

Summary: You learn the real reason why Hydra wants to keep you.

Black and White

Moon and Sun

Past and Future

The Pakhan and the Printsessa - Mob Newlyweds Universe (Ongoing) 💞

You’re married to Bucky Barnes, one of the most powerful men in the world. And all he wants is you.

Harmonious  🔥

Summary: You may think you’re a pawn in Bucky’s life, but you are his queen.

Hollow  🔥

Summary: Bucky touches on memories from the past and wants to start a new tradition with you.

Husband and Wife  🔥💙

Summary: Bucky has to have you before you get to your wedding reception.

Honeymoon Suite 🔥

Summary: Bucky takes a call during your honeymoon, but you should know that you always come first.

Home Again  🔥

Summary: Your husband opens up to you about his past as you fall more in love.

Honesty and Lies

Honor and Obey

Hope, Faith and Love

Vampire Mob AU (Ongoing)

Power and money mean nothing to the powerful vampire ruler if you’re aren’t by his side.

Around Your Throat  🔥

Summary:  Bucky has the perfect accessory to go around your throat.

Lay Me Down  🔥💙

Summary: You look to the past and future on your last night as a human.

Disturbia - Dark Suburbia AU

You have a beautiful home and a loving partner. So, why does it feel like something is wrong with your neighborhood?

A Plum a Day  🔥🛑

Summary: You wake up beside Bucky, but you don't know how you got there.

Winter and Kisa - Mob AU 💞

The mobster doesn't care that you're an agent. He wants you to be his.

Give Me a Name

Summary: Someone put their hands on you and Bucky can't let it go.

Almost Like Home

Summary: Bucky told you his place would be your home one day. You see it firsthand with his closet.

Dark Club AU (Tagged as Turn It Up AU)

Hold You Tight  🔥🛑💞

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

There's Something in the Water - Coming Soon

One Shots and Imagines (over 1k) *Some fics may get additional parts

Run Like Hell  🔥🛑

Summary:  You weren’t supposed to see the Winter Soldier that day. So you ran. The Soldat loves a good chase though…and you’re not getting away from him that easily.

First and Last  🔥🛑 💞 (a/b/o)💙

Summary:  Masquerading as Beta was an easy choice. Too bad Bucky Barnes had other plans for you.

You’re My Obsession  🔥🛑💙

Summary: You’re the light in Bucky’s darkness. And he doesn’t want to share you with anyone, including Steve.

Best Man 🛑

Summary: Bucky found the girl of his dreams and Steve couldn’t be happier.

Remind Me  🔥💙

Summary: The apocalyptic world is crumbling around you and you need a reminder of who you belong to.

Push and Pull  (features Nick Fowler x Reader)🔥🛑💙💞 (Club)

Summary: Nick wants what Bucky has.

Prized Possession  🔥🛑 💞 (Librarian)

Summary: You’re Bucky’s rare treasure, his most prized possession.

A Debt to Pay  🔥💙💞 (Mob)

Summary: Bucky isn’t a man to be crossed.

What Goes Around  🔥💙 💞 (DBF/BFD)

Summary:  Bucky is your friend's dad and your dad's friend and nothing more. Until he isn't.

Send Me an Angel  🔥🛑 💞 (Bartender)

Summary: Bucky thinks you’re an angel.

Follow You Home (Stalker)

Summary: Bucky just wants to see you smile when he visits you at the flower shop.

Two Sides of the Same Coin🔥 (Bucky and the Winter Soldier)

Summary: A night of passion awakens something beneath the surface of the man you love.

What Happens in Vegas  🔥🛑 💞 (Fae)

Summary: You get more than you bargained for when you decide to get married in Vegas.

Within You  🔥🛑

Summary: Bucky shows a different side of himself when you venture into a corn maze.

Ficlets (under 1k)

Read Between the Lines ~ (threat not by Bucky) 

Summary: Things are left unsaid with Bucky during your recent mission.

Loyalty  🔥 (features Dark!Andy Barber x Reader)  

Summary: Loyalty is something you’ve learned to both loathe and appreciate.

Collateral Damage  🔥🛑

Summary: You pay the price when the Avengers try to undo the snap.

Long Night

Summary: Bucky is waiting for you when you come back from a night out.

A Hero’s Reward  🔥 🛑

Summary: Bucky is a hero and every hero deserves a reward.

100 Word Drabbles

Secret Admirer Secret Admirer - Part 2 Secret Admirer - Part 3 Secret Admirer - Part 4 Forced Bond 🔥🛑 Last Call  🔥🛑 His Sparrow  🔥🛑 Stalked

[lostfracturess]

remedies and reasons | ch. 01

pairing — professor geto x law student reader

summary — this wasn’t supposed to happen. not that miserable internship at the law firm you hated, not him becoming your doctor, and definitely not that drunken night at the bar. but he helped, and god, you needed a friend. and he did too. except it's never just friendship with him, is it? it could be perfect—messy, complicated, but perfect. if only his heart wasn’t already taken.

important — this story is a spin-off of symptoms and causes, starting right after chapter twelve. while it can be read as a standalone, reading the original story first will give you a better understanding of the characters and story.

word count — 10.3 k

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, age difference (10 years), doctor-patient relationship, fwb, smoking, mature themes, angst, and depictions of illness (will update as the story progresses). reader discretion is advised.

author's note — hey friends !!! i'm so thrilled to share this new story with you, even though i said i wouldn't write two stories at the same time (oops!). this chapter covers mostly chapter twelve of symptoms and causes from suguru's pov, then introduces our new reader protagonist. if you haven't read the original story, some dynamics might be confusing initially, but i hope you'll get the hang of it. remember, you're the law reader here. at the start, there's a different reader (the protagonist from symptoms and causes). i'll note at the beginning of each scene to clarify. now, i'm so excited to hear your thoughts !! reblogs and comments are love <33

masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

next chapter ->

(note: s&c reader)

"You okay?" I asked, cutting through the tense quiet of the operating room.

Her eyes snapped to mine, the usual focus returning. "I'm fine," she said, gaze drifting away as a small frown creased her brow. "Sorry."

I watched her for a moment longer, unable to tear my eyes away. The soft curve of her cheek, the tender worry in her eyes — a painful reminder of what I could never have.

I wondered what she was thinking about. What occupied her mind like this. What could distract her from a surgery she normally loved with her whole being. But deep down, I knew the answer.

I hate the answer.

The familiar ache in my chest tightened as I steadied my hands, focusing back on the aneurysm pulsating beneath my fingertips. The world shrunk down to the surgical field, the beeping monitor and harsh lights fading away. Just me, her, and the delicate dance of our hands.

"Want to continue?"

She blinked, clearly taken aback. "You want me to clip it?"

"It's a gift," I replied.

"Gift? From who?"

I merely arched an eyebrow.

I didn't really need to say it aloud, did I? She knew.

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to her gloved hands. I could see her biting her lip, even beneath the mask. Doubt clouded her eyes, a flicker of insecurity that I rarely saw.

Stupid girl. 

Of course you can do it. You've done it before. Don't lose your focus now.

"And because I trust you," I added, my voice softening. "I wouldn't offer if I didn't."

Her focus snapped back to the exposed aneurysm with an almost palpable intensity. Her jaw set. "Okay," she said simply.

There she was. That's the woman I knew.

I moved to stand just behind her shoulder, close enough to monitor her every movement yet giving her the space she needed to work. She slid seamlessly into position at the microscope, her hands sure as they picked up the instruments.

"Focus," I whispered. "You've got this."

Watching her work was a bittersweet torture.

Her hands moved with a grace and precision that belied the complexity of the procedure, each movement precise yet unhurried. She was brilliant — a natural talent with an instinct few could match.

Except, perhaps, one person.

As she prepared to guide the clip into place around the bulging aneurysm, I couldn't help but feel proud. She was incredible and she didn't even seem to realize it.

"Do you ever think I'm... reckless?"

Her question, barely a whisper, caught me off guard.

I flinched, gaze snapping to study her profile. Her hands didn't falter, her focus unwavering. But I could see the question linger in her eyes.

Why would she ask that? Had Satoru put that doubt in her mind?

"Should I be worried that you're pondering this while inches deep in someone's brain?"

"Forget it," she muttered. "Just a fleeting thought."

With a small, dull click, the clip snapped shut. She had done it, and flawlessly at that. 

As I knew she would.

I let out a slow breath, not realizing until that moment how tightly wound with tension I had been. No matter how routine, those high-stakes seconds before clipping always gripped me.

"Well done," I said, watching the tension drain from her shoulders.

She glanced up at me, a genuine smile lighting up her eyes in a way that clenched at my heart. "Thanks, Suguru."

Oh, those eyes.

It pains me that it was him she was looking at with those soft, adoring eyes.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: s&c reader)

The water stung, colder than usual.

I scrubbed my hands next to her, glancing at her from the corner of my eye. Lost in thought again. I could tell. Her movements were mechanical, detached, her hands pale under the harsh fluorescent light. 

She was a mere shadow of her former self.

Damn it, Satoru. What did you do to her to get her this hollowed out? I wanted to put my fist through his face for the worry he constantly caused her. And the worst part was, she didn't even know the half of it.

I should tell her, right?

It was the right thing to do, to warn her about his failing liver, his addiction slowly eating him alive. She deserved to know, to be prepared.

But I couldn't. I'd made a promise. And he'd promised to get his shit together. But how much were those promises worth, really?

I know how this story will end. 

I'd seen it play out too many times.

I cleared my throat, pushing the thoughts away. "I'm proud of you," I said, trying to break the silence.

"Huh?" She looked at me, confusion clouding her eyes.

"How far you've come," I clarified, trying to get the words out right, but they still sounded hollow. How could I tell her how damn proud I was of the incredible woman she'd become? "Really, you're doing a great job. With the surgery, the research—you have a great future ahead of you."

She gave me a weak smile, then turned her gaze back to her reddened hands. 

She was trying to hold it together, I could see that. And it killed me to see her like this, struggling while I felt powerless to help shoulder her burdens. I wished she'd just open up, tell me what was wrong. But again, I knew the answer.

I hate the answer.

"How are you doing?" I asked gently. "Really?"

"Holding up. Somehow."

I observed her closely. Even without her looking at me, I could feel the weight of her struggles pressing down on her.  She was always so strong, so confident, but this was different. I'd never seen her so—broken. It was like the life had drained out of her. And it damn hurt.

"New semester treating you okay?"

Stupid question, I know.

"Bit stressful," she admitted. "I have to retake a few exams."

Yeah, and whose goddamn fault is that?

God, I'm repeating myself, but I knew the answer. 

I hate the answer.

I hate it so damn much.

"Listen, if you need any help—" I began, wanting desperately to ease her burden.

"Thank you, Suguru," she cut me off, shutting off the faucet with a harsh twist. "But unless you're offering to take my tests for me, I'm afraid this is on me."

She turned and reached for a towel, the action more frantic than usual. I watched her, frustration and helplessness twisting in my gut. I wanted to do more, to be more for her, but how could I when the one she really needed was — not me.

Truth was a bitter pill I had to swallow every damn day.

As she dried her hands, I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts. I turned off the water. "I'm sorry things turned out like this for you," I said, the words almost painful. "But it's for the best, for him and for you. We did what we had to."

"Wait, what do you mean?"

I grabbed a towel. "Hm?"

"What do you mean with, 'we'?"

Shit.

I froze mid-movement, my jaw tightening involuntarily. Damn it, I hadn't meant for that to slip out.

Her eyes bore into me, demanding answers. "What did you and Satoru talk about that night? The night before the hearing? I know he was with you."

I remembered it all too well.

Satoru showing up at my door in the middle of the night, shaking, sweating, barely holding onto his sanity. The ethics committee wanting to see him bleed, the guilt eating him alive over dragging her down with him, his addiction — it all become too much.

He didn't know what to do, what the right thing was. And I helped him see reason.

Or at least, that's what I told myself.

"It's nothing important. He was confused, and I helped him clear his head."

"What does that mean? What did you say to him?"

Her hands gripped the edge of the sink until her knuckles showed bone-white through the skin. She wasn't going to let this go.

Damn it, how could I get out of this?

She deserved the truth, I knew that. But I'd sworn to Satoru I wouldn't tell. My mind raced, searching for an explanation, but the truth was, there wasn't one.

Damn it, Satoru. Why do I always have to clean up your messes?

"Tell me what the fuck you said to him!"

And then I saw it. A flash of hurt in her eyes, a vulnerability I'd never seen before. It shattered me. She was so hurt. My beautiful, strong girl was so hurt and there was not a damn thing I could do to ease her suffering.

Because she was with him.

And I was on the sidelines, forced to watch Satoru tear her apart piece by piece — until there was nothing left.

I hated it. Hated Satoru for causing her so much pain.

I couldn't take it anymore. Sorry, Satoru, but screw you and your lies. This was different, because she was different.

"Isn't it obvious?" I snapped, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "I told him to end this. That it would destroy you, and that he should take responsibility for once!"

She flinched, her eyebrows drawing together as she mutely shook her head. "You had no right. You had no fucking right to do that!"

No right?

Oh pretty, I know that better than anyone. But how could I stand by and watch her get dragged down with him? No. Not anymore. I refused.

"No right?" My voice matched hers. I hated how this entire wretched situation had me losing control, lashing out at her when Satoru was the one who deserved it. "And watch you both go down? Satoru was a ticking time bomb! It was better this way—better him destroyed than you dragged down with him."

"I had him, Suguru!" she shouted. "I almost had him trusting me enough, trusting us enough, to let me help him, damn it!"

I almost laughed, but it stuck in my throat. It hurt too much to see the hope still clinging to her eyes. "You're delusional. He can't change. You know that. It would always have ended like this."

"My god, I can't believe your audacity! You ruined everything!"

I ruined everything?

Maybe it wasn't fair of me, maybe my own feelings were clouding my judgment, but damn it, I couldn't watch this anymore. Not when I could still taste the embers in my mouth each time I saw the deadened look in her eyes.

I stepped closer, my jaw clenched. She flinched back, but I kept going. I'd watched Satoru hurt her too many times. I couldn't stand by any longer.

I had to shatter her delusion.

"You know how many times I've seen this play out? The promises to change? I've seen it too often. He won't get better, and I won't let him drag you under with him. Not you."

Her back hit the sink. I stepped closer, until I felt the sudden searing burn of her warmth radiating against me, the intoxicating floral notes of her scent filling my senses until I thought I might lose it from proximity alone.

My hand twitched, moving before my mind could catch up. I wanted to pull back, but I couldn't.

Fingertip traced the delicate line of her jaw, trembling slightly at the contact I craved so much. I fought the urge to let my touch linger, to commit every precious dove-soft plane and angle to memory while I still could.

"This is for the best," I rasped out. "You're young, brilliant. This—relationship with Satoru, it would have ruined you."

"Don't you dare," she hissed, eyes blazing as she swatted my hand away. "You have no right to decide what's best for me."

"Yes, I do. Because I was the one who got you here in the first place, it was my doing, and I—" My voice caught in my throat. "I don't want to see you hurt."

The silence that followed was deafening.

I couldn't look at her, couldn't bear to see the pain I'd caused reflected in her eyes. I'd done what I thought was right, what I believed was necessary to protect her. But in doing so, I had become the very thing I despised—a barrier between her and the happiness she deserved.

Perhaps I'd just screwed everything up even more. And it was killing me.

"Why are you saying this now?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

I wanted to tell her everything. 

I wanted to confess the depth of my feelings, the months of silent longing that felt like a steadily tightening noose around my neck whenever I witnessed her happiness with him, the aching, hollow pit that seemed to consume more of me with every smile, every tender caress between them that I wasn't the recipient of, the gut-wrenching jealousy that flayed me from the inside out whenever she looked at him with those devastatingly soft, adoring eyes that held nothing but indifference for me, the—

Sorry.

I'll stop now.

It didn't matter anyway, did it?

The words wouldn't come.

I couldn't, wouldn't allow myself to cross that line.

All I could do was look at her, my heart splitting apart from the violence of my want with every beat. The urge to reach out, to pull her against me, was almost overwhelming. But I held back, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. I'd already done enough damage.

Then, my damned gaze flickered down.

Those lips. God, those lips.

Soft, slightly parted, the bottom one bearing the faint imprint of her teeth—a nervous habit I'd caught myself watching, savoring, hating myself for noticing.

How many times had Satoru kissed those worry marks away? How many times had I wanted to?

I'd lost count of the nights I'd lain awake, imagining her mouth on mine, her lips parting to gasp my name—not his. It was torture, this constant craving to know their texture, their heat, their taste.

It was wrong, so fucking wrong, to think about her that way.

But there I was, night after night, picturing those lips forming my name in a way friends never do. Dreaming of tasting them, feeling them, knowing them in every way I shouldn't.

And it hurt.

I sucked in a hard breath.

Sorry, Satoru. I can't keep this to myself anymore.

"You know damn well why."

I couldn't say it out loud, couldn't bring myself to admit aloud what she patently refused to see with her own eyes. No. I simply couldn't.

"No," she breathed. "You can't—"

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "Yeah, I know. You don't have to tell me that."

I already know that painful truth, pretty. It was a wound that refused to heal. I'd lived with that realization for far too long.

Suddenly, my pager blared, shattering the moment. Damn it. I cursed under my breath, pulling out the device. My face went taut as I read the message.

Yaga: Office. Now. Bring the student too.

That bastard. Why the hell did he want to see me now? And why her? Was it something Satoru screwed up again? Or something else? Did Satoru get the same message?

This couldn't have come at a worse time.

"What is it?" she asked, her eyes searching mine. I couldn't meet her gaze. Not after I'd betrayed not only her, but Satoru too, with my stupid, selfish feelings.

"Yaga," I choked out. "Wants to see us. Now."

Our eyes finally met, hers filled with questions I've longed so much to answer.

"Why?"

"I...I don't know. But we should go. Come on."

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: s&c reader)

My foot tapped a nervous beat on the scuffed wooden floor.

Why was I so damn nervous? I knew Yaga's games, been through them a thousand times. But this felt different. Because she was here. And she shouldn't be.

A knot tightened in my gut.

He wouldn't bring up that topic again, would he?

I glared at Yaga, willing him to just spit it out already. My eyes flicked to her, sitting stiffly beside me. Her face was a mask. I wondered what she was thinking about. Was she thinking about what I said? Or about—no, I didn't even want to think about that.

I know, I know, I'm repeating myself.

I knew the answer.

I hate the answer.

"So, shall we begin?" Yaga's voice finally cut through the silence, like he'd been enjoying our discomfort. Damn old bastard. "I've called you here to discuss a research project that I want you to redo."

He slid a folder across the desk towards her.

No name, just a mess of loose papers threatening to spill out. She picked it up, her brow furrowing as she opened it. Then her grip tightened on the file. I leaned closer to see what had her so tense, and my stomach dropped.

I knew that title.

Knew it better than anyone, except maybe the one person who'd written it.

"You want me to redo a study that was completely pointless?" she asked, her voice sharp.

"Yes," Yaga said simply.

"The results were inconclusive. A dead end."

"Your research held promise. Dr. Geto never failed to remind me." Yaga's eyes flickered to me. "Now, you have better resources, better support. You can refine it, perfect it."

Damn it. I should've kept my mouth shut.

Regret gnawed at my insides like acid. Regretted telling him what a brilliant mind she had, how much she deserved to be here—among the best. 

Because she did.

She was a natural, something I'd rarely seen before, maybe only in Satoru. Hell, it was like watching a younger Satoru at work. And it hurt. It was painful to see so many parallels between them, knowing that I could never measure up to him in her eyes.

I'd brought her here because I believed in her. Because I wanted her on my research team, because I wanted to work with her. But now, I wasn't so sure.

Had I screwed up? Was I the reason she was in this mess? Had I brought her here only to watch her world fall apart?

I didn't want to admit it. Couldn't bear to be the cause of her pain.

I glanced at her, catching her eye. Frustration and confusion were written all over her face.

Shame washed over me.

It was stupid, I know. I shouldn't feel ashamed for recognizing her talent, for bringing her here where she belonged. She deserved it all. But I couldn't shake the feeling that without me, she would've been better off.

Without me and Satoru.

Her knuckles turned white as bone as she gripped the file tighter, then slammed it shut.

"That's not the point," she said. "My CAR-T Therapy research was theoretical, a mathematical model that was inherently flawed. All the best equipment in the world won't change that. It's a black hole."

Yaga leaned forward. "Listen, we have a generous donor. I think you met her at the conference? She took quite a liking to you. Her husband recently succumbed to this very type of tumor."

I knew it.

Yaga, the greedy bastard, never changed his stripes.

The silence was heavy, the only sound the insistent ticking of the clock on the wall. Her mind was racing, I could feel it. So was mine.

I must have spaced out for a second, because the next thing I knew, she was speaking again, her voice dangerously low. "You want to use me to exploit a grieving woman just to line your pockets?"

Yaga's mouth hung open, the smug look wiped clean off his face.

In any other situation, I would have laughed. She, a mere student, had managed to stun the all-powerful Yaga into silence. But the situation was anything but funny. Still, I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. She was something else.

Suddenly, the door slammed open. I didn't even need to turn my head to know who it was.

"What the hell is going on here?" Satoru's voice boomed through the room.

Yaga's face hardened. "Dr. Gojo, what a... surprise. Here I thought you might have finally bothered to read your emails."

"Cut the bullshit, Yaga," Satoru spat. "This is a new low, even for you. Forcing a student, exploiting a grieving widow—have you no shame?"

Yaga rubbed his temples, his voice dripping with annoyance. "Dr. Gojo, your dramatics are exhausting. Do you understand the costs your actions have inflicted on this institution? A shred of gratitude, a willingness to shoulder some responsibility, might be a welcome change."

"Responsibility? You want to talk about responsibility? You're exploiting a woman in the depths of grief, using one of my students as a bargaining chip. What the hell happened to you, Yaga?"

The two of them went at it, their words flying back and forth faster than my eyes could follow. 

Yeah, Satoru sure knew how to make an entrance. Not a trait that was always helpful in situations like this, because something in Yaga snapped at his words.

Yaga stood up so abruptly his chair screeched against the floor. "Happened to me? Dr. Gojo, have you considered the consequences of your reckless behavior? You're the one spiraling, and frankly, it's becoming unbearable."

Damn, these two were about to kill each other. Satoru should know better than to provoke Yaga like that. The old man was stubborn as hell. But so was Satoru.

I closed my eyes briefly, then stepped between them, forcing myself to sound calm. "Director Yaga, please. She's a student, her focus should be on her studies."

"Of course, which is why you and Dr. Gojo will provide your expertise. Your old lab is free to use, funds are secured, equipment at your disposal. You have free rein."

Huh?

I narrowed my eyes. As if that made it any better.

Satoru let out a bitter laugh. "Free rein? Or free rein to do as you please? Despicable, Yaga. Truly despicable." He leaned back, folding his arms.   "And wasn't I suspended? Investigations and all that? But I suppose principles go out the window when money enters the picture."

"You have no right to dictate what happens here, Gojo," Yaga snapped, his composure slipping. "You answer to me. This research holds immense potential, not just for the university, but for the field itself. You will do it. End of discussion."

"Potential? Or is that just fancy code for fattening your wallet, Yaga?"

"Don't play dumb, Gojo. You, of all people, know exactly how the game is played."

"Don't. Do. This." Satoru leaned forward, his chest brushing against my hand as I tried to hold him back. "Involve her in your schemes, and I swear—Leave her out of this. Suguru and I can do the damned research, but let her focus on her studies."

"You're in no position to bargain. I can make things incredibly difficult for you, Gojo. Throw away all that potential, all that talent... it would be a shame, wouldn't it? But I am more than willing to do so if you prove uncooperative."

Smug bastard was really pushing it today.

He was nothing without us, and he knew it. This whole place would crumble without Satoru and me. We were the ones who brought in the grants, the prestige, the groundbreaking research. And yet, he treated us like we were disposable.

I pushed Satoru back, stepping up to confront Yaga directly. The urge to wipe that smugness from his face with my fists was nearly overwhelming, but I forced control over my rage. One hothead was more than enough for today.

Still, my words came out in a tone of barely restrained menace. "Director. Dr. Gojo has a point. This research will be a massive distraction. Her studies should be her priority."

"Yes," Yaga drawled. "I heard about her recent... setbacks." Yaga sank back in his chair and opened his laptop. "A failed practical exam, a theoretical test barely passed. And this isn't the first time, is it?"

He turned the screen towards her, her failing grades a glaring red on the display. "Tell me, which subject would you like to miraculously pass? A click of my fingers, and it's done."

Before I could say anything, Satoru exploded.

"You blackmailing piece of shit!"

"Blackmail?" Yaga said. "No, blackmail would be threatening to cut her scholarship, endangering her entire future here... which, thankfully, our generous donor would be more than happy to preserve."

This was too much. 

Now he had two pissed-off neurosurgeons on his hands. I braced my hands on the desk, leaning towards him. "Yaga, this is beyond the pale! This blatant manipulation—"

Suddenly, her voice cut through the tension. "I'll do it. I'll work on the research."

The room fell silent. 

Satoru and I both whipped around to look at her. Her gaze was fixed on Yaga, not flinching. There was something defeated about her, something I wasn't used to seeing. It chilled me to the bone. She wouldn't give in like that. I knew her better than that.

But what had changed?

"Someone finally sees reason," Yaga said, breaking the silence. "You start this week—"

"No," Satoru interrupted. "That's not up for debate. We start next week."

"This week," Yaga repeated, his voice firm.

Leaning in, Satoru's voice took on a dangerous edge. "Next week. Or I walk out that door and you can find yourself a new star surgeon."

Huh?

Why did the start date matter so much to him?

Was that the real issue here?

"Dr. Gojo, you are exceedingly close to losing my goodwill," Yaga ground out. "Fine. Next week."

Satoru backed off and started to pace the room. I glanced at her, who was still sitting silently in her chair. She looked so small, lost in the shadows of Yaga's office. I wanted to wrap her in a hug, tell her it would all be okay.

But it wasn't my place. I knew the answer—

Sorry.

I'll not repeat myself yet again.

My gaze shifted back to Yaga. "And if we find nothing? Months, years, wasted on a dead-end?"

"You'll continue as long as the funding lasts."

"Of course," Satoru spat from across the room.

"Well, look at the bright side, Gojo," Yaga said, adjusting his glasses and focusing on some papers on his desk. "I just approved that fancy new CT scanner for the ER. Isn't that what you've been whining about? Finally found some spare change in the budget, did we?."

"You fucking bastard," Satoru hissed.

Yaga merely shrugged. "Everyone has to play their role, Gojo."

I watched the exchange with a growing sense of disgust. Yaga's power plays were nothing new, but this — this was something else. Exploiting a grieving widow's generosity, using my student's academic struggles as leverage. It was sickening. 

I'd always known Yaga was ruthless, but this level of manipulation left a sour taste in my mouth. He was like a parasite, feeding off the brilliance and drive of others, all while masquerading as an advocate for the institution's best interests.

I clenched my jaw.

How could I continue to work for a man who treated his students and staff as mere commodities to be exploited?

Suddenly, I heard a shaky breath behind me.

I turned to see her staring blankly ahead, her body trembling ever so slightly. "If you'll excuse me," she whispered, then abruptly stood up and practically fled the room.

"Wait—" I started, but she was already gone, the door clicking shut behind her.

"Fuck you, Yaga!" Satoru shouted, slamming his fist against the wall hard enough to leave a mark. "This is your fault, your doing!" With that, he stormed out after her.

And I couldn't follow.

All I could do was try to clean up the mess that was left behind.

As soon as they were gone, I turned back to Yaga, who seemed to think the conversation was over. Oh, but it wasn't. Not by a long shot.

"You know about them," I said, not bothering to phrase it as a question.

"It's obvious even to a blind man, Dr. Geto," Yaga replied, his eyes glued to the papers on his desk.

"And you're just going to ignore it?"

He looked up, a cold glint in his eyes. "I finally found Gojo's weakness. Why would I let that go? At long last, I have a way to make him obey me."

I scoffed. In one swift motion, I swept the papers off his desk, scattering them across the floor. I leaned forward, my hands braced on his desk, glaring at him.

"This crosses a line, Yaga. You've gone too far."

His eyes narrowed. "Watch your tone, Dr. Geto. You're treading on dangerous ground."

"No, you are!" I shot back, my voice rising. "You're exploiting her, using her for your own gain. You think you can manipulate everyone, but you're wrong."

"Control? Greed? Those are harsh words coming from you," Yaga retorted, standing up to face me. "And here I thought you, of all people, would understand."

"Understand your greed? Not a chance."

"I don't care if you like my choices or not. This is how things work. You can play by the rules, or be replaced. Don't delude yourself into thinking you're irreplaceable, Dr. Geto."

"Your arrogance is going to cost you another surgeon if you don't watch it. You drove Sukuna away, and now you're halfway there with Gojo and me."

"Sukuna was a different story!" Yaga snapped, his face contorted with a rage I couldn't quite comprehend. He quickly regained his composure, but the outburst had left an uneasy silence in its wake.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen and saw Shoko's name. Frowning, I answered the call. "Shoko? What is it?"

"Suguru, there's a patient here who insists on seeing Satoru. She says it's really important, but he isn't answering his phone, and she won't leave.“

"Why can't you see her yourself?"

"I need a neurologist's assessment," she replied. "And she specifically asked for Satoru. They had an appointment scheduled, and she's adamant about seeing him."

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "There are other neurologists on staff right now."

I could hear her sigh on the other end of the line. "She's never seen anyone else here, Suguru. I'm pretty sure there's a reason she's so insistent on Satoru. Just look at her, do me a favor."

"Alright, I'll be there soon," I conceded. "Bring her to my office."

I ended the call and turned back to Yaga. I took a deep breath, trying to quell the rage that threatened to consume me. "This isn't over. Not by a damn sight."

"Yeah, yeah, Dr. Geto, as always," he dismissed me, already back at his papers. "By the way, there's a legal consult regarding this research coming up for you and Gojo. We don't want a repeat of past indiscretions, now do we?" He looked up at me.

I wanted to smash his smug face in. 

I turned and stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind me. My blood was boiling, my fists clenched tight. I hated this whole damn situation. Hated Yaga, hated his manipulative tactics, hated how he was using her. But most of all, I hated feeling so goddamn powerless.

As I walked down the corridor, my anger slowly hardening into resolve. Yaga might think he was in control, but he was wrong. I wouldn't let him manipulate her, or Satoru, or anyone else.

Not this time. Not ever again.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: r&r reader)

I made my way to the hospital.

A damn patient was really the last thing on my mind. I had more important things to do than deal with a hysterical patient. What was it even about? Why did it have to be Satoru she wanted to see? Some relative of his?

I tried to take a deep breath and calm myself, but the downpour between the parking lot and the main entrance made it damn near impossible. By the time I got inside, I was soaked to the bone. No umbrella in sight, of course.

My office door was slightly open. I pushed it in, expecting to find some old lady or something. Instead, a young woman sat in the chair across from my desk. Mid twenties, maybe, with a delicate, almost fragile look about her. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap.

The office was dark, the lights off, which struck me as odd given the gloomy weather outside. But the light from the window beside her illuminated her face, and I had to admit — she was beautiful.

I must have hesitated overlong in the doorway, because her gaze suddenly snapped up to meet mine, those stunning eyes of hers holding me captive. "You are not Dr. Gojo."

"I'm Dr. Geto," I managed, clearing my throat against the strange tension. "You not fond of light, are you?" I asked pointing towards the light switch.

"I like it a bit dimmed," she said, and I didn't question it further.

I stepped into the room, glancing down at my clothes. Not exactly the most professional look for a doctor, standing there soaked through in front of a patient. I threw on my white coat, but it did little to hide my damp appearance.

"You were here for Dr. Gojo, right?" I said as I sat down behind my desk.

"Yes," she said, her eyes following my every move.

"I'm sorry, but he isn't available right now. But I'm a neurologist as well. Perhaps I can help you instead?"

She slid a piece of paper across my desk, her hand still resting on it. "I just need a signature here."

"A signature?" I leaned forward, water dripping from my hair onto the form. I quickly pushed my wet strands back. "This is a health screening form."

"Yes." Her eyes darted nervously to mine. "I need it for my job."

"Can I take a look at it?" I made to take the paper, but her hand remained firmly in place.

"Just the signature, please. Then I'll be out of your hair."

I raised an eyebrow. "I can't sign something without knowing what I'm signing."

Her brow furrowed, and she snatched the form back. "Sorry to have wasted your time," she muttered, starting to get up.

"Wait," I said, stopping her mid-motion. What was it about this woman? What did Satoru have to do with any of this?

"Tell me." I leaned back in my chair. "What did you and Gojo agree on regarding this?"

She hesitated, biting her lip. "Dr. Gojo agreed to sign it without asking too many questions."

Something didn't add up. Satoru might be an addict, but he wasn't reckless with patients.

"I swear, I'll give you the signature you need if you'd just let me take a look at it first."

Reluctantly, she slid the form back across the desk, avoiding my eyes. I scanned it quickly, my brow furrowing as I saw the long list of medications, mostly anticonvulsants. 

That explained the lights being off.

"You have epilepsy." I looked up at her. Why would she think either of us would sign this without checking it out first?

"Yes."

"And you're currently taking all these meds?" I gestured to the list.

"Yes."

I leaned back, studying her face. "And Gojo knew about this?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any other words in your vocabulary besides 'yes'?"

Her brow furrowed, and a flicker of defiance flashed in her eyes.

I sighed. "Come on, sit down."

Reluctantly, she settled back into the chair.

I studied her face, looking for any signs of her epilepsy — a slight tremor in her hands from the Topiramate, maybe. But there was nothing. She was perfectly still. Satoru must have found the right dosage.

The silence stretched on. I waited for an explanation, and she knew it. I could practically see the gears turning in her head.

"He's been treating me for a while," she finally said.

"I see. And he agreed to sign this health screening form for you?"

"Yes—"

I raised an eyebrow.

"Look, Dr. Geto, I really need this for my internship," she pleaded. "It's really important to me."

I glanced back down at the form. "Nishimura and Asahi, huh? That's a big deal. You're a law intern?"

"Yes, I am. I'll be working there for the next semester."

I skimmed the papers again, test results, MRI scans. "So, you're almost done with your studies?"  I asked, not looking up.

"I do my second state examination after my internship, yes, then I'm done."

"Hmm." I looked up from the papers, the rain drumming against the windows, the only sound in the otherwise silent office. She stared at me, unwavering.

"So you're preparing for your final exams while working the internship? Sounds stressful," I tried to broach the subject carefully.

"Please, Dr. Geto," she said. "I just need a signature on this paper, and I'm out of here."

I sighed. "I understand. But I can't just sign this without checking in on you first. I need to run some tests, make sure you're fit for work."

My eyes scanned the papers again. Blood tests and medication checks were recent, but the MRI scans were outdated. Even Satoru wouldn't have let her slide with that.

"Look, we can make this quick," I offered. "Your MRI scans are old. We take new ones, and then—"

"No," she blurted out, her voice rising in panic. "I mean, isn't there another way?"

"Another way to look into your brain?" I raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid not."

She bit her lip, her hands clenching and unclenching in her lap, saying nothing.

"Look, it's crucial for me to get a clear picture of your brain activity," I explained. "It's the only way I can make sure you're safe and healthy. Otherwise, I can't sign that form."

She looked up at me again. "I... I can't do MRIs. I'm not really comfortable with enclosed spaces."

Huh?

Was that the problem?

I ran a hand through my damp hair, looking back at her scans. "Your last scans were done by Dr. Gojo too, right?"

"Yes."

She was a woman of few words, it seemed.

"Was there something special Dr. Gojo did that made you feel more comfortable in the MRI? Did he give you any medication? Vistaril? Valium?" I knew it wasn't that, though. Those drugs would interact badly with her other meds.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, looking like she might throw up any second. "He... held my hand."

Ha?

My eyebrows shot up. "He held your hand?"

She lifted her chin and looked away. "It... it helped."

I can only imagine the dumbfounded look that must have settled on my features as I processed her words. I couldn't picture Satoru, who rather had his patients in and out in mere seconds, being so patient and caring with anyone. Let alone holding their hand through a brain scan.

She crossed her arms, a stubborn look on her face. "I swear, nothing weird happened. He just held my hand, that's all."

I couldn't help but laugh.

"It's not funny," she protested, her cheeks flushing. "It was really embarrassing."

"Oh, I'm sure it was," I teased, enjoying her flustered reaction. "But it's also quite cute."

She huffed, turning her head away. "It's not cute. It's just... something he did."

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk. "And would you like me to do the same?"

Her eyes narrowed, a spark of challenge in them. "His hands were really soft."

"Is that so?" I leaned back in my chair. I could see the wheels turning in her head, her stubbornness a thinly veiled attempt to stall for time.

"And warm."

"Aha."

"And he had this way of holding my hand," she started, demonstrating with her own hands. My eyebrows shot up even higher as she mimicked Satoru's thumb stroking her knuckles. "Like this."

Somewhere in the middle of her demonstration, she must have realized how ridiculous this was, because she abruptly stopped.

"Don't laugh!" she warned, and I realized I was indeed grinning like an idiot.

Before she could object, I reached out and took her hand in mine.

Her skin was soft, her fingers delicate. I held her gaze, challenging her silently. Not sure what I was trying to prove, but the warmth of her hand in mine felt... good. I knew I was crossing a line here, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

"See? Not so bad, is it?"

She didn't say anything, but her grip tightened a bit. I held her gaze for a few more seconds, then my thumb brushed against the back of her hand in a soothing gesture. She seemed to relax slightly under my touch.

Her eyes darted around the room as if searching for an escape route. "I... I suppose."

I couldn't help but let the moment linger, our hands still intertwined. I noticed a slight tremor in her fingers, and my thumb instinctively smoothed over her skin again.

She suddenly gasped. "That's... quite weird."

"And with Gojo it wasn't weird?"

She shook her head, eyes glued to our hands. "No. I just realized it's weird in general."

I smiled. "Well, then it's settled. We'll schedule your MRI for tomorrow morning."

"You're not like other doctors."

"Perhaps not," I said, finally letting go of her hand. "But you're not exactly your average patient either."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she gestured towards my soaked shirt. "You're the doctor who's completely drenched. I can practically see your skin underneath. Not very professional, is it?"

I glanced down at my sopping clothes. I hadn't even realized how see-through my shirt was. "For someone who's afraid of an MRI machine, you sure have a big mouth."

She crossed her arms. "And for someone who just held a patient's hand without their explicit consent, you sure have a lot of nerve. That's a violation of medical ethics, you know. I could report you for that."

"A law student, are we?" I raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Perhaps you should focus on passing your exams before you start threatening lawsuits."

"Yeah, well, I'd need that signature before I can do that, wouldn't I?"

"Fair enough." I stood up, keys in hand. "Until tomorrow then. Try not to sue me in your sleep."

I turned to leave, but her voice stopped me. "Just so you know, Dr. Geto. I'm not afraid of MRI machines. I just don't like them."

I turned back, a grin spreading across my face. "We'll see about that tomorrow, Attorney," I challenged. "We'll see about that."

The hallway was empty, the silence broken only by the steady drip of water from my clothes. As I walked, the adrenaline of the encounter faded, replaced by the familiar weight of the day's earlier events. The tense confrontation with Yaga, the lingering ache for her — it all came back, a dull throb in the background of my thoughts.

Her face.

Her eyes.

That damn smile.

I ran a hand through my hair.

Fuck.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: r&r reader)

I held my promise.

Her fingers were cold and clammy, her pulse racing beneath my touch. My thumb traced the back of her hand, hoping to convey some sense of comfort. The MRI machine's steady thrum filled the room, but beneath it, I could still hear her shallow breaths.

How the hell did I end up here? Holding hands with a patient during a goddamn brain scan was definitely not in my job description.

"Can you tell me something?" she asked. "Dr. Gojo always talked to me while I was in here."

"What do you want to know?"

"How did you and Dr. Gojo meet?"

I hesitated, slightly irritated by the personal question.

"We've known each other our whole lives. Kindergarten, elementary school, high school... we didn't always get along. He can be a real pain in the ass. But somewhere along the way, we just clicked. Been stuck together ever since. Same university, now working together."

"So you've never been apart?"

"Not really," I said, continuing to soothe her hand with my thumb. "I think the longest we were separated was when he did a semester abroad. Six months, maybe."

"Wow. Sounds like you're an old married couple."

I huffed. "Yeah, somehow we were that."

"Were?"

I looked up, realizing I'd slipped into past tense.

There was a long silence as I thought about it. We used to be so close, inseparable. There was nothing we didn't share, nothing that could ever come between us. But lately, it felt like we were drifting apart.

Maybe I was only realizing it now.

"Oh, I..." I trailed off. I rested my chin on my free hand, looking away from her. "I guess it's only natural. People drift apart. Life happens."

What the hell was I doing?

This was some random patient of Satoru's, a complete stranger. I should've stuck to small talk, the weather, anything but my personal life. But maybe, with everything going on, I just needed to talk about it — to anyone. Because I sure as hell couldn't talk to Satoru about it.

But she wouldn't understand, would she? She was just a stranger.

She wouldn't understand the sleepless nights, the endless tossing and turning, the hollow ache in my chest that wouldn't go away.

"Hmm," she murmured, her grip on my hand tightening slightly. "Was it a woman?"

"Huh?" I looked at her, or at least the part of her face that wasn't hidden by the MRI machine.

"The reason you parted, I mean?"

"No. It wasn't a woman."

The silence hung in the air as the MRI hummed and clicked. She didn't say anything.

I took a deep breath. "It was a woman. But not in the way you think."

"It's never what it seems, is it?"

I hesitated, not sure how much to share. But something in her voice, a softness, made me want to go on. "They share a bond... a deep one. I've never seen anything like that. It's like they're the very air the other breathes."

Her grip on my hand tightened, as if she understood the depth of my pain, even without knowing the full story. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's alright," I said, trying to shrug it off, but the pain was still raw. "I knew from the start that they were made for each other."

The truth sliced through me, sharp and cold.

They were too similar, both bordering on insanity to be fair, but similar. Yet, they were so stubborn, so unwilling to admit their need for each other, that they'd rather tear each other down.

It was a damn tragedy.

Even more of a tragedy to get caught up in their destruction, to have these stupid feelings I'd rather not have.

I stayed silent, unsure if I wanted to say anything more. It hurt too much to talk about it, the wound still too fresh. But then, her voice cut through the silence again.

"The law firm is hell."

"Huh?" I was pulled back to the present. "What do you mean?"

"The corporate types are all so stiff and judgmental," she complained. "And the other law students... so ambitious, always trying to one-up each other. I hate it."

My lips twitched into a light smile. "Yeah, law students were always ambitious, even back in my day."

"They are. Everyone's so focused on being the best, even if it means stepping on others. I'm not sure I have that kind of ambition."

"But you got an internship at one of the top law firms in the city," I pointed out. "That must mean you're pretty ambitious yourself."

There was a pause, then she almost whispered, "Yeah, but at what cost..."

Hm?

I barely caught her words, but before I could ask her to repeat herself, a sudden beep from the MRI machine cut through the air. The machine whirred to a stop, the sudden silence almost unsettling. The scan was complete.

The table slowly slid out, bringing her back into full view. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the light. "That's it?" she asked, sounding surprised. "It's over?"

"All done, Attorney," I said with a reassuring smile. "You did great."

As she started to sit up, I realized I was still holding her hand. She glanced down at our intertwined fingers. "You can let go now, Dr. Geto."

I blinked, snapping back to reality. I quickly released her hand. "Sorry."

"It's okay," she said, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "I tend to have that effect on men."

"Again, for someone who's afraid of MRIs, you've got a pretty big mouth."

"Again, I'm not afraid of them. I just don't like them."

"Yeah, yeah," I said, helping her off the table. My hand brushed against hers again. "Now let's take a look at those scans."

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: r&r reader)

As the images flickered onto the screen, my focus sharpened, my eyes scanning the intricate patterns of her brain. The room was quiet, broken only by the soft hum of the computer and the rhythmic beeping of the nearby monitors.

"Everything looks good, Attorney," I said. "No signs of any abnormalities or lesions."

She leaned forward, her eyes wide with interest as she studied the images. "So, I'm all clear?"

"As far as I can tell. Your epilepsy seems to be well-controlled with your current medication."

"Thanks, Dr. Geto, I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome," I replied, grabbing the form from my desk. "Now, about that signature..." I quickly filled it out, my pen scratching across the paper. With a final flourish, I signed my name at the bottom.

"Here you go," I said, handing it over. "All set."

She took it, her eyes scanning the document quickly. "Thank you. You've been a lifesaver."

"Just doing my job." I waved away her thanks. "Now, go out there and conquer the legal world."

She looked up from the paper and met my gaze with a boldness that caught me off guard. "Would you like to go out for drinks this weekend?"

I blinked, my mind scrambling to process her words. "I... what?" I stammered, completely taken aback. "Are you—asking me out?"

"No, no, that's not it at all!" She quickly waved her hands in front of her face. "I mean, not like a date or anything. I could really use a friend, someone to show me around and... you know, just hang out with."

I stared at her, amused and bewildered at the same time. "Attorney, I'm at least ten years older than you."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Ha? How old are you?"

"How old are you?"

"Didn't you read my medical history, doctor?"

Right. Now I remembered. Twenty-six. Yeah, ten years older. I leaned against the desk, not quite sure what to make of her proposition.

"I'm your doctor," I said, reminding her of the obvious.

"Technically, I'm Dr. Gojo's patient."

"Even so, you realize how this could be perceived, right?" 

"It's not like I'm asking for your kidney. Just a few drinks." She shrugged, unfazed. "Besides, you seem like a nice guy."

"That's all it takes for you?"

"Come on, don't make it so hard for me," she said, pouting playfully.

"I'm not sure I'm the best person to show you around town. I'm a bit of a workaholic. Socializing isn't exactly my forte."

She tilted her head, studying me with a curious gaze. "So you're saying you don't have any friends?" she asked, a playful challenge in her voice. "Are you a loner, Dr. Geto?"

I hesitated, thrown off by her directness. "Do you always speak your mind so bluntly?"

She shrugged. "Only when I'm talking to heartbroken doctors who seem a little lonely."

I couldn't help but be intrigued by her persistence.

She was unlike any patient I'd ever met — bold, witty, and surprisingly insightful. And despite the age difference, there was some sort of strange understanding between us. I couldn't quite tell if she was doing this for herself or for me, but I found myself wanting to find out.

"Alright, Attorney," I said. "You win. I'll show you around town. But don't expect any wild nights out. I'm more of a quiet bar and good conversation kind of guy."

Her face lit up with a genuine smile. "Sounds perfect. Just promise me you won't try to diagnose me with anything while we're out."

"Why, is there more to diagnose?"

"Nothing major," she said with a chuckle. "Just the usual existential angst, quarter-life crisis, questioning my entire career path kind of stuff."

"Don't worry. I won't diagnose anything outside this hospital."

"Great." She grinned, extending her hand. "Then it's a deal."

As our hands clasped together, I returned her smile. "Deal."

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: s&c reader)

Satoru's call woke me up, telling me to get my ass to the lab. It was my day off, damn it, but when he mentioned she wanted to meet us. I dragged myself out of bed.

By the time I got to our old lab — now ours again, apparently — Satoru was already mapping out the entire research study on the whiteboard. He must have been there for hours.

Good thing I'd brought two coffees. I knew this was coming.

Hours passed in a blur of caffeine and whiteboard markers. Satoru and I argued over every damn strategy, our approaches clashing like always. He wanted to go one way, I wanted to go another. Every idea we had was met with immediate criticism and erased within minutes.

New idea, erase, repeat.

But we kept going, trying to find a plan that would work, not just for us, but for her. We both wanted to take some of the burden off her shoulders.

Then the lab door opened. I turned, surprised to see anyone before the afternoon. My heart stuttered in my chest.

It was her.

She walked over to us, her expression unreadable. It was the first time I'd seen her since Yaga's office, since I'd almost let those three damning words slip past my guard. Since I'd seen the confusion in her eyes when she realized what I was about to confess.

God, what had I been thinking?

That she'd what, return my feelings?

Foolish.

"What are you doing here?" Satoru asked. "Don't you have a lecture right now?"

"Yuta's covering for me. It's fine."

"That's not how this research will work. You won't jeopardize your studies for this," Satoru said, his voice firm.

"Last time I checked, this was my research. Remember?" she retorted, her tone just as sharp.

Satoru merely huffed. She shifted under his gaze, looking uncomfortable. And tired. No, tired was an understatement. She looked like she hadn't slept in a week. Her cheeks were hollow, her skin pale. I hated seeing her like this.

"You look exhausted," I observed quietly. "Are you sure you're up for this?"

"I'm fine," she said, but it was a blatant lie.

I glanced at Satoru, who was already looking at me with a frown. He thought the same thing I did.

"Look, I have an idea," she said suddenly, walking over to the whiteboard and snatching the marker from my hand. Before I could react, she erased our notes with a few harsh strokes.

Ouch.

"My original approach was too theoretical—too cautious," she began, drawing on the whiteboard. "I wanted to use CAR-T therapy to treat brain tumors like blood diseases, but that's not enough. What if we combine CAR-T with targeted antibodies?"

I took a seat next to Satoru, my eyes following hers as she scribbled diagrams and equations on the board. I took a sip of my coffee, already cold. "Antibodies... what kind?"

"T-cell engagers," she said without missing a beat. "We can engineer them to bridge the gap between the CAR-T cells and the tumor."

"That's never been tested before," Satoru chimed in.

"That's why we'll be the first," she retorted. “We'll modify the CAR-T cells to specifically target the glioblastoma's antigen fingerprint. But we need to combine them with T-cell engagers, designed to simultaneously bind the EGFR protein. This way, we can maximize tumor cell destruction."

It was hard to keep up. Her words were spilling out a mile a minute, as if she was afraid they otherwise might slip her mind, the drawings on the board barely legible.

Then, she spun around. "And we'll inject them directly into the brain."

Silence.

Satoru and I stared at her, trying to process what she'd just laid out. Even as seasoned neurosurgeons, we were struggling to keep up. This was on a whole other level than anything we'd considered.

We were looking for something that would work and be safe.

She just wanted to find a way to make it work, damn the risks it seemed. The lack of sleep was clearly messing with her head, but in a twisted way, it made sense. Still, we couldn't actually go through with this, could we?

Her gaze flitted between us, waiting for a response.

God, I need a cigarette.

"That's," I paused, searching for the right word, "—bold."

"More like insane," Satoru countered. "When was the last time you actually slept?"

"Ha? Tell me this doesn't make sense."

I leaned back, drumming my fingers on the armrest as I thought it over. "It does. Theoretically, it could work."

"Combining CAR-T with antibodies? Direct brain injection? We don't have preclinical data, not even hypothetical models to support something this radical," Satoru countered.

"So?" she challenged. "Isn't that what groundbreaking research is about? Taking risks, pushing boundaries?" She gestured to the whiteboard. "This—this is worth the risk."

I stood up and started pacing, rubbing my chin as I thought it through. I walked back over to the board, took the marker from her hand, and started scribbling.

"She's right,"  I said, my mind racing.  "Direct injection cuts through the blood-brain barrier issue. And targeted antibodies... that opens up possibilities we haven't even considered."

But there were still so many obstacles. "The potential for cytokine release syndrome—" I mused aloud. "If the T-cells overreact, we could trigger an inflammatory response."

She leaned closer, her eyes focused on the board. "We can manage that. Steroids, anti-IL-6... strict monitoring protocols."

Hmm, maybe. But there was still more to consider. I kept writing. "And what about the target itself? EGFRvIII is notoriously heterogeneous. We need robust evidence that our antibodies won't miss their mark—"

"Is it just me, or am I the only sane person in this room right now?" Satoru interrupted, his arms crossed as he glared at us from his chair. "We're not talking about hypothetical models here. We're talking about messing with someone's brain. Someone's life."

"I'm well aware of the risks, Satoru," she shot back.

"Aware and reckless aren't the same thing," he retorted.

"Coming from you, that's rich."

God, I need two cigarettes now.

"Look, you've barely slept for a week, and now you're proposing—what, supercharged T-cells?" He gestured towards our chaotic notes on the whiteboard. "Have you both lost your goddamn minds?" His gaze flickered between the two of us.

I was surprised he was so hesitant. Satoru was usually the first to jump into the deep end. Somehow, I had the feeling he changed. He wasn't as risky as I used to know him. Must be her influence.

She took a step forward, her eyes locked on Satoru's. "This could work, Satoru. Or are you too much of a coward to even try?"

"Ha?"

She leaned in, her hands gripping the arms of his chair. "Tell me, do these supercharged T-cells unnerve you? Make you uncomfortable with yourself?"

I had to look away. The sight of them so close together made my stomach churn. I didn't want to see whatever was about to happen. She whispered something I couldn't make out, but the intensity in her eyes was clear. A wave of irritation, of jealousy, washed over me.

My phone buzzed, a welcome distraction. I pulled it out, annoyance flaring when I saw the caller ID.

"Damn it." I answered the call. "Shoko, what is it?"

"Hey Suguru, look, we have an emergency here and the other neurologist is out sick. We need someone to jump in, can you come?"

I rubbed my temple. "Alright, I'm on my way."

I turned back to them, already gathering my things. "We'll pick this up later. There's a situation at the hospital." I looked at her, concern replacing my irritation. "Get some rest. You look like hell."

The words were out before I could stop them, harsher than I intended. But I was already halfway out the door.

Later, as I was scrubbing into surgery, my own words echoed in my mind.

And I felt awful.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: s&c reader)

Sharp autumn air stung my lungs with each greedy drag on my cigarette.

Across the table, Satoru's fingers tapped an impatient rhythm on the worn table that set my teeth on edge. I had to resist the urge to reach over and grab his wrist to make him stop. His eyes were glued to his phone. Overhead, the sky was a bruise-colored canvas, the sun barely visible.

Forgotten coffee grew cold between us.

I took another long drag from my cigarette. Satoru shifted opposite of me, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. He hadn't looked away from his phone in minutes, his fingers twitching as if itching to type a message.

We sat like this for a while at the campus outdoor cafeteria. Students hurried past. Neither of us said a word.

"Sorry for ditching you with my patient the other day," he finally said. "How'd it go?"

I exhaled a plume of smoke and watched it vanish into the leaden sky. "Everything's fine. Medication's good, MRI was clean."

"That's good news," he said, already back to his phone, unlocking and locking it in a nervous tic. "Knew you'd take care of her." He glanced up with a smirk. "So she actually went through with the MRI? How'd that go?"

I let out a dry laugh. "Let's not talk about it." I stubbed out my cigarette butt in the grimy ashtray and immediately lit another. "Didn't know you were so soft with your patients."

"I'm not a monster, you know." He shrugged, gaze dropping back to his phone. "I do what's best for them, even if it means bending the rules a bit." He paused, a smirk once again forming on his lips. "She's pretty straightforward, huh?"

"Did you sleep with her?" I asked bluntly.

Satoru's head snapped up, eyebrows raised. "What, you think I'm screwing every student that walks through my door?"

"You seem familiar."

"She's nice. I was nice in return. That's all." His attention was already drifting back to the bright screen. "Besides, she works with Higurama. He asked me to keep an eye on her."

I exhaled slowly, the smoke a grey ghost against the darkening sky.

"She's doing okay, by the way," he offered without looking up.

My blood ran cold. 

I knew who he was talking about. We both did.

Satoru's gaze met mine, his smirk gone. "I know you want to ask."

Silence fell. I wondered if he could sense the fever-pitch of my pulse, if he knew about my feelings for her. Because the way he looked at me now, I had a sinking feeling he did. My fingers tightened around my coffee cup.

"It's not easy for her," I said, trying to sound indifferent.

"Yeah." Satoru's expression hardened. "I should kill Yaga over this whole mess."

"Still, her plan might actually work. It's a good one."

"Yeah, but at what cost?" His leg started its anxious bouncing again under the table. "She's pushing herself too damn hard."

He paused, then blurted, "We should leave this university."

"Like we talked about before you backed out?"

"You know why." He unlocked his phone again, only to lock it a second later with a sigh. "I can't leave her alone with these maniacs."

"The whole staying away from her thing isn't really working out, huh?"

"Of course not," Satoru scoffed with a weary sigh. "I should've known better."

I took a sip of the coffee gone cold and bitter minutes ago, watching him over the rim. He raked a hand through his hair, then tugged at the strands, his leg still bouncing under the table. Something was eating at him.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, fine," he replied curtly.

I watched him for a beat longer. He was clearly anything but fine. But I knew better than to push it. He wouldn't tell me anyway. Satoru always kept that shit bottled up tight.

But there was another issue too, wasn't there?

"How's the medication treating you?" I asked instead. "We should get your liver enzymes checked soon."

"Huh?" He looked up from his phone, clearly surprised by the question — as if he'd forgotten about his failing liver.

Just then, Zenin Maki and her friends strolled past our table. Okkotsu gave us a quick wave as they passed, and I returned a faint smile.

It was strange. She wasn't with them.

Come to think of it, I hadn't seen her around campus at all since we last crossed paths in the lab.

Satoru's gaze followed them as they scanned the outdoor seating area for a table. His eyes widened, then he quickly stood up. "Sorry, Suguru, I have to go," he said hastily, not giving me any explanation. But I should be used to this by now.

It wasn't the first time.

He was already gone, leaving his coffee cold and abandoned in his wake. I took another long drag of my cigarette, stubbed it out in the overflowing ashtray, and reached for my phone.

[12:15 PM] Me: So, Saturday at 9pm? Know a good sports bar if you're into that.

[12:16 PM] Attorney: Sounds good, love sports. Send me the address.

next chapter ->

author's note: i'm so thrilled to hear your thoughts on geto's pov! he's really struggling with gojo and s&c reader being the mess that they are and his feelings in all of it, but don't worry, he'll get his happy ending (with you) too hehe <33

i hope it wasn't too confusing though. this is my first time writing a spin-off, so if you haven't read symptoms and causes, it must be quite confusing at times. but the next chapters will focus less on the s&c reader and more on geto and the r&r reader of course. but i love how i can provide background info for s&c through this story and vice versa :)) & lastly, thank you so much for reading !! your support truly means the world. hope u all have a great day !! <3

pls comment on the masterlist for the taglist. or consider subscribing to the story on AO3, if you'd like to stay updated on future chapters.

🏷️ @nanamis-baker @whereflowerswenttodie @certainlysyko @ri-sa20 @biancaness

@roseified @rixo-19 @madaqueue @starmapz @alwaysfreakingout

@gojoluvs @totallytatum @shervinss

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or modify my work.

[daphwritesworld]

Chapter 1— For The First Time.

a/n: welcome to the Be My Baby series! i’m super excited to get started and work on this story! I’m thinking of publishing 2/3 chapters weekly if I can, but at least 1 will always come out. If additional ones are on the way i’ll make sure to update that on my upcoming post. thank you for your support and happy reading < 3

(p.s. sorry I didn't proof read this lol. I will later and edit any details that need touching up. This is already a few hours late tho, so I want to go ahead and get it out.)

content: Top!Leah, Bottom!Reader, bed humping, fingering (r receiving), teasing, talks of shoe humping, spit play, talks of previous sexual encounters, brewing sexual tension, and masturbation (both)

warnings: allusions to heavy dom/sub relationship, talks of injury, Leah busting her ass at practice, Leah making a fool of herself when she’s in shock, flirty!Leah deserves a warning on its own so here you go, calling reader a bitch & slutty once in a dominating way, semi-public sex, almost getting caught by Alessia, Leah accidentally knocking you on your ass lol

synopsis: You've arrived to your first day at Arsenal; your new club for the foreseeable future as head Athletic Trainer. A new country with promises of a new start awaits for you...until a familiar face disrupts your plans and throws you head first into a whirlwind of emotions and actions.

word count: 3.4k

Series Masterlist: here.

!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!

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The crisp air of Shenley lites a whispered chill to cover you as you step out of the taxi. You pay the driver, wishing him a good day as you collect your bags from the cab. A deep breath makes its way from your chest and out your lips, gathering your bearings as you finally start to make your way inside. This is going to be a fresh start in a place no one knows you– exactly what you need. No expectations to meet or lingering gazes on and off the pitch. No drama or gossip floating around or eating lunch by yourself. Things are going to be different here.

You take in the scenery as you approach the Sobha Realty Training Centre, your new place of employment. The building feels like it’s going to swallow you, the tall white walls reminding you of the hospital as a familiar churn starts to turn in your stomach.

Breathe. Everything is going to be fine.

Your hand comes up to open the door, but it’s pulled from your grasp. You look up, eyes meeting a warm smile and kind eyes. You relax at her appearance, and even more at her friendly approach, “Hi, I’m Alessia! You must be Y/N, I assume?”

You find yourself mirroring her smile, a hand coming out to shake hers. “Yes, it’s lovely to meet you, Alessia! Sorry I’m late– I got lost and then I just ended up taking a taxi….London is a lot bigger than I expected…” you trail off as you realize you're rambling. Embarrassment sinking in as you look down to the floor.

“You’re totally fine! I think we all got lost on our first day, haha. That’s why I’m here to show you around, this place is huge when you don’t know it. Now follow me, new girl!” and just like that, she’s showing you everywhere possible. She shows you the cafeteria, weight rooms, bathrooms, locker rooms, and just about every tiny place to hide if you need a moment to yourself.

“I don’t mean to sound rude– but shouldn’t you be out on the field training with the others? Showing me around can’t possibly be more important with the Euro Finals coming up,” you say as you arrange your med bag for practice. The rest of your things are now stored in your brand new Arsenal locker you were shown, your name enraged into the gold plate marking your future. She laughs at that, pointing down towards her ankle that you now see is wrapped up. “Sprained it a week ago, so i’m benched. Swelling is still up so Coach won’t let me play on it yet, not even at practice.”

A laugh now comes out of you at her frustrated tone near the end. “Well, I have to agree. Until the swelling and all pain is gone you need to let it properly heal. We don’t need you hurting it worse!”

You feel a shove to your shoulder at that, zipping up your pack as you turn towards her now.

“Spoken like the true new head AT! See you're falling into place here already,” You give a shove back to her shoulder. Careful to do it lightly and not push her off balance with her injury. “Ready to meet the girls?”

You let out a sigh before nodding your head, “If they're all as nice as you I think I’ll be just fine.” And then you two are off, Alessia leading the way to your new team. You can feel your hands sweating as you get closer to the field in sight. All the girls training, the coaches, the other medical trainers under your watch…it’s all facing you at once as the past leaves your mind step by step. Like the shedding of skin on a snake, you're letting your anxieties fall from you as your passion for the job kicks back in. Like a flicker of flame– just waiting to ignite higher.

Your confidence is gaining with every blade of grass that passes beneath your feet. You know you're good at this. Hell you’re fucking amazing at this. Not many trainers could switch clubs– let alone countries for said club, in the middle of a season and still be Head AT…but you are that good. No matter what might’ve happened in Barcelona, you’re going to make sure you thrive here in London.

Well that is until your eyes meet hers. It’s like the wind gets knocked out of your chest– hers quite literally. The blonde’s eyes stay on yours, a furrowed brow taking over her face as she keeps running blind. Until she smacks face first into the goal post at full force, bright hair tumbling to the ground in a loud, harsh collapse. Your feet work faster than your brain, running over and immediately separating her from the net. You’re assessing her body, eyes frantically searching for any blood, bruises, cuts, or abnormalities. Your hands come to her ankles, pressing down as you look up at her face. “Does anything hurt? Stay lying down right now, your adrenaline might be blocking it out!”

“I'm Leah!” It’s rushed out, loud and with a voice crack. Her wide eyes staring up at you as she snaps a hand over her mouth afterwards.

If her teammates weren’t laughing before– they definitely are now.

A blush overtakes your cheeks as you put an arm around her waist, hoisting her to stand up with you. She throws one of hers around your shoulders as she regains her balance. “I’m taking her to the Med Room! Want to be sure she doesn’t have a concussion!”

You’re practically dragging her at this point, racing to get somewhere private because what in the actual fuck. "I'm Leah," She repeats her words from the field. "Yeah, I fucking know that!" you snap lightly on her. Mind still racing as you drag her down the building for a more private place to fully speak without worry. There is no way this is happening! Not to you– NOT NOW!! You push the Med Room door open with your back, and sit Leah up on the bed as you finally create some distance between you two. An accusing finger launching itself towards her as you move back to the middle of the room, “SINCE WHEN DO YOU PLAY FOOTBALL?”

“Nice to see you again, too, darling,” She’s smiling at you. That same one that got you hooked in Ibiza and agreeing to spend three weeks with a stranger. You almost get lost in it again– but you start shaking your head. “Oh no! No, no, no– don’t you darling me right now! How could you not tell me your-” your hand comes to pull at the band around her arm, “CAPTAIN! Of one of the best teams in all of Europe? And after spending all that time alone together, really?”

“First of all, we are not one of, we are the best in the world– thank you. Second of all, I don’t remember us talking much when we were together, if I can be honest. My mind tends to remember the more important details,” she licks her lips as she says it, eyes racking over your body as she recalls the memories to her mind. “And third of all, I don’t exactly remember you telling me you’re the highest paid AT in the sports field, so I guess we both kept some secrets. Huh, darling?”

“You are insufferable," you say as you take out your tiny flashlight, checking the reflexes of her pupils with it.

“Oh but that’s not what you were saying during those few weeks we spent together.”

“Leah!” Your face scrunches up as your fists ball up at your sides. Giving her the best glare you can muster up.

“Y/N! Don’t do your face like that– it’ll get stuck,” a laugh breaks out of her mouth as she says it. Poking at your face to relax your muscles there.

“Can you be serious for like two seconds, this is bad!” You rub your hands down your face. Trying to relieve the headache starting to form between your eyes.

"Oh calm down, would you! No one knows, okay? I didn't tell anyone about our time together. I swear!" She sticks her pinky out towards you, and you somehow find yourself laughing back this time as you extend your own to interlock with hers. It's then you know you've messed up. Her skin lights yours up the same way it did a year ago— you two hidden away on the tropical Spanish paradise. Days were spent exploring the island and endless nights spent exploring each other's bodies.

You don't even notice how close you two have drifted until her thighs are closing in around your middle, trapping you against the medical bed and her upper body. Your face flushes as you freeze in place, brain already too fuzzy for you to register that you should pull away. You can’t stop thinking back now– flashes of memories whizzing by in your head as you zone out, eyes lingering on her lips subconsciously. She must think that’s an invitation, because after a few seconds one of her hands comes to the back of your neck, pulling you into a searing kiss. You kiss her back at first, chasing the spark that ignites from her lips.

But then you remember where you are, and more importantly why you are even here. You got to pull away, hands coming up to her chest to push and create some space. She doesn’t budge though, a tiny moan slipping from your lips as you remember the depths of her strength. She smiles into the kiss at that, and you take the opportunity to breathe the words out against her lips. “Le-Leah we shouldn’t be d-doing this. We c-can’t…”

Her other hand tickles the waistband of your shorts, a light chuckle vibrating her chest as she pulls away to look you in the eyes. “I’ll stop if you really want me to, but I think we both know you want this more than me. Don’t you, darling? Otherwise you wouldn’t be humping the edge of the bed like a bitch in heat.”

You look down, not even realizing how you'd started rubbing your covered cunt against the medical bed. Your hips stutter to a stop as you try to back away from the cot, embarrassment filling your body at her catching you red handed. A finger lifts your chin up as her eyes lock to yours, a chill running down your spine as you cling to her every move. She runs her hand still sitting at your waist down to your hip, slipping under your shorts as goosebumps break out across your skin from her touch. “Don’t get shy on me, now. Not after I’ve seen you cum from grinding on a shoe.”

“Okay! Don’t act like you didn’t tell me to do it– no DEMAND it!” you move closer, pointing your finger into her chest now as you argue the claim.

“Mhm you’re right, Y/N…but you’re the one that did it. Got down on your knees,” she grips the hair at the back of your neck as she yanks your head back. “And rubbed your slutty pussy all over my Louboutins until you ruined them with your cum.” She brings her face down closer to yours, “Now open your fucking mouth.”

You do as she says, and you're met with a glob of her spit landing on your tongue. You swallow it before she even has to tell you, groaning out as you thank her for giving it to you. Her hand on your hip starts slipping around to your front after she feels you grinding forward again, giving you her fingers instead of the small spring mattress. You moan out as soon as they glide across your clit, an electric feeling breaking out across your body. You know this is wrong, and you’ll definitely chastise yourself later…but until then you’re gonna beg her to fuck you.

“Please give me your f-fingers! W-wanna cum for you, Le!” The distantly familiar nickname falls from your lips effortlessly and it fuels a fire inside Leah’s chest. She slides her hand farther into your shorts, instantly slipping two fingers inside of you at the start. Her palm is fitting your clit perfectly, and after a few minutes you can hear the squelching of your pussy from underneath your shorts. You can feel her curling, scissoring, and twisting the fingers inside of your cunt. Your legs are about to shake as you feel your orgasm start to build, moans increasing as your chest rises and falls faster. You can’t focus on anything other than Leah. That’s all your mind can think of: Leah, Leah, Leah…

Thank god she’s paying attention though. Because next thing you know she’s pulling her hand out of your shorts and pushing you back away from her so hard you fall on your ass. You let out a yell of shock as you go tumbling backwards, landing with a pretty loud thud onto the cold tile floor.

Before you can scream at her to explain what the fuck her problem is– the door is swinging open. Alessia barging in as she runs over to Leah. Stopping in her tracks as she almost topples over you. She comes to stop in a screeching halt, sticking a hand out to help you up. “What the hell are you doing on the floor?” She says as she drops your hand once you're back standing. “Well if you must know, Leah’s being stubborn and wouldn’t let me sit on the med bed with her because I’m benching her for practice until she gets her head checked by a CT scan.”

“YOU'RE BLOODY WHAT?” She screeches out at the realization.

“See she can’t even remember I already told her that! Definitely needs a ct,” you know you’re lying through your teeth…but fucking with Leah is too fun. No way you were telling her she’s benched when she had you on the verge of the first orgasm you’ve had…well, since the last time you saw her.

“What the hell even happened out there, Leah?” Alessia asks, a laugh busting out of her chest as she recalls the captain’s wipe out.

“I was lost in my head and just..oh god I’m never living this one down am I?”

“Oh god no! You should’ve heard the noise you made when you hit the pole– I've never heard that come out of a human being before, or any living thing for that matter!” She has tears welling up in her eyes now as she recalls the events.

You sneak out as the two blonde’s get lost in their laughs and conversation. The locker room is empty as you collect your things, humming a song under your breath as you make quick work of packing up. You’re walking out to the parking lot when you finally let yourself think of what just happened, fingers coming up to brush against your lips. You find yourself smiling, wiping it off your face when you notice. No, Y/N. Stay professional. This. cannot. happen again. Push it down.

You pull out your phone to order a new cab before a familiar voice grabs your attention. “I’m afraid there aren’t many cabs on this side of town at this time of night. I can give you a ride though. Only if you want, of course…But such a gorgeous girl as yourself? You really shouldn’t be walking home alone.”

You turn, forgetting the words you told yourself not even 5 minutes ago. Nodding your head before you fully process the request. You’re going to be alone in a confined space with her? FUCK. You folded quicker than a lawn chair for the blonde footballer not even 10 full minutes ago….Lord give you strength for this 20 minute drive.

She opens the door for you, holding an intense eye contact as she closes it as well. Her car smells like the leather seats and the piney notes of her perfume. A perfect mix that has you rubbing your thighs together, trying to dull the ache she never got to quell. She climbs into the drivers seat, setting up her aux before she's handing you her phone open onto her maps app.

You quickly type in your new address before the navigation is breaking through the speakers and leading you to your destination. The ride isn't awkward, filled with easily flowing conversation. You're so lost in it you don't even notice you've made it to your flat. Not until the gps is yelling out "Arrived at Destination."

You try to hide your disappointment as you grab your bags, saying a thank you as soon many questions hang in the air between you two. "Can I walk you up? Promise I won't make a move, just want to make sure you get inside okay." She throws her hands up in a defensive mode.

"Yeah, I'd like that," you push down the large part of your brain that is telling you to stop this dynamic. To kill it before it can manifest…but you don't listen to it. You let her take your hand as she walks you into your buildings elevator, and you let her kiss you soft and slow as the floors ding past you both. It's different from any kiss you've shared before, and that kind of scares you.

It scares you even more at your door, where she tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear and kisses you like that again. She's kissing you like she has something to prove…you're not quite sure what that is just yet…but you sure as hell want to find out. The first time Leah blew into your life, it was at a time of transformation. It was brief but truly wonderful, and now the universe is sitting her right in fucking front of you for a second time.

She's the first one to pull away from your lips this time. A smile pulling at her lips as she ducks back in to steal one more peck, and then she's backing away slowly. Her hands pulling yours with hers as she tries to leave you as slowly as possible. "Goodnight, Y/N."

You can't help the smile you break out into at the gesture, looking down as you blush slightly from the innocent statement. She's playing with your fingers now, and you're trying to memorize hers for the foreseeable future. "Goodnight, Le. And thank you for today. Always the gentleman…when you want to be."

She pushes your shoulder at that, "Oi! I'm always a gent!"

You blush as you think more about the Ibiza trip, "I would beg to differ."

She genuinely laughs at that, picking your hand up to her mouth to leave a kiss on your knuckles. You say goodnight to each other one last time before she leaves down the hall, watching her disappear into the elevator before you go inside your apartment. You both don't know it yet, but you end up finding the same resolution to your problems tonight.

As you both lay awake drowning in endless thoughts of each other, you can't help but slip a hand into your shorts. You're rubbing at your over sensitive clit, imagining it's Leah as you work yourself up. You haven't had time to buy any toys since you moved here, but you don't need them right now. Not when she's got you so wound up from barely any touch.

Meanwhile the blonde captain is slipping her trusty vibrator between her legs to stimulate her clit, the pretty pictures she has of you from Ibiza currently being viewed in her hand. From the one of you being blind folded in her hotel bed to the one of you bent over the railing of her private yacht— she can't stop the new filthy images of you from popping into her head. She's got to have you again, and not just for sex this time.

Leah hasn't stopped thinking of you since the trip, mind clouded with day dreams of you two creating a life together. She's been laughing it off, thinking she's delusional because she'll never see you again…but that disappears when you come waltzing back into her life. She knows now she can't waste this second chance. No matter how long or what all it takes: Leah Williamson is going to make you her girl.