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mirai-e-jump · 6 months ago

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Hirakawa Yuzuki Photobook: Yuzuki (select pages and translation below)

Publication: May 10, 2024

Hirakawa Yuzuki Interview

-Playing along with my older brother as the youngest child-

I'm originally from Kumamoto. When I was little, I was an active kid who played outside all the time. I'd play baseball, tag, takaoni (another form of tag)…I often followed my older brother and played with him and his friends. Since I was the youngest child, I was allowed to do whatever I wanted (laughs). Speaking of, I asked my mother about the origin of my name "Yuzuki," but apparently, she said there was really no particular reason. She said she chose it because it had a good stroke count. Since a bunch of people tell me it's a good name, I really like it alot.

When I was in elementary and middle school, in addition to playing basketball as part of club activities, I also did various sports related activities, such as beach volleyball, baseball and swimming. My older brother would be doing it, so I'd follow him…or my friends would be doing it, and I admired them…it often started out in a similar way. I didn't do things like abacus when it came to studying activities. One time, I enrolled in cram school during the Summer of my third year of middle school, but I wasn't suited for it, and quit about two months in (laughs). My best grades in school were in gym, Japanese, and social studies. I had been playing the electone for about 10 years since kindergarten, so I had good grades in music. Things like math and science I wasn't good at, if I had to say, I was better at liberal arts. As for what kind of student I was, I was the type of student who didn't go to school much back then (laughs). Those who know me now probably have the impression that I'm "cheerful, innocent, and full of energy," but I wasn't very good at fitting in with others back then. I'd feel hurt by a casual comment, but I couldn't say it clearly to the other person, and so it'd build up more and more…and when someone was angry with me, I sometimes felt as if I was angry with them too. Growing up, I was the type of person who wasn't suited for group living. My mother didn't force me to go to school, but told me, "If you don't want to go, make sure to properly study at home," and so I took occasional breaks. Of course, there were my club friends and close friends, but I was more likely to hang out with people like my older brother's friends, who were older than my classmates.

When I became a high school student, me and those around me became more mature, so I didn't have to be intimidated about fitting in. Furthermore, at the time, I was thinking of finding a job right after graduating high school, so I was conscious that school was more of a place to go to study than a place to have fun. I went to an information related high school, where I was exposed to bookkeeping and became really hooked, so I joined the bookkeeping club in my first year of high school. We couldn't get enough people together, so we couldn't form a club, but a "similar hobby group" (laughs). While I'm not good at math, for some reason, I'm good at calculating money (laughs), so I thought I'd like to become something like a tax accountant or a certified public accountant in the future.

-An audition applied for out of curiosity to go to EXPG, a place I had always dreamed of going to, changed my life forever-

I've always liked LDH's artists, and I used to drag my mother along with me to various live shows. During this, when I was in high school, I learned from a program I was watching at the time called "Weekly EXILE" that they'd be holding auditions for girls for the first time in about seven years. I thought it'd be just singing and dancing anyway, and that I wouldn't have a chance, but they were looking for girls with various dreams, including becoming actresses and models, so I thought, "If that's the case, I probably wouldn't be out of place." It was really more out of curiosity than wanting to be accepted. The venue for the first round was at EXPG STUDIO (dance and vocal school handled by LDH) in Fukuoka, which I had wanted to attend for a long time. Ever since I fell in love with LDH, I was drawn in by their singing and dancing and wanted to attend, but the time and money it would take to commute to Fukuoka made it impossible….So, I was tempted by the idea that if I auditioned, I'd be able to "go to that place that I had always dreamed of." However, with my mother saying she'd buy me clothes for my audition, being able to enter EXPG, which I adored, and being able to go shopping in Fukuoka, I had ulterior motives…I sent in my application just before the deadline since I wasn't sure if I should really apply. I remember taking the photo that seals the application document by propping my phone up against a CD player in my house (*picture on the left side on page 128). I also needed a full body photo, but I didn't have any clean white walls at home, so I used one at a friend's house and had it taken in a hurry…I rushed to prepare the necessary documents and applied. Since it was right in the middle of Summer break, I applied secretly without telling anyone in my class, only my parents knew about it.

After passing the written exam, the practical exam began, but I was surrounded by other girls who had been singing and dancing since they were young. I felt that these girls must've devoted all the time I spent enjoying my hobbies to their dreams, and their enthusiasm was so intense that I sometimes wondered if I was out of place after all. But, it was a miracle that I was even able to be there, so I decided to just enjoy myself. Everything I did was new, and since I had never sung or danced before, it was fun to learn how to do it, and I never forgot that feeling of "having fun" during the audition. In the final round, we were divided into groups and had to perform one song while singing and dancing, which was very difficult. When the screening was over, rather than a desire to pass, I felt a stronger sense of accomplishment, like "you've done well," and when my name was called as a successful applicant, I didn't really understand what was happening. I finally realized for the first time that I had been accepted when I went to the agency with my mother to sign the contract. For the first time, I felt a sense of excitement that I was stepping into the entertainment world, which I always thought was far away.

When I joined the agency, I left my parents home and moved to the capital, and was overwhelmed by the city of Tokyo. I walked from Nakameguro (where the agency is located) to Shibuya through Dogenzaka, and at first I thought the intersection in front of 109 was the scramble intersection that I often see on TV. And then, I went alittle bit further and there were many times more people there, and I was like, "Uwah, it's this way!" (laughs). In the beginning, everything I saw was new to me, and I was always pleased and said "uwah."

Immediately after moving to Tokyo, I took singing, dancing and acting lessons at the agency. In the acting lessons, I had a strong Kumamoto accent, so the first thing I did was fix that. I was also taught other various basics to acting. I started out taking one on one lessons at the agency, but eventually I began attending outside lessons for acting. There, I was with other kids of the same age, and I discovered new things like, "Even with the same script, this kid expresses themself in this way," and my passion for acting grew more and more. I had so much to think about during my life in Tokyo, that I didn't have time to say I was lonely, but the reason I didn't feel lonely was probably because I video called my mother every day. Still, I didn't want my parents to worry, so I didn't complain. I think my mother was probably worried about sending her teenage daughter off to Tokyo by herself. Kumamoto and Tokyo aren't close enough for me to rush over there right away, and I didn't want to cause any unnecessary worrying. That's why I barely talked about work, and just talked about casual things like, "What did you do today?"

My first job was on stage for "Moryo no Hako" with Tachibana Kenchi-san. I had never seen a stage before, so I really couldn't tell right from left in this situation. I started from the very beginning and thought, "What is the stage?" My seniors taught me everything from the basics, such as "this is good and this is bad." In any case, I was desperately trying to hang in there every day. After a month and a half of rehearsals, I took the stage for the first time, and I'll never forget how the audience looked at me and how enthusiastic they were. When I received applause at the curtain call, I was very happy to know that what I was expressing and what we had created together had become one piece of work, and I really felt that "this is how we reached the audience," which made me very happy. From there, I was motivated to work even harder on my acting. I was so frustrated by the anger I felt during rehearsals, that I became fired up and thought, "I never want to lose"…yeah, I think I'm very competitive (laughs).

-This is my last chance, I'll bet it all on a "cool" type of Sentai heroine!-

I played the role of Rita Kaniska, the king and chief judge of Gokkan, the country of ice and snow, in "Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger." I've been doing tokusatsu auditions ever since I joined the agency. I think I've auditioned for both "Kamen Rider" and Sentai about four times. Having auditioned multiple times, the image I had of the female cast was that of "the heroine," with their charming smiles and angelic appearance. But the heroines of King-Ohger were different from the previous ones, and when I received the script on the day of the audition, I thought, "A cool one is here." I thought I was more suited for "cool" than "cute," so I decided, "I'm definitely going to get this!" Rita's gender hasn't been disclosed, but they're like a medieval character. I thought that maybe there wouldn't be another role like this in Sentai for a few more years, so if I missed this chance, I probably wouldn't be able to appear in Sentai.

That's why I locked onto the role of Rita from the beginning. When presenting yourself at an audition, I thought it was normal to mention a special skills, so I announced my morning routine (laughs). I thought that I'd definitely make a better impression on the judges if they remembered me as "the XX kid" rather than my name. That's why I thought it'd be nice to be called "the morning routine kid" and when I said something like, "Every morning, my morning routine is to pick out coffee beans and drip them while having a conversation with the beans," I got them to bite, with them responding, "What, talking to beans?!" (laughs). The conversation expanded from there, and I was told, "Please be yourself, there's no need to pretend," so I approached the role with my "natural character."

When I received the news that I had been chosen, I was truly relieved. There were about five rounds of auditions, so I thought, "If I fail after making it this far, I'll never recover," and I was in a situation where I couldn't even get food down my throat. There was a time before I auditioned for King-Ohger where I thought, "I'm not suited for this kind of job after all." My work was decreasing due to the covid pandemic, and when I was alone, I often thought deeply, wondering if I should go back to my hometown and get a job.

I was thinking of quitting if I didn't get the chance in 2023, but King-Ohger was scheduled for the end of 2022, so I thought, "I can continue this job." I was very happy because I felt that I finally had a grasp of the situation, and I also had a positive feeling that I could work hard again from here. I'm glad that my mother also told me, "Good for you, keep doing your best," which I think reassured me alittle. My mother watched King-Ohger every week and became a regular fan of the show (laughs). She was quicker than I was to get information on merch, and she came to events like G-Rosso. I'll send Rita merch to my parents house, and they'll say, "It'd be cute if they were all lined up together," so they're collecting all the characters themselves (laughs).

-Approaching the character by writing my "heart's voice" in the script.-

The story of King-Ohger is more interesting than anything else. The cast loves King-Ohger so much, that I think the actors themselves are the biggest fans of the show. Everyone looked forward to the next development and eagerly waited for the new script every week, saying, "I can't wait to read the next one!" (laughs). I also really enjoyed playing the character of Rita.

I was careful about many things in my performance, such as my voice and the way I stood. Since only my left eye is the only part of my body that shows facial expressions, some parts are difficult to convey, while other parts can be conveyed too much, so I was especially very concerned about how to handle my gaze. Also, the word "Immovable" was used, so I had to give meaning to "not moving." I thought it wasn't enough to just stand there, so I had to think in detail about it, such as "why not move here?" and "why move here after not moving for so long?" I'm the type of person who writes alot in the scripts, but I wrote what was going on in my mind rather than "I'll do this here." For each line, I imagined things like, "Rita is probably thinking this here, and so they're probably saying this," and then I'd write it down. Rita particularly has alot of emotions packed into short words, so I think that if I don't properly interpret the words in my mind before speaking, my words won't hold any weight. I also made sure that I had a clear understanding of the meaning of words that I normally wouldn't use, such as "perjury," and if it was difficult, I'd replace it with a different word and interpret it in a way that made sure I understood it clearly. Since they're also a presiding judge, I tried to take a variety of approaches in order to accurately convey a sense of dignity and persuasiveness.

The final battle from episodes 48 to 50 hit me all at once. I felt the weight of a year's worth of work, and I was in pain while performing, but I also felt the bond and connection between everyone, and even though there wasn't a part where I would cry, I still cried. In terms of Rita's individual scenes, episode 30, in which the secret of their right eye that they had been hiding for a long time was revealed, left a strong impression on me. I really felt that what Rita had been carrying and what they wanted to protect became clear, and that they became stronger.

It was also a challenge to film, but even after 30 episodes, I was able to discover new things like, "Rita can be this emotional!" This was the starting point to further expand on the character of Rita again in the last 20 episodes. Also, speaking of Rita, they have a habit of yelling when they're annoyed, but in the script it's written as "Ah!" I take care about the number of "A" and "!". Each time, the number written was different. So, when I told the Screenwriter something like, "Since there are so many ! here, I should shout like this?," he was overjoyed and said "You noticed?!" (laughs).

Apparently, he also writes the lines while shouting them, and depending on the tension, he writes it differently, like "Aaahhh!!!!" or "Ah!" (laughs). Such subtle differences were interesting, and I also enjoyed acting out the screaming parts. Another memorable episode was episode 38's audition episode. I saw an unexpected side of Rita, who said, "I'll go to such lengths for this job," and I felt that they had opened a new door. As for myself, when I was first told, "Next time, Rita will become an idol," I thought, "Hmm? How did they become an idol?," but then I was given a video of the dance and was told that I'd also sing. Well, it was like I was just taking on what was handed to me. (laughs). I only had about a year's worth of experience in dance lessons from my agency, but I didn't want to do it half heartedly. I think the image my agency has is that they take pride in dancing, so I did my best not to disgrace LDH's name (laughs). The singing and dancing was challenging, but it had been so long since I performed with my face showing, that I was alittle embarrassed at first. It had probably been about nine months since I performed with my whole face.

That's why it felt abit strange to see my whole face on screen, and I was like "whoa" at first (laughs), but in the end, it was alot of fun. Twin tails and a frilly costume…it's not often in life that you get to dress that cute. More than 100 TTFC members came as extras to play audience members, waving penlights and calling out to me. The special effects were amazing and so authentic that it made me think that I had become an artist.

On the day when we filmed the dance performance, the Director told me to "dance three times," but I was so excited that I got better every time I danced, and I ended up dancing eight times. The Director said, "There's been alittle bit of an increase," but it wasn't just alittle, it was more than twice as much as we had planned! (laughs). But, thanks to that, I think we were able to get some good shots, and I also felt a great sense of accomplishment.

Everyone in the King-Ohger cast got along really well. I'm currently regaining the youth I didn't get to enjoy in my teens (laughs). At the beginning of filming, I was worried about whether I'd get along with everyone, but everyone was so warm and welcoming that I didn't need to worry about it, and it felt like we were family. Everyone was so considerate and kind, and I was truly blessed to be a member of this group. We often went out to dinner after filming, and they were very reliable seniors, so we developed a relationship where we could easily discuss both our private and work related issues. Despite all that, we usually had alot of fun talking about things that we really couldn't do anything about (laughs). On set, when someone would make a joke, someone else would respond to the joke, and there was always alot of noise, but when it came time to perform, it felt like we made a quick switch. I think we were a really good team, and I'll do my best so I can work together with them in other productions in the future.

At the wrap up, everyone was crying quite abit, but I didn't cry. If I cried, it would start a chain reaction and everyone would start crying, so I just kept smiling. For awhile, the Director said to me, "You're not going to cry?" I said, "No, I'll probably cry," but…as I thought, the Director saw right through me. I don't really know why, but…but, when the Director cried while saying that, I was touched and was like, "Director~!" He even joked around saying, "You won't even cry at my tears?" (laughs), but I was actually pretty teary eyed.

I've learned alot over the past year. In the beginning, I was really nervous, to the point where I thought my hands would start shaking when I stood in front of the cameras. But after being in front of the cameras for a year, I feel that I've become less intimidated and have been able to focus 100% on the performance. This was my first time focusing on a single role for such a long period of time, so I learned how to expand on my character, come up with ideas for acting, and gained alot more skills. I was taught from the very beginning how to act, which I had been interested in for a long time, and also how to do the dub recording…I really learned alot of things, and I'm sure that what I've gained here will definitely come in handy in the future.

-My first impressions of the snowy landscape was quite literally, "It's dazzling!"-

The idea of publishing a photo book was mentioned to me casually by my manager during a completely different meeting. They said, "This is totally off topic, but do you want to publish a photo book or calendar?" When I heard that they were interested in a project, I asked for it with, "Definitely!" In our meeting to discuss the concept, I expressed "my wish to see snow," since I myself am from Kyushu and had never seen a snow covered landscape. Since Rita, the character I was playing at the time, was king of the country of ice and snow, I thought it'd be a good idea to use "snow" as a theme, and the location for the shoot turned out to be Akita.

When I actually saw the snowy landscape in Akita, I thought the snow was dazzling. I had never been exposed to light reflecting off snow, so at first my eyes weren't completely annoyed by that pure whiteness. But thanks to that, I think my skin looked nice and beautiful (laughs). Some of the snow had piled up quite abit, so I enjoyed flopping and rolling around in the snow, something I'd never have been able to normally do. There are some shots of me just having fun, so be sure to check them out (laughs). The sight of snow on the mountains was also something you don't see in Kyushu. It was so beautiful, that it cleansed my soul. I also made and ate kiritanpo by myself. I love rice and hot pots, so I enjoyed it tremendously. I never had a chance to visit the north before, but when I went to Tohoku for the first time, with delicious food and beautiful scenery, I thought it was the best. Lake Tazawa was so spectacular that it was like being overseas (laughs). It made me realize that there are also alot of beautiful places in Japan, and it made me want to travel around the country.

In addition to Akita, we also had the opportunity to shoot at "AMAZING COFFEE" (coffee shop produced by EXILE TETSUYA, also known as AMECO) in Tokyo. Previously, there was a period of time where I did a societal study at AMECO, where I learned alot about coffee there. Personally, I've always been a coffee lover, but there are many staff members at AMECO who know coffee inside and out, and many customers come to AMECO for that quality. So, I learned more about coffee than ever before. Now, I have fans who say things like, "When you think of Yuzuki-chan, you think of coffee," and people I meet say, "You love coffee, right?" I feel that it's become recognized that coffee is my hobby.

The photos here are the ones of me seriously facing the coffee and just enjoying latte art (laughs).

This time, the makeup artist did alot of creative styling with my short hair, and the style without bangs was very fresh. The costumes all had things I liked, so it was hard to choose. Also, the photographer, Mae Kosuke-san, was a very nice person who really helped me out. Even though I'm used to being in front of cameras, I still get nervous when taking still photos (laughs). Mae-san relieved me of that problem in a good way, so I was able to relax and feel at ease. The photographer, stylist, makeup artist…everyone created a great atmosphere that helped me relax during the shoot, so I'm very grateful.

-The "it's okay to express yourself more" that my friends in King-Ohger told me-

Acting allows me to experience many things that I could never experience in my own life, and above all else, I love the time I spend facing my roles. I've enjoyed the past year very much, so I'd like to continue to face different roles, absorb various things, and discover my potential and new sides of myself. I'd like to try anything, regardless of genre, whether it be film, stage plays, or voice work. In terms of expression, I've been doing some occasional modeling work, so I hope to expand that as well.

The roles I'd like to play in the future are ones of working women, such as a police officer or firefighter. I'd like to continue to do action, so I'd like to play cool roles that make use of those skills. I also really want to wear a uniform. I'm embarrassed to imagine a romantic role, but I'd like to play the role of a best friend position, someone who assists the main character in their love. Something like…"Actually, I'm in love with the same person the heroine is in love with, but my friend talked to her about it, so I can't confess anymore." I'd like to play a role in such a sad position like that. There are things like "getting together someday" right? (laughs). I'd like to play a role that makes people think, "I wish that girl had gotten what she deserved."

Now that King-Ohger is over, I'm currently in a period of taking occasional breaks.

When I'm at home, what do I do…as expected, I often immerse myself in making coffee at home. I'm not good at switching between emotions, so in a positive sense, I use coffee like a switch. I often brew it when I'm motivated for things like, "Let's do the laundry now," or when I need to take a breather and immerse myself with, "Now it's time to relax." And then there are times when I just feel relieved (laughs). There are times when I just sit on the sofa for two hours without watching TV, listening to music, or looking at my phone, and just stare at a single spot (laughs). Hearing this might make you worried, but since I talk alot outside of home, I'm very quiet at home. On days off, I don't say a single word, and I seem to unconsciously create time to be relieved and think about nothing. Something I consciously do as a mood changer is to go for a walk. When I set out, I can leave all kinds of things behind. If I'm thinking about something at home or on my way home, I end up remembering it when I arrive at the same spot. For example, if I sit on the sofa and reflect on something that went wrong, the next day when I sit on the same sofa again, it's like the bad thoughts I had yesterday come back to haunt me. That's why I'll do something like stretch my legs and get out of my comfort zone, throw away my frustrations, and go home. I'm like, "Don't come here anymore!" (laughs).

I guess what I value in life is thinking about the feelings of others. I'll think about what the other person would think if I said "this"…I place great importance on understanding and trying to pick up on the feelings of others. I'm mindful of being considerate to those around me as to not be selfish. In the past, I used to take it too far and become overly concerned about what others thought, but the members of King-Ohger told me, "We think it's okay to express yourself more." That's why I thought I'd try my best to be myself in a way that wouldn't make the other person feel uncomfortable. Right now, I'm in the process of growing up and trying to find the right adjustments (laughs).

Finally, I'd like to thank all of my fans for their support.

Thank you for picking up this photo book. I always receive alot of love from you all through SNS and fan letters, and this is the driving force behind my activities. I've only ever been given energy, smiles, and courage from everyone, so I'd like to give alot back in return. I'd be happy if you'll continue to support me going forward. I'm also looking forward to seeing tons of feedback on the photo book!

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sarahowritesostucky · 6 months ago

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Art: @hopelessartgeek

📖 "Medically Necessitated" Ch 3

Rated: Explicit Pairing: Bucky x Steve Tags: a/b/o, age gap, past rape, rape recovery, trauma recovery, pregnancy, medical trauma, hurt/comfort, mentions of CSA, religious fundamentalism, first time, gender dysphoria, male omegas are intersex (peen & vagine) Summary: After a medical emergency brings him into the ER, Bucky escapes the religious cult he's been raised in. It's up to Steve, nurse practitioner and omega sex & repro specialist, to see him through a medically supervised heat.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter! Story masterlist

3. Bucky

Steve unexpectedly switches from being Bucky's attending physician, to his dedicated heat Support.

It’s funny: the stereotype of alphas is that they’re always these domineering, bossy, even selfish people who walk all over other designations to get whatever they want. But Steve’s whole life pretty much revolves around doing for omegas. Meeting their needs.

There’s his volunteer work at the shelter and at ASHDOM, there are the single omega neighbors in his building who all know he’s a pushover and who come to him first whenever they need furniture moved or can’t get out to the store because they’re in heat. And there’s his job, which usually sees him working a bare minimum of sixty hours a week, often many more.

He does nothing but cater to omegas.

Of course, he’s paid well for it. Nursing is a chronically underfilled field to begin with, and omega specialized healthcare is even worse. Especially when it comes to staffing alpha practitioners. Steve knows for a fact that his salary is several grand higher than any of his his beta coworkers doing the same job, simply because of the additional therapeutic value that his designation can offer.

He’s a federally licensed heat partner, is certified in trauma and crisis intervention, and he’s one of the only alpha nurse practitioners providing omega reproductive healthcare in the borough. It makes his days long and his caseloads heavy, but that’s okay because it’s more than a job to him, it’s a moral imperative, something that’s been drilled into him since he was six years old and play-dominating all the other kids in his kindergarten class: you must take care of those who are weaker than you.

Steve’s been working on the OOBGYN ward around trauma patients for more than five years now. He knows the protocols, he knows how to keep himself under control and keep his patients safe. So it’s not exactly the shining pinnacle of his career when he has to page his subordinates—the nurses he trained for Chrissakes—to come and help him the fuck out with a patient he’s mishandled.

Steve would’ve highly preferred it be Hope (she’d give him less crap about it), but it’s Sharon who shows up first at the door. She comes into the room, no nonsense, holding a 1cc syringe at the ready. She’s unseen by Bucky, who’s still keening and purring where he’s got his teeth buried in Steve’s shoulder. Steve gives her a terse nod, and Sharon brusquely walks over and shoots the sedative up Bucky’s nose before the omega even knows what’s happening.

Ninety seconds later, he’s out like a light. “Midazolam,” Sharon says.

Steve nods. That buys them at least thirty minutes to get everything set up right. Bucky’s mouth has detached from his skin, and Steve carefully lowers his limp form back down onto the bed. There’s blood smeared on his lips and chin—Steve’s blood. Steve swallows hard and ignores the answering pulse of blood in his dick. He’s all keyed up, body thrumming, primed to fuck or fight.

Sharon’s a professional, so she doesn’t look at his crotch, but she does wrinkle her nose and give him an unimpressed look. “What the hell, Rogers?”

Steve avoids answering, embarrassed. “Come on. Help me transfer him. Clock’s ticking now.” He climbs off the bed and Sharon undoes Bucky’s IV. They bring up the bed’s side rails and unlock the wheels, then begin the slow process of pushing him out of the room and down to one of the on-ward heat suites. “Don’t lecture me,” Steve warns, not in the mood to have his rookie mistakes pointed out. There are plenty of them.

He forgot blockers. He intoned. He scented. Fuck, did he posture? He probably postured. He certainly got too close, let the omega get his fucking mouth on him. Christ. Steve shakes his head at himself. He’d let his soft spot for Bucky put him in a vulnerable position, and now a traumatized patient has latched onto him right at the onset of the first heat he’s had in years.

Those are not the things the hospital pays Steve thousand of dollars extra for.

Well … actually they are, but they weren’t supposed to be in Bucky’s case. Steve is his attending. He’s not supposed to take on the role of alpha support, too. It’s not allowed.

“Who should I be paging?” Sharon asks as they wheel the bed down the hall and around a corner.

“Get Banner,” Steve grunts, not happy with it. He doesn’t want to give up the case to another doctor. All his instincts are screaming at him to keep Bucky as his, to keep the control and authority he has over the omega’s medical care. But he’ll get in big trouble if he doesn’t sign this off to another physician before they seal themselves up in a heat suite.

“Is he on call tonight?”

“Yeah.” Banner is a good doctor, a beta, and a great human being. Steve trusts him more than almost anyone to do what’s right for Bucky as his attending. “Give him my case notes and Bucky’s treatment plan,” he tells Sharon as they arrive at a heavy door with a small, shuttered window. “And get a hold of Sam if he’s around. Tell him I have questions. Tell him the kid latched onto me.”

Sharon raises an eyebrow. “You mean … your neck?”

“No, not my neck,” Steve snaps meanly. “I mean physiologically.”

Sharon shoots him a peeved look from her side of Bucky’s bed, but she doesn’t say anything. She knows that Steve’s not mad at her.

He’s furious with himself for letting it happen. It’s embarrassing. Steve’s supposed to be experienced. The second that Bucky started posturing and losing language complexity and calling Steve ‘Alpha’ over and over like that, the second he’d started keening like that, Steve should’ve put distance between them. He should’ve been well out of the room by the time the kid began scenting and slicking, not still sitting right on the damn bed, letting him do it all over his scrub pants.

They wheel into the suite and Steve looks from Bucky’s lax body over to the suite’s low bed. It’s just an institutional grade mattress on a box platform, large and durable and easy to clean. It’s sterile and standard, just like the rest of the room. Nobody’s brought up any nesting materials yet.

If Steve had done his job right, Bucky probably wouldn’t have hit heat until tomorrow. The hospital staff would have already received the requisition forms and prepared the suite especially for Bucky’s stay. Instead, it’s empty and stripped bare, sterilized from the last omega who used it.

There’s a fridge stocked with water and calorie dense snacks, a four piece handicap-accessible bathroom with a walk-in tub. There’s the large platform bed, and there’s a breeding bench over in the corner. Steve glowers at Sharon when he sees it. “Why is that in here?” he snaps. “Jesus, Sharon, get it out.” He glances at Bucky, irrationally afraid of the kid waking up and seeing it.

“The last patient booked into the room was Ace,” Sharon says, unamused. “You sure you want it out?” She nods at Bucky’s prone body. “He’s dynamic dysphoric. You might need it. I can fill out a req for the seeding machine if you—”

“No,” Steve bites out, trying hard to remain professional and not yell at his head nurse. “No. I’m not doing that to him.”

Steve knows what Sharon’s thinking: light sedation and heavy restraint, complete mechanization of Bucky’s heat. It’s what a lot of doctors would do, once they got a look at Bucky’s case file and issues. Just to get the whole process over with in less time, with less effort.

But Steve can’t stand the thought of forcing Bucky through his treatment like that. It would terrify and humiliate him. Steve would rather work through every step with Bucky than force him onto that bench. “Get it out of here,” he orders.

Sharon doesn’t argue, just removes the bench and herself from the room. When she returns, Steve is staring at the naked vinyl mattress with distaste. There’s nothing soft or safe or warm here. He doesn’t want Bucky to wake up to that. “Stay with him,” he tells Sharon. “I’m gonna run down to supply and get room prep.”

He leaves her there with strict instructions not to touch Bucky. Now that the kid’s latched onto Steve as his heat partner, he won’t take well to physical contact with anyone else. “Fucking stupid, Rogers,” Steve berates himself again as he takes the elevator down to the supply room.

He grabs a pushcart and loads it up with an assortment of blankets that the hospital offers. He throws in a bunch of squishy pillows too, then heads over to grab a presenting form from the selection of different mounting pillows. He chooses one in a forgiving foam material. It has detachable cuffs in front, which after a moment’s hesitation he decides to bring along, just in case. He grabs a soft microfiber cover for the form so that it’ll feel warm and comforting against Bucky’s body. Steve doesn’t want to leave a single hard fucking edge in the entire heat suite, if he can help it.

He does spare the sex toys a glance, but it feels wrong to select anything now. If Bucky needs it later Steve can talk to him about it, have one of the nurses req whatever items Bucky wants.

He moves fast, anxious to get back to the suite and make sure that he's right there by Bucky's side when he wakes. He stops at the pharmacy and swipes his ID badge against the dispensary that stores samples of all the heat technicians’ scents. He scans his fingerprint when it prompts him, then types into the keypad that he wants to withdraw two vials. The machine whirs and delivers the manufactured amounts of Steve’s own pheromones. Steve swipes them up out of the slot without any patience and starts shoving the cart back towards the elevators.

Sharon raises her eyebrows at the heaping amount of supplies that Steve rolls in with. “O-kay,” she says, and heads for the door. “I’ll fill Hope in. Banner’s on his way. He said maybe twenty minutes. Sam’ll be on morning shift and I left him a message that he should come by.”

“Good.”

“Steve?” She turns and looks back at him once she’s out in the hall. “This is also part of your job. Don’t beat yourself up too hard, kay?”

It’s on the nicer end of the spectrum of things Sharon would say, and Steve forces his face into a grateful sort of wince. “Thanks, Share.” He shuts the door behind her and flicks the switch on the wall that locks the door and lights up the red occupied light outside of the suite. He presses the intercom button. “Check.”

“Check,” Sharon confirms from her side. “I requisitioned you guys’ meals for the next seventy-two hours. Banner will call in once he’s here. … Hope’s paging me. Good luck.”

“Bye.” Steve releases the button and turns back around. He looks at Bucky, who’s still unconscious on the hospital bed. Steve walks over and chews his lip, regretful that they’d had to use a sedative. He knows the boy probably won’t be appreciative of that when he wakes.

Steve is aware that he’s got dried blood on him. He can feel it, tacky and starting to crust, pulling uncomfortably whenever he turns his head. He grabs the first aid kit from the room’s small supply cabinet and takes it into the bathroom. The mirror over the sink shows it all, and Steve winces at the mess. It looks worse than it is, probably.

He wets a gauze with antiseptic and bites the bullet and slaps it onto the spot where the skin is broken. He clenches his teeth and hisses at the sting, cursing quietly. A few, careful wipes and it’s mostly cleaned off and he’s able to see the individual teeth marks. Steve’s lips quirk despite himself. Kid had gotten him good.

It’s close to his glands, and Steve wonders if Bucky was consciously aiming for it. Probably not. Steve knows the boy was probably raised to try to force himself into sexually desiring omegas and betas only, probably females, and never alphas. Guiltily, Steve feels a little bit of a thrill at the idea of getting to be Bucky’s first sexual encounter with an alpha. He’ll be the first partner Bucky’s ever had to help satisfy his needs in a natural way.

He doesn’t count the people who assaulted Bucky. Even if they were alpha (and he has reasons to believe they were), they don’t count. They’re dirt, less than nothing to Steve. He’s going to make sure he wipes them out of existence from Bucky’s mind. He’ll make them less than nothing for the omega too, given enough time to take care of him the way he deserves.

Sighing, he gives his bloodied neck a few more careful wipes. It’s not bleeding anymore and he doesn't bandage it. He needs to leave that part of himself open and available to Bucky. If it’s something the omega wants, then Steve isn’t going to keep it from him. Steve’s been bonded a few times over the years, usually in sessions with his neediest patients. Detoxing off the high when he discharges them from care is never fun, but he knows how to get himself through it. If Bucky wants that connection with him, he’ll be more than happy to allow it.

Steve just wants to make him feel safe and good.

He puts the first aid kit away and starts making up the bed. He puts sheets on it, then roughly dumps all the blankets out into a kind of spread out pile. Still open for rearrangement, though. He doesn’t know if Bucky will want to nest it himself when he comes to. He lays all the various pillows out around the perimeter of the mattress. The mounting pillow gets set up by the head of the bed, out of the way. Steve doesn’t want to do anything that Bucky might interpret as demanding or coercive. Not right off the bat, at least. This is all going to go according to what Bucky wants and needs, not Steve.

Sharon buzzes through the intercom, announcing that she’s leaving bath towels outside the door. Steve retrieves them and sticks them in the bathroom for later. He checks the fridge, which is indeed stocked with water bottles, high-sugar fruit juice and cups of peaches packed in syrup, little portions of cheese and two ounce packets of almond butter—all good things for an omega to nibble on through a cycle. He pulls out the almond butters and sets them on the counter to warm up. He roots through the supply cabinet until he finds a box of the little spray caps that fit to the pheromone vials. He opens one, pops the cap on, then goes about spritzing it on various places on the bed. He doesn’t go too nuts, not wanting to overwhelm the omega when he—

“Steve?”

Steve whips around so fast, he almost trips over his own clogs. He sees Bucky, pushing up to sitting in the hospital bed and looking confused. “What happen’d?” he asks groggily, rubbing his face.

Steve sticks the vials in the fridge and hurries over to Bucky’s side. “Hey,” he says soothingly. “You got a little frantic back there, buddy. The nurse gave you something to calm down so we could get this room ready for you.”

Bucky seems to become more aware of his surroundings, and that he’s no longer in his hospital room. He looks past Steve, all around the heat suite. Then his attention fixes on the large bed. Steve sees his nostrils flare and his pupils shrink to pinpoints. He begins to shake his head a little. “No,” he whispers. “Please. Steve, please don’t make me.” He whimpers and his hands fly to his stomach, a cramp clearly passing through him. “Oh man,” he whines, distressed.

Steve had expected this. He’d wanted to have Bucky on the larger bed by the time he woke up, all snuggled and safe in a cocoon of soft things. He reaches out and touches the bed instead of Bucky, fingers stroking the boxy weave of the hospital blanket that covers Bucky’s leg only inches away. “It’s going to be just fine,” he tells him. “We’re in a private suite. It’s like your own little hotel room, see? You’ve got everything you need right here.” He points out different things. “There’s snacks in the fridge and the tv’s got all the streaming apps you could want.” He smiles. “Hell, the bathtub has jets.”

Bucky’s eyes do flick over to the bathroom’s open door, if only for a moment. But he’s quickly back to whimpering and wrapping his arms around himself. “No,” he says, staring at his knees instead of Steve. “S’wrong.” He shakes his head and mumbles quiet words to himself: gross, pathetic, unnatural. Horrible, wrong words that break Steve’s heart.

Steve feels that familiar flash of anger zip through him at the reminder of how horribly Bucky’s been treated his whole life. But that’s not productive, so he squashes the anger down and instead tries to think calming, soothing alpha thoughts. He long ago learned in his training that when helping an omega through their heat, an alpha’s thoughts influence their physiology, and their physiology influences their actions. Everything Steve does in this room now has to be geared towards helping Bucky feel safe and taken care of. Everything.

“Hey,” he says, sitting down on the very edge of the bed. Bucky seems hyper aware of his proximity but he doesn’t tense up or try to move away at all, which is a good sign. Steve lets his hand drift closer over the blanket, towards Bucky’s knee. “When you met with the counselor, with Clint? Did you guys talk about it? About being male omegas, your cycles?”

Bucky’s face looks pained and he still won’t look at Steve, but he nods smally. “Yeah.”

“I’d bet money that Clint didn’t use any of those words you just said, when he talked about it. Do you think those things about Clint?” This, at least, seems to get through to the kid. He peeks up at Steve, and Steve gives him a gentle smile. “I’m friends with him, ya know. He’s a cool guy. I actually think you two would get along.”

Bucky shrugs, unwilling to engage. He’s pouting still and Steve wants so badly to pull him in against his body and surround him with the pressure and reassurance of a hug, but he knows he has to do this on Bucky’s timetable. The omega is calmed out of the frenzy he was having when Sharon sedated him, but a cc of Midazolam up the nose tends to do that.

“I’m alpha,” Steve says gently. “So of course I can’t know what it’s like to go through a heat, not personally. But I’ve helped a lot of people through theirs. They’ve told me all kinds of things. Some sort of dislike it. Most enjoy it to some extent. But nobody has ever told me it’s wrong or unnatural.”

It’s a lie. Steve has had one or two other patients who felt the way that Bucky feels, dysphoric patients who were traumatized by abusers in similar ways, but Steve also knows that that’s not what Bucky needs to hear right now.

“Hey,” he says, finally sliding his hand far enough over the blanket that his fingertips brush Bucky’s lax ones on the bed. Bucky’s eyes fly up to him. “I know you can’t just change your viewpoint overnight. I get it. But it’s important that you understand that nobody else shares those negative thoughts about your body or about heats. I’m certainly not thinking them.” He tilts his head forward and asks, “What did Clint say about it, when you guys talked?”

Bucky is reluctant to tell him, but eventually he murmurs, “He said it’s intense, but it’s just our bodies’ way of feeling good. … He said it’s better when you’ve got somebody with you to help.” His cheeks are getting flushed, probably a combination of embarrassment and the effects of his heat. “He said he’s married to his husband and they love each other. That makes him like his heats.”

Steve nods. “Yeah, Phil. He’s a sweet guy. He’s actually one of the hospital administrators. We all go out for drinks together sometimes.” He’s trying to normalize everything, trying to make Bucky see that being omega and having heats is just another part of life that people go through, either on their own or through someone they know. “I have to say, I’ve always been a little bit jealous of the week of heat leave you guys get every month. It seems pretty awesome.”

Bucky looks at him like the words ‘heat’ and ‘awesome’ being used together don’t compute. His face flushes darker, and this time it’s almost certainly from embarrassment. “It’s gross,” he mumbles, looking away from Steve with a little scowl. He pulls his hand away from Steve’s on the bed and tucks his legs up under the blanket, hugging his arms around them. “Being like that, needing sex and having no control over yourself,” he says, spitting the words out like they’re bad, contemptable things. “Like an animal. S’pathetic.”

Steve sighs. Bucky’s got a long road of therapy ahead of him, that much is obvious. “It’s okay for you to think that, Honey, but you gotta know I’m gonna keep telling you how wrong you are.” Bucky looks back up at him at his assertive tone, and Steve nods. “I’m alpha, so I think omegas are lovely. And I’ve always thought it’s amazing what your bodies can do. It’s primal, sure. It’s powerful. Beautiful.”

Bucky pfts air between his teeth, disagreeing.

Steve lets his hand cover one of Bucky’s where he’s gripping his knees. “Especially to somebody like me. Seeing an omega in heat is a beautiful, natural thing. And every time I get to be with someone, when they let me help them feel good, it’s just the best thing.” There’s reverence in his voice instead of lust, and he can see the emotions passing over Bucky’s face as he takes that in. The disbelief starts to morph into a sort of cautious acceptance. Or at least that’s what Steve hopes it is. “I’m sorry you had people telling you otherwise for so long,” he says. He dares to curl his fingers over Bucky’s hand, and something loosens in his chest as the omega lets him. “Now you’re in the real world, though. Now you get to see how much everybody thinks you’re normal. Just another part of life. A great part of it, in fact.” He gives Bucky’s hand a squeeze. “So, will you let me spend your heat with you, Omega?”

Bucky’s irises flare and his lips part. Steve would be willing to bet the kid has never been called ‘omega’ with anything other than vitriol. And now Steve has said it like a title of honor. Bucky swallows thickly. “... Okay,” he says, voice barely there. Afraid maybe, but trusting. He’s trusting Steve, and that makes something golden and warm flare deep in Steve’s chest. “If it’s you,” Bucky adds meekly. “Only you.”

Steve smiles sadly. He’s not sure if Bucky fully remembers everything that’d happened in his hospital room earlier. “Yeah, Honey,” he reassures him. “I’m gonna stay with you the whole time. Just you and me.” He squeezes their fingers together. “It’s gonna be nice. I promise.”

Bucky blushes and squirms and won’t meet his eyes again, but he’s clearly pleased. He turns to look back over at the large, low bed. “Can I …” he starts, hesitant. “Can I go over there?”

“Of course, Sweetheart. It’s yours.” Steve pats the back of his hand comfortingly and then pulls away, getting up to go over and root around the fridge and make himself seem unobtrusive. “Why don’t you nest around a little bit? Make the blankets how you like.”

Behind him, Bucky is silent. Then Steve hears him get off the hospital bed, followed by the soft rustle of him climbing onto the suite’s bed. “... I don’t know how to nest,” comes quietly from behind.

Oh god. Steve lets his eyes slip shut for the barest second, at that heartbreakingly vulnerable admission. Once again, he’s struck by the intense urge to squeeze Bucky up in his arms, tight and secure and possessive forever. Focus, Rogers. He inhales deeply and fixes his face back to a cheerful neutral. He turns. Bucky is sitting in the very middle of the bed, legs folded under himself, looking like a lost little duckling in a sea of blankets. “Sure you do,” Steve says encouragingly. “It’s whatever makes you feel good. Whatever feels right.” He gestures to the various blankets and pillows. “Just start moving ‘em around. You’ll find what works.” He watches hopefully as Bucky bites his lip and considers his advice. He tentatively reaches for one of the pillows and switches it with another, fluffing it. Steve’s chest warms. “That’s it,” he encourages. “See? You know what to do.”

Bucky’s cheeks get more flushed and he tucks his lips in at the praise. There’s more confidence to him as he starts to pick up different pillows and move them, stuffing the edges of blankets around in various places.

“Rogers,”

Steve whips around towards the door at the sound of the intercom. He glances back at Bucky, who has tensed up at the interruption. “Keep working on it,” he urges kindly. “I have to step out for a second and talk with your new attending. I’ll be right back to see what you’ve done.” Bucky whines low in his throat, displeased at hearing that his heat partner is leaving him. But he obeys and goes back to arranging the blankets, and Steve is so proud of him. “Good boy,” he praises, then goes to step out into the hallway.

“Doctor,” he says respectfully once he’s out in the hallway with Banner. “Thanks for coming in. I’m sorry about this.”

Bruce smiles benevolently, if somewhat sleepily. “Happy to help. I gave his chart a look and read through your notes. It sounds like you made the right call to switch to his support.”

Steve shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah.” He knows that Banner could very well scold him over his mistakes, but instead he’s just letting it be. It’s a relief. “He just woke up from the sedatives a few minutes ago. I’m talking him through some nesting now, getting him settled in.”

Banner nods and brings his clipboard up to look at it as they talk. He scans Bucky’s chart, flipping between the pages. “Acute symptoms started about forty minutes ago?”

“Yeah.”

“What symptoms did you observe?”

Steve feels his neck get hot, and he brings a hand up to rub at it. “Um, well he slicked all over my pants.”

Bruce’s gaze falls assessingly to the large wet patch on Steve’s right thigh. He nods and writes on the clipboard. “Anything else?”

“Aggression, impulsive sexual touching, scenting, verbal regression, posturing,”

“The whole nine yards,” Bruce murmurs, nodding and finishing up with his writing. He looks back up at Steve. “Nothing to cause concern though?”

Steve shakes his head. “No. He rated his pain for me earlier. Just seems to be experiencing a typical level of cramping.”

“That’s good. Given the state of his infection days ago, I’dve been worried of something more severe.”

“That’s really cleared up,” Steve says. “A lot of the inflammation we saw there was actually his body rejecting the hormonal implants. Once we removed his suppressant and IUD, things really calmed down.”

Bruce nods, still flipping through the pages. “Okay. Still make sure to palpate his stomach. And conduct an internal before things get too wild in there.”

Steve fights back a wince. “Doc, he’s a very recent rape victim. I don’t think he’ll tolerate the speculum.”

“Then don’t use one,” Bruce says plainly. “If he can’t accept your fingers and you need a script written for benzos, we can do that.”

Steve tenses at the reminder that he’s no longer Bucky’s attending. He’s not the one who gets to make the decisions for Bucky’s care anymore. “Okay,” he agrees, anxious to get back into the suite and back to Bucky. “Not yet. But I’ll let you know.”

Bruce agrees and they part ways, and when Steve has locked himself back into the room, he turns and is met with the sight of Bucky working away at what’s quickly becoming a textbook nest. Steve beams. “Hey! look at you.”

Bucky spares him a glance, but then he huffs and he’s back to working away at getting the blankets just how he needs them. He’s like a cat: focused, satisfied and then frustrated and then satisfied again as he tries to get everything just right. It’s adorable. “They smell like you,” he mumbles, not looking up from where he’s working away. He means the blankets.

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah I scented them. Is that okay?” Steve waits for Bucky’s approval. When he gets a quick, silent nod, he’s satisfied. “This looks real good, omega” he approves, watching Bucky nitpick the final little details of the nest. Steve doesn’t miss how the mounting pillow hasn’t been moved from its spot at the far end of the bed. He bites his lip, thrilled that Bucky hasn’t rejected it. He could’ve tossed it from the nest entirely, but instead he’s kept it. Steve’s under no illusions that the kid doesn’t recognize the item for exactly what it is. When Bucky stops nesting and starts squirming, Steve holds his breath and asks, “Omega?” He waits for Bucky to look him in the eyes. “Can I come into your den with you?”

Bucky’s eyes go a little fuzzy at the request, dazed and pleased at being pursued by an alpha when he’s ripe like this. “Alpha,” he says plaintively, in lieu of an answer.

Steve hums and steps forward. “So good,” he praises. “Bucky, can I take my clothes off?”

“I …” Bucky’s eyes flick over him nervously. They land on the wet patch on his scrub pants and hold there. “Oh,” he breathes, face going slack.

“Yeah,” Steve touches the spot where Bucky had slicked all over him. “You remember that?” he asks. “Rubbing your bottom on me?” Bucky emits a high keening sound, distressed, but Steve shushes him and tuts. “No, baby. It was so amazing. You made me really happy when you did that.”

Bucky’s eyes flick up nervously. He looks like he can’t believe it. “I did?” he asks.

“Of course. It’s what your body’s supposed to do. It means you're healthy and aroused. That’s completely normal.” Bucky frowns a little, clearly still having intrusive thoughts about his nature. He whines and shakes his head, displeased, and Steve hurries to take a step closer to the low mattress. “Hey. Look at me, Honey. Please?”

Bucky squirms in place, rocking his hips in little unconscious movements. He looks up at him, and there’s awareness in his eyes. Awareness and fear. Steve can see how Bucky is perfectly aware of how differently he’s acting now, because of his heat. And it’s scaring him. “Steve,” he says, voice trembling. “Please. … I don’t think I can do this.”

“I’m right here, Buck. It’s okay. This is safe, remember?”

His lips tremble and a single tear falls down his cheek. “What’re you gonna do?”

Steve tries to give him the most reassuring look he knows how. “I’m gonna undress,” he says gently. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to have sex with you. We’re just gonna have some skin contact to start. Is that okay?” He waits for Bucky’s unsure nod before he pulls his scrub top over his head and tosses it aside. He’s wearing a white tee shirt underneath and he quickly removes that as well. Then Bucky’s inhale sounds, sharp and audible, his lips parting as he sees Steve’s body bared to him for the first time. Steve hums, pleased at the reaction, and pushes his chest out. He lets Bucky look his fill. The way the omega is sitting there, breathing open-mouthed and rocking faintly in place as his need builds, makes Steve’s balls feel heavy and full. He toes off his clogs and socks, then hooks his thumbs in the elastic waistband of his scrub pants. “You can undress too, if it’s what feels good,” he tells him. “I only want you to do what feels good for you.” Bucky just sits there and stares as Steve's scrub pants fall and his cock is revealed, half hard and obvious underneath his briefs. He rubs himself once from over the fabric, watching how Bucky's eyes track the movement. "Gonna take these off," he warns, not wanting anything he does to feel like a surprise to the omega. When he straightens back up from taking off his briefs, his cock hangs thickly between his legs.

And Bucky's eyes are riveted. “Oh,” he breathes quietly, all modesty and shame momentarily forgotten as he stares at Steve’s alpha body. “Steve,” he whispers.

Steve smiles, feeling incredibly tender towards the young omega. Bucky won’t be the first virgin he’s ever supported, but he might be the most vulnerable. Steve puts one knee up on the mattress, carefully cataloging Bucky’s reactions with every move he makes. He lowers his hands down into the mess of blankets, brings his other knee up, crawls forward slowly. “I’m coming into your nest with you, omega,” he says softly. “Your den. Where you decide what happens, right?”

“... right,” Bucky breathes, distracted.

Steve’s lips curl. “Can you undress for me now?” Bucky makes a small, hurt sound in his throat, but he listens and pulls off his hospital gown. Steve’s dick jumps against his thigh as he finally gets to see the boy’s naked body. “Oh, Sweetheart.”

Steve saw him that night in the ER, of course, but he’d been bloodied and bruised, wracked with seizures and burning up from infection. Steve hadn’t been able to look at him as anything other than an emergency that night. Bucky had been a body, broken and hurt and needing to be repaired, and Steve had done his job. Now, it’s amazing how much of a difference there is. Bucky is clean and healed and Steve can really look at him.

He has a natural tan to his skin. He's toned, with long, lithe limbs and muscles that are still partially hidden by a layer of baby fat. His chest and arms are strong, especially for an omega, but his hips round out nicely like they should, and his thighs are thick and welcoming. His belly is slightly distended, swollen from his heat. Everything about him makes Steve’s mouth water and his pulse thrum hard in his veins, pleased.

Bucky’s body is that of a fully-matured omega male, already having prepared itself for pregnancy and childbirth despite the years he was forced to take suppressants. Steve breathes a sigh of relief to see it. “Bucky,” he says honestly, wanting him to hear the arousal in his voice this time. “You’re so beautiful. Look at you.” He reaches out as if he’ll touch, but he doesn’t. “You’re perfect.”

Bucky flushes deeply at the praise and at being so closely scrutinized. There’s still a tension in him that’s unnatural, a wariness that serves to remind Steve that the omega was violated barely more than a week ago. Steve knees up closer to him and mirrors his position, sitting back on his heels, maintaining that small distance that reminds Bucky that this is his choice. He reaches out and puts a hand on Bucky’s hip, sliding it up his side.

Bucky flinches, and then he keens in distress when he sees the hurt that flashes on Steve’s face. “I’m sorry,” he says, looking ashamed. “Alpha,”

“Hey, no.” Steve tuts and curls his fingers in at the soft give of Bucky’s waist. “No, baby. Don’t apologize for this. You got hurt, and it’s scary. You don’t have to hide any of that from me. I want to know how you’re really feeling.” He reaches with his other hand and cups Bucky’s neck. He feels around and pushes in when he finds the glands there, hot and tight and swollen beneath the skin. The scent of fresh slick hits the air when he pinches down on it, and Bucky whines loudly. “Shhh sh sh,” Steve hushes. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Bucky whimpers and trembles, but calms down quickly with Steve’s hand massaging at his glands so pointedly. His eyes slip shut for the briefest of seconds, showing his trust in Steve, and something very close to a moan leaves his lips. It’s quiet, barely there, but Steve hears it. “Steve,” he murmurs, eyes still closed. “Oh …”

“What do you want to do, Honey?” Steve asks. “You want to get on your back? Why don’t you do that and feel those soft blankets against your body, huh?” He encourages Bucky to lie back and is incredibly relieved when the omega goes without a fuss. “Good boy,” he coos. “That’s just right. Yeah, isn’t that nice? Did such a good job on making this nest, Omega,” he praises. He sits back and crosses his legs and gives Bucky a moment to settle in. “There you go. Mmhm. Bet that feels real good on your skin, doesn’t it? Don’t worry now. I’m not going to touch you for a little bit. Just want you to get comfy in your nest. You gonna do that for me, Sweetheart?”

Bucky nods, scent calming more and more as he realizes that Steve isn’t lying, that he’s really not going to fall on top of him and force anything on him. His eyes open and flick over Steve’s face uncertainly. “What do I have to do?” he asks, emotionally vulnerable now but still with a degree of lucidity in his voice. It lets Steve know that he’s still dealing with his patient: a trauma victim. Bucky isn’t lost to his heat just yet.

Steve starts up a low, comforting rumble in his chest and keeps his hands on the tops of his own thighs. “Nothing you don’t want to,” he reassures him. “We’re here for you, Bucky. To make you feel good, and safe, and pleasured. I’m not going to do anything to you if it doesn’t make you feel all of those things, okay?”

Bucky almost looks like he’s going to cry at hearing Steve’s kind promises. He looks like a child who’s afraid to trust, who’s had promises that they’ve believed in yanked away before, many times. “Are you sure?” he asks, fearful.

Steve smiles sadly and grips his own thighs to keep himself from reaching out. “So sure,” he says. “Let’s just sit here together for a minute, okay?” He looks up at the ceiling and speaks to the StarkPhone assistant, “Hey Jarvis: play ‘sexual healing’ playlist.”

“Playing ‘sexual healing’ playlist.”

Steve looks back down to Bucky just in time to catch him wincing at the stupid name of the playlist. They share a chuckle over it, and then the music that Steve uses for people like Bucky starts to fill the room. There’s not actually any Marvin Gaye on it. Far from that, the instrumental music is somewhere between ethereal and sensual. It’s enticing, soothing, and Steve has always found it to be a good fit for patients who need help relaxing into their heats. “How’s that?” he asks Bucky, smiling down at him.

“Nice,” he says, inhaling slowly and letting his eyes slip closed as he relaxes, and exhales.

Something deep in Steve’s chest unspools at that huge sign of trust. This is good. This is going really well. “Okay,” he murmurs. More quietly than last time, he says, “Jarvis: dim lights to thirty percent, soft orange glow. Adjust room temperature to patient’s basal body temp, minus twenty degrees.”

This time Jarvis follows the commands without replying. The room becomes warm and glowing and comforting, like the inside of a womb. Steve sits still and allows Bucky to take time to relax fully. The omega’s scent is improving, softening and ripening into a healthy tone. Steve’s body responds to it, but he ignores his own reactions and watches Bucky intently. In the low light, his body gleams beautifully. The faint sheen of perspiration that coats his skin makes him look delectable. Steve wants to taste him so badly.

“I’m gonna get something,” he says quietly, not wanting to disturb Bucky from how he’s relaxing. “Not going anywhere, just a second.” Bucky makes a vague noise of assent, eyes staying closed. It makes Steve smile fondly.

He goes to the supply cabinet and gets a bottle of unscented oil. There’s a pin valve on the bottom of the container that he locks onto one of the pheromone vials. He squeezes in some of his pheromones then pops the vial back off, giving the oil bottle a good shake to properly emulsify everything. Having Steve’s alpha scent rubbed all over his skin will help relax Bucky, and it’ll help calm some of his body’s inflammatory heat reactions down.

Steve climbs back into the nest and sits next to Bucky’s prone body. He lets his eyes rake over the rise and fall of his chest and the smooth planes of his belly. He stares at what’s visible lower down; a small thatch of dark pubic hair just above his penis, everything else naturally bare and smooth. Steve can’t see his actual sex from here, but he can see the shine of slick that’s leaked out of it, smeared onto his inner thighs and gleaming in the room’s low light. It’s enticing to say the least.

Steve knows he’s not supposed to judge his patients’ bodies, but there’s no denying that Bucky is ideally attractive, right down to what’s between his legs. His little cocklet is short and soft. It’s fattened up thick but not erect. That’s to be expected. It’s rare that Steve sees a male omega who is able to get fully hard. Their bodies don’t produce the right hormones for it, especially during their heats. Bucky’s uncircumcised, the head of his little dick fat and flush beneath the foreskin. Steve knew all of this already, but somehow it all still feels novel. He’s looking at him differently now. Not as a doctor but as his alpha support, as someone who’s going to make love to his body, if Bucky wants it.

When he looks back up to his face, Bucky’s eyes are open and he’s watching him with an inscrutable expression. “Are you okay?” Steve asks.

Bucky nods silently. “I …” his eyes flash down to his dick and then away. “Um…” He squirms and presses his thighs together, ashamed. “It’s not, um, I’m not …”

“No,” Steve says firmly. “Bucky, no. You’re so perfect, Honey. You literally look like the classical sculptures of male omegas.” Bucky seems to be slightly reassured by this, which Steve knows is a minor miracle. He can imagine the sorts of things Bucky’s been insulted with over the years, all the ways his so-called family has told him his omega body is wrong. “Can I touch you a little, Sweetheart? Are you gonna let me touch this gorgeous body?”

Bucky shivers, eyes wide. He seems stunned that Steve likes the way he looks. “Okay,” he whispers.

“Good boy,” Steve praises. He squeezes out some of the oil and rubs it between his hands. It’s a dry massage oil, designed for omegas who’re in heat, their skin overly sensitive to stimulation. Steve reaches out slowly, telegraphing his intentions. He lets his hand sink down to rest on the top of Bucky’s thigh. He feels the omega shiver from the touch. He squeezes, digging slow and deep into the muscle, then releases the pressure and rubs firmly up and down, over and over. “Is this okay?” he asks. “Me massaging you?” It’s one of the most common techniques he uses for trauma victims, and Bucky seems to be responding to it favorably, if the lazy, pleasured look on his face is anything to go by. “Mm? Good?”

Bucky nods, staring at him through heavy lidded eyes. “Yeah,” he croaks. “It’s nice.” Between his legs, his little cocklet is just barely peeking out, a thin bead of moisture pearling at the slit . Steve notices with a slight smile, but of course he says nothing.

He brings up his other hand to deepen the massage. “That’s good,” he praises. “That’s what we want.” He keeps up the massage, doing one thigh and then the other, then moving down to his shins. Bucky makes a painfully erotic sound once Steve has pulled his foot into his lap and is digging fingers into his arch. Steve hums, continuing on.

Eventually Bucky seems calm enough that Steve sets his feet aside and encourages him to spread his legs so that Steve can move to sit between them. Bucky seems to know what’s coming, keeping his eyes pointedly closed as Steve eases his hands back up his legs, over his knees, and then up to the tension in his inner thighs. “Shh,” Steve soothes, rubbing back and forth. “Relax, honey. I’m just gonna examine you. Eyes and hands only, I promise. Take deep breaths.”

Bucky tries to listen, it’s obvious. But his breath still hitches when Steve brings both hands to his lower stomach and begins palpating the area. He peeks down at Steve, “What’re you doing?”

“Just checking,” Steve murmurs, focused on what he’s feeling underneath his fingers. “It’s normal for your uterus to swell during heat, but I don’t want to feel any hard spots.” He hears Bucky grunt in embarrassment, probably at being reminded of his own anatomy. “Shh, you’re okay. Everything seems fine.”

“... Steve?” Steve looks up and sees Bucky’s pinched expression. “Um, remember when you said I might not be able to have children?”

His heart squeezes at the obvious vulnerability in Bucky’s voice, how brave he’s being by asking. “We were worried about that, before,” Steve admits. “But your body’s been responding well to the treatment.” He notches his thumbs in at Bucky’s hipbones and strokes him softly there. “We still have to get your cycles regulated, but I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t be able to carry a pregnancy just fine one day.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush and he looks a little overwhelmed at the words. “... one day,” he repeats meekly, and Steve smiles gently at him.

“Yeah Honey, one day. Not today. Not until you’re ready.” This seems to ease Bucky's fears, and his scent sweetens into something even richer than before. He smells like he feels safe, and that makes Steve preen in satisfaction. He’s making his omega feel safe. He rumbles low in his chest and watches how Bucky reacts to the sound. He slides his hands down to Bucky’s knees and encourages him to bed his legs up. “Can I see the rest of you?” he asks.

Bucky trembles and tenses, but he nods, shifting the tilt of his hips as he draws his knees up for him.

“Good boy,” Steve praises, knowing how hard it must be for Bucky to reveal this part of himself to anyone, let alone Steve. “That’s so good, Bucky. Thank you.” He strokes Bucky’s calves, soothing him. “Close your eyes if you need to. I want you relaxed for this.”

Bucky whimpers but he does let his eyes slip closed. He’s trying. He’s being so brave and strong and it melts Steve’s heart. Steve takes a moment to get some more of the massage oil on his hands. He leans over Bucky and smears the oil on either side of his neck, right over the glands, giving him his scent. He puts some just below his nostrils as well and Bucky moans softly. Steve sits back. He looks down.

Bucky is pink and healthy looking, swollen from the heat and soaked with a healthy amount of slick. Steve pushes gently on his shins to get him to bend his legs more. This tilts his pelvis up and exposes him to Steve’s view.

Bucky looks like any young male omega should. He lacks a clitoris because his body developed that part of his anatomy into a penis when he was in utero. His sex is fairly similar to a female's, with pronounced outer lips where he would’ve formed his testicles, if he hadn’t developed ovaries instead. Steve’s breath catches a little when he sees the boy's muscles clench, a thick gush of slick seeping out of his cunt. Jesus wept. Bucky whimpers and squirms, but Steve hushes him, telling him that he’s good, he’s fine, his body’s doing what it’s supposed to. “I’m going to touch you, okay?” he says softly, giving Bucky the chance to refuse. “I’m going to put my fingers inside to feel you.”

While it’s clear that this is very upsetting and hard for Bucky, he still seeks comfort in Steve, trying to be good for him. “Alpha,” he breathes, eyes clenched shut and face screwed up. He reaches down, searching for Steve’s hand.

Steve gives him his left one and squeezes their fingers together. “Right here, Honey. It’s just you and me, in private, taking care of each other. Nothing bad, right?”

Bucky nods tightly. “Y-yeah. Right.”

Steve smiles up at him, pained but so, so proud of how well he’s doing. “C’mere,” he coaxes, scooting up in the sheets and pulling on Bucky until he has the boy’s hips up in his lap. “There you go. That’s so good, Omega. You know just what to do. So smart.” Bucky responds to the nonsensical praise, his whines losing some of their stress and instead becoming more seeking, questioning things. Steve makes it his mission to soothe those sounds with his own. “I’m going to touch you now, Buck. Two fingers. It shouldn’t hurt, but if it feels uncomfortable at all, you tell me right away and I’ll stop.” He waits for Bucky’s nod before continuing, then traces the edges of his folds, gathering slick on his fingertips. Everything externally looks good, and the little Steve can see of his delicate entrance looks normal, if a bit heat swollen. The remains of his recently-torn hymen are still there, healed but jagged edges of soft tissue that evil, vile rapists created. Steve grits his teeth and forces his thoughts away from that, not wanting to think about what they took from Bucky, not wanting Bucky to become upset from an unpleasant shift in his scent.

Any physical trauma to the vaginal tissues will have healed in an omega his age by now, Steve knows, but that’s just the physical. Physical wounds always heal the fastest, and hurt the least. There are other, deeper hurts that Steve needs to help him with.

“Okay,” he whispers, setting his fingers to Bucky’s entrance. “A little pressure, no pain. Remember what you do if there’s pain?”

Bucky’s face pinches where he’s lying with his eyes firmly closed. “Tell you,” he murmurs, and Steve praises him with a deep rumble of approval.

“That’s right. Good boy. Okay now, deep breath.” He waits for Bucky’s chest to rise in an inhale before he applies pressure, and slips into his body.

Bucky’s lips part and he gasps, but it’s just reflex. He lets his breath out and sighs, making a little sound in his throat like he’s surprised that it actually didn’t hurt. “Oh,” he says.

Steve hums, pleased. “Nothing bad,” he repeats. He crooks his fingers, feeling with purpose along the omega’s walls. It’s tight inside, incredibly hot and tight like a virgin omega’s cunt should be. Steve keeps his arousal to himself as best he can, though he knows his scent will give some of it away. At least Bucky is keeping his eyes closed to relax, so Steve doesn’t have to worry about the boy seeing the undoubtedly devastated expressions of arousal that flash across his own face.

He’s alpha, and even though he’s undergone extensive training, there’s no helping certain things. Steve’s cock is hard and it’s not going down any time soon. He swallows thickly, focusing on the exam he needs to be conducting. Carefully, watching Bucky’s body and face for any flinches, he strokes and feels along his internal walls. Nothing abnormal stands out to him, though when he uses a different technique to feel closer to the entrance, he does notice the enlarged slick glands that he’d known were there.

They’re much better than they’d been on that night in the ER, at least. No longer raging with infection, able to be touched without causing extreme pain. Steve feels and identifies the structures, impacted from years and years of illegal suppressant use. Carefully, he eases into using more pressure, rubbing firmly.

Bucky groans and presses his hips down. “Oh god,” he complains, brow scrunching a little. “What is that?”

“Pain?” Steve asks, but Bucky shakes his head.

“Sore. Oh. Like a bruise.”

Steve hums knowingly. “You have four glands here, two on either side. They’re how your body gets wet, but right now they’re probably impacted.” Bucky makes a hurt little sound in his throat and asks what that means. Steve explains it to him. “There was a lot of old infection in them and that all needs depressed now that your body’s producing slick again. I’m gonna massage them to try and get the bad stuff out, okay?”

Bucky’s chewing his lip, making it red and swollen and very tempting for Steve to just crawl back up his body and kiss the abused flesh. “... okay.”

Steve decides to do the anterior two first, as they feel harder. “Here we go,” he murmurs. “If it hurts more than slightly pressing on a bruise, tell me. Don’t ignore pain. I’ll stop if we need to.”

Bucky nods tightly, expression strained. But he whispers, “I trust you, Alpha,” and Steve’s heart swells two sizes bigger in his chest.

A few minutes of firm, focused touching on the glands is all it takes to have them releasing. Liquid gushes over the back of Steve’s hand as the pressure gives and Bucky moans in relief. The smell of old, stale infection hits the air, sour for a moment before it dissipates. Steve uses his free hand to rub soothingly over Bucky’s lower belly. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Against the sheets, Bucky nods his head blearily. Steve turns his hand and finds the posterior glands, and works those until they release as well. The amount of slick is incredible, and Steve knows that it must feel so much better for the omega now that all that poison is out of him. There’s immediately more room inside his channel, the glands back to being soft and spongy like they should be. Steve gives them a few more gentle strokes to be sure that all that backed up slick is out. “Good,” he rumbles low in his chest, proud of how well Bucky handled that. “That’s just lovely, Honey. Good job.”

Bucky peeks his eyes open, looking down to where Steve still has his fingers buried inside his body. His entire face is flushed and he’s breathing open-mouthed. “S-steve,” he slurs, searching Steve’s eyes out with his own. He’s a little wild, a little needy, and Steve responds, removing his fingers from the drenched clutch of his cunt and coming up to lay over his body instead. He puts his face close, giving Bucky eye contact and reassurance and an open invitation to scent him. “I’m here, Buck. I’m right here with you. What do you need?”

Bucky grunts with discomfort and hides himself against Steve’s neck, which of course Steve allows, turning his head to the side to give him better access to his glands. He cups Bucky’s head with his clean hand, encouraging him with deep, soothing sounds. “That’s good, that’s just right, Honey. Do what feels good. Whatever you need.”

Bucky keens, embarrassed but clearly loving the reassurance Steve’s giving him. He latches onto Steve, mouth on his glands and legs around his waist. He humps up against him and sucks needily on his glands. “Mmph, mm…”

Steve can’t help the guttural moan that escapes him at such contact. It feels so good. “Okay, Sweetheart, okay,” he pants, eyes squeezed shut as his dick throbs and blurts out precum against Bucky’s stomach. “Yeah, okay.” He loses control for a few seconds as his hips press down on Bucky’s soft body, but he reigns it in after a few thrusts.

Bucky complains with a noise, humping up for more as he mouths over Steve's neck. His teeth scrape and then catch, and then he bites down on Steve’s glands. Hard.

Steve grunts loudly at the flare of pain. The skin breaks and his scent wafts into the air, strong and different from before as Bucky’s saliva gets mixed into the wound. He hears Bucky’s muffled sound of enjoyment as his mouth fills with the taste, eagerly suckling for more. “... oh, fuck,” Steve moans. He digs his fingers in against Bucky’s shoulders and pants, trying to hold on, to stay calm.

He knew this might happen. Patients with needs as complex as Bucky’s are prone to biting. They naturally seek out the connection and pleasure of a bond, instincts overriding their minds as they seek the comfort they so desperately need. Bucky chirps happily at the burst of pheromones that he’s gotten, rubbing his face back and forth in the blood. “Alpha, Alpha,” he breathes, clinging onto him and humping up, getting his slick all over Steve.

Steve practices his breathing to try and stay calm. He pets Bucky’s shoulders and his hair, taking deep, grounding breaths. He’s careful not to pull away, not to deny Bucky access to any part of him. The pain from the bite is gone and the euphoria is setting in, making his skin tingle, his balls throb. He can feel his knot becoming erect. Bucky is rubbing his cunt along the length of his cock, and even with his training and his certifications and his long-practiced self control, even Steve has limits.

“Hang on, Honey. Hang on now,” he says, voice low with forced calm. He shifts on his arms over Bucky so that he can get a hand at the back of the omega’s neck. He squeezes. Bucky instantly goes limp, mouth releasing from Steve’s skin with a moan as he goes slack against the blankets. Steve pants for a moment, just calming himself down. “Okay,” he says, eyes closed. “Okay baby. Just ... just gimme a minute ..."

He's been bonded to seven people in his life. It never gets easier.

The euphoria is wonderful, all-consuming, an intense physical pleasure that’s different from pure sex and is very emotional—like doing narcotics and molly at the same time. It makes it very hard not to lose his control and simply fuck into the nearest available orifice. Which right now is Bucky’s soaking wet cunt. Grunting, he forces himself to pull back. He rolls off of Bucky and gets off the bed.

Bucky’s keening protest is near-instantaneous. “Alpha!”

Steve rumbles loudly to calm him down. “Stop. Omega. Be still.” Bucky whimpers but listens, and Steve sits down on the edge of the bed. He reaches out and grabs Bucky’s hand, giving him a comforting squeeze. “Talk to me,” he coaxes, waiting for Bucky to calm down enough to communicate. “How you doing, Sweetheart?”

Bucky looks pleadingly up at him, tears leaking out the corners of his eyes. “S-steve, I’m—I need…”

Steve’s heart clenches in sympathy. It’s not easy for an assault victim to say that they need to be fucked, especially when they have as much shame and dysphoria surrounding their gender as Bucky does. “Hey,” he says lowly, leaning over and sliding his hand up Bucky’s chest. “It’s okay to ask for what you need. What do you need, Baby? Tell me.” Bucky trembles and shakes his head, upset, so Steve cups the front of his throat and presses slightly, just enough to be dominating. “Tell me now, Omega,” he says, using his Voice to make it easier for him. “Tell Alpha what you need to feel right.”

Bucky moans and thrusts his hips up uselessly. He looks to Steve, relief in his eyes. “Alpha,” he croaks. “You, please. Want you.”

��Want me how?” Steve presses, not in his Voice but still domineering. He lets his fingers dig into Bucky’s glands, sees Bucky’s blood-stained lips part in a sigh of pleasure. “You have choices,” Steve says. He’s regained some of his control now, is more clear headed as he tells him, “We don’t have to have sex if it’s not what you want. You can use my hands, or my mouth. There are toys. I can have the hospital staff bring—”

“No!” Bucky whines loudly and squirms against the hold on his neck. Both of his hands fly up and grasp at Steve’s wrist. “No, no, Alpha, please. I need… I–I n-need it.”

Steve frowns, debating whether he should push and make him say it. After a moment of watching Bucky struggle and plead uselessly, he decides that no, he’s not going to force him to voice what it is he wants so badly. They both know what it is, and the last thing Steve wants is for Bucky to feel any sort of shame right now.

Only pleasure. That’s what he’d promised.

So, taking a deep breath, Steve gives himself over to his role a little more. He’s got Bucky’s consent, or as much of it he’s able to, given the state he’s in, and now he needs to be what Bucky needs him to be. He needs to be his Alpha. “Stay still,” he orders firmly, giving a little jostle to Bucky’s neck where he’s holding him. “I’m gonna get something. Don’t move until I come back.”

Bucky whines in complaint the entire time that it takes Steve to pad over to the fridge and back, but when Steve returns, he still hasn’t moved. Steve rumbles approval in his chest for Bucky to hear. “Good boy,” he praises, sitting down on the bed and helping Bucky to prop himself up, too. “Here. Drink.” He guides the water bottle to Bucky’s lips, helping him even when the omega brings his own hands up to hold it. Steve doesn’t trust the poor thing not to spill it all over himself. Steve gulps down what Bucky doesn’t finish, tossing the bottle off to the side somewhere. His eyes stay on Bucky, trailing up and down his naked body. “You’re so beautiful, Buck,” he murmurs, reaching up to trace the side of his cheek, his temple.

It’s true. Bucky’s whole body is flushed and tense. He’s sweaty, trembling with his need for touch and stimulation. When Steve cups the front of his throat again, the omega’s eyes slip shut and stay shut. He purrs. Steve rumbles in response and uses the moment that Bucky has his eyes closed, relaxed, to stare selfishly at his body.

His little cock is thickened, a perfect, fat little nub that’s almost thicker than it is long, chubbed up and leaking little droplets. But that’s nothing compared to the mess that’s coming from his cunt. He’s soaking wet down there, a combination of shiny clear slick coating his thighs and the sheets, and thicker arousal creaming right at his entrance.

Steve growls as he’s slammed with the hot urge to stick his face down there, tongue deep inside his cunt and swallow everything the omega has to give. He looks away for a second to get himself under control. When he looks back, Bucky’s eyes are fixed on him. “Omega,” Steve grits, forced control darkening his tone. “I want to try something. Something to make you feel good. But I need you to tell me if you want it.” He watches Bucky carefully, watches his mouth and his eyes, feels the thrum of his pulse underneath his hand. He scents the air to gauge his reaction as he says, “I want to put my mouth on you. I want to eat you out. I want to make you cum that way.”

Every sign that Bucky could possibly give him that he wants it, he does. He jerks in Steve’s hold and keens, hands grappling all over Steve’s hand at his throat, up his wrist and his forearm. “Yes!” he gasps, crying a little bit in shame. Steve scents the smokey tint of it in his scent, polluting what should be nothing but pleasure and acceptance. Bucky is ashamed that he wants an alpha to touch him this way. “Sweetheart,” Steve coos, thumbing away one of the tears. But he leaves it at that. More tears follow. Steve knows he can’t expect miracles today. Bucky can cry about it if he needs. He can squirm and flush and cry while Steve pleasures him with his mouth, so long as he comes.

That’s what therapy’s for.

Steve pushes him back to lie flat on the bed. He bends over and kisses him, keeping it shallow and gentle even when Bucky gets a little bit desperate and tries to get more. Steve tuts and pushes him back into the blankets. “Be still, ‘mega,” he commands gently. “Alpha’s gonna make it better, you’ll see.” He pulls some of the soft things in from the edges of the nest, rucking them up close around Bucky’s head and shoulders, making a tight little barrier where he can feel held, safe and snug. “Okay,” he says, satisfied by how Bucky goes a little lax in the cradle of the blankets. “Yeah, there we go.”

“Alpha,” Bucky says softly, looking lost. He’s completely dependent at this point, so incredibly vulnerable that it makes Steve's cock ache.

“Sweet boy,” he murmurs. “It’s gonna be okay. Alpha’s gonna make you feel good now, okay?” He waits for Bucky to give him a slow little nod. He pecks one more kiss to his bitten-red lips, then starts trailing down his body, one kiss at a time. He’s sorely tempted to waste some time sucking at the omega’s chest. His little pink nipples are so perky and flushed, and Steve just knows he could get his breast buds to swell up so beautifully if he only paid them some attention.

But Bucky hasn’t consented to that, and Steve hasn’t asked, and he has to be very careful of treating Bucky’s body in only the ways he gives consent for and can tolerate. Bucky’s been through so much pain and he’s been forced into things no omega should ever be forced into. His experience now has to be positive. It has to.

Steve sinks down between his legs and stares at his wet cunt. He’s pulsing with arousal, his entrance contracting rhythmically, pushing out more of that cream. Steve releases a guttural moan at the intense smell of it. “Fuck,” he breathes. There’s no amount of training that could help him resist this.

He covers Bucky’s cunt with his mouth, lapping across his slit. The taste of his arousal is sharp and amazing, made even more so by the fresh effects of the bite to Steve’s bonding gland. He groans against his mound and holds him down roughly at the hips when Bucky jerks wildly.

He’s crying out, sobbing wordlessly and thrashing up against Steve’s mouth. “A—Alpha!” he gasps, sounding like he’s protesting as much as he is begging. “Oh, oh, oh!”

Steve tongues into his hole furiously, over and over again, fucking him with the muscle. He can feel Bucky fluttering around him, his body trying so hard to clamp down onto something. Steve hears the growing displeasure and desperation in the boy’s keening cries, so he reaches to push his little cocklet down flat and starts thumbing rapidly back and forth under the head.

Bucky screams and starts to come.

As soon as Steve realizes what’s happening, he moves his mouth up and takes his cock in his mouth, replacing his tongue with fingers in Bucky’s cunt. It throbs and pulses around them, milking him, drawing out the orgasm. Bucky’s hips grind up against Steve’s face and hands, and Steve can only work him through it, listening to his desperate sobs and wishing he could be kissing his face, too, whispering encouragements into his mouth as he falls apart so sweetly.

“That’s it,” he says when he’s finally let Bucky’s cocklet slip from his mouth. He’s speaking against the swell of his belly, still rocking fingers inside him as the boy twitches through the waning pleasure of his climax. “That’s it, Omega. Take it, take it. Just feel it.”

Bucky’s sobbing quietly and shaking from his core as Steve finishes guiding him through it. “S-steeve,” he keens, upset and needing reassurance. He pulls at Steve’s shoulders, urging him back up his body. Steve goes obediently, eager to calm him down now.

“Shh sh sh,” he soothes, kissing all over his face and then down to his neck. He sucks his glands on one side, pinches with his fingers on the other. “Good, you’re so good Omega. That was perfect. Alpha’s so proud of you.”

The scent of Bucky’s shame is stronger now than it was before, but it eases up the longer Steve goes on, reassuring him with touches and words and chest-deep rumbles that he’s done exactly what he’s supposed to, that he was good to take his pleasure that way and that his Alpha is so, so happy with him now.

“So good,” he kisses into his skin, scraping his teeth over the swollen glands but restraining himself from anything more. “So good for me, Bucky.” He comes up to lie over him and look down at his face. He’s beet red and tear stained, and he’s never looked more beautiful to Steve. Steve smiles softly as they both calm down, and he thumbs at his wet cheeks. “Did that feel so good, Sweetheart?”

Bucky’s lips tremble and he nods and cries a little bit more. “Yeah.”

Steve coos. He kisses him, calming him down. When Bucky’s scent is almost free from that shame and embarrassment, he pulls back and smiles down at him. “Do you have any idea how perfect you are like this?” he asks softly. “Any idea how much I want you right now?”

Beneath his body, Bucky shudders. He looks wonderingly up at Steve and whispers, “No.”

Steve hums, then lets the sound develop into a mature rumble deep in his chest. He gets off of Bucky, pulling back and getting up on his knees, sitting back on his heels. He watches Bucky, keenly aware of how the omega’s attention drops right to the proud jut of his cock between his thighs.

Taking a deep breath and trying his very best to wipe any trace of an opinion out of his voice, Steve asks, “What do you want now, Omega?”

Art: @hopelessartgeek

A.N. This ended in a stupid spot because it was getting too long. More to come!

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theosilvas · 2 years ago

Text

pedro pascal / 48 / cismale —have you noticed that THEO SILVA is back in town? the BARTENDER is apparently pretty LOYAL, but HE can also be a little JUDGEMENTAL. HE is always blasting IN THE AIR TONIGHT by PHIL COLLINS, as it makes them think of something from their past. i hope the VIRGO has a better time here than most.

tw: illness, death, homophobia

At the age of seven, nearly eight, the Silva family were the targets of a home robbery that left Theo without parents and sent to live with his Uncles at the other end of the continent. They always wanted kids, but not like this.

Uncle Evan was the brother of Theo's mom, but Theo developed a closer bond with his uncle's husband, Uncle Matthew, that he did with his blood relation. The man's quiet nature made him a better companion for the grieving child and together they cultivated a love for the outdoors.

Theo learned how to garden and grew an apple tree from a seed just like his kindergarten class taught him, he grew little herbs on the windowsill and watched Uncle Evan throw them in food and drinks and felt like he contributed. He also liked seeing that he could keep something alive, even if plants weren't the same as people.

He had a green thumb, but also bloody knuckles. Not all of his time was spent growing herbs and participating in 4H club. Not everyone was tolerant of Theo's family and when people tried to take it out on him, Theo pushed back. Uncle Matthew didn't approve of fighting, but Uncle Evan did, and that was the start of lessons at the gym in self defense and for the first time since moving, Theo found something besides blood to share with Evan - boxing.

As all kids do, he grew up, but he never moved far away from his family, attending college only an hour away. He wasn't a phenomenal student, never was, but Theo knew they were proud of him and supported him anyway, through thick and thin. Evan used to say that Theo needed to get a fancy diploma and go on to be a millionaire so he could support Evan and Matt once they were addled old men, and Theo always laughed and said he would, even though he knew he'd never be rich.

What happened next would have been easier if he was. Matt was diagnosed with cancer during Theo's second year of college and bills quickly piled up. Theo eventually dropped out and threw himself fully into work to try helping, but helping with the finances didn't help Matt, who lost his battle and seemed to take part of Evan with him.

There wasn't any returning to college after that, just working and trying to look out for Evan, who was never the same. The jokes about taking care of him in his old age no longer seemed like jokes, for all that Evan was only in his sixties. That still seemed like it was too young for Evan to fall apart, at least in Theo's mind.

It wasn't the life Theo planned, and he knew it wasn't the one Uncle Matt wanted for him, but Theo made do as the years past, time adding up until college was a half forgotten memory. He worked a variety of odd jobs, bouncing around between things that didn't requite any qualifications until one of Evan's friends mentioned needing a new bartender soon, and promising to hire Theo if he got certified. It would cost, but the pay raise would make up for it in a month or two.

That's where he met Lucy, and it felt like love at first sight. She became a light for him, a joy as things with Evan became worse. Theo knew his hours were difficult, that he was often preoccupied and stressed because of his family, and Lucy always seemed to handle it with grace. She handled it with grace for a few years and by the time Evan grew worse, they were engaged. Their apartment was small, and Theo was filled with ideas of moving into Evan and Matthew's old house with her one day, renovating it and having a small family with her.

Then Evan passed away from health complications and Lucy admitted to cheating on him, claiming she hadn't wanted to weigh him down with the knowledge when he was dealing with Evan in the hospital, and then the funeral. In Theo's mind, it wasn't any better finding out his fiancee was leaving him for the man she'd been having an affair with while he was grieving, and the split ended up acrimonious.

With his family dead or gone, Theo's life felt empty and he sold everything tying him to his old life before packing up and crossing the continent once again to restart his life.

#hailintro #illness tw #death tw #homophobia tw #theo; intro

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archivyrep · 2 years ago

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Is Peridot an unintentional archivist, records manager, or something else entirely? [Part 2]

Continued from part 1

Peridot goes through an old file system to find information about the Cluster in the episode "It Could've Been Great"

In the caste hierarchy of Homeworld, Peridot is a certified technician and certified Kindergartner, the latter referring to those who work at facilities that "serve to create Gems by using machines called Injectors." Peridot goes down the track of going from antagonist-to-friend by the middle of Season 3, and begins living with Lapis Lazuli at a barn, through that season and into Season 5. This means that she isn't an archivist, at least not intentionally. However, the fact she keeps logs and saves them somewhere else means that she is engaging, to some degree, in archival duties.

Reprinted from my Wading Through the Cultural Stacks WordPress blog. Originally published on Dec. 2, 2021.

She is skilled for these records management tasks through her cold and calculating behavior. As time goes on, she is shown to be good at solving problems through observations and experimentation, with what her fandom page calls "reason-based decision-making." Even so, she is also stubborn, can be extremely dedicated, and obsessed with certain topics. Later in the series she becomes more cooperative and open with others.

Despite all of this, she is not selecting, arranging, or describing the records she has created, but what she had constructed in the Prime Kindergarten is clearly a preservation of original materials, i.e. her digital logs. Even so, she only provides access to these logs and allows Steven to see them after she is under his watch and is willing to help him as she realizes the danger the cluster will cause to Earth. She doesn't really try to protect these records from damage or even ensure that her records will be available in the future.

Additionally, she isn't really that concerned with small quantities of records which will be retained for an extended period. Perhaps, ultimately, the logs she made on Earth would have been retained on Homeworld, but due to the fact she was stranded on Earth, these records never made it back there. She also isn't identifying records, helping those who want to use the records since the records were originally just meant for her, or managing the collection of records. Despite this, she did, in a way, create and manage a system which maintains and preserves electronic records, as her finger screen was connected to the computer she had created in the Prime Kindergarten.

So, in sum, you could say that Peridot is engaged in some tasks that archivists would do, but not enough to call her an archivist. This is because she is clearly not managing records of enduring value nor is she is charge of an archive, as summarized from the definition of the word by the SAA's Dictionary of Archives Terminology.

Archivist, presumably in Alberta, Canada, as this image came from a government of Alberta website.

She is a bit closer to records manager / records administrator, which are those responsible for administering "programs for the efficient and economical handling, protecting, and disposing of records throughout their life cycle." Even so, this isn't completely right either. She is much closer to what the aforementioned dictionary calls a "records analyst," defining it as the following:

An individual who specializes in the examination and evaluation of systems and procedures related to the creation, processing, storing and disposition of records.

Again, this isn't perfect either, as but she is definitely more than someone like a "records officer." Clearly, Peridot is involved in records management activities of different types, especially when she uses her finger screens, but also perhaps when she has an audio tape recorder. The latter, however, is mainly for her personal use. In the end, Peridot doesn't neatly fit into the categories of "archivist," "records manager," or "records officer," but she is undoubtedly interacting with and creating records throughout her scenes in the show. And that is fine and enough, as it makes clear the importance of records management in the show itself, ingrained in the show's canon, something which others could expand on in their fan fictions if they so chose.

#peridot #steven universe #records management #archives #archival science #archival studies #definitions #records officer #archivists #records managers #pop culture #reviews #photographs #file systems #file management

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yashkarolia · 2 years ago

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Taylor Alison Swift (born on December 13, 1989) is an American singer-songwriter. Her discography spans multiple generations, and her narrative songwriting—often inspired by her personal life—has received critical praise and media coverage. Born in West Reading, Pennsylvania, Swift moved to Nashville at age of 14 to become a country artist. She signed a songwriting deal with Sony/ATV Music Publishing in 2004 and a recording contract with Big Machine Records in 2005. Her 2006 self-titled debut album made her the first female country singer to write or co-write a U.S. platinum-certified album entirely.

Swift's next albums, Fearless (2008) and Speak Now (2010) explored country pop. The former's "Love Story" and "You Belong with Me" were the first country songs to top the U.S. pop and all-genre charts, respectively. She experimented with rock and electronic styles on Red (2012), which featured her first Billboard Hot 100 number-one song, "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together", and eschew Off Shake It Offffd her country image in her synth-pop album, 1989 (2014), supported by chart-topping songs "Shake It Off", "Blank Space", and "Bad Blood". Media scrutiny inspired the urban-flavored Reputation (2017) and its number-one single "Look What You Made Me Do".

Exiting Big Machine, Swift signed with Republic Records in 2018 and released her seventh studio album, Lover (2019), followed by the autobiographical documentary Miss Americana (2020). She ventured into indie folk and alternative rock in her 2020 albums Folklore and Evermore, whose singles "Cardigan" and "Willow" topped the Hot 100. Swift began re-recording her first six albums after a dispute over their masters, re-releasing two in 2021—Fearless (Taylor's Version) and Red (Taylor's Version). The latter's "All Too Well (10 Minute Version)" became the longest song to top the Hot 100. Her tenth album Midnights (2022) and it's lead single "Anti-Hero" broke numerous streaming records. Swift has self-directed music videos and films, such as All Too Well: The Short Film (2021), and had supporting roles in others.

Having sold over 200 million records globally, Swift is one of the best-selling musicians of all time. She is the only act to have five albums open with over one million copies sold in the US. Among her accolades are 11 Grammy Awards, including three Album of the Year wins; an Emmy Award; 40 American Music Awards; 29 Billboard Music Awards; and 84 Guinness World Records. Swift has been featured in rankings such as Rolling Stone's 100 Greatest Songwriters of All Time, Billboard's Greatest of All Time Artists, the Time 100, and Forbes Celebrity 100. Honored with titles such as Artist of the Decade and Woman of the Decade, Swift is an advocate for artists' rights and women's empowerment. Her music is credited witinfluenceen cing a generation of singer-songwriters.

Life and career

1989–2003: Early life and education Taylor Alison Swift were born on December 13, 1989, at the Reading Hospital in West Reading, Pennsylvania. Swift's father, Scott Kingsley Swift, is a former stockbroker for Merrill Lynch, and her mother, Andrea Gardner Swift (née Finlay), is a former homemaker who previously worked as a mutual fund marketing executive. Her younger brother, Austin, is an actor. She was named after singer-songwriter James Taylor and has Scottish and German heritage. Her maternal grandmother, Marjorie Finlay, was an opera singer. Swift spent her early years on a Christmas tree farm that her father had purchased from one of his clients. Swift identifies as a Christian. She attended preschool and kindergarten at the Alvernia Montessori School, run by the Bernadine Franciscan sisters, before transferring to The Wyndcroft School. The family moved to a rented house in the suburban town of Wyomissing, Pennsylvania, where she attended Wyomissing Area Junior/Senior High School. During her childhood, Swift spent summers at the beach in Stone Harbor, NJ, and performed in a local coffee shop.

At age nine, Swift became interested in musical theater and performed in four Berks Youth Theatre Academy productions. She also traveled regularly to New York City for vocal and acting lessons. Swift later shifted her focus toward country music, inspired by Shania Twain's songs, which made her "want to just run around the block four times and daydream about everything." She spent weekends performing at local festivals and events. After watching a documentary about Faith Hill, Swift felt sure she needed to move to Nashville, Tennessee, to pursue a career in music. She traveled with her mother at age eleven to visit Nashville record labels and submitted demo tapes of Dolly Parton and The Chick's karaoke covers. She was rejected, however, because "everyone in that town wanted to do what I wanted to do. So, I kept thinking to myself, I need to figure out a way to be different."

When Swift was around 12 years old, computer repairman and local musician Ronnie Cremer taught her to play guitar. He helped with her first efforts as a songwriter, leading her to write "Lucky You". In 2003, Swift and her parents started working with New York-based talent manager Dan Dymtrow. With his help, Swift modeled for Abercrombie & Fitch as part of their "Rising Stars" campaign, had an original song included on a Maybelline compilation CD and attended meetings with major record labels. After performing original songs at an RCA Records showcase, Swift, then 13 years old, was given an artist development deal and began making frequent trips to Nashville with her mother. To help Swift enter the country music scene, her father transferred to Merrill Lynch's Nashville office when she was 14 years old, and the family relocated to Hendersonville, Tennessee. Swift initially attended Hendersonville High School[32] before transferring to the Aaron Academy after two years, which better suited her touring schedule through homeschooling. She graduated one year early.

2004–2008: Career beginnings and first album

In Nashville, Swift worked with experienced Music Row songwriters such as Troy Verges, Brett Beavers, Brett James, Mac McAnally, and the Warren Brothers and formed a lasting working relationship with Liz Rose. They began meeting for two-hour writing sessions every Tuesday afternoon after school. Rose thought the sessions were "some of the easiest I've ever done. Basically, I was just her editor. She'd write about what happened in school that day. She had such a clear vision of what she was trying to say. And she'd come in with the most incredible hooks." Swift became the youngest artist signed by the Sony/ATV Tree publishing house, but left the Sony-owned RCA Records at the age of 14 due to the label's lack of care and them "cut[ting] other people's stuff". She was also concerned that development deals may shelve artists, and recalled: "I genuinely felt that I was running out of time. I wanted to capture these years of my life on an album while they still represented what I was going through."

1989–2003: Early life and education

the Reading Hospital in West Reading, Pennsylvania. Swift's father, Scott Kingsley Swift, is a former stockbroker for Merrill Lynch, and her mother, Andrea Gardner Swift (née Finlay), is a former homemaker who previously worked as a mutual fund marketing executive. Her younger brother, Austin, is an actor. She was named after singer-songwriter James Taylor,and has Scottish and German heritage. Her maternal grandmother, Marjorie Finlay, was an opera singer. Swift spent her early years on a Christmas tree farm that her father had purchased from one of his clients. Swift identifies as a Christian. She attended preschool and kindergarten at the Alvernia Montessori School, run by the Bernadine Franciscan sisters, before transferring to The Wyndcroft School. The family moved to a rented house in the suburban town of Wyomissing, Pennsylvania, where she attended Wyomissing Area Junior/Senior High School. During her childhood, Swift spent summers at the beach in Stone Harbor, NJ, and performed in a local coffee shop.

#taylor swift

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shifaspeakshermind · 8 months ago

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Photo Credit: Shifa Amankwa-Gabbey, designed with Canva.

Listen To Identity Crisis — The Podcast (Episode 001)

youtube

This text is the complementary element of Identity Crisis Episode 1—Navigating Life as a Muslim Girl in Ghana, and it is all I could not say in eight minutes of the audiovisual podcast. At this point, it is evident that if you gave me the whole day, I would speak expansively on this topic.

Why This Topic, Shifa?

At times, a light bulb going off in your head after weeks to months of writer's block brings you back to the blog. Other times, it takes an ignition, a slight provocation, to gush out all your years of bottled-up feelings.

My ignition and slight provocation? A Facebook post and a very relatable YouTube video from my suggestion page last week, dubbed Struggles of being a Muslim lady in Ghana.

Who are You?

For eighteen years, I have borne an odd combination of names that has raised dozens of eyebrows about who I truly am. I am Shifa Amankwa-Gabbey, and before anyone walks up to me, they already presume I am a non-Muslim. Shifa (شفاء) is Arabic for healing, but not everyone knows this. The waves of distress I feel when people doubt my religious affiliation are humongous. This is what I fight every day.

School.

In kindergarten, a teacher told me, point blank, that I was not a 'full Muslim' but a 'half Muslim'. I recall chapter and verse of that incident. She said my name did not sound Islamic enough. My dad picked me up from school later that day, with me crying and upset that this teacher tagged me as a half-Muslim, which till today, gets me wondering why it had to be an element of doubt: my affiliation. This was the genesis of my religious war.

Nine years of basic school meant level two of this war. I was in a Christian-dominated school and would only get to pray Zuhr and Asr when I got home at half past three. I attempted wearing the hijab to school numerous times, but it never worked out. We recited the Lord's Prayer and sang hymns, so the Muslim in me never showed during school hours. I was presumed to be an 'Ashanti-Muslim' by some, and a Christian by others, despite my countless rectifications.

Judgmental, much?

I recall, during my first Muslim Students' Association meeting in high school, when a senior girl was taking names of Muslim freshers to build a new register. I heard certified, undemanding Muslim names. Names that sounded Aisha Mohammed or Farida Al-Hassan-like. On my turn, she asked for my name, twice. Upon hearing Amankwa, she asked me if I do pray. At that juncture, I could not help but ponder. Religious commitment was now measured by ethnicity and tribal affiliations these days? On what basis would senior girl have complained or questioned Aisha Mohammed if she skipped two out of the five prayers every day? After all, she bore the Muslim name.

Identity Research.

I recently researched about my tribe, Gonja, and ended up with valuable facts. My name, Amankwa, is surprisingly Gonja. Two, Gonja is, interestingly, the only Guan Northern tribe (The Languages of Ghana, n.d.).

Guans are like Akans, sort of. Because some of their linguistic elements mimic Akans', they bear names like Duah and Amankwa. The Twi/Akan variants of the latter are Amankwaa, Amankwah and Amankwaah, and also common misspellings of my name.

Realistically, I would not have time and energy to pull out a proof article every time my name is questioned by someone. They wouldn't, too.

The Big Journey.

Unless in prayer, I haven't worn the hijab most of my life, but three years ago, I took a bold step and embraced the hijab in high school. High school marked the place and point where my belief was both tested and strengthened at the same time.

I know that during my journey, I will face challenges similar to what Amani faced in 2020. She was harassed, removed from a plane, and arrested because a white passenger felt uncomfortable in her presence. Also, Alaa Massri, whose headscarf was forcibly removed for a mugshot after she was arrested during a 2020 Black Lives Matter protest.

However, instrumental figures like Khadija Omar, Farah and Yasmin Jalloh make the journey very worthwhile. Human as I am, I'm learning more and more about Islam every day. Join me as I navigate this journey!

Photo Credit: Shifa Amankwa-Gabbey, designed with Canva.

#muslim girl #society #Allah #Ghana #TeenMuslim

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batheir · 3 months ago

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"it's a secret." putting it simply, lips curling innocently. deciding to keep him guessing which was much more fun than simply just telling him. a more clumsy man, but not him, the words coaxed a laugh out of her. "oh, a lady's man in pre-k... what happened in kindergarten? you stopped womanizing? or just a tragic tale of you losing your rizz happened?" she stifled a laugh, dark haired girl bantering back with him. though now she was staring bewildered, he's ACTUALLY been single SINCE pre-k... or is he lying? it was hard to believe. almost everyone and their dog has had at least one or two boyfriends/girlfriends... it was crazy meeting someone who was like her... single since PRE-K. "it started since i was five years old, i always wanted to help animals. and i do! isis a black cat and ace my german shepherd who's actually with me outside. he goes everywhere where i go." and yes, he's certified in being a service dog, so he's allowed to go anywhere but helena decided to let him wait outside the library for her since it was just going to be a quick trip and he didn't need to be led around everywhere when he could simply just sit and hang out.

"excuse you, alexander?" a dark brow raised, "it's helena." she corrected. "i wasn't calling you barney because you LOOK like a barney. i called you barney because of your purply spot on your face... as a joke." mr. defensive... but she bit her tongue and kept that one inside. a sudden plethora of warning BARKS snaps the cold air as ace jumps up on all fours after noticing his owner's came finally came back and with a strange man. unrecognizable in looks AND scent. alex's arm stretched out towards helena triggers something inside his brain along with her body language telling him she's not happy, he's ready to snip some ankles if he HAS to, "no, ace. Fuß." foot. which essentially means HEEL in american. helena immediately commands, gently pushing mr. barney back. ace sits right away, halts from tearing into the boy and then helena offers her hand to ace to help him chill out, "paw." he shakes but keeps a close eye on the male with his big intimidating gold eyes.

"good boy, acey," helena kisses his big furry head, "this is alexander. but he says you can call him alex." amusingly smiling because she likes calling him his full name, taking the hoodie from alex and letting ace sniff it, "sicher." another training word spoken in german: safe. letting ace know he's safe and not a threat. the word and the long moment of sniffing out the hoodie, has ace comfortably sitting now, looking at alex with less intimidation. deciding to tolerate him now. "sorry about him... he's super sweet, i PROMISE. just very protective." as her father trained him to be. helena informs, hoping ace's first impression doesn't make him think she has a mean killer attack dog. well, she does. but ONLY if she said the word, only when he feels like helena's life is in jeopardy. "thank you for this. but you should keep it, i have a jacket on. i promise, i'm comfortable..." smiling up at him, draping it over his shoulders so he doesn't get cold. she gathers ace's dark purple leash that pairs well with his black harness attached with a 'service dog' patch and utters the word, "release." so he knows to stand and walk now. ace walks on her right side and she keeps alex on her left, leading them to the crosswalk and quickly crossing while they got the green light. "alexander isn't a mouthful, they're just lazy and maybe even jealous you have a beautiful timeless name. and yes, i am helena to everyone." a soft laugh sounds from her while she's quickly jogging across the street, ace picking up his step and trotting with her.

“what did impress you then? must have been my quick reflexes, how fast i caught myself on that desk there. a more clumsy man would have split his head open on the corner, but not me,” alex jokingly brags, hiding the fact that he’s nowhere near this confident. actually, he’s more on the insecure side, but she doesn’t have to know that. and his so called reflexes? nothing but dumb luck. “so are mine, which explains why i’ve been single since pre-k. pre-k, though. man, that was my year. i had two girls fighting over me.” his sense of humor returning in full force, encouraged by the reaction that he’s getting from helena. he can’t help but wonder if she’s only joking or telling the truth, but based on the way she carries herself, his bet’s on the latter. there’s no way a woman like her has low expectations and would date just anyone. “sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.” it’s actually impressive. most people their age only have a vague idea of what field they’d like to go into after college, and it looks like she’s planned every little detail. is he a bit jealous? sure, but in a positive way. she’s something different, he can already tell and it intrigues him. “do you have a dog of your own? how’d this passion of yours even started?” again, it’s not the most ordinary career choice, not something that a lot of little girls dream of, he figures, even more intrigued by her now. “so it’s gonna be just me and a bunch of huskies? i’m not sure if i should feel touched or be offended by this offer.” laughing as he shakes his head, he actually doesn’t mind at all. she’s got a gift for healing, the memory of her delicate hands still alive on his skin… his mother was the last person to tend to him like that, cleaning blood off his skinned knees and wiping away his tears.

“i was raised in ohio, not a barn, okay? i know when a thank you’s due. you deserve to hear it. you did a real brave thing back there, don’t downplay it,” alex encourages, his voice soft and kind but firm. no one else came to his aid, only this short, petite brunette. it’s admirable. “i don’t really know. guess my family prefers the sound of alex. alexander is a mouthful. i think my mom liked alexander best, she always said the same thing, that it was timeless.” and then she died, but who says stuff like this after knowing someone for less than an hour? it usually makes people uncomfortable and he doesn’t want helena to feel this way so he quickly changes the subject. “what about you? are you helena to everyone or..?” he doesn’t really know how a name like hers could be shortened without losing its charm. HELENA sounds gorgeous. “then what? it’s rude to call people barney when they don’t look like a barney.” still very much confused, alex steps outside and feels a gust of cool wind coil around his body. pale blue eyes studying the smaller brunette, trying to figure out how he’s suddenly a barney. “here.” he doesn’t ask if she wants or needs it, untying his purple hoodie and draping it over her shoulders. walgreens bright red letters can be seen from the steps of the library, only a few yards away, but the summer’s long gone now and another cold evening’s approaching. “barney doesn’t want henrietta to freeze.”

#4lexnilsen #i attached a pic of ace hehe <3 #on the 'ace' underlined in purple

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stmarkselc · 2 years ago

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Factors to Think About When Picking a Daycare

Do you still have concerns about leaving your kid in a childcare centre, after your extensive research? How do parents decide on a daycare? The stress of being away from your baby may be amplified by the difficulty of finding the right one.

For some parents, dropping off their young kid at a daycare may be a stressful experience. It's unpleasant, but it's sometimes inevitable, especially in nuclear families when both couples work full time. Nanny services are in high demand by certain households, but they give others serious pause. Even if she has references, they are still leaving their kid with someone they don't know very well.

Finding a reliable daycare that also encourages your child's development may be reassuring for both you and your little one. Use this helpful checklist to ensure that the daycare you choose fits all of your needs.

Learn the Criteria for Selecting the Best Daycare

Real World Example

It should go without saying that you should try to choose a daycare that is close to your home or place of work. Having easy access means you can stop by every few hours to feed or see your newborn. Several businesses now provide corporate daycare options in an attempt to get mothers back into the workforce. For instance, KLAY Schools, which manages 35 well-known daycares throughout India, provides a daycare facility on-site for its staff. Here, picking the right st marks daycare is crucial.

Best possible ratio of students to teachers

In order to ensure your child receives sufficient attention, you should verify that the daycare's teacher-to-child ratio is not too low. A 1:3 ratio might be beneficial for infants up to 16 months of age. One educator or caretaker is dedicated to supervising a group of three children. A student-teacher ratio of 1:8 to 1:15 is ideal for Pre-Kindergarten (Pre-KG) and Kindergarten (KG).

There ought to be convenient places to drop off your kids.

The following questions are important for every parent to consider when selecting a child care centre, regardless of its size:

An adult supervisor must be present at all times and in all places. Toys, books, playthings, and creative activities are preferable to the television and need the attention of certified carers and other workers. Infrastructure and medical support for handling embarrassing restroom accidents. Everything that could be cleaned, including beds, couches, and chairs; a backup supply of necessities; outdoor recreational areas.

Exemplary Reputation and Solid Personal References

Careful thought must be given while selecting a daycare. Start with the individuals you already know, such friends, family, and colleagues. Learn more about what daycares are offered in your region by browsing internet classifieds. Stop here until you know for sure that the daycare you've picked is reliable, has been around for a while, is safe, and comes highly recommended by other moms in the area. About the Company: The centre was established by a small group of St Mark’s Lutheran Church congregation members, who identified a need in the local community for an early childhood service that embraced the Christian ethos. They had a vision to provide supportive and nurturing care for children of working families that needed such support. The dedicated group then spent many hours working to bring this vision to fruition. In 1971, St Mark’s Preschool opened in the hall underneath the Church. Our child care centre, one of the first community-based long day care centres and certainly the largest in the southern suburbs of Brisbane, opened its doors to local families in 1977.

#st marks daycare

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lollipopwrites · 3 years ago

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Sandbox Love Never Dies

hey loves, i wrote this at like 2 am so excuse any typos/moments where it doesn't flow right/grammatical errors. also this fic is purely for fun!! an actual relationship with regina george or anyone like her would not go well, don't get any ideas. okay enjoy!

pairing: regina george x reader

genre: fluff

description: you decide to visit your childhood friend and the visit takes an unexpected turn

warnings: a slightly toxic friendship/relationship between reader and regina, mentions of being strangled and being lit on fire, house egging, mentions of police, mentions of break ups, lmk if i missed something!

Sandbox Love Never Dies

The second after you knocked on the door to the massive George family estate, you were enveloped in a crushing embrace by the matriarch of the family herself.

“Y/N! It’s so nice to see you, babe! I feel like you haven’t been here in forever!” Mrs. George exclaimed while you hugged. You wanted to respond, but she had wrapped you up at such an angle that your face was smashed into her breasts, which made it hard to breathe, let alone speak.

Thankfully, she pulled away from the hug, a beam plastered onto her face. You tried not to show how out of breath you were. Those boobs could strangle.

“Regina’s in her room. She’s gonna be so goo goo to see you!” Mrs. George said giddily, clapping her hands like a happy little seal.

You cleared your throat to avoid snorting in laughter, “Goo goo?”

“Oh yeah,” Mrs. George giggled, leading you through the living room, “Regina’s been teaching me some slang. She says goo goo is all the rage nowadays. Anything to keep me young, y’know?”

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded, struggling to keep the amusement off of your face.

You waved to Kylie, Regina’s younger sister, who was watching… Scream 3?

Isn’t she like 6? You wondered idly, but then realized that anything was possible in this family. They were certified weirdos.

Your family and the George’s had been connected since before you were born. Mr. George had gone to high school with your father, and they passed their bond down to you and Regina.

Regina and you had been tight in kindergarten, but your family moved a city over in first grade, and when you didn’t go to school together anymore, the two of you grew apart. But you still reconnected every couple of months.

Mrs. George’s knocks on Regina’s bedroom door jabbed you out of your thoughts.

“What the hell do you want, mom?” Regina hissed from behind the door.

Her mother’s smile was unwavering. “Y/N’s here, hon! Don’t you want to see her?”

With a swift fling, the door opened and you were face to face with your childhood best friend’s calculating eyes. She looked you over once and raised a perfect brow, before breaking into a wide, sweet smile.

Regina’s smile held one uncanny resemblance to her mother’s; it was fake.

“Thanks, mommy! Y/N, come in, come in,” she grabbed your wrist and pulled you into her gigantic room, slamming the door in her mother’s face.

“Ugh, sorry about her, she’s annoying isn’t she?” Regina said with an eye roll, sitting neatly on her bed.

“Don’t be mean. Your mom’s sweet.” You replied, flopping onto the bed next to her.

Most people cowered at Regina. Agreed to everything she said avidly, afraid that she’d bite. But you’d known her well enough and long enough not to be afraid of her. You were the one person at her level.

Regina let out a dry scoff, “Yeah, yeah.” Her face turned speculative. “So how have things been, Pickles?”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. Regina had called you that ever since you finished a jar of pickles by yourself in less than 3 minutes when you were 12.

“Eh,” you answered plainly.

“Only ‘eh’? How’re things going with, uh…” she waved her hand around in the air as if she were trying to conjure the name of the person she was thinking of. “Martial?” She guessed halfheartedly.

“James.” You corrected with a chuckle, “And we called things off. He was too… I don’t know. Normal-ish.”

“That’s not a word.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You could’ve just said normal, there was no need for the ‘ish’ part--”

“He was too normal,” you cut her off, brows raised, “there was nothing about him that set him apart from others.”

She considered your words, “I get it… you only allow special people in your life. Such as myself.” She smiled cheekily.

You grinned fondly. “Yep. Just like you.”

She concealed her blush with a glare. “Aren’t you going to ask about me? You and Martial aren’t the stars of the show, you know.”

“Ah, yes. How are you doing? Are you and Aaron still together?”

Regina’s smirk contorted into a deep frown. “He broke up with me.” She pouted with a sniff.

“Aw, babes.” You scooted over to her and wrapped her into a hug.

“I mean, it’s not like we haven’t broken up before, but normally we get together after a week or two! It’s been like a month!” She sobbed into your shoulder.

You rubbed her back in slow circles. She was crying crocodile tears, this you knew, but you comforted her anyway.

“And I saw him flirting with that horse Amy Lewinsky at Connor's house party last week… I just don’t know what to think!” She continued.

You pulled away from the hug to grab the tissue box and hand it to her. “I’m sorry, ‘Gina.”

“Call me Gina one more time and I’ll soak you in gas and set you on fire.” She sniffled.

You scoffed, but continued. “What would make you feel better?”

You could almost see the idea forming in her head as her tears stopped slowly and her expression twisted slowly into a mischievous grin, her icy blue eyes boring into yours.

There was only one word to describe the expression she wore: villainous.

~~~

“Ouch.” You muttered weakly as you were pricked by a thorn for what had to be the fourth time in the last 15 minutes.

Regina insisted that the only thing that would make her feel better would be to egg Aaron’s house. You played along because it sounded fun at the time, but you were now regretting it as the two of you crouched behind the pointy bushes in his front yard.

You guys had waited until it was late in the night to commit the act, and had spent the rest of the daylight watching TV and buying eggs from the grocery store.

Once the two of you saw the last light in Aaron’s house click off, you shared a cynical smile.

“Okay,” Regina whispered sharply, “me first.”

She grabbed an egg from the carton, tip-toeing behind a tree so that she’d be able to hit the house at a good angle but would still be hidden from the people inside.

She grinned like the cheshire cat before tossing the egg at his house with force. It landed above the front door with a splat. She had a good arm.

“My turn, my turn!” You whisper squealed.

Regina rolled her eyes but handed you the carton.

You took an egg out and kissed it for good luck.

You swung your arm around twice like you were pitching at the world series and flung it towards his house.

It barreled and barreled before… SHATTER.

It flew through the window breaking the glass into smithereens.

Alarms started to sound from inside the house loudly, surely waking up the Samuels family.

You and Regina shared a bewildered look.

Then, simultaneously, the two of you broke out into hysterical laughter. You tumbled over, grasping your stomach as if it were going to pop.

“Gina—” you got out through giggles and gasps, “We have to go before they come outside.”

Regina pushed through her cackles to point a shaky finger at you, “Don’t,” wheeze, “don’t call me Gina!”

You waved your hand at her, dismissing her request.

You both scurried away as quickly as you could, but it was hard when you were dying of laughter.

When you were finally out of sight from the house, you laid down on the street side by side. You had sobered mostly from your laugh attack, but sometimes you let stray giggles escape.

The sky was beautiful. You couldn’t really see the stars but the airplanes were cool to look at. And the color of the sky… it wasn’t black like it normally was… or maybe it was never black, you never really looked to see. But it was a dark, dark shade of blue, almost navy.

There were clouds, and they were gray. They looked like blotches of spilled paint on a mosaic of the blue night sky.

You turned to Regina, whose face was lit up by the dull moonlight. Your pretty, pretty friend.

Idly, you wondered why in the hell Aaron would break up with her. Sure, she had a mean streak… that she was always in… and sure, she was slightly needy and spoiled, and had little regard for other people’s feelings, and was an actual bully.

But underneath all that was a sensitive, smart, empathetic, beautiful person.

Why were you the only person who Regina showed that side of herself to?

After a couple minutes of laying down and catching your breath, Regina chuckled kiddishly.

“Why was their window so easy to break?” She inquired with a tilt of her head.

You looked over at her and then snorted. “It was like sandpaper.”

She raised her brows. “Sandpaper? What kind of analogy is that?” She said with a snicker.

You started laughing as you searched your brain for reasoning. You were pretty sure you were getting delirious. “Y’know, ‘cause sandpaper’s easy to break!”

“Is it?” She asked with a chuckle, “I mean, I don’t think it would break if you threw an egg through it—!”

Before you could continue debating, the sound of sirens echoed through the streets, getting closer and closer to them. The Samuels’ probably called the police.

That was cue enough that it was time to get out of there, so the two of you stumbled back to Regina’s house, arms linked together and smiles, genuine smiles, on your faces.

~~~

thanks for reading!

taglist: @astromera, @nightcorecarseatheadrest, @purplelollipop

tags:

#regina george #mean girls #regina george x reader #mean girls fanfiction #regina george fanfiction #x reader

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specialagentsoftie · 3 years ago

Text

Green Eyed Girl pt. 1 | j.h.

*Gif doesn’t belong to me! Credits to the owner <3 Pairing: Jay Halstead x Fem!Reader Requested: no Warnings: single parenthood Word count: 4k ish A/N: this is suchhh an old fic that i changed a tad for this platform. It's so self indulgent / specific so I don't expect this to do well but i also hate this entire thing so its fine ahahaha. Multi-parter bc its longgggg as fuck. Loosely inspired by the song "My Girl" by Elvie Shane Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Every August 13th, or whatever date Monday landed on that year, you would get up early and put on a pretty outfit to bring your best friend an iced coffee as class started for the day.

It was your favorite way to start the school season, even though you weren't a teacher. You were really an interior designer. It was something that paid well, to say the least.

Before you designed extravangant rooms and matched color palettes, you dabbled in so many things. It was one of the curses of your childhood and young adulthood, never knowing what you wanted to do with your life.

You spent a few years in college learning about nursing. You became a certified nurse and although it wasn’t the career you ended up pursuing, you kept your license renewed. In your free time, when the clients were no longer breathing down your neck, you got to do what you really loved — volunteer on the peds floor at Chicago Med.

At one point, you even studied education and child development. You loved kids and at one point, you thought that was what you wanted to do for the rest of your life. Clearly that didn’t work out, but your best friend continued on to become an elementary school teacher and that was the next best thing.

Your design skills even came in handy when you started volunteering the last 1/3 of your time to helping out at her underfunded school a couple years back. It was your third year decorating the kid’s classroom and it would end up being one of your best.

Now back to the first day of school, it was one of your favorite times of the year. You’d get to class bright eyed and bushy tailed, your hair curled and makeup done with two iced coffees in your hands. You could barely get the cups set down on the table before you were tackled in a hug by Anna, like she did every first day.

All summer, you’d hear her gush about her plans for her classroom, all the new decor and games she was planning for her students. It was something that never failed to melt your heart. This year, the plan was to make everything a colorful Disney theme and you always made it happen.

You didn’t typically interact with the kids much, other than observing from your corner of the room and doing your own thing, but this year there was a little girl who caught your eye. She reminded you so much of yourself. She had the softest brown curls and the sweetest green eyes.

She was quiet and liked to listen to directions. She didn't have too many friends, but like yourself as a child, she had a few classmates who looked after her and always invited her to play during recess.

She was good at reading and art, science too, but wasn't a big fan of math. You could just tell she was special. Well, all children are special, but there was something about this little girl that always made you turn your head, even her name — Danielle Ryann Halstead. She went by Dani.

Obviously it was a golden rule that teachers weren’t supposed to have class favorites. As the honorary classroom decorator though, it luckily didn’t matter.

It wasn’t long before your best friend started noticing how much you adored Danielle and she thought it was the cutest thing, how you'd look out for her.

Anna had taught this same class in pre-K and Kindergarten, but now they were her first grade class, so she was familiar with everyone's antics. Everyone's except Dani’s because this was her first year at Primrose Elementary.

She had told you about the little girl's background, about how her father, Jay, worked hard to provide for her, and how her mother wasn't ready for parenthood, so she wasn't in her life.

According to her father, Dani had an especially hard time every first day of school. Year after year, Danielle had watched moms and dads drop off their kids together and it was sad for her to see.

As the first bell rang that morning, all the kids were seated at their assigned desks as they chattered about their summers and caught up with each other after months apart. There were some questions from the more curious children if you and Miss Anna had boyfriends yet, which made you laugh, but the two of you cleared that up pretty quick.

Right by the door was a small one way window looking into the classroom where parents could watch their kids for a moment and make sure they were ok, before leaving for work. It was a lot like daycare and the administrators thought it would make the parents feel better about leaving their kids, without being seen.

Little did you know, Jay was watching for quite a while behind that window and he saw all the things you did that changed his daughter's life forever.

"Hey class! I'm Miss Anna and welcome back to the first day of school! You're all in First Grade, congratulations kiddos! I also want you all to give a warm welcome to Miss Y/N, I hope you all remember her. Like before, she's going to help out in class sometimes and make our room look really cool. She won't be here every day or even the whole day if she is here, but I want you to always be on your best behavior in case she does come, ok? She might bring you a treat if you do." Anna says, introducing the both of you. She grins at you and you wink at the class.

"Now, I know I've had most of you in class since pre-k, but we have a new friend this year who will be joining us. Danielle, would you come up here please and introduce yourself?" Miss Anna gestured to Dani to come join her at the front of the class.

You were sitting at the teacher's desk as you listened to Anna's intro, and the second you heard her ask Danielle to come up to the front, you knew it wasn't going to go well.

Your head immediately snaps to where Dani was sitting and you saw the uncertainty in her eyes. Little did you know that in the next room, her dad had the same reaction as you. He even almost came into the classroom, but Jay didn't want to embarrass his daughter on the first day of school.

The little girl walked up to Miss Anna ever so slowly and her voice was shaky as she began to speak.

"Hi, my name is Dani. I'm 5…" she begins to say, trailing off.

5? That was so young for first grade, you thought. It made sense though, if her birthday was right before the cut-off date. Danielle’s must be in late August.

“Dani, can you tell us what you like to do on the weekends?" Miss Anna asked, oblivious as ever to how scared the kid was of speaking in front of crowds.

Danielle mumbled her answers, saying how her dad would take her to spend time with her aunts and uncles a lot, and about how sometimes he had work so she'd go with him.

Shit hits the fan when a classmate chimes in with a question, asking about Dani's mom which she obviously wouldn't know how to answer.

You watch as Dani's brave face falters. You could see tears welling up in her eyes and Jay's heart broke seeing his daughter like that in front of the class. He was doing everything he could to stop himself from bursting into the room.

Without a second thought, you quickly stand up and take Dani's little hand. You lead her to Miss Anna's desk as you take your seat again, lifting the little girl into your lap. You turn the chair around so that you could shield her from the rest of the class in case she needed to cry.

You signal to Anna to move it along and your best friend quickly changes the subject, instructing the other kids to get out their workbooks so they could practice some basic skills.

Your voice is quiet as you spoke to Dani. It was so that you didn't disrupt Anna's class, but more so the other kids couldn't hear you. You knew how brutal they could be sometimes.

Not only that, but your suspicions were correct and the little girl started to cry the second she was tucked away from the class and in your arms. She looped her arms around your neck and sobbed quietly into your shirt. You rub her back soothingly and press a kiss to the side of her head.

"You're ok, sweetheart. You're safe." you murmur as you rock slightly from side to side. She buries her head deeper into your neck and you sit like that for a few minutes.

When she had calmed down and stopped crying, she sat up in your lap, rubbing her eyes and you wipe the tears off her cheeks.

"I'm sorry for crying, Miss Y/N" she sniffled, tears welling up again thinking she did something she wasn't supposed to.

"Oh sweet girl, you can cry if you need to, there's nothing wrong about that, ok?" you say, the little girl nodding in response.

She doesn't end up crying again, but she needed another hug, which you happily provided before sending Dani to rejoin the other kids.

The second he saw Dani return to her seat, no longer crying, her father let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

Jay had seen everything you did to calm his daughter down — the way you held her and stroked her hair. He smiled slightly to himself and turned to leave, but not before he stole another glance at the woman who went out of her way to protect his daughter.

For the next hour or so, as the kids worked quietly in their workbooks, you took measurements of the classroom and photos of the space you would be working with for the next couple months.

When you finished, it was about time for you to leave and Anna tells the class to say bye to Miss Y/N. You make sure to let all the kids know you'll be back here tomorrow morning.

Right before you open the door to leave, Danielle runs up to the front of the room, wrapping her arms around you. That right there melted your heart, and it melted Anna's as well.

You take Dani's arms from around you and hold her hands, kneeling in front of her. "You promise to come back tomorrow?" she asks you.

"I promise, Dani. You're going to be just fine. Miss Anna is the best." you say, giving the little girl a wink. You tuck another stray piece of hair behind her ear and stand up.

"Now go back to your seat, ok? Be good!" you whisper and she turns around to run back to her seat.

"Bye bestie." you grin at Anna before heading out the door.

When her father picked her up after the first day of school was over, Dani was smiling from ear to ear. She was so excited to see you the next morning and was going around the precinct telling everyone about you.

All Jay could think about was how his daughter had never, ever had a good first day of school before. She would always cry upon seeing him, so exhausted from the day that he would have to take the rest of the day off of work to take her home.

But today was different, she was happy and excited, and it was all because of Miss Y/N. Miss Anna was nice too, according to the little girl, but she just adored you.

Jay hadn't realized that you weren't a teacher. After seeing you the other day and how great you were with all the kids, he figured you were both teaching his daughter's class.

"You must be happy to have two nice teachers this year, huh, Dani-bug?" he joked at her.

"Silly daddy" she giggled. "Miss Y/N isn't my teacher. She's Miss Anna's best friend. And she helps Miss Anna put things on the walls and shows us cool stuff too whenever she comes to class, but she's not our teacher, daddy. She works someplace else." The little girl shakes her head, as if that was common knowledge.

"She's coming back tomorrow and I'm so excited," Dani squealed. "Can we go to school early tomorrow? I wanna see Miss Y/N before all the other kids get there."

Jay was shocked to say the least. For the past few years since his daughter had started school, she would always wait to go until the last minute, crying that she didn't want to go. It made him so late to work that his boss didn't even mention it anymore.

There was nothing Jay could do about it, Dani never made it easy on him. Now that she was asking to go early, maybe he could finally show up on time again.

"Sure, kiddo. See, school isn't so bad, right?" he said with a smile.

"Not this one. This one's ok. I hope I get Miss Anna next year too so Miss Y/N will come visit." Dani chirps. "Miss Anna had the other kids last year and last last year."

"I hope you get her too, I've never seen you so happy after class before." he said, thanking the universe for you.

Even the other cops at the district noticed a difference in Baby Halstead. Trudy looked at the kid like she grew horns and Kevin was even able to get a joke in with her, shocker.

The next morning, Danielle Ryann woke up before her dad. In her 5 years of living, she had never done that before. She forced him to get up right away, grabbing his hand and pulling him begrudgingly out of bed so he could take her to school. Jay wasn't sure he liked morning-person Dani.

She even picked out her favorite outfit to wear for you and has her dad do her hair extra special, which he struggled with massively.

Of course, Jay couldn't do it right and by the time they got to school, she basically jumped out of his car red faced with a scowl.

But when she saw you walk into the school, Miss Anna's coffee in hand, all that grumpiness faded away.

Jay noticed you too. He noticed the way your leather jacket hugged your curves and the way your above-knee dress exposed your slender calves.

"Daddy, there she is! Come on! You're so slow!" Dani pouted, tugging on his sleeve. He was pulled out of his thoughts by his daughter and she dragged his sluggish body into the building.

Yep, morning-person Dani was a pain in the ass.

You were cackling with Anna in the classroom when the little girl burst in with her father. The both of you turn towards the door when it opened and you grin when you saw Dani standing there.

She runs towards you and you open your arms, picking her up and setting her on your hip.

"Hi, Miss Danielle, how are you today, lovebug?" you ask, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"Good!" She chirped at you, wrapping her arms around your neck. Her face then twists into a frown. "Daddy messed up my hair."

"Oh no, I'm sure Daddy tried his best. It looks lovely, sweetheart." you coo, looking up at dad.

You have to do a double take when you see him, his striking green eyes were lighter than Dani's, almost blue. He had slight stubble on his face and short brown hair. He stood around 6 foot tall, looking so handsome in his black jacket and white t-shirt.

"No, it doesn't." she frowned, her bottom lip sticking out in the cutest little pout.

"I would never lie to you, Dani-bug. It really does look lovely. Do you want me to help you do it a different way?" you smile warmly at her. Danielle nods enthusiastically and you set her down on the ground in front of you, while you start taking out the small elastics from her hair.

"My daddy calls me that," she says, looking up at you. "Dani-bug. How did you know?"

"Oh, well, I always my kiddos 'lovebug' and your name is Dani, so I guess it just made sense." you laugh, making sure to give her father a small shrug.

It was probably weird that you guessed his daughter's nickname.

Jay wasn’t listening though. He didn't hear a word in that entire conversation because he was too distracted by the joy in your eyes when you braided his daughter's hair and your soft hands being careful not to hurt her.

You don't notice how much the little girl's father was admiring the way you spoke to his daughter, the way you interacted with her, and the way his daughter just lit up in a way that he had never seen before until she was around you.

You decide to braid Dani's hair into the cutest little french braid half up pigtails and you take out your phone to take a picture, showing it to the little girl since you didn't have a mirror.

"You like it?" you ask her and she nods vigorously before running to her dad to show him.

"It looks beautiful, baby," Jay says, and the sound of his voice gave you butterflies like no other. "Did you thank Miss Y/N for helping you?"

"Thank you, Miss Y/N!" she said, oh so sweetly.

"Of course, love."

"Thank you, really." Jay said, stepping forward. "Jay Halstead, I'm Danielle's dad." He held out a hand and you shook it.

"Y/N, so nice to meet you." you say with a smile.

He moves on to Anna and they share introductions as well.

"Hope it's ok that we're here a little early. This one insisted on coming early to see Miss Y/N and she's got me wrapped around her little finger."

"That is so sweet, yeah absolutely it's ok." Anna says. "Y/N/N's not here everyday, but when she is, Danielle is welcome to come by early if she would like to. I have prep in the morning so I wouldn't be able to entertain her myself, but with Y/N here, shouldn't be a problem."

You saw Jay almost every other morning from then on. Dani would come into class early and you would spend time with her. There was nothing you loved more.

5 months had gone by and Jay Halstead would bring you and Anna coffee sometimes in the morning before class as a token of appreciation. You thought it was the sweetest thing. You would talk to him about how Dani was doing in class and her favorite subjects, also about hobbies the two of you shared.

He would tell you about how he loved what you were doing with the place and how he wished all teachers brought in people like you to make classrooms more fun for the kids.

Could he be a more perfect man?

You found out from Anna what Jay did for a living, after she did some internet stalking in hopes to set the two of you up. It was surprising to say the least, but you were more worried about him getting hurt on the job. You were amazed at how well Jay had hidden his daughter away in the safety of school, where she would be with people he trusted.

You wondered if Jay was ever going to tell you what he did for a living, not that it mattered, but you were acquaintances now and on your way to becoming friends.

It just never came up in conversation for the most part, until one day, an unknown number flashed on your screen while you were putting together mood boards for a client's kitchen remodel.

You rarely answered from numbers you don't have already in your phone, but against your better judgement, something compelled you to answer this one.

"Hi, is this Y/N?" came the voice from the other side of the phone.

"Jay?" you ask incredulously, recognizing the voice, but wondering how he got your number. "How did you get my number?"

"Yeah, sorry about calling you out of the blue. Anna put her number and yours on one of the parent teacher conference information sheets from the beginning of the year." Jay said sheepishly.

"Oh, right! Duh." you said, facepalming yourself for not remembering that she did that every year. "Nobody's actually needed to call me for anything so I guess I forgot."

"You probably didn't just call for nothing though, right? What did you need? Shoot." you continue.

"Are you at the school today?" he asked.

"No, actually. I'm just at home working on a client's house." you said.

"Shoot… do you know if Anna's going to be able to stay after class for while?" You can hear the frustration in Jay's voice and you take a moment to think.

"Hmm, I believe she usually has other responsibilities after class lets out, but she also isn't allowed to leave until all the kids are picked up."

"Shit…" you hear Jay whisper under his breath. "Not sure if Anna's told you, but I'm a detective with the CPD and we've just caught a big case. It's all hands on deck here and there's literally nobody to keep an eye on Dani."

"Hey, it's ok. I totally get it. If you can't make pickup today, I can stop by the school and pick her up if that would help? I'll bring her by the precinct and stay with her until things get less crazy?" you suggest.

"Really? You'd be willing to do that?"

"Yeah, of course. Especially since Anna has places to be, I know that would help her out too. Just send Anna an email, you know, one of the official ones that we need for student pickups and we should be good." you say reassuringly. "I can stay with her as long as you need. Take your time!"

"Thank you so much Y/N, I'll do that now. You're a lifesaver!" he said.

"No problem, Jay. I'll see you later."

When you get to the school, it was just Danielle and Anna waiting for Jay to pick her up.

The little girl was sitting at her desk when you walk in, her eyes lighting up when she sees you.

"Y/N/N, what are you doing here?" Anna asked in surprise.

"Hey bestie, I'm here to pick Dani up. This little munchkin's dad called and he's going to be a couple hours. I had him send you an email about change of pickup. Go do your thing." you said, flicking your head over towards the door.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, absolutely. I got her. Dani and I are pals, aren't we?" you say, smiling at Dani who's beaming at you.

"Yeah!" she chirped, making Anna laugh.

"Alrighty, you two. I'll head out here. Kiddo, be good for Miss Y/N, ok?" Anna said, looking pointedly at Dani. "And girlie, keep me updated when her dad's off work?"

You give her a thumbs up, before ushering her out of the room.

"Come here, bug." you say with a big smile, opening up your arms for Danielle to run into. She gives you a tight hug and you have her grab her coat, helping her put it on. "We... are off to the police department where your dad works."

"Your dad is stuck on a case for a little while, so it's just going to be you and me until he finishes, ok?" you say, fixing the tangles in her hair. You hold out your hand and the little girl grabs it, swinging her arm happily.

Dani nods before you echoed you. "You and me, Miss Y/N."

"That's right, cutie. You and me." You nod, pressing a kiss to the side of Dani's head.

Oh yeah. You and Danielle were without a doubt two peas in a pod. You were her new favorite person and you couldn't complain. Lucky for you, her dad wasn't too bad either.

Jay Halstead Taglist:

@sylvieshay

#jay halstead x y/n #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #chicago pd oneshot #chicago pd one shot #chicago pd drabble #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader #jesse lee soffer x y/n #jesse lee soffer x reader #jesse lee soffer imagine

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yandere-society · 4 years ago

Text

Scream

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Synopsis: It’s been a year since your mother was slaughtered, with no leads pointing to any possible suspects. It’s been an up-hill battle for you to accept what happened— especially with no answers or closure— and the citizens of your hometown have been sleeping with one eye open ever since. But now, the mystery killer has decided to make an anniversary visit, and is making it known that they not only have a dire love for infamous horror films... but they also have their targets set on you and all of your closest friends.

Word count: 8k

Headline: Small Town Woodsbroro Is Waking Up Screaming Once Again!

Warnings: dark themes; Gore; Smut; Crackhead humor (only because I promised my bff I’d give her an honorable death scene); Foul language; Jungkook is psychotic; Graphic depictions of him killing your mom/friends; we’re also going to pretend that it’s outrageously easy to get away with murder; dont fact check me on anything you read here; rough sex; mask kink.

Admin: @tatertotthethot

Baley was high as a fucking kite.

So high, that she didn’t care about it being 1am as she blasted the Cha-Cha slide at full volume.

So high, that she was completely disregarding her lactose intolerance whilst making herself a triple layered, sharp cheddar grilled cheese that was bound to have her ass blasting right back off by 3am.

So, outrageously stoned, that she was totally unaware of the masked killer standing just outside the glass doors in her kitchen, watching her every move.. With her beat up, hogtied boyfriend laying out next to him.

“Now it’s time to fawnky! To the right now—“

She crab walked along with the instructions, spatula in hand.

“To the left!”

“Take it back now, y’all.”

Ghostface grimaced beneath his mask, eyes stalking the stoned woman with disdain. She was the epitome of “crackhead energy” and it pissed him off how much she resembles you. It only makes sense, being as you two have been best friends since kindergarten— probably soulmates in a past life— but it is within that fact that Ghostface has grown to absolutely fucking loath her.

She’s too much like you. She keeps up with your humor and probably has more of your heart than he, himself, has earned a place in yet. He knows good and well that if it ever came down to you having to pick between him and her, you’ll pick her.

That simply will not do. That’s exactly why he is about to rid you of that option— or, as he sees it, the dilemma.

He growled and swung at the air, wishing he could just bust in and end her already.

“How could you be in love with that creature?” He hissed at Taehyung, the built-in voice box beneath his mask altering it enough to remain anonymous. The question was quite hypocritical, being as he was in love with a girl that most would consider Baley’s second-half, but only you were an exception to being so.. abnormal.

“Mmmph—“ Taehyung drearily gurgled out from beneath the strip of tape over his mouth, tears breaching his eyes as he watched Baley’s precious, uncoordinated ass do the “Charlie brown”. It looked more like a fucked up gallop.

“What is the sex like, dude?” Ghostface ripped the duck tape off Taehyung’s split lips. “That’s a serious question.”

“Boo bear..” was all Taehyung could muster up, more scared for her than himself.

Ghostface gagged and slapped the tape right back on with a little too much force, having to take a second to regain his composure before pressing the call button on Taehyung’s phone. The Spotify music thankfully cut off as her phone rang out from the counter.

Baley was only upset for a split before she spotted the name on her phone screen, and was quick to answer it with a sickening amount of glee.

“Angel muffin!” She cooed. Gross

“Hi, boo bear..” Ghostface flipped his middle finger up at Taehyung before clutching his Bowie knife back down to his side.

“Oh my God, What was that? You sound like Corpse, mixed with the bear from Five Nights At Freddy’s.”

“The bears name is Freddy, dumbass.”

Baley neck rolled back in offense.

“Are you trying to get pegged or prolapsed? Might wanna remember who the fuck you’re talking to, the next time you call this cellular.” She snapped, hanging the phone up with a viscous pout. She still somehow managed to pick back up on the beat and cha-cha’d real smooth as she took the pot off the eye and turned the stove off, visibly upset.

Ghostface stood there for a moment, processing what she just said, before turning towards Taehyung.

“She claps your cheeks?”

Taehyung glared back at the screaming-ghost mask, bracing himself when a gloved hand reached out to once again rip the ductape off his lips.

“It’s not sus!” He immediately defended. “I have a gspot up there for a reason. I am not ashamed to use it.”

“I don’t give a fuck about that!” The killer snapped out. “why would you let that.. unstable individual insert something into your rectum—“

“You’ve got a whole lotta nerve calling somebody else unstable,” Taehyung deadpanned, and with that, his mouth was once again resealed shut.

He called Baley’s phone again, just as she was about to take a bite of the sandwhich that she’ll, unfortunately, never get to eat.

“What, fucker?” She scorned.

“I can see you.”

“Oh, yeah?” She sarcastically spat. “Then what am I doing?”

She clenched her buttcheeks in and hunched her back out, her body resembling a question mark, before vigorously gyrating her body- mostly just her spine. Jungkook knows from the various tiktoks you’ve shown him that he was witnessing the inverted-twerk.

“Hm? Tell me, fuckboy. What am I doing?”

”Something a fucking cockroach does after I spray Raid on it. How the fuck do you clench your buttcheeks like that?”

Baley halted in mid thrust, surprised but not exactly fearful (yet) as she whizzed around to face the sliding glass doors that led into her back yard. It was pitch black outside, and all she could see was her own reflection starring back at her. She was also too high to care about the fact that she had the hood of her sweatshirt over her head and the strings pulled all the way out, which only exposed the center of her face in a squished circle.

“I use my glutes. You know that. Why haven’t you come in?” She asked, not superstitious but a lil-stitious.

“This isn’t Taehyung.”

“Okay, Isn’t Taehyung. Why haven’t you come in?”

“Because I want you to come out here.” The killer responded, grinning at the visible unease finally creeping into the girls stance.

“Okay, babe— I hate to be a bummer here, but considering that today is the one-year anniversary of Ms. (L/N)’s murder, this isn’t very Cash Money of you. Can you please just come in and.. stop?”

He let out a chuckle, a dark one.

“Boo bear?”

“What, Isn’t Taehyung?”

“Turn on the outside lights.“

Ghostface put the speaker on the phone and sat it on the ground as he crouched over Taehyung, pulling him to sit up straight. He watched as Baley apprehensively padded over to the light switch by the door. He could practically feel her heart beating in-sync with Taehyung’s racing one as he placed the knife to his neck, smiling beneath his disguise.

The lights flickered on, and she screamed, terror finally bringing the seriousness out in the situation.

“HANG UP OR MOVE A MUSCLE AND HE DIES!” The killer roared, knowing she was still too high for her survival instincts to kick in. Any sober, sane individual would’ve probably caught on to the fact that they were gonna die no matter what she did. What was just making it easier for himself, knowing her dumbass was gonna comply.

“W-What do you want me to do?”

See?

“Be a good girl, and come here.”

“Quit trying to seduce me, you sick son of a bitch. My boyfriend’s literally right there!” She croaked out, voice shrill with exasperation.

The killer plunged the knife into Taehyung’s arm, making him jolt to life with a pain-filled howl. Baley began sobbing out, apologizing profusely.

“Your boyfriends going to get gutted like a fish if I have to repeat myself. Drop the phone and come here.” Ghostface seethed, wrenching the knife back out on the last word.

Baley reluctantly— and stupidly— did as told. She let the phone fall from her hand, then jumped out of her skin as the Bluetooth reconnected in the house and started playing WAP. She tried not to sing along despite the situation as she padded over, shaky hands rising to cover her mouth.

“N-Now what?” She asked.

“I just figured your last words should be said face-to-face. Is there anything you two would like to say to each other?” He asked, that being the only generosity he’d be willing to spare as he ripped the tape away from Tae’s mouth, one last time.

Baley dropped to her knees, so much despair in her eyes. So many things she wanted to say. She recollected herself and caught her breath in just enough time to utter final goodbye: “I-I-I said certified freak..”

Tae’s eyes closed as a single tear escaped, nodding his head in understanding. “Seven days a week...”

“GAH!” The killer roared out, wrenching Taehyung’s head back to slice his throat before shoving him away and lunging at Baley.

She landed on her back with him on top, and he wasted no time as he began slashing her apart, in any way he possibly could. He let all the pent up rage and annoyance he felt towards her, out on her body. It was worse than the brutality he inflicted on to your mother this time last year. He’d only stabbed her a total of 19 times— one for every year she failed you as a mother. With Baley, he didn’t stop tearing into her until WAP ended. And damn, did it feel good. He finally felt like he’d purged his soul clean.

This may all seem reckless, but Jungkook was actually just lucky. In order to mask his true motive behind all this, he had to find another one to cover it with. It was simply convenient that Baley’s father is the town mayor, and after a little digging, he made the grand discovery that he was also having a secret affair with (Y/N)’s mother. In fact, the mayor had several mistresses throughout the town.

Jungk—er, Ghostface.. chopped off one of Baley’s fingers and slid the glass door shut, writing the same words on it that he wrote on your mother’s bathroom mirror.

CHEATING PIG!!

Yes. When he did this last year, the police had to dissect through your mother’s long line of past sexual partners, and had to track down the father you never met for an interview. No leads came about, because it was all time wasted, anyways. Now, with this new addition, the mayor will not only have to set the scandals ablaze again by having to publicly confess his infidelity to the town and police, but they’ll have to lead on another pointless investigation for every woman he’s cheated with— over a dozen of them. They’ll have to also charge him with withholding crucial information from the investigation as well, but what’s so fucking comical about it all is that.. NONE of it has anything to do with any of this. It’ll just be another cold case with no leads.

And maybe, just MAYBE you’ll be smart enough to ditch this place and come with him. That’s all he wanted. You have nothing left and nothing to come back to now, and as long as you give in to him and leave, there won’t have to be anymore lives taken. You could start a new life and never experience another hell like the one he’s creating here. If only you’d say yes.

“May you both continue to clap each other’s cheeks in the deepest depths of hell,” he told the mauled corpses as he walked off, so happy to have Baley gone that he almost wanted to skip to his car.

Now, he will go home and clap your cheeks to complete the cycle.

—

“Damnit, bitch, pick up,” you huffed in frustration as Baley’s FaceTime continued to roll over, telling you that she’s unavailable. You thought you could power through today with your newly adapted ability to suppress shit, but it was hard when you’re left alone to reminisce. You just couldn’t shake the fact that the date on today’s calendar marked the same day that your heart, soul, and peace of mind was so horribly torn apart.

It didn’t help that you also missed your mother terribly. She wasn’t always the best, but she still loved you, and you loved her. Oh, God. Mom—

No. No. Don’t think about her.

You tried calling Baley one more time and couldn’t fight off the tremble in your hands, nor the tears at your water ducts as it rung through till the end. Damnit.

You couldn’t be angry. She doesn’t owe you the company— especially since you two have already been FaceTiming all day. But she was good at distractions, always able to drag you out of your shell of deprecation with her chaotic sense of humor. She is one of the only two people you have in your life that are capable of doing such, but you knew you’d get scolded if you blew up the others phone. Jungkook hates being hounded and rushed, having already told you that he’ll be there any minute. But he’s taking way too fucking long it seems, and you just hate sitting here, waiting.

You can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. The feeling first crept up on you this time last year and never left. You felt so venerable to the cruel world when you’re alone, especially since the maniac is still out there.

You still resent the police department for practically giving up on your mother’s case after 9 months. “Cheating pig” was the only lead they got and yet, it pointed them no where. She wasn’t in a relationship. She didn’t even like relationships. And still, they deemed it a randomized attack— no leads, no motives. Nothing. Just a local woman stabbed in the chest 19 times while taking a shower. Like some Psycho remake. No signs of forced entry. No evidence of sexual assault. Just a very passionate, yet unexplainable massacre with a useless message left behind.

It doesn’t make sense. And even though you wish to never have the attacker come back, you can feel it in your bones that they will wish to clarify it one day.

“Fuck it.” You breathed out, heart slamming against your chest and paranoia gnawing at your insides as you quickly scrolled to Jungkook contact. But then, just as your thumb twitched to press the call button, your door bell rung and you sprung up to your feet, making a mad dash to the door. You checked the peep hole first, just knowing it was gonna be him, but was disappointed when it wasn’t. That still didn’t keep a rush of relief from washing over you when you did see who it really was, though. You forced a welcoming smile on to your face as you unlocked all 7 bolts from the door, and opened it to greet Namjoon and Hobi with a hug.

They were cops, currently in their uniforms, also old friends from highschool. They’ve been looking out for you ever since last year, always making sure you knew you were safe beneath their watch. They use to take turns guarding your house until they were told to stop, but you were extremely happy to see them both here at the same time tonight.

“Everything okay?” Hobi asked, having noticed the shake in your limbs during the brief embrace. He leaned back and observed the tension in your eyes, even though you were hoping to hide it.

“Yes, just— today,” was all you could say, and didn’t have to clarify for them to understand.

“That’s why we’re here. We got permission to guard your house tonight,” Namjoon explained, eyes drifting over your shoulder and into your house. “Are you alone?”

“Yes, but Jungkook should be here any minute now. He had to go to South Korea for a week for his fathers birthday and just flew back in tonight, but apparently there’s been some huge wreck on the main highway and everyone has been stuck.”

That bit of information was actually true. However, Jungkook was lucky enough to have just miss it.. because he’s the one that actually caused it. It was honestly dumb-luck as to how he did it, but kind of amazing when given details.

He was in the express lane, him and the car behind him hitting 80mph. He recognized the car as the one that was parked beside his back at the airport, because he had stopped and took a moment to judge the driver for how worn down and raggedy the tires were. One bad pot hole or nail in the road would strip that sucker straight from the rim.

And that’s exactly what inspired him as he recognized the car, an idea sparking that could soon serve as an alibi in the future. He already had a hand out the window, smoking a cigarette. He still has those iron steak-nails he used at his construction sight. They’re 5 inches in length, subtle enough to casually drop out of a car window along with the cigarette. If they hit just right...

He gave it a try, honestly thinking it wasn’t going to work.

But holy fucking hell, did it. Not even a second after he dropped it, did the car suddenly swerve out as it’s tires screeched and sparks flew. Rubber scattered out amongst the road as the car continued to spin out, getting struck by a the car in all 6 lanes of traffic, ultimately causing a huge pile up in just under 10 seconds. It was the most destruction he’s ever witnessed and it happened so fucking fast he almost ran himself off the road just watching from the rear view mirror.

“NO FUCKING WAY!” Jungkook had squawked out as his head rapidly whipped back and forth to witness the massive mess he just created behind him. He was smiling like the maniac he is, undoubtably impressed with himself. He did it so lazily, too. But it only pumped him up even more for what he needed to do- the whole reason he even thought to do that. He only wanted something major enough to buy himself maybe an hour’s worth of time, so that when/if he gets interrogated in the future, they can check the traffic reports for a registered wreck to fit his alibi. But considering that he just shut the whole damn highway down, it’ll not only register but definitely make tonight’s news.

“Ah, yeah. We heard about that. 36 cars piled up. Can’t believe nobody was killed.” Namjoon said.

“How the fuck did that even happen?” You wondered, baffled.

“Some dickhead was going 80 an hour on an old tire and it wiped out after hitting a nail on the road. Thankfully, he only has a broken nose and whip flash, but with all the cars that got totaled— I don’t even want to know how much the cost of damage would be. But it caused 5 miles worth of traffic back-up.”

“Mm..” you grimaced, shaking your head. “Well.. would you guys like some dinner? Maybe some Coffee?”

“Ah, thanks, but there’s no need. We’ve got all the energy drinks and McDonald’s we need. You just chill out for the night, we’re right out here if you need anything,” Hobi assured, making you genuinely smile for the first time in the past two days.

But that was just before a familiar car pulled up that had your mood skyrocketing.

“FINALLY!” You broke out, sprinting down the steps and over the driver side of it right as the man of the hour stepped out. He welcomed you with open arms and easily lifted your feet up of the ground.

He looked just as good as he smelt. You’ve missed him more than words could describe in this past week— and Jungkook knew it. Of course, he had offered to take you with him so that you could finally meet his parents. But as predicted, you declined, saying that it’d be too much to meet his mother when the anniversary of your own’s death was approaching.

You continued to squeeze your arms around his neck for the next several seconds, and it wasn’t until he heard you sniffling and felt your shoulders shake that he realized you were crying. He couldn’t help but like that type of reaction. He was hoping the distance would torment you, maybe teach your ass a lesson.

“Don’t cry,” he rumbled in your ear as he pressed you hard against his lower half, making sure to up the intimacy of the embrace as he felt the eyes of the onlookers in the yard.

He waited for a second before peering over at the officers, who were awkwardly standing beside their cars. He gave a wave, pretending as if he were sheepish about them having to witness this.

“How’s it goin, guys?”

“Fine, fine,” Hobi responded. “Don’t mind us. We’re just here to watch out for you guys.”

“I appreciate that. Really.” He said in his best acting voice, even flashing a dimpled grin that gave off nothing but innocence as the two got into a patrol car, nodding to him in welcome. It actually makes things more convenient for him. They’ll be able to backup his whereabouts later on.

He pondered this while returning his attention to you, coaxing you out of your emotional outburst.

“I’m sorry. It’s just been so hard not having you here. Fuck, I’m so glad you’re back.” You breathed in and sighed out, and he could tell by the end of the last sentence that you were more-so talking to yourself, clinging to him one last time just to greedily soak in the physical presence of his body. He felt something ache in his heart, as well as his jeans.

“Well, I’m here now. Maybe next time, you’ll just go with me,” he lightly chided, hand coming up to pet your head as he kissed the top of it.

“Yeah.. I started regretting it after the first hour you left.” You whispered out, meeting his lips. You kissed each other a couple times, probably more than necessary. But it calmed you down and made you feel steady again. “Come on, I made you something to eat.”

He got his duffel bag out from the back seat and slung it over his shoulder before taking your hand, following you inside. It boosted his ego knowing that the two men watching from the tinted windows of the car were secretly jealous of him. They had a thing for you. Almost every straight guy in highschool did. That’s why he never minded what you wore, and was more than happy to let you flaunt yourself to their eyes. He liked teasing others, knowing they’ll never have such a prize as you.

Once inside, you were quick to relock your bolts. You were very strict about that now, taking extra precautions to prevent a potential attack. It kind of humored him knowing that it was him, a resident inside this very home itself, that those locks were meant to keep out. You’re literally locking yourself in with the killer.

“Damn, you cleaned the hell out of this place.” He ogled, not only taking in the immaculacy but smelling the pinesol and bleach amongst the floors and counter tops. All the laundry was folded, not a speck of dust in sight. You even cleaned the grout amongst the kitchen flooring, it seemed. Nothing looked out of place.

“I had to do something to keep from wigging out,” you shrugged, walking over to start the microwave for him to heat up his dinner plate. He left his duffel bag by the door and grabbed himself a beer before sitting at the table, noticing it’s prestigious shine.

“Did you polish it?”

“Yeah...” you said as you scratched the back of your neck, somehow embarrassed.

“It’s looks amazing in here, kitten. Really. I know you did it to cope but still, you did a damn good job.” He praised, feeling a little bad. He knows this took a lot of work, and it sucks that you opted to do all this just to keep the anxiety of his absence away.

“Thank you,” you sighed, taking his plate out and sitting in down in front him, then handing him some utensils.

“Where’s your plate?”

“I already ate, silly. I’ll munch with you, though.” You began making yourself a salad as he began to eat, complimenting you on how good it was. He doesn’t know that you’ve been awake for two days straight, and that you’re still battling off an anxiety attack. You were expecting it to vanish now that he’s here, but the sleep deprivation was getting to you.

So, you decided to reminisce on better memories. The old days; back when you first met him.

It was senior year of highschool, and he was the new transfer student from South Korea. He was the punk-emo guy that stood out amongst the crowd. All black clothing, more band shirts than anything. He had that messy mop-hair going on, and approximately 6 piercings on each ear, along with a studded labret to boot.

From day one, he was the most attractive guy you’ve ever laid eyes on. Much to his exterior trope, he was anti-social and didn’t seem friendly at all. The only time you personally heard him speak for the first few months of school was when he’d answer the teacher for roll call.

You only had one class together, chemistry. He’d always sit at the back of the classroom, and you’d remember the giddiness you’d feel just before walking into class and making eye contact with him, even for just a split second. You heart always skipped a beat and would threaten to seize up whenever Baley would lean over and tell you that he was looking at you again. Of course, that would be all the interaction you could get, being as you refused to engage any further. But life seemed to play out like a Wattpad fic back then.

Around the middle of first semester, your teacher was fed up with all the chatter amongst friends, so she decided to assign seats. Jungkook’s was still at his designated one, but you had to sit directly in front of him so that Taehyung could sit closer up, next to Baley. It’s also thanks to that class that the two of them fell for each other. It was also the same day she issued a partner-assignment that had to be done with the peer behind you.

You remembered having to play it cool, turning your desk and chair around to face him head-on for the first time ever. You anticipated that he’d still be sporting that ice-cold, disinterested glare, but he actually seemed pleased. He wasn’t actually smiling but he had a friendly glint in his eyes, like he welcomed you.

“Hello,” he started off, naturally confident in himself.

“Howdy,” you responded, immediately hating yourself. You’ve never uttered such a word in your life and you don’t know why the fuck you decided that that was the perfect moment to try it out.

He only snorted back at you, though, amusement swirling in his colorless eyes. You were intimidated by that as well. They were jett black. No distinction between his pupils and his irises. Just solid, black orbs boring into you.

You then continued to battle with basic communication.

“So, uhm.. wh—..”

English, motherfucker! Do you speak it?!

“What parts do you wanna do?” You rushed out.

“I’ll get the information together and answer the questions, as long as you create the PowerPoint and present it to the class,” he said without missing a beat, as if he’d already decided on that for the both of you.

“What criteria, though?” You asked, still waiting on that part.

“All of it...” He reiterated in a “duh” tone.

“That’s not fair to you, though...” you continued.

He arched an impressively sharp brow. “How?”

“You’re literally doing all the hard work.”

He shrugged, and you tried not to drool when you saw all his rings and the veins on his hands and fingers as he took his phone out. “I learned this shit back when I was freshman in South Korea. We’re way ahead of y’all there.”

“Oh.. well.. I can at least do the images and label them.”

Stop starring at his fingers.

“Mm,” he hummed with a lack of conviction, still looking at his phone. “No offense, but no.”

“Uhm.. okay..” you frowned in dejection, not sure how to respond to that.

“I said no offense,” he grinned up at you apologetically. “I just know you’re bad with visualizations.”

“What? I have an A in here. How do you even know that?”

“The teacher got onto you for messing up the labels on the last test. You got all the functions right but failed to match them to their description.” He said without any hesitation, and you were just as stunned as you were embarrassed. But he didn’t seem to be insulting you, and even reassured you of it. “Again, no offense. I just think it’s best for the both of us if I do it.”

“Okay. Cool,” You agreed, deciding to let him have it. Your face still burned, though.

“You still have an important role, don’t worry. Presentation is worth 40%, so you’re still gonna have to put in work and present it accordingly.”

“I can do that.” You nodded, suddenly feeling like you were sitting before a full grown man rather than a teenage boy. You couldn’t help but ask: “How old are you?”

“19,” he mused, as if he knew what you were thinking. He didn’t even ask you why you asked, and instead returned his attention back to his phone screen. “You?”

“18,” you muttered, your eyes reconnecting to his hands like magnets.

You really wanted to compliment them but decided against it, being as you were no longer as confident with this situation. Sure, he deserves to know how beautiful his hands are but you’re weren’t going to be the one to say it. You were expecting a cheeky personality at most, just because it fits the mischievous bad boy bullshit you read about in teen fiction, but you were instead met with a blunt and mature persona that made you intimidated in a way that you’ve never experienced before. He almost seemed.. authoritative to you.

“I see you like my rings.” He smirked, eyes not even looking back up at you. You had spaced out whilst tracing the path of his veins again, and immediately cut your eyes down to your own phone, feigning innocence.

“Whatchu mean?”

“Everyone like my hands, for some reason. I see you’re no different.”

“I ain’t even looking at your hands. Maybe you’re just too conceded,” you shot back, leg nervously pouncing as he lifted his head up to peer at you.

“Really?” He sarcastically challenged, making your insides stir. He sat up straight and pulled his hands back under his desk. “So the gold rings didn’t even catch your eye?”

“Your rings are silver.” You said without even thinking, then straight up face-palmed when you caught yourself.

“Thought so.” He openly grinned, and the little notion caused butterflies to erupt in your tummy. He pulled his phone back out and still wore that playful grin of his as you bashfully held his gaze. “Now, if you think you can manage to tell the truth, what’s your phone number?”

It’s amazing looking back at those memories, because you’re now starting to think that maybe Jungkook just knew back then that you two were going to hit it off. He’s always seemed so sure of himself when it came to you, always knew what the next move was gonna be and never once sent mixed signals or struggled to express how he felt towards you. He’s the most straightforward person you know, so much that it’s almost unnatural at times. If he was ever bluffing about anything outside of being playful, you’ve never been able to call it.

But damn, are you madly in love with him. You guess his ability to always remain focused and blunt is perfect for a person like you. He keeps you moving... well, for the most part. He wants you to move back to South Korea with him, and although you know you’ll eventually give in, you’ve been trying to hold off on it for as long as you can.

It won’t be as easy for you as it was for him. Jungkook was already fluent in English when he came here, thanks to his mother’s bilingualism. He hardly even had an accent from how well adjusted he was to your language. You, however, don’t know a bit of Korean. For you to go there, it would impair you in almost every single way. You won’t be able to go anywhere without him. You won’t be able to read directions or road signs. You won’t be able to go out and eat or order off the menu if there isn’t any pictures. You won’t be able to work. You’ll have to adapt to a whole new culture and way of communication, just to properly function outside of your home without him at your side.

Which, brings along another point, you’ll be without any friends. You don’t want to live in a world where you can’t go out with Taehyung and Baley whenever you wanted. You’ll be lonely as hell and home sick, he’ll be your only source of humanly contact until you learn.

You’ve told yourself that if the two of you remain stable for one more year, then you’ll go. You are ready for a change, but if you could just get one more year of preparation, you’ll be ready to go. You’ll take that leap of faith with him.

“What is it, kitten?” He finally asked, the prolonged silence getting to him.

“Nothing,” you lied, but didn’t want to divulge. “How was your trip?”

“Nice, but I was bummed out the whole time.” He shot you a look that made you pout in apology, but continued. “I talked all about you to them, showed them pictures. Almost fucked up and showed my cousin your vagina.”

You choked on your salad, which made him laugh. “I told you to put those in your hidden folder.”

“There’s so many, I just haven’t taken the time to pick them all out. It’s okay though, they only saw your face. They all think very beautiful— especially my mom.”

Your smile grew at that, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. So does my grandmother and my aunts. They were passing my phone around more than the dishes.” He snorted to himself, “They were even more surprised to see how much I smiled in our selfies. Which... I should warn you, when you do finally see my parents house, don’t be surprised when you spot our photo booth pictures framed in the hall. My mom went feral when she saw how much of a simp I was being in those.”

“She printed those out?!” You almost cried.

“Yes, she did. She printed each one individually and framed them side-by-side.”

“Aw, Kookie. I should’ve just went. I’m so sorry.” You pouted, guilt causing your heart to sink.

“You weren’t ready, angel. They understood,” He assured you, leaning forward to take your hand in his. You suddenly wanted to cry again.

“But I promise to go next time. Or whenever you wanna take me. I swear, I’ll go.” You said in determination, and was a little thrown off by his reaction.

His face went blank for a moment c like his brain needed a second to buffer.

“You will?” He inquired, that being the first time you’ve actually agreed or expressed any type of want. “Why now?”

“Because it sounds like they really want to meet me, too? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. That’s great. I just figured you wouldn’t be moved by that. You really wanna go now?”

“Yeah. Your family sounds so nice.”

“Was that what kept you from coming?” He interrogated, and it’s clear that he genuinely had no faith in you ever entertaining the idea.. which was a little disheartening. You’ve never said you’d never want to go, you’ve always kept a window open for later. You not sure why he’s so surprised.

“No, not necessarily. I wasn’t ready to meet them but if they’re that excited to meet me, then.. of course it’ll make me want to meet them, too. And get a little taste of South Korea.”

“Alright, I’ll plan a trip,” he had to say with forced enthusiasm, which you bought as you kissed his lips. Inwardly, though, he was screaming. If all it fucking took was a little conviction by saying his family was nice, just to make you consider.. them maybe he wouldn’t have had to do what he just did.

Whatever. Extra insurance. He had to tell himself, and decided to retrain his thoughts back on you as he remembered something.

“I have a special surprise for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he stood up and walked over to his duffel, fishing around before pulling something out. “Close your eyes.”

You did as told, and waited about 10 seconds.

“Open.”

You almost shit yourself upon hearing the voice, then came closer to shitting yourself when you took in the familiar Ghostface mask that you seen in the movie Scream.

“WHUZZZUUHHH!” He drawled out while doing the cowabunga fingers, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Where the hell did you get that?”

“Halloween store. I got it in Korea.”

That was a lie. He’s had two of these masks for over two years, both of which he got from Party City here in America. He bought one to kill your mother in— the same one he just wore to kill your friends in— and the other one was meant for what he wanted to do now. He wanted to fuck you with it on. He’s not sure why, but why not? You might discover you have a mask kink.

“What the fuck is up with the voice?”

“Sexy, ain’t it?” He animatronically purred out, and it wasn’t until he fully stepped forward and began undoing his belt that you realized he was already shirtless.

Your eyes grew wide as you landed back in your chair, unable to decipher if this was a joke or not. You soon realized it wasn’t as he was now popping his button loose and unzipping his pants— his hardening dick print becoming more prominent.

“You’re not fucking me with that mask on,” you blurted out, sticking your foot out to stop him from advancing any closer.

“I’m fucking you with this mask on,” he argued, grabbing your ankle. “Consider it pay back for the time you refused to give me head unless I let you wear your Burger King crown.”

“No, Darth Vader.” You tried pulling your leg back but soon wound up almost getting drug out of your chair and onto the floor. Your unease soon turned into giggles and screams as wound up besting your play fight, his mask only coming off long enough to go down on you at the kitchen table.

And that’s what set the night off. You went from getting your pussy eaten at the dinner table to getting your throat wrecked on the living room couch. Then you were forced to watch yourself get rammed up against your body mirror in the bedroom, and now you’re bent up like a pretzel amongst your bed.

“Ah— GAH!” You grunted in struggle, finding it hard to cuss like you wanted being as a hand was firmly constricting your air supply. You watched the masked man above you as he heatedly fucked into you, his chain dangling above your face. Your ankles helplessly swayed around his shoulders with each brutal slap of his pelvis. Your face still stung from the actual slaps of his palms, causing you to flinch any time his hands moved. You noticed done time throughout all this that he was hellbent on making you look at that damn mask. You weren’t complaining, though. Just more-so concerned about how hot it must be under there.

But then he slowed down for a moment, trying not to cum again as he lowered his face to yours, and finally decided it was time it come off, being as you were ready for a kiss.

“T-Take that damn mask off—“

Wrong move.

He growled and ripped your hand away as you tried removing it yourself, and you were stunned by how much aggressive he became— more aggressive than he was already being, as if truly lashing out. He man-handled you, flipping you over and plunging back into you with way too much force. You yelped at the intrusion but could do nothing else as he pinned your hands behind your back, picking his speed right back up. He kept your hands locked in place with a single one of his own before clapping the other around your mouth, darkly chuckling at the fright on your face.

“I meant it when I said it’s staying on,” he rasped, pushing into you so deep that veins protruded from your neck in strain.

He couldn’t explain it— or maybe he could. But he felt extremely powerful when he wore this mask. It took him all of two rounds to finally admit to himself that it turned him on, knowing you were getting off to the very same face that your loved ones last looked at in sheer terror. He didn’t realize up until then that he somehow considered Ghostface as a different alternative to himself, one he was growing to like a little too much. It even made his dick more sensitive to the feel of you, making you seem tighter. And warmer. And sluttier.

He’s sure he began speaking Latin somewhere in the midst, but it wasn’t until he saw tears surfacing in your eyes that it dawned on him that his hand had somehow traveled up to cover your nose, as well as your mouth. A moment of panic shot through him when he dropped it and allowed you to breathe, thinking you were gonna make him stop. But much to his pleasant surprise, you only coughed out and mewled, head collapsing on the pillow as you pushed against him, a silent demand keep going. So he did. He made sure to keep the punishing pace up and running. Your body violently jolted with each slam, ass bone aching at the brutal impact. Each thrust was felt like a punch to your cervix and someway or another, you were okay with it.

Little did he know, it was actually because you didn’t want any type of deja vu happening. He fucked you in all the ways you liked the night before you found out that your mother was slaughtered inside your childhood home. You didn’t want tonight to be anything like it. So you let him hurt you.

If only you knew history was going to repeat itself, no matter what the two of you did.

It didn’t take but a few more strokes before he lost his ability to hold off, and emptied himself inside for the third time since he’s arrived back.

Once he did that, the blinds were illuminated in a dim grey, hinting at a sunrise. After a quick shower and clean up, the two of laid there, the mask finally gone.

“What are you thinking, baby?” Jungkook wondered, starring up at the ceiling. You haven’t said much of anything since that last bit. “Did I hurt you? Scare you?”

“No. I could take it.” You said, and it sounded genuine. But he still wanted to know what was on your mind. “I just don’t know what the hell I would do if I didn’t have you. You’re the only person I know that’s never even accidentally done wrong by me. You’ve been nothing but good.”

A void clouded his mind, emotional absence taking place of everything else. It’s a defense mechanism that he’s certain only comes up to block out any sense of guilt or remorse. He kept his gaze up at the ceiling, even as he felt you crane your neck back to look up at him.

“I love you, Kookie. Thank you for being here.”

“I love you too, baby,” he said numbly, those words being true... but his next words were not. “I could never imagine myself doing anything to hurt you.”

Being as he wasn’t planning on looking down, you crawled up for a moment just to kiss him, unbothered by the distant stare in his gaze. You then laid back down and got comfortable, readying yourself for a good days sleep.

“I think it’s finally time I start seeking happiness again, instead of contentment.”

That’s when it hit him. You didn’t notice how his heart cleaned beneath your head, nor was there any way you could feel the tension in his gut. He can’t say he feels full remorseful for what he did, because that would require him sympathizing for the innocent lives he’s taken away, with no rational reason. He simply didn’t feel anything for them. He was only concerned your pain, especially knowing it was unnecessary now. His trip to Korea was enough to motivate you to move on and consider a change of scenery. You didn’t need any fear to drive you out, you just needed time. God only knows how far of a set back this will be now. The fact that you’re laying here, currently thinking that life will only go up from here, when he knows damn good and well it’ll be in shambles again before the day ends..

He really needs to work on his impulses. Maybe homocide shouldn’t always be the first option he leans towards. It was just more fun that way.

But moments like this weren’t fun at all. He remembers how grueling it was last year, waking up with you at the sound of the doorbell going off. He remembers the grim look on the sheriffs face as he told them that they found your mother, dead. It was his arms that had to pick you up off the floor as you crumbled down and screamed, his ears that rung as he held you, not knowing how to console you. For the last year, it’s been his shoulder you’ve cried on, his company keeping you sane, his reassurance telling you that everything was going to be okay.... When it was his hands that caused every single bit of grieve all along.. and was about to cause even more.

So, he did the only thing he could do in that moment. He held you and mentally apologized, hoping that there was some way to telepathically tell you that you mean more to him than life itself, and that’s he’s so sorry for letting it drive him crazy at times. He’s still clinging to the original intention that you’ll say fuck it and flee with him, but he regrets going about it so recklessly.

You were fast asleep now, snoring even. He only hoped the discovery of the bodies would hold off long enough for you to get some much needed sleep. But it seems the universe was done working in his favor.

Those same, familiar knocks sounded off at the door, and he immediately ordered you to stay put as it woke you up.

“Probably just them checking up. Go back to sleep.” He whispered, assertively pushing your head back down and pulling on some sweats before going to the door.

It was the sheriff, same look on his face as last year.

“Sir?” Jungkook frowned, posing cluelessly.

The sheriff looked ghostly pale, like he was nauseated and on the verge of tears. Jungkook knew why but he had to act like it was a throw off.

“Sir..?” He repeated.

“Y’all’s friends.. Baley and Taehyung were found this morning.”

He had to stall and blink, as if he wasn’t catching on to the implications. The sheriff reluctantly continued.

“Baley was found, dead on arrival. Looks like the killer has returned.”

“Wh-What?” Jungkook stuttered, acting like he was bewildered. The sheriff’s next words, however, would spark a more genuine reaction.

“And Taehyung was found unconscious, but still alive.”

Jungkook’s veins ran colder than ever before, all mimicked emotions becoming sincere in that moment.

“Someone attempted to cut his throat, but aimed too high and cut his under jaw instead.”

Jungkook could only stare at the sheriff, probably just as pale in the face now.

“He’s in critical condition. Doctors don’t know if he’ll make it just yet, but there’s a fighting chance that he might.”

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