#wow yeah. sure is a car alright

[your-nerd-alert]

day 38- car

[ashleysturn]

tease - matt sturniolo

overview: you are best friends with matt and his brothers. you go on a road trip with them, you are sitting in the passenger seat. you need matt’s touch, you’re desperate.

nsfw slow burn

<———————————————➰———————————————>

i’ve been best friends with matt and his brothers for a while now. i’ve never had any romantic or sexual feelings for any of them until recently.. i’ve been having some thoughts about matt. i can’t help it. his hands, his tattoos, his rings, his hair and eyes.. i feel like i need him but he’s my best friend.. and so are his brothers. so i just push those feelings down.

*4:49 am*

“y/n are you coming?” i hear matt’s voice impatiently calling me from downstairs.

i frustratedly crawl out of nick’s bed- him, chris and matt were already ready to leave. i knew we had to get up early for this road trip but not this early.

“i’m comingg” i draw out my words. i throw on a pair of comfy shorts and a baggy tshirt. i don’t bother putting on a bra, i mean i’m about to be in the car for nine hours.

i clumsily walk down the stairs holding my suitcase.

“so, we going?” i follow the boys out to the van. “i call shotgun. i need leg room” i get into the passenger seat. nick sits behind me, and chris behind matt who is driving.

*7:21 am*

“do you want anything?” matt softly says, rubbing my arm to wake me.

“huh? what time is it?” i start to sit up.

“no, no you don’t have to get up we’ve only been driving for a couple hours. chris had to piss, we’re stopped at a gas station”

I nod my head, my half awake self not fully comprehending what he’s saying. i yawn and stretch my arms.

“i want to stretch my legs”

matt nods in agreement and gets out of the car, opening the door for me. i step out of the car and stretch my legs. i shake out my body and get back in the car. matt walks a few laps around the gas pump as he waits for chris.

i watch matt attentively. he pushes his hair out of his face as he stretches. his shirt lifts up a bit, revealing his v-line. my eyes widen and i bite my bottom lip.

fuck snap out of it

i look down at my phone and scroll for a few minutes before chris returns back to the car.

“you know we’re about to drive through the mountains” matt says as he starts the engine of the van.

i look over at him and smile. “i’m going to stay awake i want to see.”

“i’m going back the fuck to sleep” nick says. chris agrees.

i shrug “your loss”

*8:43 am*

“look! aren’t they pretty” matt points as we start to drive up the side of a huge mountain. in the distance i can see gorgeous snow-tipped mountains.

“wow they really are” i look over at matt. his profile is perfect. i’d much rather look at him than the mountains.

he looks over at me and i quickly look away. i try not to smile.

“hey can you hand me my charger? i need my phone for the gps” matt points to the compartment in the door.

“oh, yeah sure” i reach into the compartment and pull out his phone charger. i reach my hand out.

matt’s hand lingers on mine for a brief moment as he grabs the charger from me. butterflies shoot through my stomach.

why is just a small touch affecting me so much

i sigh.

“hey y/n you alright?” matt looks at me with a concerned tone to his face.

“hm? yeah i’m fine” i say, barely a whisper.

“you sure? i can pull over”

i shake my head. “just tired”

“alright.” matt looks over at me and smiles. i look into his eyes for a brief moment, i feel my cheeks glow red.

-

i look out the window of the car, taking in all of the scenery as matt drives. i steal quick glances at his pretty face once in a while. there’s something oddly attractive about him driving.

“matt?” i look over at him with a smile

“mhm” his voice is sleepy

his sleepy voice sends a shock of electricity through my body. i can’t help but squeeze my thighs together as i watch him.

“what y/n?”

“nevermind” i look down at my lap.

“no, say it” matt looks over at me with almost a demanding look. we lock eyes.

“i- uh.” fuck think of something “i kinda need to pee”

“we just stopped an hour ago y/n.” he sighs

“no actually i can hold it”

“you sure?”

i nod my head.

i definitely feel something down there but i don’t have to pee.

-

*10:59*

chris and nick are still asleep in the back seat. me and matt have been pretty silent besides a few random little conversations.

as matt watches the road, i watch him. the way his hands grip the steering wheel, the way he subtly bites his lip as he concentrates. i swallow hard and readjust in my seat.

“matt i’m bored” i blurt out.

matt laughs. “are you five? you really need entertained?” he teases.

my cheeks flush pink. “maybe” i laugh, playfully slapping his arm

he laughs and nudges me back.

“can i see your hand?”

matt’s happy expression turns to a confused one.

“what? i mean sure but why?” he holds out his hand

“i want to look at your rings” i grab his hand and trace my pointer finger over his rings, turning them around and looking at the intricate engravings.

after a few minutes matt goes to take his hand away but i hold it in my lap. he holds my hand back.

i trace circles on the back of his hand. i take in the details of his long fingers that are intertwined with mine.

-

i can’t get comfortable in my seat- the mixture of being crammed in a car for hours and feeling a bit turned on just makes me feel restless. i decide to lay my back against the door and stretch my feet out across matt’s lap as he drives.

“what’re you doing?” matt looks over at me, but then back to the road.

“i need to stretch my legs”

“whatever i just don’t know if that’s safe”

i shake my head. “it’s fine”

matt shrugs. he reaches over to click on the radio.

i move my feet up higher on matt’s lap.

i see matt’s jaw clench but he doesn’t stop looking away from the road.

i decide to see how far i can take this until he says something

i move my feet up even higher on matt’s lap- practically inches away from his crotch.

“you getting comfortable?” matt clears his throat and looks over at me.

“mhm” i look over at him with needy eyes

“fuck” matt whispers under his breath. i pretend not to hear him

i eventually fall asleep with my legs stretched over matt’s lap.

-

the car goes over a bump that stirs me awake. i jolt up.

“sorry there was a pothole” matt looks over at me and smiles

“oh alright” i readjust my body to sit up normal in the seat.

“how long was i asleep?”

matt looks at the time. “about 45 minutes”

i nod my head.

“hey uh, do you maybe wanna stay up for a bit?”

i nod my head “yeah sure”

“im just getting tired i need to stay alert, i need someone to talk to.”

“oh yeah of course, sorry.” i feel bad that everyone has been able to sleep but him.

“no don’t be sorry i just want to talk to you” matt reaches over and gently places his hand on my leg, a few inches above my knee.

my breath hitches. i look down at his hand

matt traces shapes on my skin with his fingers, slowly moving up my thigh.

am i dreaming right now?

i have goosebumps all over my body. butterflies fill my stomach.

matt squeezes my thigh and runs his hand up further. i part my legs slightly.

“is this okay?” his voice quiet and sleepy

“mhm” i bite my bottom lip

matt’s pinky slips under the hem of my shorts, slowly the rest of his hand follows.

i can’t help but let out a small breathy moan- his hand being so close to where i want it the most.

matt looks over at me, his mouth slightly open. he looks down at where his hand is placed and bites his bottom lip.

he shifts around in his seat “i’m gonna make a quick stop. you still have to pee?”

“uh yeah i guess”

-

matt parks the car at the gas station and quickly unbuckles.

“should we wake up nick and chris?” i look into the back seat

matt grabs my jaw and turns my head to look at him “no, come on”

what is happening right now

matt gets out of the car and walks over to the passengers side. he opens the door for me and takes my hand.

i squeeze his hand and let him lead me.

“what’s going on?” i shyly ask

matt stops walking but doesn’t let go of my hand. “you know what you’re doing”

my brow furrows. “what?”

“come on don’t play dumb now”

“no say it what do you mean?” i face him

“don’t make me say it”

i start to walk back towards the car “okay i won’t”

“no wait-“ matt grabs ahold of my arm. i smile.

“i’m waiting” i cross my arms

i love teasing him.

“you’ve been teasing me” he says, embarrassed

i play dumb, “what?!”

i start to slowly walk away, a secret smile on my face

“no wait please” matt grabs my arm again

“maybe i read this wrong.” he says

i shake my head “you didn’t” i look up at him, his eyes widen.

he grabs my hand and guides me to the bathroom. i bite my lip as i follow him

-

matt closes the door behind us. he steps back “i uh-“

“you don’t need to say anything” i awkwardly smile

he stays silent for some time

is he going to make a move or do i have to?

“when you put your feet up on me-“

i shake my head and step forward.

“you know when you do those things they.. affect me”

i wait for him to continue

“i don’t know if you do it on purpose but-“

i smile and let him ramble

“you’re my best friend so i never wanted to say anything-“

he sighs

“but sometimes you really fucking mess with me”

he pauses

“and sometimes you do it on purpose i can tell. but other times just looking at you-“

he looks me up and down

“like right now fuck” he rubs his eyes “those little shorts and-“

“matt” i chime in

“i just can’t help it fuck”

“matt.”

“i think about you a lot. and i never want to make you uncomfortable but-“

“MATT”

“but sometimes i think about you when i-“

“MATT” i practically yell

“fuck. shit” he covers his face with his hands

“i want you to fuck me matt”

“y/n. i-“ he uncovers his face, his breath heavy. “i’m serious don’t be messing with me”

“i am serious” i grab his hands and i come closer to him

“please” i guide his hands down toward my waist.

his hands grip my waist and he pulls me close so our bodies are against each other

i feel his bulge rest against my thigh. i bite my bottom lip

matt cups my face with his hands and presses a deep kiss on my lips

“mmm” i moan into the kiss, wrapping my hands around the back of his neck.

matt breaks the kiss to look at me “you’re re so pretty” he kisses my forehead

i smile, my cheeks red.

i press my thigh into his crotch. matt lets out a whimper which sends electricity throughout my body.

“fuck i need you now” he groans and pushes me against the wall, kissing me.

he reaches down and unbuckles his belt and drops it to the floor. he deepens the kiss.

i moan into the kiss as he deepens it. i reach down and tug up at his shirt, which he then swiftly removes.

he pins my body against the wall again. he reaches up my shirt to massage my tits.

“oh fuck” he groans. “you’re so fucking sexy”

i tip my head back as matt grips onto my chest and teases my nipples with his fingers.

he lifts my shirt off of my body and presses me back against the wall- goosebumps raise on my skin when my back makes contact with the cold wall.

matt kisses down my jaw to my neck, leaving marks. i reach down and cup my hand over his bulge through his pants.

matt’s hips buck forward for more contact. i gently rub his clothed crotch

he breathes onto my neck as i tease him. he kisses and sucks on my neck, his body pressed against mine.

i reach down with my other hand to unbutton his jeans and pull down the zipper. matt bites down on my neck as a sudden reaction, causing a mix of pain and pleasure.

i let out a loud moan of his name. he covers my mouth. “shh. shh”

shit i totally forgot where we are. but i don’t care.

“you gotta be quiet pretty girl” instead of matt removing his hand from my mouth he forces his fingers into my mouth.

i look up into his eyes and suck his fingers

“mm good girl”

he reaches down with his other hand and pulls down his pants and boxers in one swift motion.

i look down at his hard cock

fuck it’s huge

my heart races.

matt removes his fingers from my mouth and traces them down my curves. he places his fingers gently on my clit through my panties. i let out a desperate moan

“please” i beg

“please what pretty girl? what do you want?” matt has a hungry look in his eyes.

“i want you to touch me. please” i beg

he looks me in me eyes as he applies more pressure to my sensitive clit

“oh fuck” i moan, my head tipping back

“no look at me” he grabs my face with his other hand.

i look back into his eyes as he touches me. i let out moans with every circle he rubs on my clit, i’m so sensitive- i’ve been wanting this. needing this.

“pretty girl can i take these off?” he tugs at the waistband of my panties

i nod my head “mhm, please”

matt wastes no time in sliding them down off of my body.

he takes all of our clothes and piles them up on the floor. he picks me up and lays me on top of them

i giggle at the makeshift ‘bed’ as he lays me down.

matt spreads my legs and hovers above me, looking down at me hungrily

i can’t believe this is happening. me completely exposed infront of my best friend in a random gas station in the middle of nowhere.

“y/n?”

“yeah?”

“are you sure?” matt looks at me with a sincere look

“yeah.. yes.” i nod my head.

he smiles and lines himself up with my entrance.

he slowly strokes himself for a moment before rubbing his tip over my folds.

“fuck you’re so wet” he whimpers

he continues rubbing his tip over my pussy for a minute before pressing it into me with a grunt

“oh fuck” i practically scream.

“you okay? i can go slow” he rubs my thighs to soothe me

“yeah you’re just really big” i laugh

matt shakes his head and rolls his eyes jokingly

“can i push in a bit more?”

i nod my head, spreading my legs further

“ah fuckk” matt groans as he pushes his length another inch into me

i feel his dick fill me up as he slowly pushes it in. i grip my nails onto his back.

“a little bit more pretty girl, can you take it all?”

i look up at him with a needy look in my eyes “yes please”

matt pushes my legs further apart, further than i thought they could. he bottoms out, his dick completely filling me up, my walls tight around him

“you’re so tight” matt start to slowly pump inside me

i moan with every movement he makes. he covers my mouth

“shh y/n you gotta be quiet for me.”

i nod my head.

matt picks up the pace, thrusting in and out of me quickly. the sound of skin slapping and moans fill the room.

my stomach ties in a knot. i’ve never felt like this before.

“fuck matt” i whine

“you okay?” he slows down

“fuck don’t stop please.” i beg “matt you feel so good inside me”

he quickens the pace once more, making my legs shake

“fuck i think i’m gonna cum” i can barely spit the words out though my moans

“cum for me pretty girl” matt pushes my hair out of my face. he reaches down and places his fingers over my sensitive clit.

all these feelings are so overwhelming. my walls start to tense up around his dick.

“does that feel good?“ matt asks, it’s obvious he can feel me tensing up.

“yes- don’t stop. please” i beg for release.

matt pushes down on my stomach. “feel how deep i am inside you? you like that?”

his words send me over the edge. my whole body tenses up, my legs shaking. the knot in my stomach releases as i cum around him

“oh fuck” matt quickly pulls out and without even stroking himself anymore he lets out hot cum all over my pussy and stomach

“fuck” he pants and lays down next to me on the pile of clothes.

“that was-“ i pant

“amazing” matt completes my sentence.

i nod my head.

-

matt grabs some paper towels and helps clean me up. he helps me to my feet and gathers my clothes.

“you okay?” he leans in for a hug

“yeah- more than okay” i hug him tightly.

suddenly there’s a knock at the door “matt? y/n?”

“fuck! what do we do!” matt whispers

“having a good time in there freaks?” we hear nicks voice

my eyes widen and i laugh as matt frantically puts his clothes back on.

<———————————————➰———————————————>

comment requests, i got so carried away this is soo long lmao

also sorry if there’s typos or anything lol i’m too lazy to proofread fully

[ynscrazylife]

i need to be excused (aaron hotchner x wife!reader)

summary: yknow that scene where hotch says “excuse me” and then faints? imagine that but his wife does it to him.

Having a profiler for a husband gets annoying with how observent he is. Unfortunately, you’re also a profiler, so it’d be hypocritical to complain.

Still, when Hotch notices the slightest thing wrong, he latches onto it. He’s had his eye on you ever since you took a hard hit from a fight in the field. You barely had time to recover before the team had to board the jet again to respond to some emergency Strauss needed them for.

Apparently, a man who claims to be linked to other murders and who was a former BAU agent had made a threat against Strauss’s family. Finally back at the BAU, the team’s stuck calling people, making arrangements, going through endless paperwork to try and get more information and figure out what was going on.

You’re not doing so hot. Still reeling from the pain, but also exhausted and definitely moody. Hotch keeps it professional since they’re at work, but is still watching out for you.

Hours later, after correctly identifying the man and making the arrest (which included lots of running around), the team again returns to their base. They’re going through everything and debriefing next steps, when you abruptly stand.

“I need to be excused for a moment,” you say, already sounding breathless, before promptly keeling over and collapsing onto the floor.

For a second, everyone freezes in shock. Hotch is the first to react. He all but screams your name, dropping to his knees and trying to assess what’s going on.

“Honey, honey? C’mon, wake up. What’s going on? Sweetheart, please,” Hotch says as he shakes you, moving you so that your head is in his lap.

Spencer kneels on your other side, gently taking your pulse and reporting that it’s stable. “Could be exhaustion, dehydration . . .” He trails off, listing all the reasons he can think of.

Hotch uses one hand to run his fingers through your hair and the other to cup your face, lightly tapping your cheek. After nearly a minute of the team standing around, wondering what to do, your eyes start to flutter open.

“Aaron?” You mutter, seeing your husband’s eyes first.

“Hi, hon. You passed out. I need you to tell me how you’re feeling,” he says, keeping his voice soft but letting out a breath of relief now that you’re awake. He continues threading his fingers through your hair and rubs his thumb against your cheek.

You blink a couple times and then say, “Tired.”

Exhaustion, then. “You’re sure that’s it? Is anything else wrong?” Hotch asks, anxious to role out some underlying cause.

You nod, then grimace at the lightheaded feeling it gives you, turning and smushing the side of your face in Hotch’s lap. He looks up at the team and gestures his head towards the door.

They get the hint, though Emily and Spencer do offer to stay behind and help. Hotch thanks them but assures them that you’ll be alright and the team takes off.

“Do you feel alright to sit up?” Hotch asks after a moment.

“Yeah,” you murmur and, with his help, sit up. You immediately lean into his arms. “Ooh, wow. Dizzy.”

“I think you pushed yourself a bit too hard, sweetheart. We gotta make sure you rest properly. Wouldn’t hurt to get some food and water in you, too,” Hotch says, cradling you.

You hum in agreement. The two of you sit there for a bit, Hotch being in no rush to move you. He can’t help but reflect a bit and he sighs, shaking his head.

“What?” You ask grumpily.

“Just a little in shock that you actually excused yourself before fainting,” he says. He recognizes the funniness of it, though he lacks any amusement, still too worried.

You chuckle. “Was tryin’ to be polite,” you explain.

“I’m sure you were,” Hotch says, smearing a kiss against your head.

You continue on sitting, Hotch rubbing your back. Finally, he gets the both of you on your feet, and leads you out to the car. He sits you in the passenger’s seat and buckles you in, driving you home. Once there Hotch immediately gets you in bed, helping you change into pajamas before doing the same. He gets you a glass of water and a snack, making sure that you eat and drink it all.

“Wanna sleep now,” you mumble once you’re done, curling into his chest.

“Of course, dear. Just relax,” he coos, already planning to call you both out of work tomorrow. He does not take his wife fainting lightly and is going to do everything he can to make sure you’re okay.

[coco-loco-nut]

Book Club - Part 6

pairing: Lance Stroll x Reader, Grid x Reader

summary: you and lance have a talent for traumating the grid *insert emotional damage meme here*

requests open masterlist

———————————

It was safe to say that that you and Lance were still very much in your honeymoon phase when you got to testing. Both of you very tan from your weeks spent on the beach.

“Y/n! You surprised the world when you announced your marriage and name change, Anything you want to say about it?” One of your favorite interviewers asks you as you walk hand in hand to the paddock with Lance.

“Sure, yeah. Lance and I have been together for a long time, so getting married was just the natural next step. It was a small wedding with close friends and family. Regarding my new name, alittle over a year ago, Kimi offered to mentor me and we forged a very close bond. He is basically my father and his kids are my siblings, so with the blessing of the family I wanted to honor the relationship the best way I knew how. Racing under the Räikkönen name is such a huge honor and I can’t thank my dad and family enough for the honor,” you beam, more than happy to talk about your family.

“How did Kimi react when you told him you were taking his name both legally and when racing,” she asks, your joy infectious.

“He was so happy, I told him at the wedding, yeah. We are such a tight family, I can’t thank them enough for bringing me into their family and allowing me to take their last name. And Lance has been wonderful about it, he actually suggested hyphenating the names,” you tell her. Usually you are pretty tight lipped, but you with happily talk with her.

“Alright, onto what actually matters. How are you feeling going into testing with Red Bull?” she asks and you take a step back into your normal interview style.

“Good. I certainly miss Checo here, but the car feels good. We will see how testing goes and work from there,” Lance gives you a look that says you will be late and the journalist notices.

“Thanks for chatting, and congratulations,” she says and you nod in thanks before walking away.

“You look very hot today, Mrs Räikkönen-Stroll,” Lance says kissing the side of your head.

“Maybe so, but nothing compares to you post race,” your cheeks flame a little. Lance pulls you into a small alley between motorhomes. You are pressed against the wall as Lance kisses you, hands tangled in each other’s hair.

“OH MY GOD!” you hear Daniel shriek.

“MY EYES!” Valtteri screams. Lance quickly pulls away from you as the four of you look at each like deer in the headlights. Daniel and Valtteri quickly walk away, leaving you and Lance giggling like school kids.

The club atmosphere was off when you walked in, taking a seat beside Logan. Valtteri can’t look you in the eyes while Daniel isn’t sure whether his is proud or scarred for life.

“Fernando, I was not aware of your taste in books,” Nico says, a little flushed thinking about what they had to read.

“Yeah, a smut book? We do have innocent eyes here,” Kevin looks at you and Logan.

“Innocent?” Logan asks, a breathy laugh behind it.

“The beach scene?” Lewis suggests you all start on.

“The writing was phenomenal, the author really captured the emotions and sensations. It read so raw, so lifelike. It was one of the few times that art imitated life. She captured every intimate thought and feeling that a woman gets when she is having sex. I remember during the honeymoon when Lance and I did something similar on the private beach and wow, the author really nailed it,” you say, not quite realizing what you had just revealed to the group.

“Damn, Y/n, I didn’t realize you and Lance were freaks like that. Respect,” Daniel says, never being one to shy away from sex. Your face twists in mortification at what you unintentionally revealed. The guys look at eachother mortified as well.

You were an adult, they knew that, but in their subconscious mind you haven’t done anything more than kiss a boy. That’s how you end up following them as they storm across the paddock.

“Logan! Help me stop them,” you look at him with panic in your eyes as the group nears the Aston Martin garage.

“Hell no, this is so funny,” he says and you huff. You see the guys cornering Lance.

“YOU RUINED OUR DAUGHTER?!” Fernando yells at his teammate. You just want to sink into a corner and die, similar to how Lance appears.

“Our precious, innocent, child. What’s next? Logan has slept with a girl?” Valtteri says.

“HEY!” Logan yells in offense. The guys’ faces drain of more color.

“You too? This isn’t ok,” Kevin says and you spot Max and Lando trying not to laugh, the two of them having seen the commotion and wanted to check it out.

“I think you guys are forgetting that the three of us are consenting adults, we aren’t kids anymore,” you say softly, Logan and Lance standing by you, the latter still scared.

“Tell that to Kimi,” Nico chuckles and you groan at the mention of your dad.

“Alright, stop harassing my teammate, we have meetings,” Max breaks everyone up, leading you away.

“Thanks, Maxie,” you let out a breath of relief.

“Do I want to know?” he laughs.

“No, I don’t think so,” you return his laugh. You just hope that your book club meeting will be smoother tomorrow morning.

The next morning, you walk into the room happy and perky as usual.

“You okay, Fernando?” Logan asks when he notices Fernando on his third cup of coffee and the tiredness in his eyes.

“The hotel has thin walls. My hotel room shares a wall with Lance’s,” Fernando says, giving you a look that makes you blush in embarrassment, wishing the earth would open up and eat you whole.

“It is natural. They are young and in love, maybe we will have a baby Stroll soon,” Lewis says and your eyes light up.

“We will!” you say, quickly pulling out your phone. The older drivers hearts sink, all slightly panicking. “Oh my god, I’m not pregnant guys, we are just getting a puppy,” you laugh at their faces.

“I would like to make a motion to kick Y/n out of the book club due to the amount of emotional distress she has given the members this weekend,” Valtteri says, and your jaw drop.

“Alright alright, but you don’t understand the almost of trauma I went through having rooms that neighbored all of you during my first year here,” you point your finger at all of them.

“Motion denied,” Daniel sighs, knowing he was probably one of the main culprits.

“So, this dog?” Nico says, changing the subject.

instagram

y/username EVERYONE MEET MY BABY!

since I’m too young to have a baby (according to the club) here is my baby holding our baby, Milo Stroll ❤️🐾🐶

logansargeant look at how big his paws are! he’s gonna be a big boy 😍

y/username his favorite uncle 🥰

danielricciardo @y/username I take offense to that

user1 y/n really had me in the first half

nicohulkenberg she had us too the first time she brought up Milo in conversation

lancestroll what a hot mama 😮‍💨

y/username nothing compared to the absolute DILF holding my sweet puppy in the picture

georgerussel MY EYES! MY INNOCENT EYES

[lecsainz]

can you do charles and the reader being parents and their daughter/son wanting a little brother/sister??

big dream

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: charles and Y/N being parents of twin girls, the girls wanting a little brother, family lunch and everything being chaotic.

authors note: I JUST LOVED THIS REQUEST! charles with kids is too delicate for me 😭

word count: 1K

It was a bright and sunny day in Monaco, and the Leclerc household was bustling with activity. Rylee and Amelie were playing together in the living room while Y/N was working on her laptop and Charles was on a call with his team. Suddenly, Rylee jumped up with excitement.

"Amelie, Amelie, guess what I dreamt last night!" Rylee exclaimed, tugging at her sister's sleeve.

"What did you dream?" Amelie asked, looking up at her sister curiously.

"I dreamt that we had a baby brother." Rylee said, her eyes shining with excitement.

"A baby brother?" Amelie repeated, her eyes widening. "That would be so cool!”

"Yeah, and he was so cute and little, just like us when we were babies." Rylee continued. "And he was always laughing and playing with us."

"Wow, I wish we really had a little brother like that." Amelie said, a big smile on her face.

"I know, right? Maybe we can ask mommy and daddy to have another baby." Rylee said, her eyes shining with hope.

Just then, Y/N walked into the room to get the girls ready for the family lunch. "Alright girls, let's get dressed and head over to *grand-mère's house." she said. *grandma

"Mommy, can we ask you something?" Rylee said, looking up at her with a hopeful expression.

"Sure, what is it?" Y/N asked.

"We had a dream that we had a little brother, and we really want one." Rylee said, her eyes pleading.

Y/N smiled at her daughters. "Well, having a baby is a big decision, and it's not something we can just do because we want to." she explained. "But who knows, maybe one day you'll have a little brother or sister."

Rylee and Amelie looked at each other with excitement in their eyes, imagining what it would be like to have a new addition to the family.

Charles and Y/N were getting ready to head to Pascale's house for a family lunch, and were trying to strap the girls into their car seats.

"Mommy, why do we have to wear these seatbelts?" Amelie asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Because it keeps you safe in case we have an accident." Y/N replied, giving her a reassuring smile.

"Like in a race car?" Rylee asked, bouncing up and down in her seat.

"Kind of like that, yes." Charles said, chuckling at his daughter's enthusiasm.

As they drove through the streets of Monaco, the girls kept up a constant chatter, pointing out all the sights and asking questions about everything they saw.

Rylee whispered to her sister Amelie, "I hope we get a baby brother soon."

Amelie's eyes lit up. "Me too! I want a baby brother to play with."

Charles and Y/N were driving the car, listening to their conversation in the rearview mirror.

"Girls, we can't just order a baby brother like we order food." Y/N chuckled.

"But mommy, can't you ask the stork to bring us one?" Rylee asked innocently.

"Maybe we should ask Toto Wolff to bring us a baby brother. He knows everything about racing, maybe he knows how to get us a baby boy too!" Amelie exclaimed and the girls giggled at the idea of Toto Wolff bringing them a baby brother.

Charles and Y/N looked at each other, trying to hold back their laughter as they heard Amelie's suggestion. "I don't think Toto Wolff can help us with that." Charles said, still trying to contain her amusement.

Rylee chimed in, "But if he's a racing expert, he might know how to make a fast baby!" Charles and Y/N couldn't help but burst out laughing at that.

As they arrived at Pascale's house, the girls couldn't wait to tell their family about their plan to get a baby brother.

Rylee and Amelie ran to greet everyone with hugs and kisses before running off to the backyard to play.

"Girls, be careful not to get your dresses dirty." Y/N called out after them.

Lorenzo chuckled. "They're like little tornadoes, aren't they?"

"They sure are." Charles agreed, smiling.

As the adults settled in for some drinks and appetizers, the girls were busy playing with Pascale's dogs and running around the garden.

Suddenly, Rylee stopped in her tracks and turned to her sister. "Amelie, let's go find mommy and daddy a baby!"

Amelie's eyes lit up. "Yes! Let's go!"

The girls ran back to the patio, where Y/N and Charles were chatting with Arthur and Carla.

"Mummy, daddy, we're going to find you a baby!" Rylee exclaimed.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? And where are you going to find this baby?"

Amelie looked around thoughtfully. "Maybe we can dig for one in the garden?"

Everyone burst out laughing at the girls' innocent suggestion.

"I don't think we'll find a baby buried in the garden, sweetheart." Charles said, ruffling Amelie's hair.

Rylee suddenly looked up at Charles and Y/N "So where do babies come from?" She asked innocently.

Y/N choked on her water and looked at Charles, who was trying his best not to laugh. "Uh, well..." Y/N started, unsure of how to explain.

"They come from a special place in mommy's tummy." Charles jumped in, hoping to diffuse the situation.

Amelie's eyes widened in amazement. "How do they get there?"

Charles looked at Y/N for help, but she was no use, still coughing on her water. "Uh, well... daddy puts them there." he said, trying to keep a straight face.

Rylee and Amelie exchanged looks, not quite sure what to make of that answer. "Can we have a baby brother?" Amelie asked again, a sudden determination in her voice.

Charles and Y/N looked at each other, not surprised by the question at all, as the girls had been asking for a little brother all day. "Uh, well, that's not something we can just decide." Y/N said, trying to find the right words.

"But Rylee had a dream that we had a baby brother and he was really cute!" Amelie insisted, pushing her case.

Everyone at the table tried to hold back their laughter, but it was no use. Arthur, the youngest of the Leclerc brothers, couldn't help himself and burst out laughing.

"I think you girls are a bit too young to be worrying about babies and brothers." Pascale, Charles' mother, interjected, trying to keep the conversation on track.

"But we want a baby brother!" Rylee exclaimed, determined to make her point.

Charles and Y/N exchanged a look, silently agreeing that this was going to be a long lunch.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

early chaggie days being a bit unsettling, but still pretty sweet

Vaggie: “Hey Charlie? I’m back.”

Charlie: “VAGGIE OHMYGOSH THERE YOU ARE!!!! I was worried sick! What were you doing wandering hell alone?? You’re still hurt! And new here!!”

Vaggie: “I’m fine, it’s not like I’m bleeding-”    

Charlie: “I was WORRIED! It’s been hours- your note just said ‘gone out’ it didn’t say if you’d be back!”

Vaggie: “Why would anyone leave you a note like that if they weren’t coming back?”

Charlie: “I DON’T KNOW THE NOTE DIDN’T SAY THAT EITHER!!!!”

Vaggie: “Right, sorry. I’ll make sure the next one does. I’m sorry.”

Charlie: “That’s! Not-!”

Vaggie: “I’m sorry Charlie.”

Charlie: “No no you don’t have to be sorry- going out whenever you want is fine! Dangerous, when you’ve just lost and EYE and a LOT OF BLOOD and your back is still FUCKED UP and you have a pretty face covered in bandages that I couldn’t change this morning because you left- which is fine, that’s fine it’s FINE-”

Vaggie: “You really don’t have to keep-”

Charlie: “-it’s just we NEED to get you a phone! No more ‘don’t wanna be trouble’ bullshit- this is serious! What if you’d needed help? How fuck was I supposed to even find you!?”

Vaggie: “Follow the trail of screaming people and blood?”

Charlie: “Wha- what blood?”

Vaggie: “Shit.”

Charlie: “Your blood?? Did your back- But it’s been burned shut since day one! Did someone-”

Vaggie: “Charlie-”

Charlie: “WHO-”

Vaggie: “No one did anything, okay? Look, no blood. See?”

Charlie: “….then why did you say that?”

Vaggie: “I might’ve… kinda sorta stabbed a few people who got too close. Uh. Nothing fatal. But there was some blood and screaming…”

Charlie: “They SCARED you.”

Vaggie: “No they really didn’t, it was just instinct.”

Charlie: “And this is hell, Vaggie- at least half of them were at least TRYING to scare you!”

Vaggie: “Well it worked. It was fucking scary how close I came to killing a few of them without even noticing.”

Charlie: “Vaggie…”

Vaggie: “I won’t go out again. I got what I needed, and I didn’t know you’d worry.”

Charlie: “Of course I worried…”

Vaggie: “You don’t have to. I’m just this month’s random dumbass sinner picked out of the rest of the trash and crashing on your couch, making you stress over dumb stuff. I’ll get out of your hair soon as the bandages come off.”

Charlie: “Don’t.”

Vaggie: “?”

Charlie: “Don’t, talk like that, about yourself. Please?”

Vaggie: “Like what?”

Charlie: “Like THAT.”

Vaggie: “I don’t even get what ‘that’ means. I only said what happened.”

Charlie: “I….. never mind.”

Vaggie: “Alright…”

Charlie: “…..”

Charlie: “….what did you go out for anyway?”

Vaggie: “Spear.”

Charlie: “Spear? Like, spearmint gum or- OH!!”

Vaggie: “Just uh, just a spear.”

Charlie: “But isn’t that an Exorcist’s!? Vaggie- be carful! That’s one of the ONLY things that can-”

Vaggie: “-kill a sinner permanently, yeah, I know. Or gouge out their eye. Permanently.”

Charlie: “Oh.”

Vaggie: “I’ve seen them in action, I mean.”

Charlie: “And it doesn’t upset you?”

Vaggie: “It’s, complicated. Mainly it’s just, it’s a little reassuring to hold onto, you know?”

Charlie: “My hand is- I mean, sure, yes. That makes sense. I think.”

Vaggie: “…you can lock it up somewhere if you want, while I’m here. I don’t mind. This is your home-”

Charlie: “And yours. As long as you need it.”

Vaggie: “That’s, nice but-”

Charlie: “And while you’re here you should feel safe, and if the spear helps you feel safe around me, then okay. Good. You um, you didn’t sell anything super important to get it, right?”

Vaggie: “No, I found it behind a dumpster-”

Charlie: “Wow those are really pulling through on the amazing finds lately!”

Vaggie: “Charlie- huh?”

Charlie: “Good find! At the dumpster!”

Vaggie: “Charlie, it’s not for you. The spear. I didn’t get the spear because of you.”

Charlie: “I mean hell princess and stuff, first hellborn monster in all creation- totally understandable!”

Vaggie: “If you’re a monster then creation needs more of them.”

Charlie: “The carpet is still smoldering from me going all demon flames at you five minutes ago.”

Vaggie: (chuckling) “Yeah, because you were worried.”

Charlie: “Still. Scary?”

Vaggie: “Adorable.”

Charlie: “….really?”

Vaggie: “You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met, because you care, and you get angry when the rest of the world doesn’t care as much as you do. It’s really.” (pause) “It’s new. It’s really new, and I’m glad I got to see it.”

Charlie: “If you’re sure…”

Vaggie: “Yep. The horns and tail are cute, too.”

Charlie: “The- aww SHOOT! They’re still out? This whole time??”

Vaggie: “You didn’t notice grabbing my wrist with your tail?”

Charlie: “I WHAT??? IM SORRY OH FUCK OH SHIT IT- IT HAS A MIND OF IT’S OWN I SWEAR- FUCK WHY WON’t IT LET GO-”

Vaggie: “It’s fine. If it wants to cling then let it. I’d like to sit down though, so.”

Charlie: “Right! Sorry!”

Vaggie: “Charlie it’s fine.” (sigh) “Feels like we’ve used that word too much today.”

Charlie: “Ugh you’re right, sorry…”

Vaggie: “And that one too. Stop.”

Charlie: “Fine.”

Vaggie: “….”

Charlie: “….sorry?”

Vaggie: “….”

Vaggie: “…you’re lucky you’re cute.”

Charlie: “And YOU’RE lucky you’re tiny and fit on the couch. There’s an actual bed here! In case you forgot since the last time I told you! Now, sit kitchen?”

Vaggie: “Actually I was thinking sit couch and I’m not taking your bed.”

Charlie: “Did you remember to eat anything while out poking rude hell people with your new spear?”

Vaggie: “S- sure I, uh, I did. Do that.”

Charlie: “Uh-huh.”

Vaggie: “Yes.”

Charlie: “Mmhmm.”

Vaggie: “…I did do it.”

Charlie: “Bzzt, lies. To the snackies we go!”

Vaggie: “But-”

Charlie: “And I’m getting you in that bed eventually. It’s gonna happen. Couches can’t be good for your back, even when you’re so small! Especially when you’re hurt!”

Vaggie: “Charlie, if I was in your bed you’d never get any SLEEP.”

Charlie: “Why not? I like being around you!”

Vaggie: “I move around too much at night.”

Charlie: “Bad dreams?”

Vaggie: “…sure.”

Charlie: “Well maybe not being alone when you wake up would help? That’s what Razzle and Dazzle do for me sometimes- right guys?”

Razzle: “Baa!”

Dazzle: “Mreh.”

Vaggie: “Hi fellas… What… what happened to your kitchen.”

Charlie: “I asked them to get snacks ready!”

Vaggie: “It’s a warzone.”

Charlie: “It’s snack time?”

Vaggie: “There’s enough doughnuts here to feed a whole battalion after a battle.”

Charlie: “Well since you weren’t here to ASK I couldn’t TELL them what KIND of doughnut would be your FAVORITE.”

Razzle & Dazzle: “Ree!”

Charlie: “So we had to make all the kinds. But only this one time, okay guys?”

Razzle & Dazzle: “Grrr….”

Vaggie: (smiles) “Thought you said you weren’t even sure I’d be back.”

Charlie: “I wasn’t. You’re the first sinner who’s ever crashed on my couch, so I just, hoped.”

Vaggie: “…..”

Vaggie: “Thanks. For the hope.”

Charlie: “You’re welcome. Really, literally, you’re welcome. Couch or wherever.”

Vaggie: “……or buried under a mountain of pastries?”

Charlie: “Finding your favorite kind is IMPORTANT okay!”

Vaggie: “There’s dough splatters on the ceiling.”

Charlie: “You’re worth a few dough splatters and an artfully singed carpet. You’d also be worth some lost sleep. Now! Staring with the basic, a classic plain glaze….” (busily dives into doughnut infogump)

Vaggie: “….”

Dazzle: “Rrr?” (hands her a tissue)

Vaggie: “...huh? Oh.” (takes tissue) “Thanks….” (dabs at her eye while Charlie isn’t looking)

[pepsiboyy]

NIGHT SKY.

(best friends to lovers) pairing: chris sturniolo x reader summary: when everyone has fallen asleep on your camping trip, you and chris stay up and watch the stars with one another. warnings: fluff, talks about insecurities, slight angst a/n: HIIII i haven't posted an actual story in SO long. love you guys, genuinely. please love and enjoy this for the time being!! xoxo, apollo

⚜ masterlist ⚜

"are we almost there?"

chris's vocal complaints were finally coming to an end when we reached our stop.

"this seems good!" nick stated in a proud tone as he plopped the duffel bag he had been carrying into the grass beneath him.

"i still don't know why we're doing this," matt murmered to me, causing me to chuckle.

nick had insisted we go on a one-night camping trip to "get away from everything" for a little while. it was something he saw on tiktok. the triplets invited madi and i to tag along. i had become friends with the boys in high school, and i was close with all of them, but chris and i seemed to gravitate towards one another significantly more.

"i heard that!" nick huffed as he went through their belongings in the duffel bag.

chris slumped beside me, his body immediately making contact with the grass as he took a deep breath. "finally, we can relax." he chuckled as he turned to me.

"i think they um.. might need help with the tent." i giggled as i pointed towards his brothers, who were already struggling with putting it together.

chris huffed and sat up to go help them while madi sat beside me. we made fun of them along the way.

about 6pm rolled around, and nick went through the cooler bag for food.

"alright guys, chris was really excited for this, but he made us all sandwiches." nick stated with a smile as he took each one out, each covered in cling wrap with a name written onto it.

chris clasped his hands together excitedly as he crawled towards them and began to go through them.

"alright... nick, madi... matt, and.. last but not least!" he cheerfully handed me a sandwich with my name written on the plastic. "here ya go."

"what about you, chris?" i asked, cocking an eyebrow.

chris's face dropped.

"no way you forgot to make yourself one." matt mumbled.

"it's okay, i'll share mine with you. i'm not super hungry anyway." i reassured him with a smile, and chris nodded softly.

"right, okay. sorry." he mumbled as he sat beside you.

once everyone had finished eating, we all started to get ready for bed. it wasn't late, but a day of hiking was truly tiring.

it was a summer night, so there wasn't much need for jackets or sweaters. i brought a pair of sweats and a simple black tee. no need for anything more, right?

everyone had fallen asleep, and chris and i were both sitting in silence. but i could tell he wasn't asleep because he wouldn't stop moving.

but then his voice pierced the silence between us.

"you wanna go to the top of the hill?" he questioned, pointing upwards.

there was a small hill beside our setup, and it seemed to be one of the highest things nearby. i nodded softly. "yeah, sure. sounds fun."

we slipped on our shoes and walked up, giggling as we tried our hardest to stay quiet.

"look at that," chris gawked at the view of the city, his eyes widening as he shifted to take a seat.

i gently sat beside him and pulled my knees to my chest.

it was truly gorgeous. the way the lights flickered and the cars passing by looked like ants... it was so bright in contrast to where they were. was that really what they lived in every night?

i turned to chris and felt my cheeks heat up upon realization that his eyes were on me.

"sorry," he quickly murmered as he turned back to the lights in the city.

i chuckled at him and shook my head. "if you think that's pretty.." i whispered before leaning back to lay down against the soft blades of grass. "you should look up."

chris watched me shift and gave the city one last glance before he laid beside me and crossed his arms behind his head.

"wow," he whispered, smiling softly.

i looked at the stars above us... each individually twinkling and providing a sense of warmth.

we sat in silence for a few minutes before chris cleared his throat slightly. "i feel like i'm in a difficult position."

i turned my head towards chris and blinked a few times as my cheeks grew pink.

no, he wasn't looking at me this time. instead he was staring up at the sky. but the moonlight along with the light that the stars provided perfectly outlined his jaw, his cheekbone and the bridge of his nose.

he looked stunning.

"what do you mean by that?" i asked softly, my eyes not leaving him now.

chris seemed to ponder for a moment before he sighed. "i just genuinely have no idea what to do." i stared at him and let him think before he sat up and propped himself up on his arm. "i'm so afraid but i'm so certain." he whispered, but his words came out firm - like he was positive about what he was talking about.

"what do you mean?" i asked, smiling softly at him.

chris didn't smile back. he seemed to really be battling his thoughts. "i have a hard time committing," he stated blankly before continuing, "i feel like i'm useless with things like this, but... i genuinely think i have finally received that push to let that go."

i watched him as he spoke, and finally, his eyes met with mine.

"it's hard, because i can feel myself slipping every single day.. further and further." he sat up and turned to look down at me. "i'm falling in love with someone who had seem me at my best and worst, and i'm afraid of ruining what i have with the person who knows me as well as i do." he whispered.

i felt my heart drop and my eyes widen as i sat up. "chris?" i questioned.

"but it hurts me more than anything that i have to go every single day pretending she's just my friend." he whispered. "but i'm so afraid," his voice cracked.

i listened closely to him. he needed to get his feelings off his chest.

"do you know how hard it is to watch your best friend grow up beside you into the most beautiful and amazing person you've ever seen?" he whispered.

i bit my lip as i nodded and sat up, scooting towards him. i gently reached to grab his hands and hold them in mine. my eyes never once left his. "i understand. because i do the same thing. every single day." i smiled, and chris's expression lit up. "i watch my best friend go every single day, fighting his personal battles and winning every single one of them. every day he's a better person and i admire that."

chris bit his lip as his eyes danced between either of mine. he laughed softly and dropped his head to look down, his bangs covering his eyes. "i just want things to work."

"they will." i whispered, causing chris's eyes to interlock with mine. "because she feels the same way."

chris's fingers gently locked with mine, and he bit his lip as he sniffed. he then pulled me into a tight hug, his nose burying into the crook of my neck.

i chuckled and held him tightly, my fingers gently caressing his hair.

"i can't believe i confessed to you in the middle of fucking nowhere," he mumbled against the skin of my shoulder, giggling softly.

i couldn't see him, but i could tell his face was red with embarrassment.

"better now than later." i whispered as i smiled at him.

chris pulled away and looked into my eyes, his bright blue ones looking even more light with the stars.

"can i kiss you?" he whispered.

i felt my face flush, but i nodded quickly and smiled.

and with that, chris leaned in and pressed his lips to mine, his eyes fluttering shut. he held my hand tightly in one hand while the other rose to rest against my cheek.

the stars glimmered a little brighter from that day onward.

every time i looked up at the night sky, i would think of the night my best friend confessed to me and started a journey we both desperately required, but had no idea was reciprocated.

⚜ masterlist ⚜

taglist;; @sturnsxplr-25 @vampiree-555 @wh0resstuff @jetaimevous @sturnioloshacker @lovesturni0l0s

[flowerfreya]

Warrant

Part 13 in The Office AU

Chapter Index

Pairing poly!141 x reader

Content: kissing, injury ( mild detail)

Heading back to work , you feel antsy and nervous and keep glancing over at Simon. You kind of want to kiss him. One reason is that you're jealous of your wacky girlfriend and the other because you think that SImon is hot and you think kissing him would be enjoyable.

You’re just not sure how to get him to kiss you, which may be an issue.

Pulling into the parking lot , you turn towards him, “Thanks for treating me to lunch”, smiling. You hope that you're portraying that you want to kiss him but not coming on too strong.

“Was hungry, anyway”, he grumbles.

“Of course, right”.

Your looking into his eyes and he glances away. Like he can’t look at you for a long period of time. Maybe you shouldn’t kiss him. Maybe he doesn’t want to kiss you.

“Alright?”, Simon ask.

Looking at your lap, you're questioning yourself.

“Hey, you can talk to me”, Simon says, trying to catch your eye.

“I know, I’m just nervous and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable”, you start waving your arms and talking with your hands, trying to explain that you don’t want to be a homewrecker but you're really nice to me and you think he’s cute. He cuts you off, “ `M not apart of that”, he says as he waves his hands towards the building.

Your not really surprised, wacky girlfriend doesn’t really include Simon in anything, “how come?”

Simon gives you an exasperated look, “she doesn’t like me like that”.

“That’s a shame”, you reply.

Breathing in deep, you decide to full send it, “can I ask you a question?”.

“Course, anything”, he says.

“Can I kiss you?”, you’re fully ready to be rejected by him, and then he answers in a low groan, “yes”.

Leaning across the center console and capturing his lips with yours. He lets a low moan, letting out a soft, oh. Which spurs you on to keep going. You move your hand to his shoulder, running your hand through his hair at the nape of his neck. He grabs the back of you head and deepens the kiss.

You’re the first to pull away, needing to breathe. Letting out a small laugh, “wow”.

“Yeah”, you look up to Simon wiping both hands down his face, letting out a big breath.

“Yeah”, you respond.

“Well I guess we should head back in”, you open the door , grabbing your stuff. Simon is still in the car sitting staring straight ahead.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just need a.. moment”, then look over at you and gives you a light smile.

Oh.

Oh.

He’s hard.

~

You see her above you and you see her mouth moving , are you okay , but no sounds. She seems frantic, red faced with tears, looking back and forth between you and the car, it was an accident , I swear her mouth says .It’s like everything has slowed down. Then you feel the pain. You're having trouble taking a full breath and breathing in feels like inhaling fire.

The next face you see is John. He doesn’t look too happy to see you, in fact you think he’s yelling at you. You’re in too much pain to care.

“Can’t breathe”, you painfully choke out.

His face changes then, from angry to sad, “I know luv”, he grabs your hand, “helps coming”.

You see Simon on the other side of you, wanting to get a better look you try turning your head. Bad idea. You let a wail that has Gaz and Soap snapping their head at you and John barking, “don’t move”.

But it’s too late, you see your foot in a direction you don’t think that your foot should be, “goin to be sick”, right as you puke all over Simon's shoes.

He doesn’t seem to care that much because he stays there and strokes your hair, muttering, it’s okay and let it out sweetheart.

You hear Soap ask why you haven’t passed out yet. And honestly you would like to know too because this sucks.

You hear the sirens before you see them. Gaz meets them at the trucks and it explains the situation, pedestrian struck by motor vehicle, speed 45,possible broken rib , ankle displaced.

The EMT’s take your vitals on the scene asking to follow light and how many fingers are they holding up, but you're having trouble focusing.

Losing consciousness , you hear someone say. Get her to the hospital now , you think Soap says before the void takes over.

~

Waking up to the beeps of the hospital machines and your legs and foot wrapped in a cast is a bit jarring. But it all comes back to you pretty quick.

Wacky girlfriend ran you over with her car.

[callmemaeverick]

Livin’ La Vida Loca - A. Aretas

Pairing: Armando x f!Reader Summary: Armando was doing Armando stuff, brooding and minding his own business, when someone jumped on his bike and told him to go. (This man got me writing again, but I needed to start slow. Then I saw this reverse trope thing about accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss, and well this happened)

WC: 600 TW: Gun. Senior Aretas

Armando kicked up his bikestand and revved his engine, his head in turmoil. He almost had him, the detective, but he could not bring himself to pull the trigger.

And something was not right with his mother and he was more than a little confused with her motives. She was hiding something from him and despite all that he did for her, she won't tell him everything. He had done all that she asked of him and he did it with little to no help. Sure, he had people working for him, but he hired these people not a few months before and all of them through fear and intimidation. He was alone. He had no one to trust.

He was about to take off, when all of a sudden, his bike rocked as a weight landed behind him. Hands wrapped around his middle and instantly, his gun was in his grasp.

"What the fuck?!" He exclaimed and turned as far as he could. All he saw was a pair of panicked eyes.

"Go, dammit! Go!"

One day, when he looked back on this day, he'd wonder what made him did what he did. But he was glad for it.

He holstered his weapon, shifted into gear and drove off. Within seconds he had reached a speed that was way too fast for riding by the pier, but that was not what was on his mind then. The hand around his middle clutched at his jacket, making it tighter around his torso and a glance downward showed Armando that the fingers had dug deep into the leather.

"What the fuck happened to her?" He wondered.

He drove fast, weaving between cars ad buildings until the harsh breathing behind him calmed somewhat. When he found a less busy street, he pulled over.

The weight behind him shifted and then she was beside him, trying to tame her winblown hair. But what struck him, was that she was smiling.

xxxx

"Wheew," You whooped as you got off the bike to face its rider, pushing your hair from your face. "That was fun! I don't know if I would've gotten outta there if I hadn't seen you. So, thank you. You saved my life.”

The man was looking at you through the visor of his helmet, you were sure of it. You could sense his confusion, though you could not see his face.

"Right, I guess I owe you an explanation." You felt self-conscious, and slighty embarrassed. Now that you think about it, what you did was stupid and reckless. "It was nothing bad, I swear, though with us being strangers and all, what good is my word right? I mean, for all you know I could be a criminal."

Dammit, stop rambling.

Suddenly the bike was shut off and the rider straightened before he pulled his helmet off. And you stood stunned at the beauty that graced you.

"Oh, wow, you're..." You trailed off and he quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes?" Even his voice was hot.

"Nothing," You said quickly. "As I was saying, I wasn't doing anything bad. We were just protesting peacefully, you know, for the turtles."

An incredulous smile appeared. "Las tortugas?"

"Y-yeah, the turtles. We were by the beach when these police guys came trying to break it up. So we made a break for it.”

The handsome man in front of you chuckled and shook his head. "Esta loca,"

"I am not crazy, okay," You argued back, but there was no heat in it. He was at least a little bit correct. Not that you’d admit it. Instead, you held out your hand and introduced yourself.

He looked at it for a second, the back up to your face, as if hesistating.

"What? Scared?" The challenged seemed to spur him on as the rider smirked and took your hand in his.

"Armando,"

"Alright, well, thank you for the assist, Armando. Don't be a stranger, alright?" You released his hand and walked away, feeling his eyes on you until you turned the corner.

FIN

[writingwithciara]

fancy friends for the summer -quinn hughes-

summary: quinn attends y/n’s cousins wedding with her, but as a friend

word count: 4.6k

pairing: quinn hughes x reader

notes: why do i keep doing this to myself 😩

"jack, i need a favor!" y/n called out as she walked into jack & luke's apartment.

"what's up?" jack emerged from the kitchen.

"my cousin is getting married in michigan and i told him i was bringing a date."

"okay. when is it?"

"next monday. which means we would need to be in michigan by sunday night. i'm sorry it's short notice but i completely forgot i checked the plus one box until he called me earlier."

"i would love to be your date, but i got a game that day."

"and if you have a game, that means luke would also be unavailable. damn it." y/n sighed and leaned against the counter.

quinn, who had been sitting on the couch, turned his head. "you do know that jack has another brother, right?"

"oh, right. sorry quinn." y/n walked over to him. "do you want to be my date?"

"yes." he said a little too eagerly. he coughed to cover it up. "should be fun."

"are you sure? there's gonna be a lot of questions."

"yeah i'm sure. i'm a hockey player who gets interviewed a lot. i can handle questions."

"okay perfect. i owe you a huge favor." y/n smiled and went back to the kitchen to talk to jack.

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

when the day of the wedding rolled around, y/n and quinn were getting ready at the lake house since it was only a 10 minute drive from the wedding venue.

quinn had been waiting for y/n down in the living room for nearly 20 minutes before she came in wearing a light blue dress. this wasn't the first time quinn had seen her all dressed up, as she had attended multiple events for the NHL with him and his brothers. but there was something different about this time that he couldn't put his finger on.

"wow. you clean up nice, hughes."

"why do you sound so surprised? you've seen me dressed up before." quinn chuckled as y/n approached him and adjusted his tie a bit.

"i know. but no matter how many times i see it, i can never get used to you looking this good." y/n smiled and grabbed her phone. "alright let's go."

y/n walked out to quinn's car and got in carefully. quinn climbed in and began the short drive to the venue.

when they arrived, he handed his keys to the valet and looked at y/n, who was nervously smoothing out her dress.

"ready?" he held out his arm for her to take and she smiled, taking it gently before following quinn inside. they found their seats and waited for the ceremony to begin.

"so, are you really prepared for all the questions you're gonna get at the reception?"

"pretty much. but just in case, can you give me a rundown of what i might expect?"

"of course." she leaned closer and whispered. "there's gonna be a lot of 'relationship' questions and i know you keep your life private but this is my family. they know a lot about you already. but regardless, they're gonna ask a lot about us. is that alright?"

"nothing i can't handle." he smiled and squeezed her hand.

the ceremony started moments later and normally, everyone would be staring at the bride and groom but quinn's gaze constantly drifted over to y/n. he couldn't figure out why. he knew he wasn't attracted to her. maybe it was the setting of the day making him feel this way.

at the reception, it only got worse for quinn. he danced with y/n for the first couple of songs before he had to take a bathroom break. when we got back, y/n was dancing close with someone quinn didn't know. he knew for sure he wasn't a family member so he figured the guy was from the bride's family.

instead of interrupting what looked like a good time, quinn decided to sit back at their table.

y/n, who was dancing with the bride's brother, noticed quinn sitting alone and excused herself to go over to him. when she sat down, she smiled. "you having fun, quinn?"

"surprisingly, yes. usually i don't go to weddings but this one has been fun."

"if you don't usually do weddings, why'd you agree to come with me?" y/n smiled.

"the company was never this good, i guess." quinn smiled back at her as he sipped his own drink. he set his glass back on the table and looked at her. "so, who was that you were dancing with when i got back from the bathroom?"

"why? you jealous?"

"not even slightly." but he felt like that was a lie. "just don't want any of your family to get the wrong idea. that's all."

"don't worry. he's the bride's brother and he'd probably rather dance with you, if i'm being honest." she sent a playful wink quinn's way.

"oh." suddenly realization hit him. "oh. got it." he chuckled and looked down at his nearly empty glass. "wanna dance?"

"yes, i do." y/n smiled and took his outstretched hand, following him quickly to the dance floor just as a slow song began playing. "what a coincidence. i was just singing this song in my head."

"i believe it." quinn smiled as he started dancing with y/n. there was a moment shared between them was incredibly intimate and even though no words were exchanged, they both knew their connection was much stronger for it.

y/n giggled as quinn spun her around the dance floor slowly. and as he pressed her body closer to his, they both realized it was the closest they had ever been.

the song felt like it was never going to end, but neither of them cared much. they were enjoying the moment. so when the song did finally end, y/n pouted a little. she hoped quinn didn't notice her shift in mood, but he definitely did. it was hard not to when he was feeling the same way.

"if you want, we can head back to the lake house." he grinned as they took their seats at the table again. he sipped his drink slowly and was thankful he decided to go the non-alcoholic route. y/n didn't hesitate to nod.

they said their goodbyes and got in the car. before they were out of the parking lot, quinn had reached over the console and grabbed y/n's hand. when she didn't pull it away, he squeezed it gently.

when they got back to the lake house, y/n went to the guest room while quinn went across the hall to his own room.

"tonight was a lot of fun. thanks for being my date for the night."

"yeah. it was no problem. i had a great time." quinn smiled. "good night."

and they both went into their rooms as if there was never a moment shared between them.

just as y/n was getting settled into her bed, quinn knocked on her door. he didn't wait for her to respond before he came in.

"are we just going to pretend that there wasn't a moment between us at the wedding, and then again on the car ride home?"

"no. we're not going to pretend."

"okay good." quinn walked over to her slowly and kissed her softly. it wasn't his intention for things to escalate but when y/n pulled him down to join her on the bed, he couldn't help but follow her lead.

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

after they left michigan, quinn went back to vancouver and y/n went to new jersey. she needed to tell jack what happened.

"jack, are you home?"

"yes. what's up?"

"i need to talk to someone."

"okay. what about?" jack set his bowl down on the coffee table and turned his attention from the tv to y/n as she sat next to him.

"the wedding."

"did something happen?"

"yeah. i slept with quinn."

"wait, what?"

"that's exactly how i reacted to when we woke up the next morning." she sighed. "i don't know why it happened. we're not even attracted to each other."

"are you sure about that?" luke entered the living room and sat on the chair. jack and y/n gave him a look. "i was listening in the hallway."

"okay, well i can't speak for him but i can honestly say that i am not attracted to your brother."

"i believe you." jack smiled. "i don't think quinn is attracted to you either, which is weird."

"if they're not attracted to each other, then why'd the sleep together? isn't that going to complicate things with olivia?"

"who's olivia?" y/n heard the name and felt her smile disappear. she knew the answer but she didn't really want to hear it.

"she's a girl quinn has been talking to for awhile but i don't know if they made the jump to make things official or not."

"i think they did. mom mentioned something about quinn inviting olivia to the lake house this summer." luke looked at y/n and noticed she was messing with her necklace. "you okay?"

"yeah. but if she's coming to the lake house, does that mean there won't be room for me?"

"of course not. there's always going to be room for you." jack smiled and threw his arm around y/n. "don't you ever doubt your place in this family."

"i won't." she smiled and leaned into jack's side.

"we leave on friday. you ready for that?"

"of course. always am." y/n smiled. "you mind if i stay here?"

"of course not. you're always welcome here." luke smiled and headed to his room.

"i'm gonna head to bed too. you good on the couch or do you want the bed?"

"couch should be fine. thanks jack." y/n smiled and curled up with the blanket.

the 3 of them fell asleep quickly.

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

on friday afternoon, jack was unloading the car with help from luke while y/n was unlocking the house.

"we're the first ones here." she looked around the empty house. luke set bags down beside her and smiled.

"that's a good thing. you get to pick your room."

"oh yay." y/n took off up the stairs and just as she was about to turn the doorknob to the room she normally stayed in, she remembered what happened the night of the wedding. she turned around and kept walking to the room next to it.

"don't want your normal room?" jack asked from behind her/

"no. think it's time for a change. you don't mind if i share with you, do you?"

"no. not at all. luke will just have to room with trevor this year." he walked into the room and set their bags inside. jack pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen. "oh. quinn's here with the food. should we go down and help?"

"why not?" y/n slid her own phone back in her pocket and followed jack downstairs. when she saw quinn, her heart felt like it skipped a beat when it shouldn't have.

"oh my god. food!" luke came in from the backyard and grabbed the bags from quinn. he rushed them to the kitchen, leaving jack, y/n and quinn in the front hall.

"i'm gonna go help luke. well, more like stop him before he eats everything right away." jack left the awkward situation.

y/n was about to follow him but quinn's voice stopped her. "hey. it's good to see you."

she turned around to face him. "it's good to see you too, quinn."

"we should talk about what happened."

"no. we should go help your brothers put the food away." y/n wasted no time heading into the kitchen to join her best friend. "thanks for that, jack."

"oh, you're welcome." jack chuckled and put the last bag of chips in the pantry, just as quinn walks into the kitchen. "hey bro. where's olivia?"

"she's coming up later tonight. she had some, uh, things she had to take care of before taking 2 weeks off."

"okay cool." luke is already halfway through a bowl of cereal before he says a word. "so, is she your girlfriend?"

"yeah. she is." quinn couldn't bring himself to look y/n in the eye. he couldn't make eye contact with his brothers either. he was lying to them but he needed to come up with a good excuse for when she doesn't show up later.

he thought he and olivia would be good together but after he went to the wedding and slept with y/n, he knew he couldn't lead her on. so as soon as he got home, he broke things off with her. all he could think about was y/n and it was killing him because he had convinced himself for years that he wasn't attracted to y/n at all.

but seeing her in that dress at the wedding made him realize he had only been lying to himself the entire time.

"we're gonna go out on the boat. you coming, quinn?" jack waved his hand in front of his brother.

"yeah sure. y/n and luke already gone?"

"meeting us out there. it's our job to bring the cooler and snacks, per luke's request."

"got it." quinn began to load the cooler with drinks while jack grabbed the snacks. "alright. i'm gonna go get ready. meet you down in 5 minutes?"

"yeah. sure." jack watched as his brother went back up the stairs. y/n walked in a minute later.

"jack, i gotta talk to you about something. something i never thought i would have to bring up with you ever."

"alright. what is it?"

"i think i'm attracted to quinn now."

"you've got to be kidding me." jack chuckled.

"i know. it's stupid and i didn't think i was but then i saw him when he got here and i don't know. it was like my heart started beating differently. i don't know what to do. especially since he's got a girlfriend, who he technically cheated on."

"they weren't together when you guys had sex. they were only talking. so he's in the clear for it. you don't have to feel guilty about it."

"i don't feel guilty. i just don't like that i'm attracted to him now out of all of the times i could've found him attractive." she sighed and noticed jack laughing. "this isn't funny, asshole."

"i'm sorry but it kind of is. i can't believe you like my brother." he shook his head and handed her the bag of snacks just as quinn was coming into the kitchen. "ready?"

"yeah." quinn watched y/n leave the room and grabbed the cooler with jack. when he saw that y/n was a decent distance away from them, he looked at jack. "i have a problem."

"we all do. what is it?"

"i think i like y/n now."

after a few hours on the boat, jack got a text from trevor saying he and cole had arrived so quinn drove the boat back to the dock. jack got off first and helped y/n climb off. she jumped on his back and he walked up to the grass. luke tied the boat to the dock just as trevor and cole made their way down.

"it's about time you guys got here. we've been waiting for 15 minutes." trevor chuckled while looking at everybody. he smiled when he saw y/n and jack's back. "and this happened? do you not tell me anything anymore, jack?"

"oh no. we're not-" y/n started but jack cut her off.

"sorry man. i've been meaning to tell you. just hadn't gotten around to doing so."

"that's okay. just glad to see you so happy." trevor smiled. "anyway, we ordered pizza before we got here so it should be here any minute."

"trevor, you are the best. i'm starving." luke smiled.

"luke, you had a bowl of cereal before we got on the boat and then you had a ton of snacks on the boat. how could you possibly still be hungry?" y/n smiled as jack set her on the ground.

"i'm a growing boy, y/n. i need the nutrients."

"okay. whatever you say, luke." she followed the 3 boys into the house. jack and quinn finished unloading everything from the boat.

"i didn't know you and y/n were a thing now." quinn grabbed the cooler and started walking back to the house.

"yeah. it's kinda new." jack tried his best to keep his brother from breaking through the lie. "you okay with it?"

"well as long as you make her happy, that's all that matters."

"i'll try my best." jack walked into the house and went to y/n. he pulled her out of the room, making sure to excuse them from the conversation. "sorry about that earlier. just figured that it would be easier for you to handle olivia if you were also in a 'relationship'. plus it'll be a lot easier to explain why we're sharing a room now."

"i get it. it makes sense & quite honestly, i'm surprised you thought of that so quickly."

"i do have my moments." jack smiled. "apparently, olivia is supposed to be here shortly. and if at any point in the night you want an escape, just give me a look and we'll disappear."

"i appreciate you so much, jack." y/n smiled and followed him back to the living room. she sat next to jack on the chair while the boys took the couch and the other chair.

through the next few hours, tons of topics were tossed into conversations around them but jack & y/n stayed in their own little world. quinn's gaze never left the pair but he was indeed listening to the conversations going on with the other boys.

"so, when should we be expecting olivia, quinn?" luke brought up quinn's girlfriend, causing everyone to turn towards him, even jack and y/n.

"unfortunately, she wont be making it here until tomorrow. picked up a last minute shift at work to make some extra money."

"okay. cool." trevor nodded in his direction and turned towards luke. "so when are you going to get a girlfriend?"

"what do you mean by that, trevor?"

"your brothers both have girlfriends. don't you think it's about time you had one as well?"

"i want to focus more on my career for a bit before i fall in love."

"okay. i guess that's smart." he nodded and resumed his conversation with quinn and cole. luke found a way to insert himself into the conversation, leaving y/n and jack in their own little world again. she wasn't worried about olivia, but that feeling lasted for 5 minutes.

"olivia says she's excited to see everyone tomorrow. she should be here around noon."

"oh cool." y/n looked at jack and started playing with her bracelet. he grabbed her hand and stood up.

"we're gonna head to bed now. see you boys in the morning." jack walked behind y/n as she climbed the stairs.

"thank you for that. the look on quinn's face when he brought up olivia was killing me. and the way he talked about her was torture." y/n threw herself onto the bed dramatically. "he clearly loves her and i can't compete with that."

"i don't know if he loves her. but if she's gonna be here then you can just stay with me the entire time, like we planned."

"sounds good." she yawned. "i'm actually going to sleep now. thank you for tonight."

"no problem. get some rest." jack kissed her head gently and sat at his desk. mere moments later, he heard her softly snoring. he wasn't tired so he went out of the room and headed down to the kitchen. on the way down, he bumped into quinn.

"hey, bro. that was an abrupt exit you guys made earlier. is everything okay with y/n today? she's acting weirder than normal."

"yeah she's fine. she was just tired." jack grabbed a bottle of water and looked at his brother. "can i ask you something?"

"sure."

"if you like y/n, why are you inviting olivia here?"

"olivia's not coming. i ended things with her." quinn admitted.

"what? why, and when, did you do that?"

"because of y/n. it happened when i got back from the wedding. i couldn't lead her on. it wouldn't be fair." he sighed. "and now i'm stuck because y/n's your girlfriend now. i should've known you guys were gonna get together eventually. happens a lot with best friends."

"i'm sorry, bro. i'm sure there will be someone for you soon. and it may not be y/n but she'll love you as long as you love her." jack looked at his brother. "i'm sure this thing with y/n is only temporary and you'll move on in no time."

"i'm not sure about that, jack. every time i see her, it's like i forget how to breath and my heart starts beating faster. i don't know what to do. and i'm sorry. i know she's your girlfriend and that i need to get over her, but it's starting to feel impossible."

"sorry." jack shook his head. "well, i'm heading back to bed. talk to you in the morning." jack grabbed an extra bottle for y/n and headed back upstairs. what quinn was describing wasn't just a crush. it was love. he was in love with y/n & it made jack feel bad. he didn't want to stand in the way of love.

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

"are you serious, jack? you're really ending things now?" y/n and jack were in the living room having a fake breakup, hoping to catch everyone's attention.

"look, i'm sorry. but even you can't deny that we were better off as friends."

"i want to hate you for breaking my heart, but you're right. i will always love you but being in love with you just doesn't seem right."

"wait, what's going on? don't break up. you guys are soulmates." luke mumbled through a mouthful of food.

"sorry, luke. we have to." jack looked at y/n and smiled. "she's my soulmate, but platonically." he walked out of the room.

"we had a good run." y/n smiled and sat next to luke. "do you ever stop eating?"

"when i'm sleeping." he smiled widely and wiped his mouth. "so you and jack aren't dating anymore?"

"nope. but that's okay. i love him, but i don't think i was ever in love with him."

"is it because you and quinn are in love with each other?"

"what makes you think i'm in love with quinn?"

"well for one, i'm very attentive." luke chuckled. "plus i overheard you and jack talking about it. and i heard him and quinn talking last night. quinn ended things with olivia after he got back from the wedding because he realized that he would only be leading her on, which wouldn't be right. he told jack that whenever he sees you, it's like he forgets how to breath and his heart beats faster. sounds like love."

"that's a lot of information to consume so quickly." y/n looked at luke.

"hey guys. what's up?" quinn smiled as he entered the room.

"and that's my cue to leave. see you later." luke quickly walked out of the room, leaving y/n alone with quinn.

"well that was weird." he chuckled. "so, here we are again."

"looks like it." y/n couldn't even look at quinn.

"what are your plans for the day?"

"quinn, do you love me?" she quickly changed the subject.

"what? why do you ask?"

"luke told me a few interesting things a couple of minutes ago. said he overheard you and jack talking last night."

"well i don't know what he thinks he heard, but that wasn't it."

"quinn, just answer the question. do you love me?"

"even if i did, it would be wrong. you're dating jack."

"it was a lie." y/n looked at him. when he raised an eyebrow, she continued. "it was jack's idea to pretend to be dating. it was supposed to be an easy way to explain why we were sharing a room this year."

"i'm confused."

"it was also supposed to serve as a way to distract me from your relationship with olivia. he didn't want to see me upset about it."

"why would you be upset about me and olivia?"

"doesn't matter. heard she wasn't even coming up here anymore. what happened there?" y/n looked at quinn, already knowing the answer.

"we broke up." he sighed. "right after i got back from the wedding. but is it technically a break up if we weren't even dating?"

"why did you guys break up?"

"something tells me luke already told you."

"he did tell me something. but i want to hear your reasoning."

"well, at the wedding, i realized i had been lying to myself. i kept telling myself that i wasn't attracted to you in any way. but i realized that i actually was attracted to you. whenever i walk into a room and see you, it's like i forget how to breath and my heart beats faster."

"you seem to be having a good time breathing right now." y/n looked at him and smiled.

"i'm freaking out on the inside though. just don't want to show my emotions to everyone." he avoided her eye contact but felt her eyes burning a hole into the side of his head.

"quinn, why didn't you just tell me?"

"i was planning to. but then you and jack announced your relationship & it felt wrong." he finally looked at her. "but don't worry. i know it's fake but i can see how happy he makes you so you should be with him for real. i'm going to forget about this and move on."

"quinn, you can't just-"

"don't try to talk me out of it. my mind is already made up." quinn began to walk out of the room but y/n grabbed his arm.

"i love you. i didn't think i did but the wedding changed everything. and not just because we had sex. i thought that maybe it was all because of the romance of the night but i thought more about it. and when i saw you earlier, i couldn't stop my heart from going crazy. then you mentioned olivia and i realized that my heart felt like it was breaking. you smiled when you said her name and it was the kind of look that i hoped you'd give me one day." y/n let his arm go and sighed. "do you still want to forget about this thing between us?"

"i really, really don't." quinn held her face gently. "i love you too. so much. i know this is new for both of us but we can take it slow. we have all summer to make up for lost time. if you want to, that is."

"i definitely want that." y/n smiled and closed the gap between them. it wasn't their first kiss and it definitely wouldn't be their last.

jack had been watching from the hallway while their conversation went down. he was happy that two of his favorite people overcame their stubbornness to finally be together.

everything seemed to be fitting exactly where it needed to be.

[macfrog]

little aphrodite sex on fire chapter nine

the amount i had to write jean-marc in this chapter makes me nauseous. anywho. these two heal my soul and make me weep. please enjoy a little look back at the ceo's experience of paris.

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: we're going back to paris. this time, through joel's eyes.

warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalance of power dynamic, alcohol consumption, ostentatious flaunting of wealth (eat the rich i say), sugardaddy!joel, softdom!joel, oral (f and m receiving), daddy kink, praise kink, cursing, angst & pining, and...well. the ceo falls in love.

word count: 7.5k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 💚

He wasn’t even sure you’d say yes when he asked. Thought you’d find it a bit much, flying halfway across the world just for one lousy meeting. He had what he’d say when you turned him down in mind, already: Sure, yeah, no problem. No, I just thought – Yeah. ‘s alright. I’ll bring you back som’ as a souvenir.

But you didn’t.

Oh, yeah? you’d said. Your face seemed to light – humored, impressed even. It made Joel feel braver. Reassured. You’ve a habit of doing that to him.

Mhm, he replied, chewing on the sub you’d ordered him after his conference call. He can’t remember what he promised Human Resources he’d have done within the hour. You walked in as he was saying it, and – well. Two days, he said, swallowing, Saturday Sunday.

And are you gonna make me take minutes while you meet with this Jean-Marc? You wiggled your fingers as you said it, letting the name drip through your lips in some kind of dreamy song. I don’t make the flight back unless they’re typed up by the time we leave? That the catch?

No catch. You don’t even gotta come to the meetin’.

I don’t have to –? Wow, Miller. You’re spoiling me, no? You kicked your leg, one knee hooked over the other. Your skirt shrinking up your thigh.

You were sat in the chair on the right, opposite his desk. You always sit in that one – and Joel’s still trying to figure out why. The working theory so far is that it’s at a good angle to watch the city below, and at the same time, see exactly who comes and goes in and out of the office during lunch.

But there has to be more to it, he thinks. He suspects. Martha’s desk is, like, five feet from yours. She spends her lunches in the conference room with Deb, shaking salads doused in balsamic vinegar and sharing cross-floor gossip. They invite you every day, and almost every day, you turn them down in favor of his shuttered office, the muted swish of cars on the street, the mock gasps and clutch of invisible pearls when you share that same fifth-floor gossip with him over the desk.

You’d been talking while he’d been thinking about the damn chair. He hadn’t heard a word of it. Huh? he asked, and you rolled your eyes.

Ain’t never listenin’, you muttered, peeling the damp paper back from your own sub.

Say it again, Joel said. Was just making a mental note to book dinner for us over there.

You scoffed, licking mayo from the corner of your lips. Why you making mental notes for anything? That’s what you pay me for.

And you were right – it is what he pays you for. Pays you to be his shadow, his right-hand man, his eyes and his ears and his entire brain, some days.

But lately – he doesn’t know. It’s different.

Truth be told, he has no idea what’s gotten into him. Looking at you the way he is. You’ve fucked around twice, now, and both times have been…nothing short of fucking amazing. Both times, Joel’s thought he might come within the first two minutes. Pushing inside your velvet walls, watching the way you roll forward, hearing the lewd moans pour across your lips.

He’s always thought you were attractive. It’s pretty fucking hard to ignore. Physically, sure – the look of your body, the way you know how to dress it. And the prettiest, softest face he’s ever seen. You can win him over in any discussion without a word, just by fluttering your eyelashes at him.

But you’re more than that. He thinks of you both as friends, maybe something more. Something deeper. It’s in the glances you steal, the silent lines tossed between one another. The way you read one another like an open book. Sometimes, he wonders if you actually can read his mind.

You’re intelligent, you’re funny, and you’re a hard fucking worker. Always on time, always seemingly juggling thirty things at once, and never letting him down. Nothing is too much, it seems; everything just is as it is. And he likes that about you. Simple. No baggage.

The morning of the flight, you send him a voice note telling him you’re downstairs. “And I ain’t lugging two cases up to the top floor only to bring ‘em back down when we’re leaving, Mr. CEO.”

He’s striding past Martha for the elevator before he’s even done listening to the message.

“Uh-uh!” she chirps, dashing over to slip between the brass doors behind him.

Joel sighs under his breath.

“I know better than to rely on you to remember all this stuff,” she says, holding up a file he’d asked her to put together for the trip.

She’s right not to – he’d probably leave that file in the car, or put it down somewhere and walk off without it. You’re the only one who can be trusted with it – with anything. You’re good at your job. And yet, he resents the fact that Martha’s about to lump you with even a fraction of responsibility for the next four days.

So when the Rolls pulls off and Martha is nothing but a pin-sized silhouette through the back window, still waving from the sidewalk, he pinches the folder in two fingers and tosses it to his left hip. Out of your grasp. You smile, eyes rolling, and pop your earbuds in. Joel breathes a laugh, eyes dipping again to skim read some contract on his phone. His hand is locked around your thigh. He likes that you just let him do it now.

Likes a lot of things about you. Likes that you put your music on shuffle, and then skip eleven tracks until you find one you actually want to listen to. Likes that your fingers twirl around the light chain of your necklace – the way they do anytime you’re nervous – and when he asks if you’re alright, you bareface lie to him and squeak, Yep.

Likes the glow the morning sun casts on you when you emerge from the car on the tarmac, pooling in the dimples on your cheeks, bright gold. The way you tug on the loose cotton of your sweatpants, bashful. Shy. And he likes that, when he follows you up the steps to the plane cabin, your awestruck expression lasts all of five seconds before that quick wit kicks straight back in.

“Feelin’ pretty guilty about all the air pollution,” you tell him, and Joel silently says his fifth thankful prayer this morning that he thought to ask you and not Martha.

He watches you settle into a seat by the window, watches you crane your neck to survey the view from the tiny circle of thick glass. He thinks about what he’d do if you were alone right now, if there weren’t crew slowly filing into the jet behind him.

He floats the idea. Tells you about the bedroom up back, tells you it’s cozy. You read between the lines just like he wants you to. And when the plane’s in the air, you follow after him.

You fall into bed together the same way you do when you arrive at the hotel. A tangle of limbs, of sweat and stuffy plane air. He sleeps the soundest he has in months – years, maybe. Pushed off by the sound of your breathing, the dip in the mattress by his side. The warmth which radiates from your body, the soft brush of your hand against his.

He puts it down to the travelling – the eight-hour flight, the plushy super king waiting on the other side. He puts it down to the way the world feels different, this side of the Atlantic. The privacy he feels come over the two of you, like sneaking into the next room: your voices muffled through the wall, your movements reduced to vague shadows beneath the door.

He watches you through sleepy eyes as you prance around the suite in the morning, twirling in and out of the bathroom while you get ready for the day. He wonders if this is what you’re like every day – if you spend your Monday mornings beaming like a little kid, toothbrush hanging lopsided from the corner of your mouth, white bubbles lining your gums. He wonders why he’s wondering. Why a part of him wants to see that version of you, too.

This version – now following his lead down Avenue Montaigne, doe-eyed and wonderstruck – is over all too soon. He’s dragged from her, from you, before he’s ready to leave.

His phone vibrates in his pocket right as he’s leading you out of some ridiculously overpriced jewelers – an irritating reminder of his meeting in an hour’s time.

“Fuck,” he whispers, holding you steady as you spin around to glimpse at the baroque building. “Hey, pretty girl,” he squeezes your hand, “I got some bad news.”

Your bottom lip pouts, eyes gleaming. It’s enough, he thinks, to convince him to stick around. If you asked him to, he’d text Jean-Marc right now and tell him to fuck off. But you tell him to go, tell him you’ll meet him back at the hotel once he’s done and you’re tired. With a teasing smirk and a tiny wave, you see him off down the cobbled street. He watches from the back window as you set off again, heading towards another iron-gated store.

Denis pulls up alongside the towering hotel, totters around the car to meet Joel as he stretches out of the Maybach. The square-jawed man stands with his hands linked, and nods enthusiastically when Joel thanks him.

“The shopping – I will take it back to the hotel,” he assures his boss, a wide smile on his lips.

He’s a good guy, Denis. He’s chauffeured Joel to five of these meetings over as many years – he knows the drill by now. Knows it’ll be a couple hours and a few whiskeys before he gets another call to pick him up.

His nodding doubles, more obedient when Joel asks him to make sure he listens for your call. “You mind stayin’ nearby that part of town?” he asks. “Just so – when she’s done, y’know…”

“Not at all,” Denis says, flapping two palms to the ground. Swatting away Joel’s concern, his worrying, his missing you.

He replies, a little absentmindedly, passing by the head of gray hair with a distant smile. “Thanks, Denis. See you later.”

Five meetings, five trips over here to be pestered by some obnoxious little man in an obnoxious little robe and obnoxious little loafers, and still, Joel never knows what to expect. He strides beneath the golden archway entrance into a domed lobby, every surface spotless and shining; marble counter in the center with a symmetrically-suited clerk sat behind.

She stands and smiles politely to Joel as he approaches, recognizing him with a flutter of her eyelashes. He feels the absence of your arm on his, an ache at his elbow.

“Monsieur,” she croons, pale fingers reaching for the telephone. She whispers something softly into the receiver and then nods, folding her painted lips together as she places the handset back into its cradle. With a floating hand aimed at the elevator behind her, she says, sultry and dreamlike, “He is ready for you.”

Joel fights an eyeroll with every fiber of his being. He wanders round the circular desk, bunches his shoulders into the tight elevator, and jams his thumb into the button marked P.

The doors shudder open when he reaches the top floor. He steps out slowly, waiting for the Frenchman to pounce on him like some kind of wild cat. Wouldn’t put it past him, Joel thinks. As he’s scanning the room, counting the six bouquets dotted around, there’s a single clap from behind the veiled curtains. A silhouette out on the terrace.

Jean-Marc swings between the sheer white, calling out to the lonely figure in his entryway. “If it isn’t my favorite American,” he sings, taking Joel by the arms and squeezing roughly. “How lovely to see you again, Joelie. Please, come.”

The sunlight blinds Joel when he steps out into it, peering over the city skyline under low brows. Jean-Marc is already sat at the top of a thin, glass table, pouring golden whiskey into a square glass and scooping two bulky ice cubes in. The nectar swirls around when the glass is held out to Joel, the ice tittering as he accepts it.

The table, a rocky terrain of pain au chocolat and brioche, pools of citrus spreads and dishes of butter. Joel keeps his hands to himself as Jean-Marc slaps jam onto a croissant, bronze flakes fluttering all over the table as he attempts to regale Joel with some investment into a casino.

“Riccardo says it is too much; I told him to go to hell. We will double the cost of the place, I know it, Joel. We have the eye for things like these, men like you and I, hm?”

Men like you and I, Joel thinks, lips tilting. He balances the glass on his thigh, watches the ice cubes turn over themselves. He thinks of you, thinks of the man you see him as. Thinks how tall he stands against the man Jean-Marc must see sat opposite him right now.

Thinks how rotten, and ugly, and how small the latter is. How easily you and your words could crumble him. All show, all sitting on perfect terraces with pretentious dickbags disguised as friends, drinking pissy whiskey with a plastered smile on his lips.

How comical it all is – the sound of yapping across the tabletop, These idiots would pay millions for manure if you painted it golden, the sprawling sheets of green-leafed plants, the headache-inducing flowers, the buckled loafers and the signet ring catching the sun.

How much he misses the weight of you on his hips, forearms flat on his chest, ear against his heart. The sound of your laughter lilting in his ear. The rosy smell of your skin and the feel of your eyelashes, featherlight on his cheek. He feels the distance between the two of you like elastic strung apart, stretching thinner and thinner, weaker and frailer, ready to snap into two halves at any moment.

“Anyways,” Jean-Marc says, lifting the wine bottle shakily. It clinks brashly against the lip of his glass, a painful scrape. Joel wonders if he’s already halfway to hammered. “Tell me how you’ve been, Joelie.”

Joel tells him he’s been fine. Business is fine. Money is fine. Company’s doing fine. Everything’s fucking fine. Easiest answer to avoid further questioning, to satiate Jean-Marc’s constant thirst for news, or intel, or just plain gossip.

He slips up, though. Makes the one colossal mistake he spent all morning hoping and praying and drilling directly into his brain that he wouldn’t.

Jean-Marc asks how his flight was, sticking the damp end of a cigarette to his bottom lip.

Joel says, “Good, yeah. We got here, maybe, ten o’clock last night.”

And Jean-Marc’s eyebrows arch. His hands freeze, match held against the striker strip. “We?” he asks, white stick flapping between his teeth.

“Uh,” Joel shifts in his seat. Your gentle wave, the corners of your lips, the toss of hair over your shoulder. It’s as though Jean-Marc can see his thoughts played on a reel before him, the haste with which Joel attempts to wipe you from his own mind. “Yeah,” he clears his throat, “Jerry ‘n Lisa. Len and Pol.”

The Frenchman’s eyes narrow, a grin pulling on his pink lips. “We,” he says again, whipping the match roughly against the strip. Speaking into cupped hands, a cloud of white billowing from his leathery fingers, he murmurs, “Joel brought company with him to Paris, yes? Who is the lucky tourist? Une petite amie?”

Joel’s tongue dabs at the sickly wash of whiskey on his lips. He thinks to grab the fucker by the throat, throttle him until the idea of you rattles from his skull, spilling back into Joel’s safe hands where you belong.

He almost fucking lies. Almost says it’s just Martha, or Drew, or his fucking mother. But Jean-Marc is like a rat, scurrying along after a source of water. He’ll find it in the end. They always do.

He breathes your name, reluctant to let it go. Jean-Marc cocks his head, leans in, a swirling snake of silky smoke lifting from the cigarette between his fingers. Joel repeats it, voice louder, but flatter. Breaks it into too many syllables. Lets his host hear every bite of annoyance.

“She’s my assistant,” he says, and Jean-Marc claps again.

“Your assistant! How wonderful. And where is she today? She is not…” his fingers circle the air, disturbing the trail of smoke, “…assisting you?”

“Gave her the afternoon off.” Joel lifts his glass to his lips. The geometric shape amplifies his voice, bass like the growl of a bear. “Busy couple days. She deserves some downtime.”

He hates the sound of your name as it peels from Jean-Marc’s tongue. Like a hangnail, the residue a gorge of bloody, torn skin. Your name is Joel’s favorite sound, he realizes now, and the way this little asshole keeps butchering it boils an anger so hot and so quick under his skin that he’s not sure he can hold it at bay.

It’s not as if he owns you or your name – far from it. He has no desire to be anything more than a placeholder: somewhere for you to slot your hand, rest your head, curl your body against. Still, he feels a direct protectiveness over you right now. An impulse to stand in front of Jean-Marc’s tiny figure, arms wide, stopping him from picturing you or learning about you or meeting you.

Which is, of course, exactly what the little fucker suggests.

A wet pff sound as he rids his mouth of bitter smoke, and he offers to host breakfast in the morning.

“No, no, we, uh –” Joel’s hands are up, like pleading with the man, whiskey kissing the lip of its glass, “– you don’t have to – Look, Jean-Marc, I’m sure you’re busy enough with all –”

“Nonsense!” Jean-Marc waves a hand. Ash sprinkles down the cuff of his robe. “It would be my pleasure. Shall we say, ten?”

Joel grumbles, eye following the flight of a bird in the distance. What are you doing right now? Are you back in the suite, trying on the outfit you picked out together? Are you still wandering down the streets, drinking up the lavish city like a perfect little cocktail of bliss and wonder?

And what the fuck does he have to do to excuse himself, to come find you, to wrap his arms around you and never let you leave his side again?

He feels idiotic. Juvenile. Like a stupid little teenager, pining for his junior year girlfriend. The feelings all sharp and brittle, prodding his heart roughly anytime he thinks too hard on them.

When he looks back to Jean-Marc – the cigarette tearing closer and closer to his fingers, an expectant smile on his lips – he concedes.

“Ten is fine,” he says, and suddenly, the sky casts over.

You’re on the terrace when he finally returns to the hotel room. Head aching from the alcohol and forced conversation, he drags himself over to you.

The sight of you, hair lifting in the breeze, the sweet smell and soft touch under his hands feels like the pouring of honey on a raw throat, like cool water lapping at his waist on a scorching day. And he needs more, and he feels the saliva pool beneath his tongue, and you’re touching him and talking to him and all he can think about is replacing his saliva with you – with every drop of you that you’ll lend him.

You follow his every request – parting your legs, making room for him between them, opening yourself to him like coming home after work, like sinking deep into your shared bed, like pushing your salt-slicked fingers on his tongue and chanting taste me taste me love me need me.

Petals opening, shards of orange separating. His cock throbs in his pants when he feels the circle of your hips against his jaw, the taste of sweet, sweet nectar spilling from your center. His clothes still smell of the smoke from Jean-Marc’s weedy lips; the sweat on his skin borne from three hours sat in the sun, dehydrated by whiskey, discussing money and gold and then money again.

He doesn’t want to fuck you here, like this. As that puny, pompous prick he’s felt like since the second he wandered through the Frenchman’s hotel doors. He can’t. You deserve him clean, new. You deserve the Joel you think he is – yours. Affected by your touch alone, moved by the gleam in your eye. You deserve him, Joel decides, on your terms.

And that same night, stood in the same spot, dregs of sunlight replaced by molten moonlight, staring at the dazzling Eiffel Tower against the deep blue sky – that same night, when he turns and clocks the silhouette of your body just feet from him, he realizes that this is it.

He’s sure he thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, standing in the dim light, your fingers playing with the bust of the silk robe draped over your body. The jewelry on your neck catching the light like his own private attraction, his own little spectacle. Just for him.

He forgets any other version of himself. Shakes them off like seawater flying from his body as he emerges from the ocean. Venus stood before him; hair lifting in the light, palm over her breast. And he doesn’t notice the departure of those old versions; doesn’t feel the way they tear from his skin. His eyes are glued on you, only you, everything around the two of you reducing to dark matter. There is only his awestruck gaze pointed to your radiant form, as though the scene sits alive in the eye of Botticelli or Michelangelo.

Baby, he whispers, and you move forward, dragging him with you under a wave of lust and rebirth.

He stirs the next morning to the feeling of a weight shifting across his body, two divots in the mattress either side of his waist. Something nuzzling, warm and featherlight, into the nook below his earlobe. Wet kisses trailing down his neck.

There’s no weight of you in the crook of his arm anymore. He’s scooping thin air. He lifts it, and his palm meets the baggy cotton of his own T-shirt, draped over your body, draped over him.

A laugh brushes between his lips. “Mornin’, darlin’,” he croaks, voice still low and broken.

“Hi,” you whisper back, voice like silk and sugar and tufts of lustrous clouds.

He opens his eyes and you’re hovering over him. Tip of your nose circling his, hips light as air across his own.

You look so fucking cute, he thinks. He’d take what he had last night – you, dripping in black lace and bound by satin straps – every night for the rest of his life, if he could. If you’d grant him it. But, this. This.

You – in Joel’s clothes and nothing else. You – the curl of your hair now a lazy wave, the smoky afterthought of your half-removed makeup. The smell of sex still lingering on your skin, the taste of Joel still home on your tongue. Each part of you laced with a part of him.

You – holding yourself up over him, less than an inch apart, and all Joel thinks to do is wrap his arms around your back and let you drop onto his body; his strong, solid body, which accepts the weight of you with only so much as a tiny grunt over his lips when you fall on top of him.

You giggle. He swears he feels butterflies in his stomach. He prays you don’t feel them, fluttering purposefully against your ribcage.

“You’re an idiot,” you mumble into his collarbone, words curled by the smile on your lips. You suck a mark into the hot skin, teeth and flesh and sel et sucre, and then push off from his chest, nudging his thighs wider with your knee.

Your tongue drags a wet trail down his chest, from solid sternum to suppler stomach, following the thickening of hair the lower you move. You leave wet kisses along the crests of his hipbones, the gentle slope of skin leading you to the wide base of his cock, already stiff.

Joel’s breath hitches when your tongue sweeps across it. Your eyes lift and lock with his, fingers taking a heavy hold of him. He smiles, tongue sitting patiently behind his teeth.

“Go on, angel,” he nods, “put that pretty little mouth on daddy.”

You obey instantly, as hungry for it as he is, your tongue swiping from the base of him up, curling around as you reach the head. Swollen, gleaming, slit dripping with slick precome that you lick with just the tip of your tongue and send a roll of pleasure across every nerve in Joel’s body.

He falls back, hands searching for the back of your skull as your lips sink further down down down, tightening around the smooth skin, stopping only when they meet the tuft of hair decorating his dick. His tip pushes against the back of your throat. His head begins to spin.

His back arches, hands anchored on your head, holding you steady as you bob up and down. His shoulders push heavy into the mattress, tummy sucks in until the points of his ribcage mold through his skin. And, oh – you’re so soft with it, so wet and so warm and so good with your tongue, kitten licks over his tip, wet fist wrapped tight around the width of him.

You lift your hand and meet his halfway up his stomach, fingers intertwining, Joel’s knuckles instantly whitening.

“Doin’ so good, baby,” he groans, gasping when your throat constricts around him again.

You gag, choking with a wet grunt, but you never pull away. A quick pause, a heavy breath from your nostrils, and your movements resume.

“’s alright,” Joel coos, fingers rubbing against the back of your hand, “you got it. Atta-girl, fuck.”

His hips begin to lift, slowly jerking up into your mouth. He looks down, loosens the grip you have on his hand only to run his thumb delicately across your cheek, dabbing lightly at the tears in the corner of your eye.

You suck hard around him, cheeks hollowing, tongue flattening to his underside to let him fuck your mouth – a rhythm of sopping sounds and heartbeat hums from your throat. He’s close. He’s so fucking close.

“Just like that,” he tells you, and you blink up at him. Moans muffled by the mouthful of cock, saliva and sex slipping from your swollen lips. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come. You’re such a good girl – you want daddy to give it to you?”

Mhm, you mumble into the warmth of his cock, the vibration of your throat on the eager skin enough to send Joel over the fucking edge. He throws his head back, lifts his hips up to you, and fills your mouth at the same rate he fills the room with the sound of his orgasm.

You take every last drop. You’re so good for him. Once he stills, once the screaming in his ears subsides, once the room slowly desaturates back to normal, a faded, blurry normal – he sits up and hooks his hands under your arms, pulling you up into him.

You collapse against his chest for the second time this morning, giggling and licking the last of his come from your mouth. Joel guides your jaw towards his, lips meeting in the middle, and licks the salty aftertaste from your tongue.

He rolls you both over, your thighs sitting safe on his hips.

“I know,” you sigh, head rolling against the curve of his arm beneath, “I know. You don’t gotta tell me.”

“Tell you what, angel?” he asks, one eyebrow lifting.

“Best head you ever had. I know.”

He scoffs, lips finding the hinge of your jaw. You giggle into his ear, a sound softer than birds cooing at the break of dawn, sweeter than the first bite of ripe fruit – the sharp taste bursting across his tongue and coating his teeth in sugar, numbed by the holy coaxing of feathered doves.

“You’re good with it, I’ll give you that,” he murmurs, and the giggle erupts into a laugh which fuels him enough to follow your roll out of bed, tear his shirt from your shoulders, and slip into the shower behind you, kneeling before you when you turn to look.

Joel’s second encounter with Jean-Marc in as many days, goes about as well as the first.

He balls his fists as he introduces the pair of you, watches like a caged and bound animal as Jean-Marc’s eyes loop all around your face, your shoulders, the pull of your dress around your waist.

He knows he’s being quiet. The glances you keep stealing at him tell him you know it, too. He wishes there was something he could say, something his lips might be able to carve into a neat little sentence. Tongue sanding the jagged edges of what he’d really like to say into a joke, a quip to ease the tension you so obviously feel.

But he can’t. His tongue isn’t blunt, isn’t defensive. It’s sharp like the kiss of venom, protective and aggressive. He knows he’d do better to hold it tight between his teeth.

The best he finds himself able to do is keep a heavy hand on your thigh, let you wrap your fingers around his own, squeeze you in place of whispering in your ear.

You hold your own, up against Jean-Marc. He knew you would. He learned less than a week into working with you, not to underestimate you. Your quick tongue, the million and one observations hidden behind the flash of a frown. He knows you can read Jean-Marc – probably better than he can, having known the guy ten years.

It doesn’t make it feel any safer, though. Luring you into a lion’s den. He knows you’ll make it out alive, but he can’t stand the thought of the claw marks in your skin.

That feeling washes over him again – that urge scored so deep into his bones that it hits marrow, to put himself between you and anything which might come to harm you. He swallows it down with the acidic sting of orange juice – slots it somewhere safe in his chest until he can assess whatever the fuck it is. Whatever the fuck it means.

His hand tightens around your leg when Jean-Marc mutters something to his assistant. Joel decides against asking you what it means, for fear he’ll tear the Frenchman limb from limb, strips of satin robe strung across the paved patio.

The assistant – tall, thin, looming over you like impending doom on legs – offers to show you the view of the city. And as Jean-Marc settles into your empty chair, the image of that torn satin robe shunts closer towards reality.

“I wonder if you might indulge me,” Jean-Marc slithers, pinching thin air with one hand and resting the other on the back of Joel’s chair.

“I wonder,” Joel mutters, finger tapping angrily on the table.

“She is a wonderful character. Beautiful, and very smart, I can see. I would be crazy not to ask, you must understand, Joel –”

He can’t help himself. He bites before Jean-Marc lays the trap. His head shakes. “She’s – she’s –”

And suddenly there isn’t a single word in the English dictionary worthy of describing you. Not a single combination of letters, of sounds, of syllables and phonetics that would do you justice.

He settles for, “I wouldn’t be anywhere without her.” It feels fucking redundant. It is fucking redundant.

Jean-Marc nods. “And you know that I see the value in things, hm?”

Joel dead-eyes his opponent, gaze narrowing. “What are you sayin’, Jean-Marc?”

“Well,” he shrugs, gesturing to the shadow pointing out the Eiffel Tower, “Paul is fantastic. Dedicated, hardworking. But it is a lot, for one person. I am sure you can understand, being that you have two assistants yourself.”

“And you wanna take one of ‘em out from under me?”

Jean-Marc chuckles, shaking his head. Tutting. Teeth grinding. He senses the bitter tone, hears the distortion of words squeezing through gritted teeth. “Not at all, my dear Joelie, not at all.”

Placating. It pisses Joel off more.

“I simply would like to raise the question of: would she like to be…taken?”

“Taken?”

“Hired. By me.”

The smug grin which pulls over taut lips incites Joel with a desire to punch the luminous veneers from their gummy holders. His fist balls again, nails digging harshly into his palm. He swallows roughly.

“She seems…she seems happy enough where she is to me.” He glances over, catches your eye for a fleeting second before Paul’s ghostly hand perches on your shoulder and turns your attention away again. Resigned, he adds, “You would have to ask her. I ain’t speakin’ for her.”

Jean-Marc’s leer only grows. “Ask her,” he repeats, nodding. “That is an idea.” He pushes out of his chair with a squeal of wood across stone, calling to the party, “Why don’t we take a drive? There is so much of the city I would love to show you – both of you, of course.”

Before he knows it, Joel’s on his feet, too, panic hammering through every muscle in his body. He tosses some half-assed excuse to the breeze; a half-truth, a desperate attempt to pull you away from the beady eyes and sharp claws of Jean-Marc and his assistant, and back over to his side. He takes your arm and scatters, pulling you past four, five, six bursting bouquets, your heels clicking along the polished floor, your head spinning.

He can feel the blood thrashing through his veins as the elevator arrives back in the lobby. Can see the shadow of Paul the assistant still over your shoulder, the place his hand sat like charcoal on white linen. He feels red hot, anger mixed with panic mixed with a word he hasn’t let slip just yet. He covers it by answering your questions shakily, diverting the ones about the conversation on the terrace.

And then you’re back in the safety of Denis’s car. You’re back to being on your own, together. No third set of eyes watching your every move, studying you like you’re some doll to be observed, or worse. You’re touching him again, holding his arm, caressing his cheek. His breathing eases, his body relaxes into the backseat of the Maybach.

You tell him you’d like to see the Louvre. So Joel takes you to see the Louvre.

Joel Miller has never been in love.

He’s said it, sure. Said it plenty to Avery.

G’night, love you.

I’m so proud of you, sweet; I love you so much.

Thanks for makin’ dinner, babe, I love you.

It began to take the form of breath, passing over his tongue with as much ease and instinct as his lungs would push out air. She looked at him a certain way – he’d say he loved her. They’d talk about the future – he’d tell her he loved her. They fought, over his working hours or the interest rates at different banks or whose family to spend Christmas with – and he’d remind her he loved her.

He meant every single one. He did, truly, love her. He loved her auburn hair, the way it’d sweep over her shoulders like a wave of fire. He loved the way she would pause to take thirty photos of the sky at sunset. He loved how homely she was, how simple and warm she could be. Her recipe books lining the shelves in her kitchen. Her pajamas folded neatly at the foot of her bed, waiting for her at the end of the day.

He loved her enough to spend four years with her, a life split nearly down the middle. Never seeping into one another. His side of the bed, and hers. His items in the fridge, and hers. His fucking bathrobe, and hers.

But right now, standing in a jam-packed room, maneuvering awkwardly around museum guides and backpacked tourists, avoiding the knee-height glass barriers and dodging fucking selfie sticks – Joel knows: he has never been in love.

Not until the moment he turns from some headless bust to search the room – the dark marble walls and great, carved arches; the white Parisian sky illuminating everything in a pale glow. Not until he catches a glimpse of you amongst the sea of bodies – stood before the Venus de Milo, staring up in wonder at Aphrodite like she’s the first thing in the world you’ve ever truly seen. The gentle lean of her body, the low sling of marble fabric around her waist, the soft dimple of her navel.

The way your eyes scan every detail of her form – every fold draped over her thigh, ever chisel mark and chip in her torso. The round swell of her breasts and the wavelike swirl of her hair. Barely blinking, afraid to lose sight of her for even a second.

Joel’s never been in love. Not until this very moment.

He only turned to make some quip about…well, now he can’t fucking remember, can he? Something irrelevant. Something so mundane, so meaningless, so dull that he wishes he could take back every word he ever said to you and use the breath more wisely – use the time spent making stupid jokes and work orders, just to look at you. Watch you, like he is right now. Every other thought, every worry and concern drop weightlessly from his mind, with such ease that he doesn’t feel the loss.

Your fixed stare up at the statue’s set face, the slow pacing of your heels, ankles crossing over one another as you pivot around her. And the look of wonder on your face – as if Joel instantly recognizes eight-year-old you, thumbing through the pages of the first art book she was ever gifted, copying the curled hair and round shoulders of the marble goddess in a pencil sketch.

Haloed by the towering windows behind you, arms crossed over your chest. Lips melting from a content smile to agape, and then pinning back in a smile again.

And suddenly – he can’t remember the flame of hair over his ex’s shoulder. Doesn’t remember a single meal she ever cooked for him. In the blink of an eye, he realizes he doesn’t want a life neatly split anywhere.

He realizes that his life, the way he wants it, was always meant to be meshed with yours. Intertwined so tightly that there is no his and hers. Last night at dinner, you couldn’t decide between the bœuf bourguignon and the confit de canard, so Joel ordered both – as well as what he wanted – and the two of you picked at three separate meals. Holding out forkfuls to feed one another, comparing and judging them like professional chefs on a fucking cooking show.

Back at the hotel, you fell asleep in his arms. Your head nestled under his chin; your arms curved around his shoulders. In the center of the bed, laying at an angle. When he got up this morning, the robe he threw around himself smelled like your perfume. The terrycloth on your shoulders, tinged with the weak scent of whiskey.

None of it – not the relationship you had before any of this happened, not the strolling over one boundary to the next, not the blurring of lines between colleague, and friend, and lover – has been neat. None of it has made any sense. And maybe that’s why he fucking trusts it so much.

Joel spent the first two weeks after you fooled around in his office swearing he wasn’t that guy. Staring himself down in the mirror with a balled fist, a pointed finger that said, You don’t sleep with your fucking assistant, you idiot.

And now, standing opposite you in a crowded room and only seeing you – he knows. He finally gets it.

He loves you. He – no, fuck.

He doesn’t just love you.

He’s on his knees, dagger through his heart –

blood spilling all over the pristine floor –

pathetic and adolescent in its nature –

butterflies tearing through his stomach as destructive as a hurricane –

in love with you.

He thinks to say it. To wander over and kiss your shoulder, hook his chin into your collarbone like he did in the Dolce and Gabbana store, and whisper, Hey. I love you. Did you know that?

But he knows that’d be fucking insane. Knows you’d probably unstick yourself from him and back up, tripping in your step. Paris ruined.

He knows he’d probably get so far as curving around your back and then bottle it, anyway. The words would die in his throat. You’d just lean back into him, none the wiser. You’d still make his heart pound.

Pound the way it does when you reach for his wrist and drag him off into the next room, and the next, and the next. And with every piece of art your eyes fall upon, another fragment of your soul is revealed to Joel. The depth of da Vinci, the color of Bruyère. The scale of Veronese and the beauty of Canova.

And with every part revealed, a desire blooms in him to learn the next part. Understand you; know you better than he knows himself. See you, the way he’s seeing you right now.

He takes his ex’s lead, when you’re stood in front of the Mona Lisa. All those fucking sunset photos, like she was afraid to forget what it looked like. The thought becomes urgent, pushing past every other meaningless word in his head.

He taps you on the shoulder, says your name lightly. When you turn, he’s already holding the phone up, watching your delayed motions through the screen. Please don’t let me forget this. Don’t let me forget you, like this.

“Smile,” he says, and you do.

“You’re cheesy,” you tell him, wandering off from the painting.

He’s still staring at the photo. At your dimpled cheeks, your red lips. Staring at your eyes, seeing a new glint in them that wasn’t there before. Like eight-year-old you smiling back at him, trusting him, knowing him.

Joel breathes, “She’s beautiful,” taking your waist in a steady arm to guide you out of the room.

You misunderstand him. He knows it. He doesn’t correct you.

She’s beautiful – the Mona Lisa. But she only became beautiful the second you laid eyes on her. The second she handed you a piece of your soul, the transaction laid bare for Joel to witness. A bucket list item ticked, or simply your childhood self, stood before one of her own seven wonders.

Everything is only beautiful after it comes into contact with you.

There’s a change in you, the morning that you leave. Something low-lying, melancholy and blue. Joel feels it under your skin, in the grip you keep on his hand the entire car ride from the hotel to the airport.

“You good?” he asks, walking up the steps of the jet, shelled around you. Safe, with him, safe with him.

You nod, but you’re watching the Maybach roll off, rounding the corner back to the airport. The same way you watch the city disappear beneath the clouds as the plane takes off.

The same way you glance over to him, your glossy eyes twinkling, pearly tears swimming across your waterline. Joel gets it. Figures he feels much the same.

He leads you slowly back through to the dark cabin bedroom, where you peel the shirt and sweats from your body. He watches from the bed, arm outstretched and inviting you to burrow into his side, curl around his body, loop your legs through his. His own little Aphrodite, the curves and the dimples and all the beauty to go with her.

He sinks his shoulder to let you nuzzle into him, let your slow-closing eyes follow his movements like rocking you back and forth to sleep. You link your arm through his, locking your bodies tight together. Joel slows his typing down, moves gentler, so you can fall asleep without being nudged too much by his arm.

You mumble something into the sleeve of his tee. He pauses. Looks down at your already closed eyes, your parted lips.

“What’d you say, baby?”

You take a deep, slow breath. Already sleeping, he thinks. And then, in the sigh that escapes from your mouth, you whisper to him.

“Please don’t ever leave.”

[elizabethsnuts]

Mini Genius

Spencer Reid x Daughter!Reader

Summary: You and Spencer go see the team at Quantico, you wanted to show everyone how similar you were to you dad.

———

Spencer carefully adjusted your tiny beige cardigan, making sure it sat perfectly on your small shoulders. You looked up at him with wide, curious eyes, you absolutely loved dressing up like your daddy. Your hair was neatly styled, and you wore a small bow that matched the colour of Spencer’s tie. You were getting ready to go see the team at Quantico, you loved going to see all your aunties and uncles.

Spencer helped you put your white socks and little Mary Janes on, getting you out the door of the house. He carefully strapped you into your car seat, checking the harness twice to ensure it was secure. You giggled in delight as you watched your daddy’s focused expression. "Ready to go see the team, sweetheart?" Spencer asked with a smile.

You nodded enthusiastically and smiled brightly. “We gonna see, Auntie JJ, Auntie Emily, Auntie Penelope! An’ Uncle Derek! An’ an’ an’ Uncle Hotch!”

Spencer chuckled as you listed off the team with your little high-pitched voice, you really did adore the team. “Yep, we’re going to see everyone!”

———

Spencer walked into the elevator, you securely on his hip, your tiny feet swinging and wiggling as you eagerly waited for the elevator to go up. Your outfit really was a miniature version of Spencer’s, you wore a tiny vest over a button-up shirt, complete with little slacks, your tiny Mary Janes and of course your cardigan that sat over the vest and button-up shirt. It was clear that you idolized your father, mimicking his style down to the last detail. You had it down to a T.

When the two of you reached the bullpen, the team was already there, immersed in their work. JJ was the first to notice you. Her face lit up with a bright smile as she stood up and walked over.

JJ took you from Spencer’s arms and hugged you. "Look who's here!" she exclaimed, drawing the attention of the rest of the team. You squealed with delight as you saw familiar faces, waving excitedly to everyone.

"Well, if it isn't the littlest profiler!" Derek called out, standing up from his desk with a broad smile. "And she's dressed just like you, pretty boy!" He approached the three of you and he couldn’t help but tease Spencer. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Reid, did you forget to check your mini-me's wardrobe this morning?" he teased, earning a chuckle from the others.

Spencer chuckled and looked at you. “What? There’s nothing wrong with her outfit. She likes it!”

You nodded and smiled. “Daddy looks nice.” You stated simply.

"That he does," JJ chuckled, stroking your hair. "But I think you definitely pull it off more."

Morgan bent down and ruffled your hair. "So, Y/N, do you also have the smarts like your dad?"

Your eyes lit up, and you nodded vigorously. "Uh-huh! Daddy says I remember lots of things."

Morgan raised an eyebrow and looked at Spencer. "She's already showing off, huh? Just like you."

Spencer shrugged, a proud smile on his face. "It runs in the family."

"Alright, then," Morgan said, turning back to you. "What can you remember?"

You quickly pulled out a small, colourful book from your backpack. "Daddy took me to the aquarium, an’ I learned all about fishies!"

"Oh yeah?" Morgan's interest was piqued. "What did you learn?"

You opened the book and pointed to a picture of a clownfish. "This is a clownfish. They live in warm waters an’ like to hide in sea anemones. The daddy clownfish takes care of the babies."

"Wow, that's impressive!" Morgan said, genuinely astonished. "You remembered all that?"

You nodded enthusiastically. "An’ this," you flipped the page, "is a hammerhead shark. They can see really well because their eyes are on the sides of their heads. They like to eat stingrays."

Morgan looked up at Spencer, “Okay, pretty boy, I see you’ve made a carbon copy of yourself."

Spencer smiled proudly. "She has an eidetic memory, just like me. She remembers everything we read about at the aquarium."

JJ smiled at you as you flipped through your sea animal book. "I take it you had fun at the aquarium?"

You nodded vigorously, continuing to flip through the pages. "Yes, yes, yes, Aunty JJ! I saw lots an’ lots of fishies. An’ I remembered all their names!"

"Tell Aunty JJ about the octopus," Spencer encouraged you.

Your eyes lit up, and you turned to JJ. "An octopus can change colours to hide from predators. They have three hearts an’ blue blood!"

"Three hearts and blue blood?" JJ repeated, clearly impressed. "That's amazing, Y/N. You're so smart!"

You smiled shyly at the compliment. “Thank you! You know that boy seahorses carry the babies? An’ that starfish can grow their arms back!” You said excitedly with a smile. “Daddy reads bedtime fish stories lots and lots!”

JJ chuckled at your excitement and hugged you closer. “I think that all your sea animal facts are super super cool! I think that when you see Henry next he’d love to hear all about it!”

You giggled and nodded, clapping your hands together in your toddler-like excitement. “Daddy we go see Henry soon? With Aunty JJ!”

Spencer chuckled and nodded, taking you back into his arms. “Sure we can! We’ll organise a day for it, don’t worry.”

———

As the afternoon turned into evening, Spencer gathered up your things, ready to head home. The team gathered around to say their goodbyes, each one giving you a hug or a high-five.

"Come back soon, okay?" Garcia said while she hugged you and gave you double high-fives. “We love having you here, N/N."

You hugged her tightly, your little arms wrapped around her. "I love you, Auntie Penelope."

Spencer took your hand once more, and you waved goodbye to the team. As you walked down the hall, you looked up at your father. "Daddy, can we see more fishies tomorrow?"

Spencer smiled down at you. "We can do anything you want, sweetheart."

You grinned, satisfied with that answer. "I love you, Daddy."

"I love you too, Y/N," Spencer replied, lifting you up into his arms for a hug. He knew that no matter where life took him, as long as you had each other, everything would be alright.

[g-xix]

YouTubers+ Eating Out HC's

freezy, Lux, Deji, Ginge, Danny Aarons, ChrisMD (again), WillNE, James Marriott

Calfreezy -I feel like he'd go at a rly fast pace, like absolutely NO CHILL. -Has you on all fours so that after he's done he can either fuck you in doggy, or just turn you over and use your mouth -Isn't rly a bit fan of eating you out, more of a receiver than giver

Callux -This man absolutely savours it. -Can't tell whether who's more blissed out between the two of you, when he goes down -Missionary position so that he can look up at you whilst he brings you to climax, being able to see your gorgeous face -Not v aggressive or fast paced, each stroke of his tongue is done with purpose and has you moaning no matter what speed he goes at -Absolute praise whore, would close his eyes or moan into you if you tell him he's doing a good job -Licks everything from your thighs and core driving you into overstimulation post-orgasm

Deji -Sat on his face -Glasses are off so he can't see that well, but he alr knows the spots to make you weak -Grind down on his tongue sometimes bc you're too impatient -Makes groans of his own whilst he works which sends vibrations straight into your core making you totally WEAK in those knees whilst he's eating you out

Chrismd -Ofc he's obsessed w face sitting too. -Loves the thick girlies that are going to put all their weight on his tongue and let him eat em out goooood -So fucking pussy drunk, will absolutely lose his MIND giving wet, sloppy head -His biceps n forearms clamping you down so that your pussy is completely flush against his mouth and you cannot move for a moment of relief and he's still licking you up and driving you into overstim even after you've cum [yeah i also wrote his imagine here bc idk if he's a part of the ATV-G-Clarkey group or this one atp]

AngryGinge13 -first time you tried it was actually in the back of his car which didn't make for the nicest feeling in your neck a couple hours later -But he had you absolutely GRIPPING onto those grip assist things on the ceiling whilst he was going down though -He's 6"3 aka MASSIVE which gives me the impression he has some nice long fingers which he uses along with his mouth -Has your legs shaking when he pulls away with a cocky grin and asks "how's that?" as though he hasn't just caused you the hardest orgasm of your LIFE on his tongue

Danny Aarons -He deffo loves a thick girlie, like, just don't try tell me that he doesn't -Aaand also I feel like he's made it quite obvious on the internet that he likes a rougher experience -So I think that he doesn't care WHAT position it's in, just so long as your thighs are squeezing his head as though you are gonna crush it like a fuckin' watermelon -thread your fingers through his hair, pull on his locks, and be as loud as possible for him -He's purposefully gonna try make you loud - moaning his name like bloody Moaning Myrtle - and if you're not loud enough for him then he's gonna be sucking your clit with enough mf pressure to have you gasping his name

James Marriott -Honestly he could love the thick or slim girlies -Can imagine him manhandling any size of lady, he doesn't gaf -Not necessarily rough with you, ofc always asking you and making sure you're doing alright n are comfy and all... -But in random moments he'll just pick you up or flip you over so easily - just manhandle you so effortlessly it always gets you so turned on - but you'd never ask him to be rly rough with u bc u know he's not so much into that -Okay wow that was off-topic from eating out but BACK TO THE PUSSY LICKING GOOD STUFF -One of the only YouTube mf's that I think would have you on all fours in doggy position when he's licking you up -licking from your clit up to your hole and giving THE SLOPPIEST head, which is just so fucking hot too, spit n cum mixing n being used all the same and has you coming haaaard when his head's between your thighs

WillNE -Presses feather light kisses on your thighs and aaaall around where you actually need him, making you a desperate mess... -And of course he won't give you that satisfaction until you've begged sufficiently enough for him -Holds your thighs with his hands, fingers pressing into your pillowy thighs and just squishing them around... Probably leaves accidental little bruises the next day -Has his tongue flat and moves his head up and down, sometimes even side to side making his lips glisten with your arousal -Will come up once you've orgasmed, lips glistening with your slick and making a sinfully beautiful sight to behold

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

JUST AMP BOYS LEFT FOR THE HEAD HEADCANONS!!! Comment n lmk what sorta HC's youse all wanna see next + whether you've enjoyed the YouTubers Head series!

(and did I miss out any YT-ers you were hoping to see? LMK!)

Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see... Much love!!

To see more, here's my MASTERLIST

And here's my WATTPAD, with 50+ more oneshots to read

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Bloodlust | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, implied sexism/objectification

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

Dean was in the best mood you’d seen him in in a long time. He was grooving to his music as the Impala cruised along the highway; having finally fixed his baby. “Whoo! Listen to her purr! Have you ever heard anything so sweet?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know, if you two wanna get a room, just let me know, Dean.”

“Oh, don't listen to her, baby. She doesn't understand us.”

Sam laughed. “You're in a good mood.”

“Why shouldn't I be?” Dean questioned.

“No reason.”

“Got my car, got a case; things are looking up.”

You hummed. “Wow. Give you a couple severed heads and a pile of dead cows, and you’re little miss sunshine.”

He laughed. “How far to Red Lodge?”

Sam responded, “Uh, about another three hundred miles.”

“Good,” Dean smirked, flooring it.

***

The sheriff you and the brothers talked to obviously thought the three of you were insane when you questioned him about the decapitations and cow mutilations. He ordered you to get out of his office, to which you agreed.

Needing another plan, you and the brothers headed to the hospital in your respective suits and dress. You didn’t miss the way Dean’s eyes raked over your body as you made your way into the morgue.

“Decorum, please,” you teased, swishing your hips as you walked ahead of him.

Dean walked closely behind you and read the nametag of the unsuspecting intern sitting behind the desk. “John.”

“Jeff,” he corrected.

“Jeff. I know that,” Dean chuckled. “Dr. Dworkin needs to see you in his office right away.”

“But Dr. Dworkin's on vacation.”

“Well, he's back. And he's pissed, and he's screaming for you, man, so if I were you I would—” he clicked his tongue and jutted his thumb behind him.

The intern looked terrified and ran away.

“Hey, those satanists in Florida, they marked their victims, didn't they?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah, reversed pentacle on the forehead,” Sam responded.

“Yeah. So much fucked up crap happens in Florida.” He handed you and Sam pairs of latex gloves and tugged on a pair of his own. 

You pulled out a metal bed with a woman’s corpse laying on it and a box between her legs. 

“Alright, open it,” Dean told Sam.

“You open it,” Sam protested.

“You guys are pussies.” You grabbed the box and took the lid off, unfazed by the sight before you.

Dean cringed at the sight of the head, saying, “Well, no pentagram.”

“Wow. Poor girl,” Sam said.

“Maybe we should, uh, you know, look in her mouth, see if those wackos stuffed anything down her throat. Y'know, kinda like the moth in Silence of the Lambs.”

“Yeah, here, go ahead,” you smirked, spinning the box toward him.

“No, you go ahead,” he rebutted.

“What?”

“ ‘Put the lotion in the basket.’ “ 

You rolled your eyes. “Fine.” You pried her mouth open and looked down her throat. 

“Dean, get me a bucket?” Sam grimaced. “I'm going to puke.”

You felt around her mouth a bit more and found strange grooves above her gumline. You pulled her lip up and pressed just above one of the holes, and a fang descended. “Oh, this fucking bitch.”

“She’s already dead, (Y/N), relax,” Dean told you.

“Well, this changes things,” noted Sam.

“Ya think?” you and Dean asked in unison.

***

You and the brothers decided to go for a few drinks after the discoveries you’d made and pick up the next morning. You immediately felt a man’s eyes on you and uncomfortably shifted in your seat. “You pickin’ up what I am?” you discreetly whispered to Dean.

“Yeah, definitely,” he responded lowly, sitting on a barstool. “How's it going?”

The bartender answered, “Living the dream. What can I get for you?”

“Three beers, please.”

Sam began, “So, we're looking for some people.”

“Sure. Hard to be lonely,” the bartender smirked. 

“Yeah. But, um, that's not what I meant.” Sam pulled a fifty dollar bill from his pocket and dropped it in front of the bartender, who took it hesitantly. “Right. So these, these people, they would have moved here about six months ago, probably pretty rowdy, like to drink—”

“Yeah, real night owls, you know? Sleep all day, party all night,” Dean chimed in.

“Barker farm got leased out a couple months ago. Real winners. They've been in here a lot— drinkers. Noisy. I've had to 86 them once or twice.”

You and Dean thanked the bartender for his help and continued to nurse your beers. After a few minutes, you and the brothers continued to feel the man’s eyes on you. On high alert, all three of you moved for the door and noticed all that was left of the man was a smoldering cigarette in an ashtray.

You and the brothers walked out of the bar and past the Impala to lead the man who’d been stalking you away. You rounded a corner and jumped out of the way so the brothers could pin the man who’d followed you to the wall. Dean held a knife to the man’s throat and commanded, “Smile.”

“What?” the man asked.

“Show us those pearly whites.”

“Oh, for the love of— you want to stick that thing someplace else? I'm not a vampire," he replied nonchalantly.

You frowned.

“Yeah, that's right. I heard you guys in there.” Even his voice was unsettling.

“What do you know about vampires?” you asked.

“How to kill them. Now seriously, bro. That knife's making me itch.”

Dean cocked his head and the man started to pull away. Sam pinned him down harder. 

“Whoa. Easy there, Chachi,” the man said. He slowly brought his hand up to his lips and revealed normal gums. “See? Fangless. Happy?”

Dean let him up. “Now. Who the hell are you?”

"Gordon. Gordon Walker," he replied. "You?"

"I'm Dean. This is Sam; that's (Y/N)."

The man led you over to his car and pulled out an arsenal rack from behind his backseat. “Sam and Dean Winchester. I can't believe it. You know I met your old man once? Hell of a guy. Great hunter. I heard he passed. I'm sorry. It's big shoes. But from what I hear you guys fill 'em. Great trackers, good in a tight spot—”

Dean was on-guard. “You seem to know a lot about our family.”

“Word travels fast. You know how hunters talk,” the man explained.

“No, I don’t, actually,” you chimed in.

“You're a firecracker, aren't cha?” he asked. His somehow hauntingly melodic voice had you on edge.

You refused to respond.

“So, um, so those two vampires, they were yours, huh?” Sam jumped in.

“Yep. Been here two weeks.”

“Did you check out that Barker farm?” Dean questioned.

“It's a bust. Just a bunch of hippie freaks. Though, they could kill you with that patchouli smell alone.” You almost laughed at Gordon’s comment. 

“Where's the nest, then?” Dean asked.

“I got this one covered. Look, don't get me wrong. It's a real pleasure meetin' you fellas. But I've been on this thing over a year. I killed a fang back in Austin; tracked the nest all the way up here. I'll finish it.”

“We could help,” Dean suggested.

“Thanks, but uh, I'm kind of a go-it-alone type of guy.”

Dean groaned, “Come on, man, I"ve been itching for a hunt.”

“Sorry. But hey, I hear there's a Chupacabra two states over. You go ahead and knock yourselves out.” He got down into his car and leaned out of the window. “It was real good meeting you, though. I'll buy you a drink on the flip side.” He drove off.

“He seems like a world-class douche,” you commented as you watched his retreating red car.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Sam snorted. 

“C’mon.” Dean started off to his car.

“Where we goin’?” 

“To find ourselves a fang.”

***

Dean followed Gordon’s distinctive red car to a warehouse where you deduced he’d tracked a vampire to. 

You rushed up the labyrinth of ladders toward the sounds of a running mill saw and the two men struggling. When you arrived at the scene, you saw Gordon on the verge of getting his head taken off by the vampire and the saw. You and Sam each grabbed a boot and pulled Gordon away from the vampire’s impressive strength. Dean attacked the vampire and replaced Gordon with him, lowering the saw to the vampire’s throat. You watched in concern as blood sprayed across Dean’s face, and he seemed completely unreactive. 

“So, uh, I guess I gotta buy you that drink,” Gordon chuckled awkwardly. 

***

You agreed to meet Gordon back at the bar you’d met him at after you cleaned Dean up. Sam went into the bar with Gordon to get a round of drinks started. You took hydrogen peroxide out of the first aid kit in the car and began to wipe Dean’s face off with it.

“I can do this myself, y’know,” he mumbled.

“I do.” You let a silence settle between you before you spoke again. “What happened to you back there?”

“What do you mean?”

“Dean, you got fucking scary back there. I’ve never seen you like that,” you explained.

“I was just excited to get back to huntin’, (Y/N).”

“No, dude, I know you. You’re lethal but never… cold. You’re worrying me,” you admitted.

“Well, don’t, okay? I’m fine,” he said, lightly pushing you off him and taking the towel from you. He finished wiping himself off and began to walk inside. You were hurt but refused to let that show and followed him into the bar. 

***

Rounds deep of Gordon and Dean swapping stories, you and Sam were exhausted of the talk of blood, guts, and gore. Gordon soon circled back to Dean’s kill of the evening. “Dean,” he laughed. “You gave that big-ass fang one hell of a haircut, my friend.”

“Thank you,” Dean grinned.

“That was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Was it, though?” you questioned, ignoring the way Dean’s gaze burned into the side of your head and keeping your eyes locked on Gordon.

“You all right, sweetheart?” Dean asked you.

“Fine,” you responded.

“Well, lighten up a little, sweetheart,” Gordon jested.

“He's the only one who gets to call me that,” you immediately stated firmly.

He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay. No offense meant. Just celebrating a little. Job well done.”

“Right. Well, decapitations aren't my idea of a good time, I guess,” Sam chimed in.

“Oh, come one, man, it's not like it was human. You've gotta have a little more fun with your job,” Gordon said simply. 

"That's what it is, though," you broke in. "A job. I enjoy it, but bloodshed doesn't exactly get my rocks off." You kept your eyes locked on Gordon, who stared back.

Sam sighed and stood up. "Look, I'm not gonna bring you guys down. I'm just gonna go back to the motel. C’mon, (Y/N).”

“You sure?” Dean asked the two of you as you stood.

The two of you nodded wordlessly.

“Remind me to beat that buzzkill out of you two later, alright?” Dean joked, throwing Sam the keys.

You walked out angrily and didn’t say a word to Sam on the way back to the motel.

***

“I don’t like that guy,” you muttered to Sam as you paced around his and Dean’s motel room. “I really don’t like vampires, but I really don’t like that guy.”

“Yeah, me neither. I’m gonna call Ellen; see what she thinks.”

“Good idea.”

Sam raised the phone to his ear. “Hey, Ellen, uh, Sam Winchester… Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine. Got a question. You ever run across a guy named Gordon Walker?... And?... Well, we ran into him on a job and we're kinda working with him, I guess…” His face suddenly changed. “I— I thought you said he was a good hunter.” 

You watched curiously as he listened to another thing she had to say before bidding the woman goodbye. “I’m guessing she told you he was bad news,” you said once he’d hung up.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Great.”

“Sam, I hate vamps more than probably anybody. But Dean was just… so… not Dean when he took the head off that one,” you said.

“I know. It’s buggin’ me, too,” he sighed. “I’m gonna go get a drink. You want one?”

“Just a water, please,” you replied.

Minutes went by, and Sam still hadn’t returned from the vending machine. You were beginning to get a little worried, but decided that maybe he just needed a second to himself. When ten minutes turned into fifteen, though, you really started to panic. You darted outside and looked over to the vending machine. Sam was nowhere to be found. You called Dean in a panic, saying, “Dean, Sam’s gone. I can’t find him anywhere.”

“What?! What the hell happened?!”

“I don’t know!” You ran a hand through your hair. “He just went to get a drink, and now he’s gone!”

“Well, maybe he just went for a walk,” Dean tried.

“No, Dean, he would’ve told me. What the hell is with you? Normally, you’d be flipping out by now.”

“Watch it, (Y/N). Hang tight. We’re on our way.” He hung up the phone.

‘We. Gordon. Fucking fantastic.’

***

When Dean and Gordon returned to the boys’ motel room, you clung to the back wall, feeling very uncomfortable around Gordon and Dean’s new attitude.

Gordon was discussing strategies on how to get Sam back with Dean— supposing the vampires you were hunting was behind this— when the man in question strolled through the door.

“Sam?!” you asked, pushing off the wall and running to him. You hugged him tightly around his neck. “Where the hell did you go?”

“Can I talk to you two alone?” he asked you and his brother.

“You mind chillin' out for a couple minutes?” Dean asked Gordon, who shook his head. You and the brothers exited the room and stood in the parking lot. 

“Guys, maybe we've got to rethink this hunt.”

“What makes you say that, Sammy?” you asked. 

“Where were you?” Dean questioned.

“In the nest.”

“What? You found it?” Dean questioned. Yours and his eyebrows shot up.

“They found me, man.”

“How'd you get out? How many'd you kill?” the older brother asked.

“None.”

“Well, Sam, they didn't just let you go.”

“That's exactly what they did.”

“No fucking way,” you said. “I know vamps, they wouldn’t do that.”

“Well, how do you explain the fact that I’m not dead, (Y/N)?”

You shrugged. “Good point. But what the hell, man?”

“Where is it?” Dean asked.

“I was blindfolded. I don't know.”

“Well, you've got to know something,” the older brother pressed.

Sam huffed. “We went over that bridge outside of town, but guys, listen. Maybe we shouldn't go after them.”

“Why not?” you and Dean asked.

“I don't think they're like other vampires. I don't think they're killing people.”

Dean laughed humorlessly. “You're joking. Then how do they stay alive? Or undead, or whatever the hell they are.”

“The cattle mutilations. They said they live off of animal blood.”

“And you believed them?”

“Look at me, Dean. They let me go without a scratch.” Sam held his arms out to either side of himself, encouraging you and Dean to examine him.

“Wait, so you're saying—” Dean cut himself off. “No, man, no way. I don't know why they let you go. I don't really care. We find 'em, we waste 'em.”

“Why?” Sam huffed.

“What part of 'vampires' don't you understand, Sam? If it's supernatural, we kill it, end of story. That's our job.”

“No, Dean, that is not our job. Our job is hunting evil. And if these things aren't killing people, they're not evil!” the brunet argued.

“Of course they're killing people, that's what they do. They're all the same, Sam. They're not human, okay? We have to exterminate every last one of them.”

“Dean, I’m with Sam on this one,” you finally said.

“Really, (Y/N)? You?” he looked at you stunned.

“Yeah, dude. I trust Sam. I hate vampires more than the next person. But I just don’t feel good about this hunt all around. I say we leave these vampires and Gordon in our dust,” you responded.

“Oh, so that’s what this is about,” Dean scoffed. “Gordon?”

“Why are you so defensive of him?” you questioned, voicing rising slightly.

“Because he’s been going after these things for a year, (Y/N), I think he knows,” he said.

“Sam called Ellen. She says he’s bad news.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

Dean looked at his brother. “You called Ellen?”

Sam nodded.

“And I'm supposed to listen to her? We barely know her, (Y/N). No thanks, I'll go with Gordon.”

“Right. ‘Cause Gordon’s such an old friend,” you scowled. “You think I can’t see what this is?”

“What are you talking about?” Dean grunted.

“He's a substitute for your dad, isn't he? A poor one.”

“Shut up, (Y/N).”

“Hey! Don’t talk to me like that.” You stepped closer to Dean, face set angrily.

Dean wasn’t backing off. “Then don’t talk to me like that.”

The two of you were in each other’s faces, angrily staring each other down.

“You know what? I'm not even going to talk about this,” Dean grumbled, turning away from you.

“I know exactly what you’re doing, Dean. I can see right through you. I know how you feel. I lost my dad, too. But nobody can replace him. That hole you’re feeling hurts; I know. But this isn’t what’s gonna fix it.”

He snorted humorlessly. “Okay.” He walked away from you and scrubbed a hand through his hair. He turned to his brother. “I'm going to that nest. You don't want to tell me where it is, fine. I'll find it myself.”

You followed him back into his motel room. “We are not done with this conversation.” 

Dean went to respond to you but noticed Gordon was gone before he could. 

“You think he went after them?” Sam asked.

“Probably,” you said. “Dean, we have to stop him.”

“Really, (Y/N)? Because I say we lend a hand.”

Sam chimed in, “Just give me the benefit of the doubt, would you? You owe me that.”

“Yeah, we'll see. I'll drive. Give me the keys.”

Sam gestured to the table where he’d set the keys earlier, but they were gone. “He snaked the keys.”

“Fucking awesome,” you grumbled, eyeing Dean angrily for his trust in Gordon.

Dean then had to hotwire his own car, cursing under his breath about how he’d “just fixed her.” “So the bridge, is that, uh, is that all you got?” Dean asked his brother as the three of you began to speed off.

“The bridge was four and a half minutes from their farm,” Sam explained.

“How do you know?” you asked.

“I counted.” 

You smiled. This was another one of those moments where he reminded you a lot of Steven; he would've done the same thing.

The younger brother continued, “They took a left out of the farm, then turned right onto a dirt road, followed that for two minutes slightly up a hill, then took another quick right, and we hit the bridge.”

***

A while later, you and the brothers arrived at the farmhouse the vampires had been holing up in. You found Gordon circling a tied-up vampiress covered in scratches and her own blood. 

“Guys. Come on in,” Gordon grinned at you.

“You’re fucking sick,” you growled, eyeing him dangerously.

“You wanna get a handle on your girlfriend there, pal?” Gordon said to Dean.

Dean ignored his comment. “What's going on?”

“Just poisoning Lenore here with some dead man's blood. She's going to tell us where all her little friends are, aren't you? Wanna help?”

Dean sighed. “Look, man—”

“Grab a knife. I was just about to start in on the fingers.” Gordon dragged his knife across her arm, cutting her deeply.

“Stop it!” you ordered.

“Hey, let's all just chill out, huh?” Dean said simultaneously.

“I’m completely chill,” Gordon responded coolly.

“Gordon, put the knife down,” Sam quietly pleaded. He went to step toward Gordon, but Dean held him back.

“Sounds like it's Sam here needs to chill,” Gordon scoffed.

“Just step away from her, alright?” you tried.

“You're right. I'm wasting my time here. This bitch will never talk. Might as well put her out of her misery.” Gordon pulled out a larger knife. “I just sharpened it, so it's completely humane.”

You stepped to block Gordon from reaching the vampire. “Gordon, I'm letting her go.”

Gordon pointed the knife at your chest, stopping you. “You're not doing a damn thing.”

“Hey, hey, hey, Gordon, let's talk about this,” Dean broke in, concern rising in his voice.

“What's there to talk about? It's like I said, Dean. No shades of gray.”

“Yeah. I hear ya. And I know how you feel.”

“Do you?” He turned to Dean, but kept the knife trained on your chest.

“That vampire that killed your sister deserved to die, but this one—”

Gordon laughed. “Killed my sister? That filthy fang didn't kill my sister. It turned her. It made her one of them. So I hunted her down, and I killed her myself.”

Dean’s awkward smile wavered. “You did what?”

“It wasn't my sister anymore; it wasn't human. I didn't blink. And neither would you.”

“Gordon, I had to do the same thing to my parents,” you said. “But my parents were trying to eat me. I think that’s a bit of a different circumstance than these guys who are just eating a few cows.”

“Then you should understand why I have to do this.” He pushed the tip of his knife into your chest, trying to get you to back up. You hissed in pain.

Dean immediately drew his gun and pointed it at Gordon. “Cut it out.”

“So you knew all along, then?” Sam continued provoking the hunter. “You knew about the vampires, you knew they weren't killing anyone. You knew about the cattle. And you just didn't care.”

Gordon chuckled. “Care about what? A nest of vampires suddenly acting nice? Taking a little time out from sucking innocent people? And we're supposed to buy that? Trust me. Doesn't change what they are. And I can prove it.” With no warning, he grabbed your arm and sliced it open. You yelped as he held your arm out with one hand and held the knife to your throat with the other. He shoved you toward the vampire tied up in her chair.

Dean cocked the gun and demanded, “Let her go. Now!”

“Relax. If I wanted to kill her, she'd already be on the floor. Just making a little point.”

“Oh, you motherfucker—” he held your arm over the vampire while you struggled, causing blood to drip on her face. She hissed, and her fangs extended. 

“Let me go!”

“You think she's so different? Still want to save her? Look at her. They're all the same. Evil, bloodthirsty.”

The vampire controlled herself, though, retracting her fangs and turning her face away. You softened at the sight as Dean continued to try and intimidate Gordon.

“You hear her, Gordon?” Sam said. 

The vampire was stringing together a chant of “No” over and over again, trying to control herself.

You kicked Gordon between the legs and worked your way out of his grasp when the knife moved away from your neck. “We're done here.”

“Sam, get her out of here,” Dean told his brother. 

He did as told, and when Gordon tried to step toward him, Dean caught his attention with the gun. “Uh-uh. Uh-uh! Gordon, I think you and I've got some things to talk about.”

“Get out of my way,” Gordon told you and Dean, who both had guns trained on him.

“Sorry,” Dean murmured.

“You're not serious,” the man scoffed.

“I'm having a hard time believing it too, but I know what I saw. If you want those vampires, you gotta go through me.”

Gordon nodded, considering. He looked down at his knife and jammed it into the table. “Fine.”

Dean looked at the knife and then his gun. He pulled the clip out of his Taurus and set it aside.

“Dean, what are you doing?” you asked.

“Trust me on this one.”

You kept your gun trained on Gordon as he lunged at Dean. You couldn’t get a clear shot as the two of them rumbled around. You couldn’t lie, they were pretty evenly matched in hand-to-hand combat. Gordon grabbed his knife again and held it to Dean’s throat. “What are you doing, man? You doing this for a fang? Come on, Dean, we're on the same side here.”

“I don't think so, you sadistic bastard.”

Gordon threw Dean across the room.

“Hey!” you said, cocking your gun. “Back off!”

“Stay out of this, sweetie,” Gordon told you before turning back to Dean. “You're not like your brother. You're a killer. Like me.”

Dean kicked Gordon down and hauled him up against the wall before elbowing him between the eyes. He pinned him under his elbow and slammed his head into another wall. “Oh, sorry.”

You chuckled despite the situation as you and Dean began to tie Gordon up.

“You know, I might be like you, and I might not. But you're the one tied up right now,” Dean monotoned down at Gordon. He turned to you when he seemed to come back to reality. “Are you okay?” He put his hands on either side of your face and tucked your hair behind your ear. 

You nodded. “Fine.”

He grabbed your arm gently and looked over the cut Gordon had given you. Dean sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I’m gonna take care of that.”

“Dean, you don’t have to—”

“Yeah, I do.” He took a deep breath. “You were right.”

You gave him a lopsided smile. “I know.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to have a moment with you here,” he smirked.

You just smiled and looked down to the floor. “I know. Thank you.”

Sam came back into the room. “Did I miss anything?” he asked, noting Gordon tied up.

Dean shook his head. “Nah, not much. She get out okay?”

“Yeah. All of 'em did.”

Gordon groaned as he came back to. 

“Then I guess our work here is done. How you doin', Gordy? Gotta tinkle yet?” Dean snarked, making you giggle.

Gordon just glared at him.

“Alright. Well, get comfy. We'll call someone in two or three days; have them come out, untie you.” He jammed Gordon’s knife into the table behind him.

“Ready to go, Dean?” Sam asked.

“Not yet. I guess this is goodbye. Well, it's been real.” He hit Gordon straight across the jaw, knocking him to the floor. “Okay. I'm good now. We can go.”

As you exited the farmhouse, you grabbed at your arm that suddenly began to sting. 

“I wish we never took this job. It's jacked everything up,” Dean lamented.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“Think about all the hunts we went on, Sammy, our whole lives. What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing? You know? I mean, the way Dad raised us—” Dean trailed off and shook his head.

The younger brother’s expression softened. “Dean, after what happened to Mom, Dad did the best he could.”

“I know he did. But the man wasn't perfect. And the way he raised us, to hate those things; and man, I hate 'em. I do. When I killed that vampire at the mill, I didn't even think about it; hell, I even enjoyed it.”

“You didn’t kill that girl, though,” you pointed out.

“No, but every instinct told me to. I was gonna kill her. I was gonna kill 'em all.”

“Yeah, Dean, but you didn't. And that's what matters,” Sam reminded him softly.

“Yeah. Well, 'cause you two are a pain in my ass,” Dean grunted.

“Guess we might have to stick around to be a pain in the ass, then,” the brunet smirked.

“Thanks,” Dean said honestly.

“Don’t mention it.”

***

You returned to the motel to quickly shower off and gather your things. Dean followed you to your room and looked down at your arm. “Gimme that,” he said.

“What? My arm?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“This is our thing now, I guess, huh?” you asked as he pulled a chair up to where you sat on your bed, using your first aid kid to clean your wounds.

“Oh, god, don’t try and make this cute,” he groaned.

“Well, it is!” you protested. “I like how much you care.”

A comfortable silence settled over the two of you, and you began to work on Dean’s wounds he’d sustained from Gordon.

“(Y/N), I—” he began, “I was a complete asshole back there. I just… it’s what I told Sam, I mean, this changes everything for me.”

“I get it,” you nodded. “Me, too. You know I fucking hate vampires, and I wanted to smoke every last one of them. But I don’t know. I’m starting to see the humanity in ‘em, I guess.”

“‘S funny. Humanity in monsters.”

“I know,” you giggled. “Sounds stupid saying it out loud. But think about it. That chick reacted the way any regular person does with severe addiction. Just makes you think, y’know? Maybe they’re more like us than we ever thought.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Don’t get all philosophical on me; I can’t keep up when you do.”

“Yeah, but you love it, though,” you teased.

“I do, actually,” he said, much to your surprise. “You’re so smart, it scares me sometimes.”

“Whoa, look at you and your compliments,” you joked, grinning.

“What?" he chuckled.

“Normally I'm the touchy-feely one,” you answered, giggling. “But thank you. It means a lot coming from you.” You finished wrapping a bandage around his knuckles. “There.”

He flexed them painfully in your upturned palm before playing with your hand in his. You looked up at him, breath hitching in your throat. “Dee, if you’re not ready—”

“(Y/N),” he said, leaning in to you. You surged forward and connected his lips with yours.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[funnyjb]

To cool for you

…………………………………

“Joey.”- you

“Mhm.”- Joe

“You got to get up, babe.”- you

He turned his head to face you in his pillow. His hands were under his pillow and his back was bare. He only had his sweatpants on. You rubbed his back.

“That feels good.”- Joe smiled

You laughed

“Well, I’m going to stop because we got to get up.”- You

You leaned in and gave him a kiss on the forehead and got up out of bed.

“No, don’t go.”- Joe

“Joey, we got to get ready, baby.”- you

“Fine.”- joe sighed

He got out of bed and walked into the bathroom. You were already brushing your teeth. Joe looked at you in the mirror and you two made eye contact. Joe giggled and proceeded to brush his teeth.

You then later found your outfit for today. And Jean skirt with a white top and your Air Forces . It was only for the day.because later tonight was the after party which you got to get a little dressed up for. So you packed your long, yellow ,floral dress for later along with a Jean jacket incase it gets chilly. Joe the picked out his outfit and put his jeans and other shirt for later tonight in your bag.

“Okay, let’s get going!”- joe

You closed up the house and got In Joes car. The drive was 30 minutes and by the time we got to the venue vans and decorations were being moved.

Joe decided to have a look around and make sure everything was set up. I on the other hand decided to go find Robin and make sure everything was perfect for the surprise tonight!

“Robin!”- You

“There’s my favorite almost daughter-in-law!”- Robin

“Haha, it’s not for a couple more months!”- you

“I know, but I can’t wait to see you in your wedding dress! You will look beautiful as always.”- Robin

“Thank you, Robin.”- you smile

“Where is my son?don’t tell me he left you alone?”- Robin

“Sadly he did, he decided to take a look around and make sure everything was okay, but I don’t mind!”- you

“Ugh, that boy, well at least he is being a good boy and helping.”- Robin laughs

“Yes!”- you laugh

The surprise we were planning on doing tonight for Joe was to put on a firework show! I know it’s pretty basic but ever since Joe was a kid he loved fireworks and to be able to do it at a place where he is given so much love and support is a great time to do it!

“There you guys are!”- Joe

“Hey, baby!”- Robin

She went to go hug Joe

“I’ve been looking for you guys everywhere!”- Joe

“Well, we have been here!”- Robin

Joe smiles and moves over to me.

“Hi, baby.”- Joe

“Hi, Joey!”- you

He leans down and connects his lips with mine for a quick kiss.

“How is it looking?”- you

“Awesome! The decorations are sick!”- Joe

“Yeah, they are pretty awesome!”- you said looking around.

“Alright I just wanted to make sure you guys were ok before I head to the golf course for a while.”- Joe

“We are good! Your fiancé and I are going to walk around for a bit!”- Robin

Joe and I laugh

“Ok, mom!”- Joe

Joe says goodbye and is off to the course to watch the boys play.

————————————————————————

(Later that night)

I stepped out of the bathroom and into the room where Robin, Jimmy, and Joe were. There were some other Foundation staff there too. Robin already changed and was making sure that we had enough gifts.

I walked towards them in my long yellow dress paired with my Air Forces. My jacket in hand along with joes clothes that he told me to bring out when I was done.

“Yeah perfect just put them over there! Hey y/n! Wow…you look gorgeous!”- Robin

“Awe, thanks Robin! You look beautiful!”- you

“Thanks, decided to go with some stripes tonight.”- Robin laughs

“Well, it’s looks great on you.”- you smile

Joe then walks over to us

“She’s right, you do look beautiful.”- Joe

“Thank you, Joey!”- You

I get up on my tippy toes to kiss him.

“Here are your clothes.”- you

“Thanks. I will be back.”- Joe

He then goes into the room to change.

After a couple minutes he comes out looking so handsome. His long hair, his Nike shirt that shows his muscles, and his grey jeans.

“You look handsome.”- you smile

“Thanks, baby.”- Joe winks

“Alright guys it’s time to go out there.”- Jimmy

Joe takes a deep breath. I could tell his nerves were up and Robin could too.

Robin then whispers something in my ear.

“How about Jimmy and I will meet you guys out there? Gives him some time to relax. I know he will want you with him.”- Robin

“Yeah, ok. We will see you guys out there!”- You

“Perfect.”- Robin smiles

She leaves the room to go welcome people. Now it’s just Joe and I.

“Hey, everything will be perfect! People are here to support you, Joe. They love you and came here for a good cause. You can always go out on the golf course for a minute alone or come and hang out with me if you’d like.”- you smile

Joe gives me a smile

“Thanks, y/n. I love you so much.”- Joe

He gives me a quick peck on the lips. He then grabs my hand as we exit the room to go greet people. Everyone was here already and you can tell they were having a good time.

I thought Joe would have dropped my hand once we walked out and everyone saw us but he didn’t. He kept holding it. He introduced me to some bengals staff that has helped him with his injury and some men that were golfing earlier.

After a couple minutes he dropped my hand and turned to me. I knew he had to make his rounds. Before he could even speak I spoke up.

“Go. Have fun!”- you smile

He gives me a nod and squeezes my arm then takes off.

I later found a group of people to talk to. Some consisted of Joes family like cousins and some were friends of The Burrows.

I kept looking around for any sight of Joe to make sure he was ok.

He was talking to one of the bengals media guys and Zac Taylor. He had a smile on his face.

One of the other times I noticed him was when he was talking to a big group of guys who were golfing and bombarding him with questions about the new season coming up. I could tell he wanted to get out of there.

After a couple minutes I felt a hand ride up my back. It made me jump a little.

“Hey, it’s just me!”- Joe

“Jeez, you scared me. How is everything going?”- you

“Good…people seem to be having a good time.”- Joe

“Good! It seems like they are having a blast! Especially over there.”- You

I pointed to the bar.

“I saw one guy go up there 6 times. I think he passed out somewhere though.”- you laugh

Joe laughs

God I love that laugh.

“Well, good to know that people like it, but I thinking of taking you up on that offer about what you said earlier.”- Joe

“Okay! But I think I’m too cool to be seen with you, burrow.”- you

“Oh really? I was going to take you somewhere, but I guess your to cool for me. I will just go find that drunk guy.”- Joe

No! I’m not cool anymore!”- you

Joe chuckled

“Okay, baby, but you are always cool. Even too cool for me.”- Joe

“Wow! Mr Cartier said it himself.”- you

We both laugh.

I even forgot the girls were standing there. They were watching us with big smiles on their faces.

“Sorry ladies, but I’m going to steal her for a while.”- Joe

“It’s ok, she’s all yours!”- Joe’s cousin

Joe then took my hand and we walked away.

There was a small path leading out to the golf course away from the crowds.

As we started walking I looked up at Joe. He was still holding my hand looking to his right at the good course I could tell his nerves were easing up.

“You ok?”- You

He looked at me with his baby blues.

“Yeah, happy to get away with you for a moment.”- Joe smiled

I leaned more into him rubbing his arm with my free hand.

“I’m really grateful for you, y/n, You know that? You have always been there for me since day one. You never doubted me and always found ways to cheer me up, you still do. I’m just grateful to have you by my side here today.”- Joe

“Awe, Joey. I’m grateful for you too! I will always be there for you. I love you.”- You

He put his hand on my cheek and kissed me.

Just as we were kissing for probably around five minutes someone called him in. He had to go give his speech.

He took a deep breath.

“You got this Joe. I will be right there watching.”- You

He nodded his head and we started walking back.

—————————————

“I’m going to pass it off to my very loved, beloved son. Joe Burrowwww.” - Robin

The whole crowd cheered

“Thanks, mom…”- Joe chuckled

“I just want to say thanks for everyone who came here to support. For giving your time, money, and presence to be here today. I want to especially say thank you to my family, my teammates and bengals staff, my friends, and my fiancé. You guys have supported me through thick and thin and wouldn’t be here without you guys, so thank you. Let’s have some fun!”- Joe

Everyone started clapping! I was so proud of him and a little surprised about the shout out but I wasn’t complaining!

“You did great, baby!”- You

He walked up to me and gave me a hug.

“All thanks to you.”- Joe

——————————

It was finally dark outside which meant surprise time!

“I think we are ready, y/n!”- Robin

“Awesome! I will get Joe.”- You

I walked over to Joe who was with Sam and Teddy.

“Hey!”- You

“Hi!”- Joe

“Can you do something for me?”- You

“Yeah, is everything ok?”- Joe

“Everything is perfect! I just want you to look up.”- You

“Look up? Why loo-”-Joe

BAMM! Fireworks went off. They were white and orange.

“Oh my god!”- Joe smiled

As they were going off Robin and Jimmy came up to us.

“Did you guys do this?”- Joe

“No actually, your amazing fiancé did!”- Jimmy

He looked at me.

“You did this?”- Joe

“Yeah, wanted it to be a special day for you!”- You

“God, I love you so much.”- Joe

He then squeezed into me tighter and kissed me under the fireworks.

——————————————————

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.69)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: The pack meet with moonbyul to discuss terms.

Tags: Violence, Angst with the happy ending on the horizon, fluff if you squint, Yoongi gets really really angry and kinda triggers the m/c, allusions to past abuse, Blood, manipulative behavior, murderous tendencies, trans! tae, Transphobia, Trans! moonbyul,

W/c: 11.5k

A/n: wow something went heavily wrong with the formatting while i was editing this! if you notice any extra lines or weird breaks (especially on mobile) i tried my best! not sure what went wrong but i might just have to physically re-type this chapter again.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

I’ll let you in on a little secret: 

In every other version of this story, Hobi doesn’t get to the door in time. 

In every other version, the doors would close and Hoseok would hit them with his fists and yell. Screaming himself bloody and hoarse in the futility of it all. Watching as his future with you melts away at his fingertips like ocean foam, slipping away into the sea like a piece of clear sea glass, disappearing into the deep. They’d miss you at the next station and the one after that too. 

In every other version of reality, in every parallel universe, he's too late to save you. 

But in this one, he gets his pinky finger between the doors just before they slam shut.

The safety feature that keeps the train from closing on any late passengers shoots open with a hiss of compressed air. It's only open for a split second but Hoseok shoves himself through the 8-inch gap and into the warm interior of the train. Jungkook is left on the other side, banging on the door, running to keep up with the car as it thuds and lurches and starts to speed up.

"Next station" Jungkook’s mouth forms the words but Hoseok doesn't hear him say it over the roar of the train. There’s only a few seconds of them staring at each other. Jungkook’s messy hair flops as he runs. The wetness on his cheeks from frustrated tears glistening in the yellow sunlight before Jungkook runs out of the platform and is left standing there at the edge. Hoseok hurdles on. 

Hoseok’s blood is roaring in his ears. He puts his hands on his knees and pants. The thudding momentum of the train makes Hoseok fall over, either that or it's from lack of oxygen. One second he's looking at JK and then next he's sprawled on the dirty linoleum floor before he pulls himself upright.

His throat feels like it’s still swelling a little. He puts his hands there, trying to steady himself. Black spots dance in his vision and he catches himself for a second time on the metal rail as the train rolls and jostles.

When he coughs, there’s dark blood in the palm of his hands. Hoseok wipes it on his pajama pants and starts looking. 

He knows he must look like something horrific because an old woman in the first priority row looks at him with a crinkle of concern twisting her face. “Are you alright son?” She asks, voice squeaky.

“Yeah, just a rough morning” he grabs the back of her seat as he sways, steading himself for just a second before he uses the headrest of the seat to pull himself back down the train. 

Hobi combs through the train cars slowly, betting that you'll be close to the end. He takes the longer route first, better to go down to the end and work his way back up in case you're in the first three cars, just in case you decide to get off at the next station.

He searches and searches until the fear starts to take hold in his stomach, nausea or maybe it’s just motion sickness.

He draws a bit of attention as he moves. Mostly from adults, the little unpresented pups that jump back and forth between the seats without a care in the world don’t find the bruises on his neck anything out of the ordinary. But an omega pulls his pups into his lap at Hoseok's approach. Hoseok is too sick with worry to pay them any mind. 

But Hoseok doesn't need to worry, because he finds you on the fifth train car.

The blue sticky vinyl seats are full of all sorts of people; A stuffy alpha in a suit and a pair of bright yellow headphones. A small elderly omega woman with a big bushel of frizzy hair and about 10 tote bags to her name muddles through her morning commute. Two freshly presented teenagers with patched-up jackets, punky and honest in their aesthetic.  

But there- at the end of the car where the booth seats facing each other turn into single rows all facing the same direction. Folded into the window a figure in dark clothes hunched over trying to look as small as possible. Trying to disappear. 

Trying to hide. 

Anyone would be able to scent the clear and clary smell of distress and loneliness on the air. It’s the same scent that soaks Namjoon’s hospital- noxious and pungent. It hits Hoseok with such a visceral wave that he almost falls over again. 

You’re wearing his sweatshirt and Yoongi’s jacket. The hood drawn up over your head to hide your sob blotchy face from the strangers. Sniffling as you look out the window. He sees you wipe your eyes. You don't look up at all. You don't even notice Hobi approaching until he's slipping into the seat next to you and sliding his hand to lace through yours. His knuckle, your knuckle, then his. 

You startle. Predictably- your fear response has always been a little bit over the top. You flinch, whirling, starting when you see it’s him. Jerking your hand out of his on instinct and nearly backing yourself into the window. Getting yourself as far away from him on the narrow seat as possible. 

He wants to yell at you, he wants to shout at how stupid you are for leaving something good. (Don’t you know how rare good is for people like us? Don’t you want to hold onto it?) All of the shit with his ex- with Moonbyul seems impossible- but you sacrificing yourself for others is not hard for Hobi to believe. That part of this is so painfully logical and so painfully you that if Hobi were less scared right now he might start crying.

You've always thought you were less valuable, less necessary, less loved by the pack. The last one in is the first one out. Hoseok knows you think this because he used to think that way too.

He wants to yell at you but instead his voice comes out soft, the way that the others used to talk to you back when you didn’t speak. Like he's comforting a startled animal. You are a startled animal. 

"You used the train ticket" He swallows. It stings. Hurts like a bitch really. Every time he speaks it hurts. "I never thought you'd use it."

Hoseok puts his hand on the seat in front of you blocking you as you try and get up and out of your seat. Moving automatically to get away- to get safe. That might be all that you know how to do- keep yourself safe.

You stand there for a second, in stalemate. Blood drains from your face, and you stare each other down as Hoseok goes from devastated to angry and then sad again. Struggling not to cry. Hoseok doesn’t like to cry- it’s too much like begging. His body asking for what he can’t. 

It’s quiet, you have to be quiet here. There aren’t too many people but a few rows in front of you is a pair of alpha's in suits with briefcases. Unseemly eyes could be hidden everywhere so you need to be quiet. Hoseok's voice is quiet anyway. He still can’t speak much above a whisper. 

No quicker have you startled than you start to push at him, at his shoulders. Literally trying to push him out of the chair. Shaking your head. "You can't be here Hobi you have to go, they'll kill you-" You start to pull him up to his feet but he makes himself a lead weight. 

“No- no I’m not going to let you go.” Hoseok cups your cheek, long fingers rubbing your tears away. The pads of his fingers cradling your cheek. Soft skin, your cheeks have always been so soft. Hobi’s brain gets caught on the sensation. 

"This is how this is going to work; we're going to get off at the train station- and then with any luck- Yoongi and Jimin and Jungkook will already be there and we're going to go home, okay?" He tilts his face, trying to get a better look under your hood, lower lip wobbling, voice breaking, “You have to come home with me, okay?” 

You’re trembling so hard that Hobi can feel it as he holds your face, shaking your head stubbornly. 

"Hobi, if I don't go. Jimin’s going to die, you're going to die, Jin’s going to die. I can't not do something. Don't pretend one life outweighs three." 

"I can't let you go."

You lean into his hand. Has Hoseok ever cupped your cheek before or is the first time he's touched you this way? He can't remember. There are so many firsts that he can't remember. So many firsts that haven't happened yet. Slipping through his fingers like water. 

"And I can't let you die." 

Hoseok holds your cheeks, thumbs skimming up and down your cheekbones, a little more hollow than usual. These last few days have stretched all of you thin and honest. The truth does not feed you, like subsiding off of air. This truth is not one that he wants to share but-

Yoongi had looked a little shocked when he’d told him, that kind of shock that sort of feels vindicating- like you matter. Hoseok doesn't understand why Moonbyul being his ex matters. But Yoongi's reaction makes him think it is. 

The light fills the train car honey golden slipping away to the clean brightness of a winter day. The light flashing through the trees like some sort of strobe light, flickering across both of you here- at the back of the train where there is no one to overhear. 

Hoseok pulls himself closer to you, his lips brushing your ear. "I never told you- the name of my old pack omega but I think you know her.” 

The train hisses and shrieks and your hand settles over Hoseok’s bruised wrist. 

“I think you know her very very well because Yoongi said you do." 

Hoseok pulls you flush against him, across the seat, your foot hitting his ankle, and whispers it into your ear. 

"Her name was Moon Byul-yi." 

You freeze in his hold, trembling, and he pulls away to watch the visceral realization dawn on your face. You're smart. The Moonbyul he knew would have never thought to anticipate that either of you was smart. Haughty and superior to the last inch. She’d have assumed that she had the upper hand like all narcissists do. Why would prey know anything about the hunt?

You panic, your conviction is slipping away, Hoseok can see you’re struggling to hold onto it. “Hoseok- you don’t understand, I have to do this, I need to.”

He takes your hand in his. “Okay- if you want to go then I’m coming with you.”

“Hoseok.”

He shakes his head and brings the back of your hand up to his mouth to run his lips along your knuckles. Gripping it tight. Your bones and his bones all aligned, the sunburn on the back of his hands that’s always sort of there from driving and the faint scars that line your hands from cooking. Both self-inflicted and accidental.

(Love is that way too, either something that you seek out or something that happens to you. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to Hoseok, you could never be the worst).

There is one scar at the bottom of your hand and the bottom of his; a line across his right palm and a line across your left one- both gotten the night that you tried to take the train. You didn’t take the train then but you’ve taken it now.

You’ve made your choice and Hoseok makes his. “Either together or not at all.”

Hoseok rationalizes it by thinking- If you were going back to Geumjae and if he was still alive, you’d never let him walk into his clutches. You would never let Geumjae lay a hand on him, so he won’t let you go to her. Will do everything in his power to get you off of this fucking train.

“I’m sorry, Hobi- I’m-”

He pulls himself closer to you. Lips touching your temple just like the sunlight. Your warm thigh pressed to his warm thigh.

“You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing to make up for. If we want to survive this then we need to do it together.” Hoseok presses a kiss to your hairline and lets it linger there. “I won't haunt you if you won't haunt me."

“You don’t understand-“ 

“Why? Why do you have to be the one? If you can answer me that honestly and in a way that makes sense, then I’ll let you go.” Hoseok says the words as he drags his nose across your hairline in a small scent mark. A growl rolling in his throat. His hand itching towards the back of your neck- if he were able to scruff you- he could drag you off this train with or without your say-so. 

Hoseok won't do that to you unless it's absolutely necessary. He won't scruff you maliciously but honestly, he'd damn the consequences at this point. You know the risks, and yet you let his hand settle on the back of your neck. He doesn't scruff you yet.

You are on the train now, but you could get off of it. Hoseok managed to convince you once he can convince you again. You do not respond to him, but he doesn’t need you to. He continues on word vomiting out his feelings. Drenched half in panic and half in fear that if he stops talking you’ll tell him something heartbreaking. Hoseok can’t handle any more heartbreak today. 

"I know you’ve been in a lot of pain. I’ve known it since the first day I met you. But this self-sabotage- sacrificing yourself because you think your life isn't worth risking the rest of ours- this isn’t the way to do it. This isn’t the way that you get out.” 

This is the question that you’ve been asking the whole time he’s known you. All of this is just trying to get out of the holes that you dig for yourself. The graves that you haunt. Graves of things that might have been and the things that should or shouldn’t have happened to you.

Your voice is so small and quiet, your palm in his tightens just a little bit. “How do I? How do I get out?” 

"You can start by just getting off this fucking train."

You eye him like you think it’s impossible like it can’t possibly be that easy.

The announcer overhead is telling you you’re almost to the next stop. To mind the gap and such. The same way people mind children and precious objects. Mind the gap. Such a strange turn of phrase. How do you treasure the space between one motion ending and the other beginning? The end of one place and time and the beginning of another. 

“How do I do it? How do I-” 

Hoseok laces his hand with yours again and pulls you up onto your feet. The train is slowing. “I’ll show you just- follow me. I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you. 

You do follow Hobi, you follow Hobi off the train as he coxes you softly onto the platform and onto the frosty tracks. It’s mid morning by now and the sun is streaming in that bright yellow way when he tugs you up the stairs slow. Slow because he still has to. His body aches from yesterday. Both of you are bruised and tired but together. Clinging to each other- his hand and your hand and not a breath of space between.  

In the parking lot, there is a red car double parked across the lines closest to the stairs. Jimin and Yoongi and Jungkook are already standing outside, the doors blown open. Jimin falls into a squat the second he sees you. Head in his hands. Running through his hair and tugging. A cigarette discarded on the concrete bouncing before it rolls to a stop and burns.

“Oh thank fucking god, Tae would have fucking killed me-” 

Jungkook groans and rests his head on the hood of the car, hitting it with an open-palmed slap. It echoes in the empty parking lot.

"That sentence is substantially less funny today than it would have been yesterday.” 

Yoongi is just staring at you fists and shoulders tight. You watch him swell the closer that you walk. Every step made in trepidation. He's breathing heavy, eyes wild with panic and anger and his hair stands on end. His eyes are bloodshot and his scent is almost acidly salty. The kind of salt that guides metal to rust and break. The salt that melts cities. That crunches under your feet next to dark puddles from snowmelt. 

When you're 3 paces away he seems to break, stalking up to you and jabbing a finger in your face. “If you ever pull a stunt like that again I swear I’ll-” Yoongi breaks himself off. Shaking so viscerally that it's hard for you to keep your hands by your side. but you stand your ground as Hoseok swats yoongi's jabbed finger away. his other hand tightly laced with yours.

“Yoongi, let’s just get into the car and go home- please. Let's not talk about this here.” The parking lot is mostly empty, but the danger still lingers. There’s too much to talk about. Moonbyul's name rings in Hoseok's ears like the subtle hum of hearing loss, like a high-pitched shriek. There are things more important than Yoongi's anger. 

But Yoongi’s not done with you- oh- he’s boiling with rage. Shaking with it as he opens the door for you, every action, every little moment restrained. His anger is palpable. You get into the back of the Lamborghini and Hobi follows.

You can tell he wants to slam the door but doesn't. He shuts it extra extra soft but you flinch anyway. He gets into the driver's seat every moment controlled but tense, like he'll explode if he moves with any more energy than necessary, a firework with a fuse burned all the way down just begging for heat.

Yoongi waits for everyone to buckle their seat belt but you don’t, frozen watching him in the window and then the rearview mirror when he gets into the front seat. Yoongi doesn’t even get around to starting the car. Sliding the key home but the beep goes once, twice, and then a third time because you don't have your seatbelt buckled. The others wait in silence.

“Yoongi-“

“Fuck!” He kicks open his door again with a stream of spat explicatives. Slamming it shut this time. The others don't say anything, completely silent in the face of his anger.

Yoongi doesn't get angry. You've never seen him like this before. He wrenches your door open and for a horrible moment, you think he's going to yank you out of the car and tell you to get lost.

Yoongi's murmuring things to himself, so low that you almost can't make out what he's saying as he pushes himself into the backseat. The backseat of the Lambo isn’t that large. Hardly big enough to fit two people let alone four.

Jungkook lets out a belated “Hey!” at being squished up against the door but Hoseok just reaches around him and unlocks it for him to get out. Jimin is already out of the passenger seat and heading in the direction of the driver's side as Yoongi scrambles with your seat belt, jerking it over your shoulder and slamming it home.

"-Fucking asshole- of all the stupid omegas in the world I had to be mated to the fucking- dumbest- little- fucking-" The belt digs into your shoulder extra tight and Jimin starts the car wordlessly. 

You're closed in on both sides by him and Hobi on the other. They switch and shuffle. Jimin pulls away from the train station, gentler this time but still faster and with more finesse than you'd do it. Yoongi is still looking at you, glaring, tears in his eyes with wet cheeks, his voice low and uncompromising. 

“Give me your phone.” 

“My what?”

“Your. Phone. You used it to call her didn’t you?” You nod after a second, slowly pulling it from your sweatshirt pocket and handing it over. 

Yoongi takes your phone and breaks it over his thigh.

It’s a bit impressive really- the show of strength. He brings it down once and the screen breaks, winking out like a shooting star. Another and it bends just a little, a third time- and it's practically at a right angle. It breaks so easily in the face of adrenaline and anger and fear. 

You make a small noise, not a whimper but a descending sound. Yoongi raises his eyebrows at you, wild. Like he’ll break even further if you complain. Hoseok’s not sure he’s ever seen Yoongi this broken.

"Just- There were pictures of Noodle and Tae on there.”

Fear and anger are an intoxicating mix to anyone- let alone someone who almost lost their person. He goes at your phone until its jagged edge bites into his hand drawing blood. Then he tosses both pieces of your phone onto the floor of the car like they're paperweights.

One of the pieces hits your shoe with a small metal clink, and even Hobi looks down in surprise at the sound. 

Yoongi laughs and then bends over. Yanking the gun out of your boot. Small, shoved there. Hoseok didn’t notice. He's not sure why it surprises him- that you'd be armed. You're not an idiot, you know the risks, and you were armed the last time that you tried to run away.  

He holds it out to you, long fingers wrapped around the barrel pointed at his chest. The handle facing you, the barrel of the gun level with his heart.

“You want to do the honors sweetheart?"

Jungkook’s worrying away at his lower lip, turning around, nervous. “Yoongi-" but Yoongi just holds a finger out, cutting him off. He's watching you, waiting to see what you'll do.

Jimin very gently reaches back and takes the gun from Yoongi. The beta lets him. Jimin flicks the safety off with a twitch of his thumb. And takes out the magazine one-handed that he hands to Jungkook before he puts the body of the gun barrel down in the cup holder where it rattles freely. 

“Don’t fucking do that. we do not point guns at ourselves or each other in this pack.” 

Yoongi hardly looks mad, he hardly reacts to Jimin at all. Jungkook's eyes flicker nervously from Jimin to Yoongi, then to Jimin's shoulder.

Jimin's flush sits on the top of his cheekbones, "Jin-hyung gets a pass obviously."

You quirk an eyebrow at your mate, not impressed in the slightest, not even intimidated truly. Hoseok doesn’t think you’ve fought since you tried to leave the first time. 

“You didn’t really expect me to go unarmed, did you? Thought I could at least take one of them out- at least Moonbyul before they-” Jimin breathes hard through his teeth and Hoseok actually laughs, although he sounds a little unhinged. Yoongi runs his hands through his hair, pulling a little.

“I didn’t expect you to fucking leave me either but here we fucking are.” Yoongi has never raised his voice with you- he never raises his voice period. But anger and terror have made his words sloppy where usually they strike exact.

In the mirror, you see Jungkook’s jaw clench as Jimin accelerates home a little faster. Yoongi crowds you against Hoseok. Resting his forehead against yours, you can hear the grit in his teeth as he grinds them together nearly spitting, but it’s quiet. 

“If you try something like that again, you will see a side of me that I do not want to show you. Do you understand?” 

That makes you unnerved, and makes your lower lip start to tremble. Your “Yes.” Comes out so quiet that Hoseok is sure Jimin and Jungkook can't hear it in the front seat over the Lambo's purr. 

You’re unable to meet his eyes, Yoongi has never been rough with you, but he’s shaking with the effort to hold himself back from screaming, yelling, crying. There are no words for you, no words that he could ever say that might hold you. He is so angry he can’t even fucking speak. 

For a terrible moment, you think that he's going to hit the seat in front of you. But then he tucks your hair behind your ear out of your face so that he can look at you properly. 

This is Yoongi's karma for leaving the pack all those months ago. He's come to know their pain so keenly, this was only a few hours of what they endured but still- this is exactly like that. 

“You know- I’ve never wondered if you need me, but sometimes I wonder if you love me at all.”

His hand slides down your cheek, gentle in the way that he goes, and it hurts so much more than a slap or punch ever would. It stings. Everywhere Yoongi touches you stings. 

“I know you don’t love me the way that I love you- I’m not that dumb, but-" 

Your face screws into a whimper, and you can't whisper out that you're sorry quick enough. Yoongi guides your forehead back to rest against his. Still angry, still spitting the words like they take something from him. You should deny what he says and you want to, but you’re mute in the face of your mate's anger.    "How many hours do you think will exist between your death and mine?”   You’re silent as Jimin drives, but his eyes meet yours in the rearview mirror. You don’t see any pity in his eyes maybe because Yoongi, like you, had nearly left them broken. Had actually left and stayed gone. Yoongi will never quite deserve pity for words like those. Yoongi directs your face away from Jimin and back to his.

“How many god damn it!” He grips your cheeks, gentle, fingers that touch so softly, that cradle you, shaking all the while. 

“Five? Ten? Sweetheart- I'd last 5 minutes without you and you won't even look at me long enough to apologize and you don't make it easy- I don't-

"Yoongi. That is enough." 

Jimin is steely. Cutting him off before Yoongi can say something that he regrets and that he doesn't mean. But Yoongi won’t continue anyway. He's crying so hard he can’t see your face, can’t even see the way that you crumple.

He rests his forehead on your shoulder for the remainder of the drive. Pushing away your hands every time you try and wrap them around him until you’re crying with how frustrated you are. Keeping that one point of contact only, his crumpled face pressed against your mating mark. 

He doesn’t want your touch- the touch of someone who hurt him. This is the first time that Yoongi has denied you something so simple, something so habitual as your arms around his shoulders. 

Your pleas fall on deaf ears, your words come too late. "I'm sorry, i'm so sorry Yoongi I didn't mean- please believe me- I didn't- Please i'm so sorry-"

It’s a pity isn’t it; someone always has to love the other more. This is the oldest story, and there is no other story. Karma comes just in time or not at all. But right now? Right now it does not feel nice being Yoongi’s karma for leaving the pack all those months ago. 

The car ride is mostly silent for the rest of the drive. The car has barely stopped when Yoongi scrambles to get out. The car door flings open with the momentum of Jimin stopping. The hood is hot when he skims his fingers across it steadying himself to round it and dash inside.

Your hands shake too hard to unbuckle yourself as Yoongi hurries, he almost runs. Hoseok gets out of the car, shouting "Yoongi!" but your mate doesn't turn around, doesn't do anything but barrel past the others. Pushing away their worried questions and hands to get inside the house. 

The bindings on your hands are already bleeding a little bit, your hands chubby and swollen, and unable to see the seat buckle as you claw at it. 

A warm chest hits the side of your face as strong arms reach around you. Jungkook unbuckles you, close and filling the backseat in Yoongi's absence. He holds you for a second, giving you a squeeze and a sideways hug. "Just give him a second it’s gonna be alright." 

You stare at Jungkook for a second. Wiping your tears away with a curled fist. He looks tired. “I mean you’re literally his mate so- it's not like he can really...” Jungkook trails off, and the keys jingle in Jimin's hands as he waits. mute and unreadable, staring at the steps where tae stands with Jin and Namjoon.

"Aren't you guys going to yell at me too?" Jungkook snorts, and when you pull back to look at his face, he doesn't look angry, he doesn't even look tired. 

"That wouldn't solve anything." Your face crumples further, but Jungkook just starts to pull you to the edge of the leather seat to hug you better under the guise of firmly setting you on your feet. 

"What I am gonna do is make you go work out with me. I'm gonna make you do like- so many burpees in punishment for making me run that early in the morning."

You laugh wetly and Jungkook giggles, nuzzling the top of your head. Gripping around your waist to pick you up just a little. 

Jin looks just as puffed up as Yoongi but so much less angry, wrapped in your big blue blanket like a cape, a corner pulled over his head and ears like a hood, his fluffy bunny slippers poking out below.

The wooden planks of the deck have dried in the winter sunlight and Tae is barefoot where she stands, silk robe too thin for the winter chill. looking at you with that same hollow look she’s had for the last day.

Jin doesn’t try to grab Yoongi as he stalks past. Namjoon sends a conflicted glance at him and then at you. His shoulders are pinned up by his ears, the scraggly five o'clock shadow he wears looks tear tacky. He looks at you for a single second but then heads into the house after your mate. You blanch, but you're not surprised that Namjoon needs a second before he talks to you too. 

The pervasive sound of wrenching can be heard echoing out into the porch, and a look inside says that Namjoon’s got a hand on Yoongi's back where he's bent over the sink. Throwing up nothing because your mate had hardly eaten last night- worried about you and Hobi. You've never felt more undeserving of him, the guilt hits you harder than any words ever could.

You swallow at the bottom of the steps. Hoseok and Jungkook and Jimin behind you, hand on the small of your back urging you forward gently. Willing to let you stray more than a few steps away after chasing you down.

Jin is extra tall and on the upper step, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face, he places a hand over the back of your neck scruffing you smoothly and evenly until you almost fall, knees already shaky. Jungkook steps up and grabs you before you hit the floor. But Jin just stoops. Lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“When this is over, when everyone is safe, we’re going to have a long long talk about this. About why pups don’t make decisions on their own. Give me your phone.”

You can hear Jimin’s grimace in his voice, “Yoongi already broke it.” 

“Are you angry with me?” You ask lower lip wobbling, tears drifting down your nose, “Please don’t be angry with me- please-” Jin squeezes the nape of your neck again, harder. You see sparkles in your vision- your body compensating for Jin's touch even though you're so tired you feel like you might pass out. You easily submit to the scruff, you'll do anything Jin asks right now just to temper his disappointment.

Hoseok grabs under your elbows to keep you standing. Between him and Jin and Jungkook- you’re a soggy little bundle of omegas. You don’t see it, but from the railing, Tae cups Jimin’s cheek. 

Jin croons. “Hush pup. Come inside where it's warm. We've got a lot to talk about- mostly what we can do besides make rash decisions like that." 

Hoseok's hand is on Jin's wrist before he has a chance to continue. Eyes bright with something that looks an awful lot like hope. 

"About that..." Hoseok gulps, “We think we figured out how to get out of this Jinnie. I have to talk to Yoongi about it again but-” Jin tugs Hoseok onto his other shoulder.

“I think we’ve figured a way out of this.”  

You sniffle where you're tucked against Jin's chest, but you’re right next to his scent gland when it swells with pride, sweet and milky. Jin runs the back of his hand softly over Hoseok's warm cheeks, and croons.

“Good puppy.”

~-~

The next time you call Moonbyul, you’re all sitting around the dining room table. The blinds are drawn and Noodle has been fed. Jimin’s collection of guns lay on the table in several neat little rows, the barrels of them pointed in the same direction like the legs of some long-dead arachnid. 

A list of demands and a dialogue are written out in front of you but they're not for you. Jin and Yoongi will be doing most of the talking. You've done nothing for the last hour it took to hatch the plan other than sit obediently at the reach of your alphas. Willing to trade little 'I'm sorries' and the barest attempt at teasing after you'd gotten up to get a glass of water and they'd all flinched. Jimin had even gotten up and out of his chair before shaking his head and sitting back down. instincts reacting to your movement before his brain caught up.

"Would it make you feel better if you put me in handcuffs?"

"Only if they're the fuzzy ones." 

"Jk- now is not the time.”

All in all, Jungkook and Hobi seem to be the ones who are the least angry at you for trying to pull that stunt. Jimin's just a little more tactile with you than usual pulling you to sit close to him at the table. rubbing over your knee. Fiddling with your hands and gently avoiding the wounds there.

Namjoon still can't look at you, eyes flickering away every time you speak. Not angry- but maybe still upset- still working through his feelings. 

There are more important things to work through; the plan, the facts of what you know, a list with numbers sit next to your dialogue. The facts of everything connected with arrows and different handwriting and a good bit of doodles- courtesy of Jungkook and Tae (and you- when she'd prodded). 

Your list goes like this:

Moonbyul is not an alpha (verified by Hobi) (ew it's so gross to think of you with another omega hyung)

Only an alpha can rule the family. (That's a little sexist) (I didn't write the rules Tae)

LEVERAGE. 

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ (JK- stop doodling on official FBI documents.) 

Yoongi hasn't spoken a word to you since he came inside the house and you don't expect him to right now. That’s hardly the most important matter at hand. Baby steps.

Baby steps. 

You call her with Jimin’s work burner. The one he keeps in his car and uses exclusively for instructions about which murder and which target needs to be taken out. Moonbyul answers on the first ring and guesses it’s you before you even have a chance to speak. The others had unanimously decided that you wouldn't be speaking for this conversation. You don't mind sitting back for this. 

Whatever makes them happy, whatever makes them feel better. 

Her voice strikes a chill down your spine, now that you know that she's the one who hurt Hobi. It's her he sees behind his eyes on his worst days and it's her voice he hears when his internal monologue becomes vicious and self-shaming. You hear it differently than you did before; a cross between a snake's hiss and the purr of some dark-furred jungle cat. 

“Any much longer and you’re going to be late pup, you know how impatient I can be.” 

It's surprisingly difficult to not give her a piece of your mind. Your hands tighten into fists, your bones and skin all tight where you'd hurt your hands. But before your knuckles can even go white a big hand covers yours, prying your fingers apart so that your fingernails don't dig into the gauze, still bloody. You look up at Namjoon. He shakes his head, just a little, and you relax your hands.

Yoongi leans over the table so that his voice comes across clearer over the speakerphone. 

“I think you’ll want to be patient for this alpha- or should I say omega.” 

Hoseok holds the edge of the table hard, leaning in too. He's sure the hitch of his breath must be audible over the phone. But Moonbyul doesn't remark on it. Jin’s hand remains settled on the nape of his neck and you wish you were sitting next to him too.

Yoongi scoots himself closer to the edge of the table. On the side opposite from you. “The claws of an alpha don’t suit you, cousin.”  

Moonbyul laughs and none of you smile. The tone of her voice shifts, a bit more serious. “They fit me better than they'd fit you. Let me see how deep your bite is or should I ask Hoseok? Is that pup there? How about Minnie and mommy?” 

Tae folds her hands over her chest, affronted, but doesn't speak either. Your hand goes hard on Namjoon's wrist and he grips yours back just as hard. Holding out his hand for Hobi's across the table. 

You open your mouth to retaliate- for the comment on Tae alone (you're not sure how Moonbyul found out about your nickname for her) but Jimin mouths across the table, “Don’t” You're all silent, waiting for her next move.

Jin's FBI training kicks in. Negotiation and kidnappings had been a course he'd been required to take during his orientation to the fbi. and his voice is measured and polite.

"I think we're past the point of petty jabs and assassin's, aren't we? Let's talk, pack omega to pack omega."

“You want to parley then? Make a deal?”

Jin drums his hands across the table. Nervous but his voice doesn't shake, not even a little bit.

“This has gone on for long enough. Let’s meet.”

~-~   Moonbyul comes in with the quiet. 

The hours drag on in the space before she arrives at the house. The pack perks up in the direction of every errant sound or neighbor in your cul-de-sac. The sound of the little kids across the street leaving for Saturday morning sports, of the dull scape of someone shoveling out their driveway, the rumbling of distant cars on the highway.

It’s a Sunday, isn’t it? Strange, that this kind of thing should happen on a Sunday. Jimin stares out at the driveway, leaning against the railing, and thinks it must be some sort of punishment both wretched and divine. He smokes his cigarette, spitting the smoke out like he's burning, and shakes off the shivers of a god he doesn't believe in.

He finishes his cigarette, then he and the others and ready the house for Moonbyul’s arrival. 

Hobi feels every tick of the clock like the beat of his heart knowing that she’s on her way. She’d started driving after Jimin had shown her a video of his guns being thrown into the river. A meeting without any weapons will be as safe as anyone can get.

But still- the pack isn't stupid. Hobi watches from the kitchen as Jin tapes the pack’s sharpest and largest kitchen knife under the kitchen table in front of his seat as well as Jimin’s and Yoongi’s just in case. 

Allowing her inside the den goes against every instinct. To have their softest most safe place violated by the presence of someone who has hurt them like this. It's almost too much. But to have the upper hand and have this meeting on their turf is more than they’ve hoped for. So Namjoon restrains his growls, hand still held in yours at the table. After a tangle of so many hours and days of all this violence, the pack takes their chances for a way out. 

You'd discussed the meeting happening at the house before you'd even called and agreed. Talked it out between the eight of you the idea location for any meet up. Only Namjoon was against it- but he's been overruled by Jin and Yoongi.

You’d remained mostly silent and agreed with Yoongi when it came to a vote. Warm big eyes on him, waiting for a hint of approval that never came. Jimin thinks that wound is going to take more than simple obedience to heal. 

Yoongi doesn’t know what to think, or what to do. Jin and Jimin take over most of the planning as far as what’s going to be said and how. Everything needs to be carefully orchestrated for this to not go poorly. Everyone needs to be on their best behavior. 

But there is hope here, on the edge of their scheming is a plan that might work- this might really work. You all might get out of this unscathed. Even Yoongi who’s never taken a simple breath outside of this life of murder and secrets. Who has had this violence built into his blood from the moment he was born. Yoongi was born a liar. Yoongi always thought that he'd live and die belonging to his family- at the will of their beck and call.

Now he's not so sure. 

He feels like he’s hyper-aware of you, in your orbit the way an addict is always aware of how little or lot is left of a drug. Every twitch and movement of your body sets him on edge. But when you’re not watching- Yoongi watches you. Tensing with every step you take in the direction of the door, heaving a thankful sigh whenever you pass by it. 

He tries not to touch you but it’s hard. He’d taken your shoes and locked them in the closet upstairs, it's silly but it's necessary.

His pulse is still beating so fast that it scares him a little. The mating mark at his hip aches with every step, he wonders if yours aches with every word or breath. Pressed there against your throat where he'd kissed countless times, where he'd nuzzled sleeplessly just last night. Breathing in your scent because it soothed him. 

It still soothes him, even if he doesn't want it to. 

Yoongi spends every few minutes bent over the kitchen sink or the toilet, the revulsion curling up in his gut like a snake dragging its teeth down the sides of his heart. You’d left him again, actually left him again. Yoongi wants to scream and cry but- 

But there are moments of you saying you’re sorry- to Tae, to Jimin, and Jungkook- who stubbornly wraps his arms around your back like a living blanket and makes you stoop forward with his weight. Or Jimin who rubs his chin across the top of your head and jostles you with the aggressiveness of his scent mark, catching your wrists in both of his hands roughly in a way that almost- almost has Yoongi intervening. He's just clumsy and tired. 

All of you are. 

There are other moments of Jin lingering close, speaking to you in the soft stern way that has you deflating that makes Yoongi’s body hum in that mate way- that way that lets him know you need him. 

Namjoon hasn't changed the bandages on your hands yet, even though there's a tiny bit of blood on your right one. Yoongi wants to ask him to change it out but can't make his mouth form the words. 

Hobi watches you from wear he rests against the couch, pointedly not sitting on the spot that Jin cleaned of blood. Holding a bit of ice to his throat and sipping on water. Able to talk now- for real. Voice strengthening with every minute. 

Yoongi pauses by his side and asks, loud enough for you to overhear "aren't you angry?" Hoseok doesn't miss the way your shoulders tense. You’re looking over things and talking with Jin and Jimin, clarifying something- some rules about the family that only you and Yoongi know of. There are documents on the table with the title FBI property- do not reproduce or take off premises. 

He tips his head back against the back of the couch, Hoseok’s legs sprawled out, aching from running so hard and so fast and being so out of practice with it. Fuck- Hoseok is so tired. So anxious and so keyed up by the knowledge that Moonbyul will be here within the next hour. He yawns in Yoongi’s face without covering his mouth. His stretched lips full of teeth teeth teeth. 

Yoongi feels his anger quiet even before Hoseok shrugs. "i don't know if my anger would make it better. i care more about making sure we all get to wake up tomorrow without feeling like shit"

Jungkook echoes the same sentiment on his way past. “Same like- I cannot wait to nest” And Jimin nods, blonde hair fluffing. Even namjoon's subtle agreement as he does the dishes makes yoongi feel...Not better...but maybe a little less angry.

Namjoon does the dishes, but you're his close shadow. They could wait- but Namjoon needs something to do with his hands besides holding onto yours. You still haven’t talked at all, and haven't apologized verbally to him for that phone call. He wants a wide birth and you give it to him.

Survival first- and apologies and forgiveness later.  

"I think motive counts for something too," Hoseok says, looking at you across the room helping Namjoon stack dishes without being asked. "You didn't mean to hurt us when you left, but you felt like you had to." Yoongi swallows hard and feels like he's the one who's been choked in the last 48 hours.

If there’s one thing Yoongi hates, it’s how love makes you forgive. (Yoongi wouldn’t be standing in this house right now with the pack if love wasn’t this way). You could hurt me and I’d ask for it, beg for it really, as long as I’m still yours. As long as you stay. 

At the beginning, the fact that Yoongi loved you more always hurt the pack, Jin especially. But watching Yoongi’s eyes follow your movements as you're asked to do some small remedial task to appease the pack, watching you do it with so much sweet eagerness. the pack find that they're thankful for it.

You say you’re sorry to anyone who will listen. And Jungkook's endless replies of "it's okay" make Yoongi's ears itch in the interim.

The moments and minutes stretch out long.

But about an hour before Moonbyul is due to arrive, in the quiet panic of making sure things are ready and just waiting, Jin tries to convince you to go upstairs for the entirety of your meeting. But as much as the pack doesn't want to admit it you might be the best at getting what you want from Moonbyul. They're prepared for you to be a little bratty about it, to push back a little regardless of the circumstances.

What they're not prepared for is Hoseok standing up in the center of the room, setting his icepack on the couch with a small crunch, before he says “I want to see her again.” 

It's met with an immediate rejection, and a barrage of questions from the other alpha's, Jimin and Namjoon especially have their hackles raised. Yoongi actually checks his ears to see if they're bleeding. Jin quite literally grabs Hobi and shakes him a little. But he’s convinced that he needs too. He’s got questions for her that no one else can answer.

You had been the one person who had agreed with him. Some questions can only be answered by the person who hurt you. 

Moonbyul isn’t stupid- she won’t walk into your den without a few face cards in her hands. You won’t let her come here without a card up your sleeve either. But aces are aces- a royal flush will beat 4 aces every time, and it’s up to you who wears the crown. 

You watch the pack put on the air of royalty. Watch Namjoon recline at the head of the table the picture of Pack alpha ease. Scent blockers are applied to all of you liberally out of necessity. You rub it into Hobi’s scent gland yourself (You won’t let Moonbyul get a wif of him).

You watch your mate settle into his shoulders; neck held high. Putting on the same Placid but brutal he'd worn the first time you'd met him. That untouchable coldness that all members of the family wear out of necessity. 

But Yoongi had never been good enough at keeping the warmth out of his eyes. Even back then.

Moonbyul comes in a black car, non-descript. She's driving herself today. No extra ears or extra packmates attached to her hip. Even Hyejin is absent and it’s strange, strange to not see her get out of the car with her.

It sets you off kilter when you peer out the window. Lingering until Yoongi comes close. Your breath hitches as his hands touch your shoulders. Urging you upstairs without a word, an unspoken heaviness in his eyes.

Regardless of what you'd agreed, now that she's here. yoongi doesn't think he can do this if you're not upstairs safe.

“But Yoongi- Hobi-“ Hobi stands by the door. If he's going to talk to her you want to be by his side. But Yoongi's scared, you can see it in his face and feel it in the mating mark.

You think you'll have a few more moments to sort this out, but Moonbyul does not knock on your door, she just lets herself in. 

“Cousin!” she starts, splaying her hands like she’s about to go in for a hug but Yoongi does not smile, Yoongi does nothing but glare at her until her smile and her hands both drop. 

Seeing Moonbyul again after so long does not feel like just seeing her photograph. For a second Hoseok feels cold, so so cold looking at her face. Her fair skin, her silver hair. Tunnel vision and the most dizzying mix of fear and anger and alpha posturing that he’s ever felt. His instincts yell at him, screaming in his ear that he needs to run, needs to get away. 

She smells different, metallic and medicinal, different than her sweet omega peppermint smell that he remembers. It's stronger now- more musky. the scent of an alpha and not an omega. Hoseok wouldn't be able to pinpoint that it was an artificial change if he hadn't smelled the same sort of hormone shift on Tae.

He’s distantly aware that there are people in between him and her, you, Yoongi, Jimin, Namjoon, and even Jungkook who fluffs up, looking determined and like he’s about to unleash all 5 years of experience he has teaching kickboxing on her. (Tae stays at the back of the room- the soft and delicate fairy star child that she is- but even she subtly stands straighter, eyeing Moonbyul’s stiff black coat with the same air that Anna Wintour might wear while viewing a subpar fashion show).

6 feet away and every bit of his instincts is yelling at him to move, to run. His heart thunders in his ears like a battalion of racehorses. How stupid of him to think he was ready- that seeing her face after all these years wouldn’t hurt- that the fear wouldn’t be there- his breath hitches and-

She grins at him and Hoseok flinches. 

In his peripheries, he sees Namjoon and Jimin start to say or do something. Hoseok had put himself- almost perfunctorily in front of you. But after a second with your hand on his wrist tightening, you put yourself between him and her. Stepping around him and Yoongi in one clean movement and blocking his face from view. Moonbyul just raises her eyebrows at you.    Before anything more can happen- before any jabs or warnings can be exchanged, a grey mass skitters across the floor. As quick as a bullet and twice as violent. Out for blood and the bringer of death.

Puffed up and looking large and menacing. Noodle yowls loud, a war cry, before driving his needle-like teeth into Moonbyul's ankle and right through the leather of her Louis Vuitton boots, ripping them with a vicious toss of his neck.

“What the fuck-“ 

Moonbyul startles, knocking into the wall in her surprise at your cat's viciousness. She hardly wastes a breath before she kicks Noodle clear across the floor. 

You gasp and Tae makes a noise. But Noodle is totally fine, He goes hissing and spluttering, and claws his way right back for more not deterred in the slightest. He leaves gash marks on the shiny floor as he aims himself, back to bite her again. 

You have no doubt that he’d be headed for bloodshed and her other ankle if Yoongi didn’t scoop him up from the floor and hold him to his chest. Honestly- Noodle looks more surprised at Yoongi holding him than he does about getting kicked. 

“If you touch my fucking cat again, I’ll fucking kill you." Yoongi's deadly serious. No part of him joking as he says it.

It's barely 60 seconds in and this meeting is already going to shit. 

Namjoon steps up and steps around Yoongi’s shoulder shoving the beta behind him as Noodle starts to squirm in Yoongi's hold.  “Please, lets just get this over with.” He tips his head and gestures to the dining room table for her to sit. 

Tae takes Noodle from Yoongi’s arms. Checking his stomach. Glaring at Moonbyul who does not grin, does not smile, only tucks an errant hair behind her ear.

The sound of chair legs scraping the floor is the only sound as the 9 of you sit in silence. Noodle stays in Tae’s lap, big tail swishing as his beady yellow eyes track Moonbyul across the room. Everyone’s silent, settling. Yoongi and Jimin are the ones seated closest to Moonbyul. You and Hobi are the farthest by Namjoon on the other side. 

“Well- you’re the one who wanted to talk.” But Moonbyul is not looking at Jin and Namjoon and Yoongi- she’s looking at Hoseok- who can do little but look at her through his bangs. Skin burning when she looks at it. A feeling like Hoseok wants to hide and maybe shower until his skin falls off almost overcoming him and making him run. 

“I didn’t want to talk, I wanted to get you fucking flayed out on this kitchen table and-”

“Jimin.” Tae cuts him off with a snap of her teeth around his name. Her hand is on Hobi’s thigh, holding him still keeping his thigh from jumping up and down under the table.

“The time for violence is over,” Jin says sternly. 

Moonbyul grins, “is it?” she drags a sharp nail over a groove in the table. A spot where a bullet or maybe a knife grazed it, probably from the last few days. You wouldn’t know where it came from even if you thought hard about it.

“Some would consider the very act of possessing something that’s mine violence and you have two things that belong to me.” 

Hoseok shivers, and you narrowly avoid snapping a smart retort at her. Jimin’s fingers hover around the knife under the table. Ready to wip it out and drive it clean through her hand splayed on the table. Ready to kill her in the next second if the pack wish it. He’s half convinced he should do it before she opens her mouth because Hoseok looks like he’s going to be sick all over the table and Tae is shaking faintly. 

But then Jimin looks up, meets your eyes, and takes his eyes off of his target for a second. You shake your head a little imperceptibly. 

“Some would also consider lying violence as well- how well do you think that the rest of your family and organization would handle the fact that they’ve been lied too?”

Yoongi settles, tilting his head. Jin and Yoongi are a dangerous pair when they talk through things like this. “We both know that all I’d have to do is pick up a phone and you’d be dead. You and your pack. If you kill me- someone will tell and you'll die. If you touch my pack again- I'll tell and you'll die. And if even think about taking my mate from me again- if i start to sense that you've tried to manipulate her away from me in the slightest- I'll kill you my fucking self."

She turns to you, mirth toying at her lips, "I got away with killing the beta once, what makes you think I can't do it again?" 

Jin smiles at her, it's an honest and genuine smile. "The truth is- you gave us too much time to think. Too much time to figure it out and plan. There's a trigger clause out there. On a computer you couldn't possibly find. If I don't log in every 36 hours, an email will be sent with pictures of her recipe book to the director of the FBI, and you'll go down for it."   Moonbyul turns to you, narrowing her eyes, "You'd risk going to prison or being killed? Rather than be with me?" 

You shrug. "You- prison- tomato tamato. And besides- I know enough- you made sure I knew enough to be useful to them. I'd probably land a sweet gig in witness protection."

Tae pets over noodles head, smiling at you, "We could call Noodle meatball."

Yoongi straightens, getting you back on track. "We'd also send pictures and evidence to the heads of house too; you'd have to take your pick who you'd want to deal with- them or the Feds."    Moonbyul goes quiet and for the first time but you know you have her backed into a corner with this. This secret- this secret is truly her undoing. She fidgets, settling herself firmly into the uncomfortable chair. 

And then it comes, her concession, “What do you want?”

Yoongi nearly lunges forward with how eager he is to outline your terms. “Release Jimin from his contract. Let Y/n go and relinquish the bullshit claim you have on her. Don’t punish Jin for working for the FBI and never contact me again for my responsibilities as a beta. Leave us alone- never touch us again and you can have your empire. We won’t say a word to anyone about your true sub-gender.” He lays his hands flat on the table. "But lay a finger on any one of my packmates and I'll tell everyone what you really are." 

Moonbyul is a manipulator first and foremost, and a good one at that, you don’t know if it’s honesty or a simple tactic when she turns to Tae and appeals to her.

“You’d let them do this for what? One female alpha to the other?” Moonbyul’s eyes are too empty for her to be totally honest. Jungkook can’t stop his flinch. She knows what she’s doing. How to find the weak spots in your conviction and press at them.  

“One trans person to another? You'd let them forcefully out me? don't you know how wrong that is?”

You physically can’t look at her, you have to look away- and Jimin looks like he wants to punch her, jaw rolling- preparing to spit before Tae splays her hands on the table, chipped nail polish catching the light. 

Tae struggles to find the right words. “I don’t know if your reasons are the same as mine.” 

Moonbyul scoffs, crossing her arms. The mask slips at the same second. “Sure they are. You chose to become a woman rather than stay a man because you liked the set of qualities your life could have as a woman better. That's no different from me choosing to be an alpha over an omega because it gave my pack and me the most security.”

You know, you know in your heart that security isn't what Moonbyul's after, it's always been power, but Tae's scent starts to leak around the scent blockers, going sour.

Tae sits back in her chair. “That’s the thing- it wasn’t a choice.”

Moonbyul’s fingernails are digging into her arms in an effort to keep her hands busy. “Was it? You were comfortable being a man once until the risks outweighed the benefits of not being honest with the people you love. That seems like a choice to me- if it wasn’t a choice- you’d never have had to tell anyone- they’d just have known.” 

Moonbyul has always had a terrible knack for finding people's soft spots, Hoseok knows this, and yet he can't say anything. Can't come to Tae's defense. Can't scream at her to shut up- to not touch Tae. To not find the weakest link or perhaps a link she can exploit.

Tae’s hands tighten into a fist and she swallows, before standing up from the table. Noodle falls to the floor with a jingle of his bell collar and an offended meow. Tae leaves the room heading up the stairs and leaves you behind. Done with Moonbyul and the conversation, A choice in itself. You follow her, heading upstairs after Tae with not even a glance in Moonbyul’s direction. 

Moonbyul laughs and laughs and laughs, it’s a little unhinged. The pack stays silent. They just watch her. Yoongi settles into his shoulders and when she leans back in the chair and tucks her hair behind her ear, she’s still smiling.

“Alright cousin, let’s draw up terms.”

The family does things in old ways, a smear of Yoongi’s blood and Moonbyul’s blood on the bottom of a slip of paper and their names ink signed. A red seal printed with both of their initials. Paper that Jin will burn up later because what’s written on it could condemn them all. She also writes up a release of Jimin’s contract too- this one does not get burned. While Jin types up his resignation too.

“I’d still laser off your fingerprints if I were you.” Jimin is already planning on it. He’s not too worried about the loss of income or the family possibly rolling on him and using his long history of murder to put him in jail. He still has his other job after all.

In the end, Moonbyul leaves not with a bang, but with the click of the closing door, soft as all can be. Violent with the gentleness of her actions when she gets up from the table and says goodbye to Yoongi and only Yoongi. But when she makes to leave, she has to pass by the stairs where you wait.

You do not speak from up on top of the stairs, where you’d gone after Tae and left after she told you she was fine, that she wanted to be alone for a moment. Now Moonbyul smiles from the bottom step. Her teeth catch the light like the pearls at the bottom of the ocean.

“I guess it was never going to be us, was it?” Her eyes flick to the mark on your neck and all at once you’re reminded of the feeling of it;

Geumjae’s teeth sink into your throat, the pulse of your veins around his teeth, the feeling of his tongue hitting your skin and the pain and shock of it. Her smiling feels like that. Her smiling up at you makes it feel like she’s taking something from you. 

“There is something in you that’s hungry pup- hungry for more than they can give you. And when they realize that- when they realize that you’re more like me than like Tae- Don’t worry, I’ll be waiting for when you decide that this is not enough.” 

Your finger trails down the railing of the stairs. You don’t meet her eyes. “That’s the thing isn’t it, I do get to decide, don’t I? It's my choice.”

But Hoseok is there, between you and her, and there’s no one between the two of them. Not Noodle or the others although Yoongi gets up quick and comes over to his side. Both of you hem Hobi in. 

“Wait- I just have one question for you- before you go.”

Moonbyul hovers, hand on the door. Almost out of your lives for good. You keep a hand on Hobi’s back, holding him, letting him know you’re there. You can feel the tremble in his shoulders. 

“Why did you do it, why did you hurt me like that when you could have just left? I’ve thought through it for years but I’ve never been able to figure it out. Did you know that you were hurting me when you did it?”

“Yes,” there isn’t a bit of remorse in her face, none at all. 

Maybe Hoseok is expecting something like this- something like this: “I thought if we broke you down, we might be able to remake you into something great”

“I didn’t need to be changed I just needed you to love me.”

 But there is none of that. It’s infuriating and it will bother him for years later but what Hoseok gets is this: 

“There wasn’t a reason, we were just bored and waiting for my father to give me the chance to transition.” transition into power or transition into an alpha? She doesn't clarify. She’s remorseless, nothing in her inflection indicates that she regrets what she did. 

“You weren’t the first.” 

Hoseok feels nauseous like he's going to be sick on the entryway floor. Hobi doesn’t respond and she leaves without a second glance behind her. Out of your lives for good. Leaving Hoseok standing there in the precipice of the door, watching her pull away from the house and staring at the empty driveway after she’s gone. He'll never see her again after today.

Namjoon gets up and opens up a window, clearing the house of her smell of peppermint.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until you dab your sleeve at his cheek. Yoongi at his front and you holding him from behind, keeping him together as he cries and cries and cries. Jimin puts himself between you two and the door, a knife that he'd tapped under the table in his hands.

Jungkook huffs. "Should have stabbed her when you had the chance Minnie."

Closure escapes him, just out of his fingers. Hoseok wants to run after her and demand an apology. But he doesn’t know what’s better, an apology that’s hollow or none at all. No one talks for a moment while they watch her car pull out of the driveway and leave. No one says a word. 

And then Jin gets up from the table and walks over to the kitchen. Namjoon follows him. Tae’s at the top of the steps, she’s changed her clothes from her PJs and washed off the scent blockers. Her hair hangs shaggy and messy over her glossy face, her bangs in a curly pink roller, and her skin pearly from her skincare.

She doesn’t smell distressed or upset. She doesn’t smell like anything at all but she’s wearing her favorite pink sweater. She comes close, runs her hands through Hobi's hair.

"I'll be fine, just give me a second I just need-"

"You cry for as long as you need to ho-baby."

"Yeah- cry as much as you want, use me as a napkin for all I care." your shirt is wet at the collar where Hobi burrows in.

Jin opens up the pack's liquor cabinet. Small and just to the side of the fridge. None of them really drink- but occasionally patients give Namjoon expensive bottles of whiskey for saving their lives. Jin pours himself a full glass of the most expensive bottle of it. No ice. He pours a second glass for Yoongi without asking.    It’s barely noon, but when he asks “who wants a drink?” Seven hands shoot up.

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Notes:

the very fist part of this chapter where hoseok and her are on the train was a part that i liked until final edits and then it felt??? idk??? clunky??? maybe a bit repetitive???? idk what it is and it's way too late to fix it T-T

this chapter is really an ode to what i originally thought of for bily, in the og version of this story yoongi was supposed to hate the m/c at the beginning for taking him away from the pack. i think his anger at the end is entirely justified- it's also like- his karma for leaving at the beginning you know? he might take it a bit too far in his reaction but tbh- i think we can cut him some slack for everything he's ever given to the m/c- all of the unconditional love.

i think that the train is like- a metaphor for getting better, or not getting better and keeping going on the reductive patterns that make you sick, because the things that make you feel better- like picking at a sticky scab- will only make you scar deeper. this is the last moment for the m/c, the moment she starts to heal for good.

the moment where hobi and the m/c are walking up to the car and yoongi is there i litterally see him puffing up like a studio ghibli charecter you know? or maybe like noodle whenever yoongi comes close.

honestly- the line where yoongi says that she doesn't love him like he loves her made me fucking sick when i wrote it like???? not me lowkey not giving them a happy ending. but i think that the part of bily thats always been fun to experiment with is how people sometimes people hurting you doesn't change how you feel about them.

did you catch the reasons wreched and divine refrence????

the line that yoongi says “Five? Ten? Sweetheart- I'd last ////5 minutes without you and you won't even look at me long enough too apologize and-" is very much a refrence to what hoseok says to yoongi at the begining of the series "You won’t even tell me now when I'm fucking dying over you, suffocating under the weight of things you just won’t say- and you don’t even care!” and i think thats pretty.

i think the yoongi parts will either make you guys feel vindicated or upset. i think it's up to you if he goes too far when he's angry- but i do think it's very human of him to get so angry like...the m/c is his whole fucking world...he will get over it! don't worry! he's just momentarily angry!

the part between when the pack call her and she arrifes felt really clunky while i was editing it, i decided not to take it down too much because i wanted you guys to feel some of their anticipation- but maybe it's too much. it's this kind of part that might get seriously paired down once i go back through bily and clean it up

"fuck this bitch"- noodle probably

noodle is like my favorite charecter i swear to god i love him so so much. i had the idea that he would be the only one to get some bloodletting in since the very begining of the series before he was ever written into the story. this is also the begining of them sorta being friends like- after this noodle is alot more tolerant of yoongi.

Moonbyul discloses that she has some pretty uncomfy views of being trans in this! i think it's pretty obvious that it's not meant to be like 'this is how all trans people are' and more of an effort to contrast tae- we are also talking like fake secondary genders here as well so- do with that what you will!

i also wanted to make the point with hobi and moonbyul's part at the end that sometimes the people who hurt you have no remorse, you don't get clousrure from them because they'll never admit that they shouldn't have done something. and the biggest closure that you can get is from giving yourself the strenght to let go. in a way- this directly contrasts the parts on the train in the begining. in order to heal a wound you have to stop touching it.

this chapter may feel like an ending in a sense because it is an end of all the mafia parts. truly- after this chapter we won't see any more violence or blood or anything close to the last 6. it's all happy endings from here <3 Thank you for sticking with it!

<3